They took the Tube to her flat, where Shaw waited downstairs while she changed into white jeans, a denim shirt, and flats. They picked up the City-Coupé from her garage and drove out to Leavesden. Shaw’s head touched the top of the car’s interior and his knees were crunched against the dash. Reggie looked pleased at his obvious discomfort.
As they passed down the lane heading toward the aged twin columns she said, “Shaw, I’m really not sure about this.”
“Just take a deep breath and keep driving straight.”
They parked in front of the house and got out. Shaw could feel eyes on them as they walked to the front door. It opened before Reggie could put a hand on the knob.
Whit looked ready to shoot both of them.
“I can’t believe you’d bring this bloke here. Are you out of your bleeding mind?”
Shaw answered. “She didn’t have an option. It was either me or the cops.”
“How did you even know about this place?” Whit demanded.
“It’s hard to keep secrets anymore.”
“Whit,” began Reggie, “we all need to sit down and talk this out.”
“You’ve absolutely gone over the edge.” He pointed a finger at Shaw. “This guy is going to bring us all down.”
“Use your brain, Whit,” said Shaw. “If I were going to do that why would I even need to be here? I could’ve just sent the police.”
Whit looked at him, then Reggie, then back at Shaw. “Then what the hell do you want?”
“To help.”
“Oh, right, you’re the bloody good fairy what brings all sorts of pixie sprinkles to nice little boys and girls?”
“I don’t really care what you think. I came here to talk to the people running this ‘operation,’ and I know it’s not you. So either get out of the way or try and stop me.”
Whit looked up at the six-six broad-shouldered Shaw, his ropy muscles clearly visible under his shirt.
“All right, Paddy, come on in. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
As soon as Shaw moved forward, Whit pulled his gun or tried to. Shaw jammed him against the wall with his shoulder, ripped the gun out of his hand, kicked out the Irishman’s legs, and pressed a size thirteen shoe to the side of his head. Shaw released the mag, racked back the slider, cleared the seated round, and put the mag and round in his pocket before tossing the empty pistol back to Whit. He reached down, grabbed the man by the shoulder, and jerked him to his feet.
“If you want to get Kuchin then we need to get this op rolling.”
“What op?”
Reggie said fiercely, “The one we’re apparently going to be planning with him.”
“You don’t sound too happy about this whole thing,” remarked Whit as he rubbed his sore shoulder.
Reggie looked at Shaw. “Like the man said, I didn’t really have a choice. Where’s the professor?”
“Right here.”
They all looked down the hall. Professor Miles Mallory was holding a pistol pointed at Shaw.
“Would you care to step this way, Mr. Shaw?” said Mallory. “I think we need a word. And for the record, this weapon is fully loaded and I’m a fairly decent shot.”
Shaw didn’t hesitate. He moved through the front door. “I’d like that, Professor. And hopefully I can find out why you thought it was necessary to order one of your foot soldiers to inject me with enough botulinum to put a rhino down for good.”
CHAPTER
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