David Baldacci - Deliver Us From Evil

I’m sorry, he mouthed to her.

Her look said that she understood, but how could she really? How could anyone really?

Kuchin slipped the heated gun into a belt holster he wore. His expression hadn’t changed at all. From blowing out a man’s brains to talking about the weather, it apparently didn’t matter to him.

“No one is that lucky the second time around,” he said. He took his foot off Whit’s face and flicked a signal at his men. The Irishman was pulled up by two of the guards while he screamed obscenities at Kuchin.

After Whit finally grew silent and stood there trembling and staring down at the body of his friend, Kuchin said, “You could not have possibly expected anything differently. You knew if you came you would die. It will not be complex. I like simple. I always have.”

“Like your office back in your apartment?” said Shaw. “That was simple enough. Desk, file cabinets, locker with your old uniform. And your little film archives.”

Kuchin turned to face him. The pistol came out of the holster. He placed the muzzle against Shaw’s forehead. “I have a plan,” he said. “A well-thought-out one. But I can alter that plan at any time.” He cocked the hammer back.

A hand was on his arm before anyone else could move. “Please,” begged Katie James. “Please don’t.”

Kuchin looked at her and then back at Shaw. “I promised you that if you followed my instructions she would be released unharmed.”

“I’m holding you to that,” said Shaw.

“A funny remark to make when I have a gun against your brain.”

“On your mother’s grave? Just because I went to your apartment doesn’t change that.”

Kuchin hesitated a few moments but finally put the gun away. He pointed at Katie. “She will remain here. You four will be out there.” He pointed out the window into the darkness.

“You got your math wrong,” said Shaw. “There’re only three of us left.”

“You misunderstand me. That is why I killed him. Because I only wanted there to be four of you, and he was the odd man out.”

Shaw stared at him in confusion. Kuchin snapped his fingers. One of his men brought a yellow jumpsuit and sneakers forward. Kuchin took them and turned to Alan Rice.

“Alan, please put these on.”

Rice took a step back, his face turning first red as the blood rushed there and then white as the reality of the man’s words hit him and the blood drained right back out.

“Evan?”

Kuchin tossed the jumpsuit and shoes at Rice, who managed to snare the suit but the shoes clunked to the floor.

“Evan?” he said again as he began to totter on his feet, his lips trembling.

“You should have aimed better in the church, Alan.” He touched his ear. “Still, it was close. Singed my skin a bit, actually.”

“But that was an accident. I was aiming at him.” He pointed at the dead Dominic. “I shot him.”

“Shooting him was the accident. Missing me was an unforgivable sin.”

“I… I’m no good with guns, you know that.”

“You have been taking shooting lessons for the last six months. Pascal here followed you on my orders. And your knowledge of guns, you let that slip out too. Your only fault was that you believed since you could hit a paper target at twenty-five yards that you could kill a man in the middle of confusion at twenty feet. You couldn’t. And thus I lived.”

“You’re mistaken, Evan. I took the lessons so I wouldn’t disappoint you, in case something came up. I didn’t want to disappoint you. You saved my life.”

“I told you I would be monitoring the business.”

Rice seemed to gain new life. “But I’ve done nothing against your interests. Your monitoring would show nothing.”

“Every dime was accounted for.”

“So then I don’t understand what this is all about.”

“Freight charges haven’t gone up, Alan. The price of gas has actually fallen sixty percent from a year ago. Cargo ships still run on fuel, do they not? It took some digging, but we found the account with the fuel money in it.”

“No, you’re wrong. It was that way because the shipments come in on two boats. I told you that.”

“But they weren’t coming in on two ships, only one, but you were double-billing for the fuel. I know this because right before Pascal cut his tongue out, your colleague down at the docks confessed. And then you try to kill me so you can take over the business completely.”

“No, Evan, no, I-”

“Put the clothes and shoes on, Alan. Now. Or you’ll get the next bullet to the brain right here. I will allow you to make the choice.”

Sobbing, Alan Rice slowly slipped them on, but Pascal had to help him because the man was shaking so badly.

Kuchin turned to the others. “You will have an hour’s head start. I would advise you not to run toward the ocean and dive in as the water is around ten degrees Celsius even in the summer.” He pointed out the window to his left. “That is the way to go. But keep in mind that this was once a glacier. There are many fjords, ruts deep enough to be lost forever in, water that moves very fast, and slopes that quickly turn into precipices. Also, there are animals out there that will hurt you at night.”

“Including you?” said Reggie.

“Including me most of all.”

“So is this some sort of hunt?” asked Shaw.

“Not some sort,” answered Kuchin. “It is a hunt.”

“So us unarmed against you and all your men? Some hunt.”

“No, all of you against only me.”

“But you’ll have weapons.”

“Of course I will.”

“And what, if we get away, that’s it?”

“You will not get away. I own the land for miles. And the land that I don’t own, no one else does either. There is nothing out there. Nothing. Except you and me.”

“And Katie?” asked Shaw.

“So long as you follow my instructions, she will be released unharmed.”

“I want to go with Shaw,” said Katie.

Kuchin ignored her and instead looked at his watch. “You now have fifty-nine minutes.” He nodded to his men, who freed the three from their bindings.

Shaw looked at Katie for what would be the last time, he assumed. He tried to say something, but what was there to say? She seemed to be having the same problem. They finally simply exchanged a brief if earnest smile.

Reggie finally pulled Whit away from staring at Dominic’s body and they followed Shaw out the door, where they set off at a fast trot.

Alan Rice had not moved.

“Alan?” said Kuchin.

“Please, Evan, please don’t do this,” the younger man moaned.

“You said it yourself. I pay them thousands and yet they want millions. You wanted more, it’s that simple. And do not beg. Men do not beg.” He fired a round into the floor next to Rice, who leapt to his feet and raced out the door. Katie James was taken away and locked in another room.

It was then that Kuchin turned to Pascal. “Get the dogs ready.”

ALAN RICE sprinted past them but quickly fell back, tugging at a painful stitch in his side. He was obviously not in good physical shape. He would be a drag on the rest of them, making it easier for Kuchin to catch them. Because of that Shaw’s first inclination was to leave him, but then another thought occurred to him. He fell back and put his hand under Rice’s arm, helping him along.

“Just pace yourself. Not too fast or slow.”

“Okay, okay,” gasped Rice, and his stride became more measured.

Reggie, seeming to sense what Shaw was doing, dropped back to join them. Whit ran on ahead, his head bowed, his focus no doubt still on Dominic.

“What can you tell us about this place?” asked Reggie. “Anything that’ll give us an edge.”