David Baldacci: Deliver Us From Evil

“Take it,” said a voice.

They all looked up.

Pascal was standing at the top of the cliff.

Shaw and Whit automatically held up their knives.

Pascal grinned and shook his head. The fog was rolling in faster now, almost obscuring him. “Take it. It will help you.”

Watching him closely, Shaw moved cautiously toward the bag. When he reached it and saw what was inside it, his jaw slackened in amazement. He pulled out the gun and the cell phone.

Pascal said, “The phone is fully juiced. You have full bars. There is a cell tower that Mr. Waller had put in a mile from here. Call whoever you need to. And its GPS chip is activated.”

“Why are you doing this?” Shaw asked.

“He wants me to drive you that way,” said Pascal, pointing back the way they had come. “About a mile from here where the two trails converge. There is high ground to the west. If I had to guess, he will be there waiting.”

“You haven’t answered my question.” Shaw automatically checked the gun to make sure the mag was loaded and all critical elements were in working order.

Surprisingly, Pascal looked over at Reggie and Whit. “I hoped you would’ve killed him in Gordes. The information I passed on to your colleagues I thought was sufficient. But Rice got in the way. He followed you,” Pascal said, pointing at Reggie. “To the church.”

“You were our inside contact?” asked Reggie in amazement.

“Damn,” added Whit, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I didn’t know what Rice had discovered until it was too late. I went with him to the church thinking I might be able to help you somehow.” He looked at Shaw. “Then he showed up and you no longer needed help from me.”

“You wanted Waller dead?” asked Reggie.

“He was Fedir Kuchin when my mother knew him. I’m Greek and he visited us there on holiday from Ukraine when I was little.”

“You knew him when you were a boy?” asked Katie.

“You could say that. He was my father, though he was never much of a father. And he left my mother to die with nothing. We Greeks do not forgive or forget that. He believes I do not know who he really is. He does not think I am smart enough to figure it all out. He thinks I believe he simply came to Greece and rescued a poor orphaned boy. It’s true he gave me food and shelter and trained me. But he still is the reason my mother died, and so nothing he did could ever make up for that.”

Shaw looked down at the gun. “What is this for?”

“So you will have a chance.”

Whit called out, “Why don’t you just kill him yourself?”

“I have my reasons. And he is my father. I will take care of the others. And the dogs too. You take care of him. Good luck,” he added curtly.

The next moment Pascal was gone.

They all eyed each other.

“What do you think?” said Katie. “Do you believe this is legit?”

Shaw fingered the gun. “Legit enough for him to give us a real weapon and a communication line. And let’s just take care of that right now.” He punched in a number. Frank’s sleepy voice answered.

“I’ve got one minute to explain, Frank, and then I need you to move like you’ve never moved in your whole damn life.”

Shaw told Frank what he needed to hear and then clicked off. He fingered the gun and glanced at Katie. “You and Reggie stay here with Whit. I’ll take the gun and kill the guy. Then I’ll come back for you.”

“It’s not just him, Shaw, he has other people,” said Reggie. “You may need help.”

“You heard Pascal, he’ll take care of the others.”

Whit shook his head. “Yeah, but he’s only one guy. They might kill him. And then there’s the bleeding dogs. I can go with you. The ladies can stay here and wait for us to come back.”

Reggie said, “We’ve been together this whole time. I don’t see any reason to break us up now.”

“I agree,” said Katie. “All or none.”

“Tactically, that makes no sense,” retorted Shaw. “If we’re all together it just makes his job that much easier.”

“Or harder,” said Reggie. “Depending on your perspective.”

“Okay, why can’t we all stay here and wait for Frank to come?” asked Whit.

“Because if we do Kuchin will just come to us. Even by plane or chopper it’ll take Frank awhile to get here.”

“We can ambush him here.”

“The ground here is not good. We’re sitting ducks. Look how easily that guy snuck up on us. If I go back there where he’s expecting us, but hit it from a different angle, I may be able to get the jump on him. And he’s not expecting me to have a gun.”

“We’re not staying behind, Shaw,” said Katie. “I finally found you, so I’m not letting you go that easily.”

Reggie looked at Shaw and added, “I’m coming too.”

Shaw eyed Whit for support, but the Irishman merely shrugged helplessly. “I’ve never won an argument with a woman in my life. And I don’t think I’m going to start a winning streak with these two.”

Shaw sighed deeply and, holding the gun ready, he set off. The others followed right behind.

KUCHIN HAD chosen the ground, but not in the location one would have expected, not even Pascal. High ground was almost always good ground when it came to a conflict. Almost always. He aimed his rifle, sighting through the scope, and used a gloved hand to rub a bit of dirt off the glass. He pulled up his glove and eyed his watch. Then he lay back and waited, counting off seconds in his head to keep alert.

When the sounds first came he didn’t move. As the footfalls came closer he timed their impact with the ground and moved when they struck to disguise any noise he might make. The barrel came up; his dominant right eye leaned to the glass. The reticle did its job. Target acquired, there was no reason to wait. He fired.

“Shit!” screamed Whit, clutching his leg and falling to the ground immediately behind Shaw.

“Everyone down,” yelled Shaw.

They all flattened to the ground. Reggie slid over to Whit to see how bad the hit was. He was already pulling open his jumpsuit to try to stop the bleeding. “It went through,” he grunted. “Don’t think it hit the bone, but Jesus it hurts like hell.”

Reggie said, “We’ll get you out of this.”

Whit shook his head, his face growing pale. “It’s just like Rice. The bastard has his method, Reg. Leg first, then the torso.” He grunted in anguish, his whole body shaking with pain. His mouth quivering, he added, “And then the damn dogs.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

He grabbed her with his good arm and thrust the knife into her hand. “If you hear those dogs coming just finish me off before they get to me. Promise me!” She couldn’t answer him, but stared back at him helplessly. He shook her. “Damn it, Reggie, promise me. Don’t let them do to me what they did to Rice.”

Reggie looked down at the knife as tears formed in her eyes. “Whit, I can’t. I can’t do that.”

Whit seemed to gather his strength to make one more plea. “If you don’t then Kuchin wins. And we can’t let the bloody monster win, Reg, can we?” He lay back gasping.

Reggie clenched the knife tighter, brushed the tears away, and said, “All right, I will. If I have to.”

From where he crouched Shaw surveyed the landscape ahead. The fog was still rolling in, heavier now, covering everything with a gauzy haze. The shapes of things began to alter and transform, playing tricks on one’s eyes. The direction Whit had been shot from meant that Kuchin was somewhere in front of him, but that left a lot of degrees of the compass to account for. They might only get one chance at this. He told Katie to stay where she was and crawled over to Reggie and Whit. After checking on the wounded man, he handed her the gun. She looked at him questioningly.