David Baldacci - Deliver Us From Evil

Katie had never been married, except to her career. Never had kids, never come close, actually. She had two Pulitzers and an ugly bullet wound tacked permanently on her upper arm. She had seen the world on someone else’s dime. She would be remembered perhaps for a long time for her reporting. She had excelled professionally and failed miserably on the personal side. It was an old story with her hardly the only victim, if she was a victim at all. And yet when she’d been thirteen the only thing she had wanted in life was to be a mother with a little house with a green lawn and a tree, preferably an apple tree because she had always loved apples.

Instead, somewhere along the way she had chosen documenting one world crisis after another and racking up millions of airline miles in this single-minded pursuit. She suddenly felt chilled, though outside was a typical Washington summer’s evening, meaning warm and humid enough to push sweat through one’s pores with only a brisk walking pace. She slipped a sweater around her shoulders and just stood there in the dark.

She had stopped drinking, at least. Not one drop for months. Not even on the morning Shaw had left her in Zurich without a word. She had surprised herself. If she were going to fall off the proverbial wagon it would’ve been then, she assumed. She had stayed two extra days, called him repeatedly, and then phoned Frank a dozen times until the man had finally answered her.

“He’s hurting,” Frank had told her. “Give him some time.”

And so Katie had given him time. Weeks. And then two months. And she’d tried to call again, but now his number had been changed.

Then it was back to Frank, who said he would help. And he had, giving her information about Shaw, including the fact that he was back at work, meaning he was risking his life in impossibly dangerous situations all over the world. Every time the phone rang Katie would assume it was Frank calling to report Shaw’s death. She assumed this because she had stopped believing that Shaw would ever call her back.

And then Frank had come to her aid again. He’d given Shaw her number on a special phone Frank had provided her. He’d called and hung up when he heard her voice. This hadn’t entirely surprised her, but she had been slightly disappointed. Yet he’d called back and the conversation had been brief, but at least they had talked.

And then she’d traveled to Paris. On Frank’s tip. When she saw Shaw sitting alone at that table, she just stood there. He hadn’t seen her yet and so she watched him. The way he divided the room into grids, looking for possible dangers, just how he lived his life. The only way he could now, of course. They had never had sex, though they’d once shared a bedroom. Never even kissed. Never really come close, at least on his part, she assumed again. She wasn’t sure on her end. Well, maybe she was. It was all very confusing actually.

In truth, Katie wasn’t sure when she had fallen in love with him. It was clearly before he’d left her in Zurich. It might have been that final night in Wisbach, Germany, outside the graveyard where Anna was buried. He was not capable of loving her back, not then. Maybe never.

She stared at the photos on the wall again. If she hadn’t left the restaurant so abruptly? But he hadn’t tried to stop her, bring her back to the table. If he had just followed her out, she would have come back, desperately wanted to come and talk to him. But she had walked down the street and he hadn’t come for her.

She drifted to the window and looked out. There were a few passersby, couples mostly, walking hand in hand. Laughter filtered in from out there. A car roared by, going too fast for the narrow streets in the residential area. Katie had no idea how long she would stay here. Or where she would go from here.

She slipped her cell phone from her pocket, thought of calling Frank again, to see if he had news about Shaw. Her finger poised over the keypad, but didn’t descend.

What really was the point, she thought. Packing misery on top of improbability did not seem like a viable long-term solution. She instead went to bed with the reasonable assurance that tomorrow would not be any better than today.

THINGS SEEMED pretty straightforward to me,” Frank was saying. “Well, other than me getting shot. I posted your and the lady’s photos at the train station, like we discussed. That caused the four of you to split up like we wanted, since the Irishman was one loose cannon. You put the GPS chip in the phone you took, rode the boat over, worked her for more information, then gave her the phone back from one of their people. We let her get settled, you followed her to her headquarters, and infiltrated the place. Simple.”

“I did all that, and reported it back to you.”

“I know. And you’ve been there for a couple days now. So report again.”

Shaw filled him in on what he’d seen and heard over the last forty-eight hours.

“So they really have been doing this awhile.” Frank brushed some lint off his rumpled suit jacket. “You know, we suspected something like this was going down.”

“How?” asked Shaw.

Frank took a moment to pop open the room’s minibar concealed in a cabinet and pulled out a Coke. He uncapped it and took a swallow. “Dead Nazis,” he said.

“What?”

“Well, their being Nazis was never confirmed on our side, but we had a string of ninety-year-old guys making mysterious exits from life at various points around the world over the last five or six years. A couple in South America where those Third Reich higher-ups tended to migrate after Hitler offed himself in that bunker.”

“Why was that even on your radar?”

“Because some of them were later involved in stuff that came damn close to being in our bailiwick. On two occasions we traced them back to their Berlin days. But the guys were already dead and there didn’t seem to be much point in pursuing it after that. But if that’s the case more power to these guys for taking those assholes down.”

“You mean being vigilantes?”

“I mean working out justice where there wasn’t any before. That is sort of what we do here, Shaw.”

“We’ve never been ordered to murder anybody.”

“No, but do you think all the guys we find and turn over get a jury of their peers?”

“I know they don’t.”

“Then let’s get back to the matter at hand. So what’s the issue now?”

Shaw told him of Mallory’s ultimatum. “Either Reggie comes with me while I’m hunting Kuchin or they expose us too.”

Frank finished his Coke. “Is that all? Then I don’t see the problem, really. Take her with you.”

Shaw’s jaw went slack. “I don’t want to go after this bastard with her tagging along. It’s too dangerous.”

“But the flip side is if you leave her alone, maybe Kuchin catches up to her while you’re looking for him. Then this time he finishes the job.” Frank tossed the empty Coke bottle in the trash and fished out a package of salted almonds from his pocket and started popping them into his mouth, crunching down hard with his back molars.

Shaw looked uncomfortable.

Frank said, “You disagree?”

“Not necessarily, but what’s the ultimate goal here?”

“You tell me what you think it is and I’ll tell you if you’re right or not.”

“Get Kuchin? But I thought the expensive suits didn’t care about that anymore. He’s just back to making kids into whores for profit. No more mushroom clouds. That’s what you said.”

Frank finished the almonds before answering. “Well, I truthfully can’t say their attitude has changed on that. But what they are interested in is this new angle in England.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Frank said incredulously. “Another organization doing stuff that might have global repercussions? Hmmm, let’s think about that.”