“Who cares if they go after people like that? Didn’t you just say it was a good thing as far as you were concerned?”
“I was talking about the Nazis. They aren’t coming back to power.”
“I don’t understand the difference.”
“Don’t be a virgin. If you want black and white, go watch a Bogie and Bacall flick. These guys take out a monster in the Middle East or South America we could have revolutions going on in places we don’t need them, you see what I’m saying?”
“No, I really don’t. Because if they’ve already been deposed?”
“Like I said, they sometimes come back. And depending on who deposed them, it might be in our interests to make sure they do come back because the asshole that knocked them off their perch is even worse. I can give you about a dozen historical examples of that if you want. But we don’t have that option if they’re dead.”
“Jesus, this is insane.”
Frank rose. “Maybe I don’t disagree with you. But it doesn’t really matter what the hell we think. We’re just grunts on the ground. So go after Kuchin and take the chick with you. That way you can work on the inside with them and learn even more about their operation. We’ll give you primary support, whatever you need.”
“And when and if we catch him?” Shaw asked dubiously.
“Then he’ll get what’s coming to him.”
“And Reggie and her people?”
Frank slid on his hat and walked to the door. “And they’ll get what’s coming to them.”
“Frank, there has to be another way.”
Frank eyed him intently. “Tell me something.”
“What?”
“You already slept with her, didn’t you?”
“What?” Shaw said with a stunned look on his face.
“We were watching this place, genius. You two came in that night all touchy-feely and didn’t show again until breakfast.” He added bitterly, “You didn’t deserve Anna. Or Katie James for that matter, you son of a bitch.”
“Frank—”
“I’ve cut you enough slack. Now just do your damn job, Shaw.”
Frank slammed the door on his way out.
CHAPTER
85
SHAW AND REGGIE were private wings up eight hours later heading to Montreal. At thirty-nine thousand feet Shaw pulled out some documents and spread them over the dining table and motioned Reggie to sit opposite him.
They were both dressed casually, she in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt and Shaw in khakis and a dark short-sleeved shirt.
“Nice way to travel,” she said, admiring the interior of the Gulfstream V.
“We’ve got a lot of work to do and not a lot of time, so let’s get to it,” he said in a tone that could only fairly be described as a bark.
She sat. “What the hell is your problem?”
“I’ve got too many to list right now. So let’s just focus on this one.”
He indicated the architectural plans in front of him. “Kuchin’s penthouse in downtown Montreal.”