David Baldacci - Deliver Us From Evil

“Let’s just take it one step at a time.”

“But you think someone on my side was prepared to kill you. How is that going to play out? I’m not going to help you take your revenge against my colleagues.”

“Even if they were going to kill me?”

“Like you said, let’s take it one step at a time,” she said coolly.

“Harrowsfield.”

“What about it?”

“Take me there.”

Reggie looked startled. “What?”

“Take me there.”

“Have you gone mental? You want me to waltz right in and say, ‘Hello, everyone, here’s Shaw. I don’t know really who the hell he is, but let’s all have a spot of tea and play nice’?”

“I’ll leave the explanation up to you.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m very serious.”

“And what if I refuse?”

“Then I make a phone call and it’s out of my hands. All of you go down.”

She slowly stood and glared down at him. “You’d really do that to me? After what just happened on this bed? And in that damn shower?”

“First rule in the line of work we loosely call a job? Personal gets checked at the door. Only amateurs forget that rule, or maybe they never understood it in the first place.”

“So you just banged me for the hell of it? And then dropped this threat on me? You bastard.” She moved to slap him, but he caught her hand.

“What you don’t seem to get, Reggie, is that I’m putting my life entirely on the line to help you. The odds are much greater he’ll get to you and your people first. I’m offering to do all I can to stop him. But in order to do that you have to trust me. What happened between us in this room I don’t take lightly. If that explanation isn’t good enough for you, then go ahead and hit me. But make it as hard as you can. It’ll be the only shot you get.”

He let go of her hand and waited.

They stared eye to eye in silence for several long seconds.

Finally, Reggie said, “Get dressed. I need to go to my place to change clothes. And you’re going to at least feed me a proper English breakfast before I go down in flames at bloody Harrowsfield.”

SHAW HAD three cups of coffee while Reggie ate probably the biggest breakfast of her life.

“Sex gives you an appetite?” said Shaw.

“It wasn’t the sex.”

“What then?”

“Guilt.”

“Nothing to feel guilty about.”

“Maybe for you. Me, I’ve got plenty to feel shitty about.”

They took the Tube to her flat, where Shaw waited downstairs while she changed into white jeans, a denim shirt, and flats. They picked up the City-Coupé from her garage and drove out to Leavesden. Shaw’s head touched the top of the car’s interior and his knees were crunched against the dash. Reggie looked pleased at his obvious discomfort.

As they passed down the lane heading toward the aged twin columns she said, “Shaw, I’m really not sure about this.”

“Just take a deep breath and keep driving straight.”

They parked in front of the house and got out. Shaw could feel eyes on them as they walked to the front door. It opened before Reggie could put a hand on the knob.

Whit looked ready to shoot both of them.

“I can’t believe you’d bring this bloke here. Are you out of your bleeding mind?”

Shaw answered. “She didn’t have an option. It was either me or the cops.”

“How did you even know about this place?” Whit demanded.

“It’s hard to keep secrets anymore.”

“Whit,” began Reggie, “we all need to sit down and talk this out.”

“You’ve absolutely gone over the edge.” He pointed a finger at Shaw. “This guy is going to bring us all down.”

“Use your brain, Whit,” said Shaw. “If I were going to do that why would I even need to be here? I could’ve just sent the police.”

Whit looked at him, then Reggie, then back at Shaw. “Then what the hell do you want?”

“To help.”

“Oh, right, you’re the bloody good fairy what brings all sorts of pixie sprinkles to nice little boys and girls?”

“I don’t really care what you think. I came here to talk to the people running this ‘operation,’ and I know it’s not you. So either get out of the way or try and stop me.”

Whit looked up at the six-six broad-shouldered Shaw, his ropy muscles clearly visible under his shirt.

“All right, Paddy, come on in. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

As soon as Shaw moved forward, Whit pulled his gun or tried to. Shaw jammed him against the wall with his shoulder, ripped the gun out of his hand, kicked out the Irishman’s legs, and pressed a size thirteen shoe to the side of his head. Shaw released the mag, racked back the slider, cleared the seated round, and put the mag and round in his pocket before tossing the empty pistol back to Whit. He reached down, grabbed the man by the shoulder, and jerked him to his feet.

“If you want to get Kuchin then we need to get this op rolling.”

“What op?”

Reggie said fiercely, “The one we’re apparently going to be planning with him.”

“You don’t sound too happy about this whole thing,” remarked Whit as he rubbed his sore shoulder.

Reggie looked at Shaw. “Like the man said, I didn’t really have a choice. Where’s the professor?”

“Right here.”

They all looked down the hall. Professor Miles Mallory was holding a pistol pointed at Shaw.

“Would you care to step this way, Mr. Shaw?” said Mallory. “I think we need a word. And for the record, this weapon is fully loaded and I’m a fairly decent shot.”

Shaw didn’t hesitate. He moved through the front door. “I’d like that, Professor. And hopefully I can find out why you thought it was necessary to order one of your foot soldiers to inject me with enough botulinum to put a rhino down for good.”

KUCHIN HAD SPENT a full day going over the collected file on Katie James. When he turned the final page he called Rice into the room. “A lot of information but very little that might tell us where she is currently.”

“She had an apartment in New York, but she lost her job, couldn’t pay the rent, and she got kicked out. She left no forwarding address. From what I’ve learned she has a habit of using the homes of former colleagues around the world to crash for a few days or weeks at a time.”

“I remember the story of course that she worked on most recently,” said Kuchin.

“Katie James was a key player in bringing that whole conspiracy to light. Even now the whole truth isn’t known.”

“Buried,” said Kuchin knowingly. “Because the truth would embarrass important people. It’s always that way.”

Rice tapped the mound of pages. “Well, I’m thinking that as good a journalist as she undoubtedly is, I don’t believe she navigated that whole episode alone.”

“Bill Young the lobbyist, you mean? And that was why they were together soon after in Zurich?”

“That’s one theory, anyway.”

Kuchin said, “There might be other more plausible ones. But I don’t really care what they are. We have to find her.”

“I can get some people working on it. Check plane records, charge card transactions.”

“No, I will handle it.”

“But-”

Kuchin rose, hefting the file in his right hand. “I told you, Alan, you’re to concentrate on the business. I will be preoccupied with this until the matter is resolved.” He looked down at his assistant. “Now, there has been no unusual activity around the office, I take it?”

“Unusual activity?”

“Any extraordinary interest in my whereabouts by any parties, official or otherwise?”

“Not that I’ve personally seen or heard from anyone. It’s been business as usual.”