“But why would they do that? You had what they wanted.”
“I intend to ask that very question when I find dear Abdul.” Pascal’s BlackBerry chirped and he glanced at the message.
Waller had not missed this. “Yes, Pascal?”
Pascal came forward and whispered into his boss’s ear. Waller smiled. “The Muslims have come home to roost.”
“Progress?” asked Rice.
“It seems,” Waller said curtly.
Waller stared at each of his men who stood silently in the darkness, hands clasped in front of them. He had drawn most of his associates from the military ranks of various countries, and they had retained their discipline and protocols. This pleased Waller, since he had worn the uniform as well. His gaze settled on Rice. “It would be disappointing to learn that I had a traitor within my own ranks.”
Rice managed to find some courage under the withering gaze and said, “Don’t look at me. Why would I betray you only to get myself blown up?”
“An adequate response. For now.”
Waller lifted the hoods off the rest of the ladies, scrutinized them as he would cattle in an auction, and finally settled on one, the smallest. He gripped her skinny arm and pulled her along, her feet stumbling with the shackles.
“We’ve soundproofed a room upstairs,” said Rice. “New carpeting and furniture too. Do you want the shackles and cuffs off?”
“No. Give me two hours and then send someone to clean up.”
As soon as Waller was outside of earshot one of the guards edged over to Rice and said in a low voice, “Isn’t Mr. Waller worried about stuff?”
“Like what?” asked Rice sharply.
The big man looked embarrassed. “You know, like AIDS, STDs, stuff like that.”
“These women are all virgins. That’s sort of the point, Manuel.”
“But still, third world shit. Man never knows.”
Rice gazed up the rickety set of stairs where his boss had disappeared with the girl. “I don’t believe he actually has sex with them.”
“What, then?”
“I don’t really want to know.”
CHAPTER
26
REGGIE WAS WAITING at the bakery by the time Shaw got there. They ordered and ate their pastries and drank their fresh coffee outside on bistro chairs. Reggie’s hair was swept up under a Red Sox baseball cap. She had on jean shorts, a pale blue T-shirt, and Saucony running shoes. Shaw was dressed in slacks, loafers, and a white long-sleeved shirt.
Reggie sipped her coffee, ran an eye over him, and said playfully, “You still dress like a lobbyist, even in Provence.”
Shaw smiled and eased back on the little chair. Behind them a workman was washing down the streets using a fire hose. The rush of water would follow the laws of gravity and work its way over the cobblestone streets, down worn stone steps, and eventually snake down the cliffs in diminished rivulets.
“Old habits die hard.” He took a bite of croissant. “But I left the ties and jackets in the closet.”
“Where are you staying? I think it’s only fair since you know where I am.”
He hooked a finger over his head. “Hotel and spa down that way. It’s nice. I’m thinking about getting a massage later today.” He drank his coffee, wadded up the paper his pastry had come in, and tossed it in a nearby trash can. “Those guys still around?”
“The Citroën was there this morning, but only one man was inside. Whether they stayed there all night I don’t know. It does seem sort of mysterious,” she added innocently.
“How’s your back where I threw you?”