Deliver Us From Evil (A. Shaw 2)

“Yes, but that might be the difference between ‘your people’ coming home safely or not.”

“I am quite aware of the risks,” Mallory said a bit indignantly.

“You are, but they aren’t, not fully.”

“There is inherent risk in everything we do.”

“Sometimes I wonder.”

“Wonder what?”

“We sit here in our cozy old English country house and plan these things and then send them out to execute our plans.”

“They participate in creating those plans.”

“Good night, Professor.”

She left Mallory to angrily puff on his pipe, until he knocked out the wedge of tobacco, stuffed the pipe in his jacket pocket, and sat there moodily in his old leather chair.

Whit sat gazing at the phone. Sometimes he just didn’t get Mallory. No, that was wrong. He almost never understood the man. The professor had handed Whit another task at a critical time in their mission and the Irishman didn’t appreciate it one bit. Babysitting Bill Young was not something he’d signed on for. He pocketed his phone and marched down the hallway.

“Give me the key, Niles,” he said to the man stationed there, and he handed Whit the key.

Niles Jansen knocked on the door and called out, “Away!” Then he pulled his gun and pointed it at the door as Whit inserted the key. The door clicked open and Whit stood just inside the doorway.

Shaw stood against the far wall, staring back at him.

“Ready to let me go?”

“Sit,” ordered Whit.

Shaw looked at the gun pointed at him and slowly walked to the chair and sat down. Whit moved forward a few inches.

“You know, you look familiar,” said Shaw.

“I look like a lot of guys.”

“So what can I do for you?”

“You can tell me what you’re really doing in France.”

“I’m on holiday. Why are you here?”

Whit leaned against the wall. “Lobbyist from D.C. who can scale walls and disarm people? You really think we’re buying that?”

Shaw didn’t say anything for a long moment. “I’m a retired lobbyist. And I was supposed to be returning to the States to be with my son. You obviously had a different idea.”

“You look too young to be retired.”

“I made my money and I wanted out. Is that a crime? Is that the reason you bashed me in the head and are holding me prisoner here?”

“Like you were told before, chill and you’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but what about Janie Collins?”

“Who?”

Shaw crossed his arms and studied the other man. “What are you planning?”