Deliver Us From Evil (A. Shaw 2)

“What are you talking about?” Reggie said slowly.

“Your boy’s not what he appeared to be.” Whit paused. “I think he might be a cop or something. Maybe in counterintelligence, Interpol, something like that.”

Now Reggie sat down on the stone bench next to him. “Why?”

“Things he said.”

Reggie looked away.

“You don’t seem shocked by this.”

“I knew Bill had disappeared from his hotel. When I went to check, I saw some men go into his room and take his things. The clerk later told me they had guns.”

“Well, thanks for telling me that.”

“Tell me everything. From the moment you took him.”

Whit laid it all out. He finished with, “He said to be careful whatever we were planning. He said Kuchin runs an international sex slavery ring. He snatches girls from Asia and Africa and sells them in the West. He also attempted to do a deal with some Islamic terrorists, sell them some nukes or something.”

“Wait a minute. Does he know Waller is really Kuchin?”

“Don’t think so, no. At least he never used that name. Anyway, Young said Kuchin ended up killing the Muslims. Guess they had a falling-out or something. But he said Kuchin definitely had an eye for you and to worry about you disappearing before we could make our move. He also said chances were pretty good that Kuchin would figure out at least partly what we were up to.” Whit stopped talking and sat back. “I guess I misjudged the bloke. Turns out we were sort of working on the same side, but didn’t know it.”

“But if he doesn’t know about Kuchin’s past why is he after him?”

“Maybe the terrorist stuff, or the sex slavery ring.”

“And Bill is okay?”

“Except for a little knot on his head, yeah, he’s fine. Tough guy, but then we knew that, didn’t we?”

“I appreciate you telling me, Whit.”

“No secrets, right? But look, Reg, what Young said gave me an idea.”

“What?”

“That Kuchin killed all those Muslims. We can use that to our advantage.”

“How do we do that?”

He sat forward. “Here’s how.”

CHAPTER

52

SHAW LEANED AWAY from the door in frustration. Attempting to pick a deadbolt lock in near-total darkness using part of the guts of a toilet bowl tank could only lead to frustration, he told himself. There were over eighty-six thousand seconds in a day. Having counted over a hundred thousand seconds off in his head, and nearly driving himself mad in the process, the best Shaw could figure it was either the middle of the night or the middle of the day. He stepped forward and listened at the door. No steps, no breathing. And yet a solid door was between him and freedom. If he tried to break it down, they would be waiting for him with guns. He slumped back in the chair and tried to think of another way.

His motivation to get free had changed, but really only slightly. If these men were working with Janie Collins, that meant she wasn’t alone in dealing with Waller. So if he tried to do anything to her at least she’d have backup. But he felt certain they weren’t cops. The guy he’d talked with had seemed surprised about the sex slave trade and the nuclear terrorist pieces. So if they didn’t know about his illegal activities, then what was their motivation to take the guy down? And if they weren’t the authorities, why keep Shaw alive? A bullet to the head and a shallow grave in the middle of nowhere would’ve made more sense.

Thoroughly confused, Shaw sat in the chair and fiddled with the two pieces of metal he’d fashioned. Two useless pieces of metal from a toilet. If Frank could only see him now. As he glanced over at the commode, something occurred to him. He looked at the door and then glanced back at the toilet. Checking the jury-rigged tool in his hand, he thought it might just be possible.

* * *

“And how was your swim?” asked Waller. They were walking up to the village of Gordes the next afternoon.

“Refreshing. Did you enjoy watching?”