Deliver Us From Evil (A. Shaw 2)

“Fedir Kuchin.”

“Yes. I heard.” Rice put the bag of ice back on his face and tried to breathe normally.

“Do you know who that is?”

“No. I don’t.”

Kuchin was both pleased and disappointed by this. He bent down and removed an object from his briefcase. It was a bag wrapped in plastic. Inside was a gun.

“This is the woman’s pistol that she left in the church. I want it checked for prints but I doubt we’ll be successful there. When I picked it up I probably smudged any that were there. But it’s a relatively new model and we can check for serial numbers on the slider, barrel, and breech face.”

“They probably sterilized it. Used acid or a drill to remove the numbers.”

“You know more about guns than you let on, Alan. Yes, that is true, but there is a thing called microstamping. It uses a laser to imprint the numbers microscopically on the breech face and the firing pin among other places. They are not so easy to remove. If we can trace the gun perhaps we can trace the woman.”

“You really want her, don’t you?”

“The background check we ran on her was obviously flawed. I want you to find out all you can about who she really is.”

Kuchin stopped rubbing his jaw and took out the laptop computer they had found in the catacombs that was the source of the picture show down there. He turned it on and pushed some keys. A few moments later he was staring at graphic images of his work in Ukraine. He turned to see Rice glancing over his shoulder. The younger man quickly looked away. Kuchin finally eased his gaze from the images on the computer and put it away. He retrieved a small book from his bag and opened it. On one page were the beginnings of a sketch. Holding a bit of charcoal, Kuchin’s hand moved across the paper. As he did so Janie Collins’s face began to more fully appear.

CHAPTER

61

SO FIRST, where do you want to go?”

Shaw was driving with Whit next to him. Reggie and Dominic were in the backseat of the Range Rover. Dominic had dozed off from the painkillers the doctor had given him.

Reggie and Whit looked at each other.

“It’s a valid question,” said Shaw as he patted the steering wheel. “It sort of tells me which way to point the ride.”

“North,” answered Reggie as Whit glared at her.

“North?” said Shaw. “Paris? Normandy? Calais?”

“Farther north.”

Shaw eyed Whit. “The Channel? The North Sea? Do you live on a boat?”

“Funny.”

“You mean you’re Brits?” Shaw added sarcastically, “Bloody hell.”

“I’m Irish, remember, Paddy? Not British,” retorted Whit. “But I’ll let it pass. This time. So you got an idea how to get across the Channel? Hey, maybe this Rover’s amphibious.”

“Do you have passports?”

Whit pointed behind them. “Back there. But we can make some calls and get them quick enough. In fact, I don’t know what we need you for, actually.”

“Because I know what I’m doing. And don’t underestimate the French police.”

Whit slowly nodded. “I don’t underestimate anybody, least of all you.”

“Make the call. Tell him we’ll meet at Reims in four hours. When we get close we’ll call and pick the place.”

“So you know France?” asked Whit.