David Baldacci - Deliver Us From Evil

Frank didn’t look convinced. “Maybe, maybe not. As far as I’m concerned this bastard qualifies for war crimes treatment at the Hague, and their rules of evidence are a little different. And the stuff is still there in his penthouse. Maybe we tip the Canadian cops or Interpol and they go get it with nice official search warrants.”

“Fine, then he’ll be tried in bloody absentia,” snapped Reggie.

“Nobody said this would be easy,” remarked Frank. “Did you think you were going to waltz in there and find the secret key that would take us right to the guy?”

“No, but I was hoping for something to help us. But since there wasn’t anything, what’s our next step?” She looked expectantly between Shaw and Frank.

“We beat the bushes some more,” said Frank vaguely.

“Wonderful. You know, you guys have all this really cool, whiz-bang technology with your lasers and your being able to knock out power to an entire skyscraper with a push of a little button, but sometimes I think our tin-can-and-string approach is more effective.”

“It wasn’t more effective in Gordes,” pointed out Frank.

“Well, at least we didn’t give up like you blokes did,” barked Reggie as she got up and stormed out.

After the door slammed behind her Frank looked at Shaw. “Damn, I thought Brits were more laid-back than that.”

“There is nothing laid-back about her,” said Shaw. “But she’s also right. We’re no closer to finding Kuchin.”

“Well, he’s also probably no closer to finding her or you.”

“I wouldn’t count on that,” Shaw said slowly.

“You know something?”

Shaw didn’t answer. He didn’t know anything, not for sure. But what he did have was an instinct that almost never led him down the wrong path. And every inner warning signal he had was blaring away.

KATIE JAMES kept waking up. It was nothing unusual; it was just how she was. A noise here, an internal thought there, a nightmare that seemed so real she could touch it, kept hammering away. She finally rose, got some water and settled in an armchair, flicked on a reading light, and picked up the latest Lee Child thriller.

The phone ringing startled her. She automatically checked her watch. It was nearly midnight. She debated whether to answer it. This wasn’t her home after all. But it might be Roberta calling. She looked at the caller ID on the readout screen. Nothing. She hesitated again, but then picked up the phone.

“Yes?”

“Is Roberta in?”

“Who’s calling?”

“Is this Roberta?”

That was odd. If they knew Roberta they should know it was not Roberta’s voice. “Who’s calling?” she asked again, but the line went dead.

Unnerved, she quickly went to check that the front and back doors were locked. With that secured she grabbed a poker from the fireplace and went back into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. She eyed her cell phone. She could call Shaw if she simply hit redial. But he was probably thousands of miles away and in no position to come watch over her. And he might not want to anyway.

The hand was around her mouth before she could scream. The poker was ripped from her grip along with her cell phone. The smell was awful, making her nostrils clench.

A moment later Katie collapsed.

The pounding in her head was fierce. Her eyes opened and quickly closed when they encountered the bright lights overhead. She groaned, felt sick to her stomach. She opened her eyes again and this time they stayed that way. She sat up and then froze as she saw the man standing there watching her.

He held out a hand. “I hope you are feeling better,” said Kuchin.

She didn’t take his hand, but remained where she was. Katie looked around. Except for the light on her the area beyond was dark. She felt a bump under her, and then another. She looked down. She was on a chair that had folded down to a bed. Another bump, and then her ears dialed in to the familiar hum. How many millions of miles had she heard that?

She was on a plane.

She sat up, swung her legs out into the aisle. The man backed up slightly to accommodate this movement.

“Can I ask the obvious?” she said.

He sat down in a chair across from her. “Please.”

“Who are you and why am I here?”

“Both good questions. Who I am is irrelevant to you. Why you are here may be of interest.”

He held out a glossy piece of square-shaped paper.

Katie took it, looked at the photo. Her and Shaw in Zurich. She eyed her hand on top of his arm. As intimate as they’d gotten.

Shaw. That’s why I’m here.

She glanced up and handed it back. “I still don’t understand.”

“Your mouth says that, your eyes do not. It is too late for such tactics. You know him, he knows you. And I would like to get to know him too.”

I bet.

“Why?”

“He is an interesting man.”

“I don’t know where he is.”

Kuchin let out a sigh. The next moment Katie was lying on the floor of the plane cabin, blood running down her face from where he’d struck her. Her brain was still trying to process this event when she was wrenched up by her hair and thrown back in her seat. She slumped there holding her face and trying to stop the blood running from her nose.

She felt something brush against her face.

Kuchin was handing her a towel.

“Forgive me for that. I am impulsive. You see, I desperately need to meet with your friend. He owes me something.”

“What,” Katie said slowly through her busted mouth.

“Again, not relevant to you.”

“I don’t know where he is. I’m telling you the truth.”

“But you can get in touch with him.”

“No, I can’t. I-” She froze again when he held up her cell phone.

“It is interesting that we found two cell phones. One you were holding and another in your purse. The one in your purse was much like any other phone, the usual contacts, emails, calendar. But this one, this phone, had none of that. In fact, according to the phone list you have only received two calls on this phone. Now, this man I am seeking, your friend? Why do I think he is a man who would give you such a phone?”

“He didn’t,” said Katie as she wiped off her face.

“Then you have no trouble with my calling back this number? Just to see who answers?”

Katie looked down for a moment, trying to get her breath and her nerves under control.

What the hell has Shaw done to get a guy like this ticked off at him?

“I will take your silence as an affirmation.”

“He won’t come.”

“I think he will.”

“Why?” Katie said miserably.

Kuchin looked at the photo of Shaw and Katie. “I think you know why.”

SHAW WAS lying on the couch when it happened. He looked at the caller ID screen. He recognized the number. It was the phone Frank had given Katie. She was calling him again. He slumped back on the couch. He wasn’t going to answer. What would be the point? He was absorbed with guilt over sleeping with Reggie. Frank had accused him of disrespecting Anna’s memory, and maybe he was right. Shaw still wasn’t sure how it had all happened. But he did know that he had wanted it to happen. He had wanted the woman in a way that he had wanted no other. Perhaps even Anna. He couldn’t explain it and didn’t have the energy to even try.

The phone stopped ringing. He sat up, rubbed his head, now feeling even guiltier for not answering the call. The phone started ringing again. Okay, now he had another chance to at least make this right.

“Hello?”

“Bill Young?”

The voice from the catacombs, so close then, seemed right in his face now. Shaw almost never felt afraid anymore. It wasn’t that he was careless or considered himself invulnerable. Paralyzing fear simply had been eradicated from his psyche through an accelerated process of evolution. He spent much of his time in dangerous situations. If he continually froze up, he’d be dead. The ones who didn’t let fear get the best of them tended to live to fight another day. He was one such man.