WE’RE SCREWED,” muttered Shaw as he stared at the interior of the train station. Wearing a hat, tinted sunglasses, and, despite the warm air, a bulky sweatshirt, he’d entered the immense bustle of Gare du Nord in Paris only to find that numerous police officers were walking the floor holding pictures of him. Reggie, Whit, and Dominic, similarly disguised, had followed him in separately and just seen what he had.
Then he pointed to a policewoman walking near an entrance door. In her hand was a color image of a second person.
Reggie recognized her image immediately. “Shit.”
After confirming that these were the only pictures being distributed, Shaw turned and left the station. The others joined him outside near a rack of luggage carts.
“Now what?” asked Dominic.
Whit answered. “I say the three of us take our chances and you”—he pointed at Shaw—“can take your chances somewhere else.”
Shaw said, “I disagree.”
“I don’t care if you bloody disagree.”
“Use your brain, Whit. Four together is easier to catch. They’ve got my and Reggie’s pictures in there, not you two. You get on the train and get back to London. Reggie and I will get there another way.”
“I don’t think so,” Whit shot back.
“He’s right, Whit,” said Reggie. “It’s better to split up. If they catch us, so be it. But it would be stupid to let them catch all of us at once.”
Whit was unmoved by her arguments. “You seem to be trying awfully hard to think of reasons to stay with this guy.”
Shaw leaned against the wall of the station and said, “Why don’t you let the lady make up her own mind, Whit, or is that against company policy?”
“Why don’t you shut the hell up? You don’t know anything about us.”
“Not for lack of interest or trying.”
“If we go on the train, how are you getting back to England?” Whit asked Reggie.
Shaw answered, “Amsterdam. We can grab a ferry there. I know somebody. They don’t ask questions and I doubt the police will be covering it.”
Reggie said, “Whit, you and Dom get on the damn train. He needs to get his arm looked after as soon as possible. A little over two hours on a train is a lot better than pitching on the Channel in a boat for days.”
“You’re really serious, aren’t you? You’re going with this bloke even though you don’t know who the hell he is?”
“I know he saved our lives. I know he disobeyed orders to come with us. Do I need to know more?”
Whit eyed her and then Shaw and finally looked at Dominic for support. The young man’s gaze, however, went directly to the pavement.
“Fine,” said Whit. “You two just go off doing whatever. Maybe I’ll see you back in England and maybe I won’t. I’ll drop you a line when I finish off Kuchin.” He turned and stalked back into the station, Dominic scuttling after him.
Shaw looked at Reggie. “Is he always this good-natured?”
“He’s a bloody man, isn’t he? It’s not part of their psychology to be good-natured when they don’t get their bloody way!” She yelled these last words after Whit, but he and Dominic had already disappeared into Gare du Nord. Reggie stalked off in the opposite direction.
Five minutes later she and Shaw were driving off in a dark blue Ford compact Shaw had snatched because the driver had helpfully left the keys on the front seat. After driving three blocks Shaw had pulled over. He’d taken the plates off the Range Rover before ditching it. Now he switched out the Ford’s license plates with those.
“The cops will match the make and model before they check the plates,” he told Reggie. “Range Rover, not Ford. And the guy whose car we stole—”
“It’ll be the reverse. Plates before make and model. So on to Holland?”
“Right. Get some sleep.”
“What if you get drowsy?”
“I don’t,” said Shaw.