Deliver Us From Evil

by David Baldacci

  “So we can’t use Rice as leverage?” asked Reggie.

  “It’s Kuchin or nothing, it seems.”

  “But where is he?” she asked. “We took a risk in breaking into his place and really came away with nothing that’ll help us find him.”

  Shaw and Frank exchanged glances.

  “There’s been no sign of him since France,” said Frank. “You know it was private wings so it’s conceivable he never actually left France, or the plane made an unscheduled stop en route to Canada. The wings have been on the ground here ever since. But he could easily hire another plane under a fake name.”

  “So he could be anywhere,” said Reggie.

  “But now we have evidence of his involvement with the KGB in Ukraine,” pointed out Frank.

  “We already knew that,” shot back Reggie. “And I’m no solicitor, but I hardly think the courts will allow in the evidence we got because I’m pretty certain our burglary wasn’t authorized.”

  Shaw said, “She’s right about that.”

  Frank didn’t look convinced. “Maybe, maybe not. As far as I’m concerned this bastard qualifies for war crimes treatment at the Hague, and their rules of evidence are a little different. And the stuff is still there in his penthouse. Maybe we tip the Canadian cops or Interpol and they go get it with nice official search warrants.”

  “Fine, then he’ll be tried in bloody absentia,” snapped Reggie.

  “Nobody said this would be easy,” remarked Frank. “Did you think you were going to waltz in there and find the secret key that would take us right to the guy?”

  “No, but I was hoping for something to help us. But since there wasn’t anything, what’s our next step?” She looked expectantly between Shaw and Frank.

  “We beat the bushes some more,” said Frank vaguely.

  “Wonderful. You know, you guys have all this really cool, whiz-bang technology with your lasers and your being able to knock out power to an entire skyscraper with a push of a little button, but sometimes I think our tin-can-and-string approach is more effective.”

  “It wasn’t more effective in Gordes,” pointed out Frank.

  “Well, at least we didn’t give up like you blokes did,” barked Reggie as she got up and stormed out.

  After the door slammed behind her Frank looked at Shaw. “Damn, I thought Brits were more laid-back than that.”

  “There is nothing laid-back about her,” said Shaw. “But she’s also right. We’re no closer to finding Kuchin.”

  “Well, he’s also probably no closer to finding her or you.”

  “I wouldn’t count on that,” Shaw said slowly.

  “You know something?”

  Shaw didn’t answer. He didn’t know anything, not for sure. But what he did have was an instinct that almost never led him down the wrong path. And every inner warning signal he had was blaring away.

  CHAPTER

  89

  KATIE JAMES kept waking up. It was nothing unusual; it was just how she was. A noise here, an internal thought there, a nightmare that seemed so real she could touch it, kept hammering away. She finally rose, got some water and settled in an armchair, flicked on a reading light, and picked up the latest Lee Child thriller.

  The phone ringing startled her. She automatically checked her watch. It was nearly midnight. She debated whether to answer it. This wasn’t her home after all. But it might be Roberta calling. She looked at the caller ID on the readout screen. Nothing. She hesitated again, but then picked up the phone.

  “Yes?”

  “Is Roberta in?”

  “Who’s calling?”

  “Is this Roberta?”

  That was odd. If they knew Roberta they should know it was not Roberta’s voice. “Who’s calling?” she asked again, but the line went dead.

  Unnerved, she quickly went to check that the front and back doors were locked. With that secured she grabbed a poker from the fireplace and went back into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. She eyed her cell phone. She could call Shaw if she simply hit redial. But he was probably thousands of miles away and in no position to come watch over her. And he might not want to anyway.

  The hand was around her mouth before she could scream. The poker was ripped from her grip along with her cell phone. The smell was awful, making her nostrils clench.

  A moment later Katie collapsed.

  * * *

  The pounding in her head was fierce. Her eyes opened and quickly closed when they encountered the bright lights overhead. She groaned, felt sick to her stomach. She opened her eyes again and this time they stayed that way. She sat up and then froze as she saw the man standing there watching her.

  He held out a hand. “I hope you are feeling better,” said Kuchin.

  She didn’t take his hand, but remained where she was. Katie looked around. Except for the light on her the area beyond was dark. She felt a bump under her, and then another. She looked down. She was on a chair that had folded down to a bed. Another bump, and then her ears dialed in to the familiar hum. How many millions of miles had she heard that?

  She was on a plane.

  She sat up, swung her legs out into the aisle. The man backed up slightly to accommodate this movement.

  “Can I ask the obvious?” she said.

  He sat down in a chair across from her. “Please.”

  “Who are you and why am I here?”

  “Both good questions. Who I am is irrelevant to you. Why you are here may be of interest.”

  He held out a glossy piece of square-shaped paper.

  Katie took it, looked at the photo. Her and Shaw in Zurich. She eyed her hand on top of his arm. As intimate as they’d gotten.

  Shaw. That’s why I’m here.

  She glanced up and handed it back. “I still don’t understand.”

  “Your mouth says that, your eyes do not. It is too late for such tactics. You know him, he knows you. And I would like to get to know him too.”

  I bet.

  “Why?”

  “He is an interesting man.”

  “I don’t know where he is.”

  Kuchin let out a sigh. The next moment Katie was lying on the floor of the plane cabin, blood running down her face from where he’d struck her. Her brain was still trying to process this event when she was wrenched up by her hair and thrown back in her seat. She slumped there holding her face and trying to stop the blood running from her nose.

  She felt something brush against her face.

  Kuchin was handing her a towel.

  “Forgive me for that. I am impulsive. You see, I desperately need to meet with your friend. He owes me something.”

  “What,” Katie said slowly through her busted mouth.

  “Again, not relevant to you.”

  “I don’t know where he is. I’m telling you the truth.”

  “But you can get in touch with him.”

  “No, I can’t. I—” She froze again when he held up her cell phone.

  “It is interesting that we found two cell phones. One you were holding and another in your purse. The one in your purse was much like any other phone, the usual contacts, emails, calendar. But this one, this phone, had none of that. In fact, according to the phone list you have only received two calls on this phone. Now, this man I am seeking, your friend? Why do I think he is a man who would give you such a phone?”

  “He didn’t,” said Katie as she wiped off her face.

  “Then you have no trouble with my calling back this number? Just to see who answers?”

  Katie looked down for a moment, trying to get her breath and her nerves under control.

  What the hell has Shaw done to get a guy like this ticked off at him?

  “I will take your silence as an affirmation.”

  “He won’t come.”

  “I think he will.”

  “Why?” Katie said miserably.

  Kuchin looked at the photo of Shaw and Katie. “I think you know why.”

  CHAPTER

>   90

  SHAW WAS lying on the couch when it happened. He looked at the caller ID screen. He recognized the number. It was the phone Frank had given Katie. She was calling him again. He slumped back on the couch. He wasn’t going to answer. What would be the point? He was absorbed with guilt over sleeping with Reggie. Frank had accused him of disrespecting Anna’s memory, and maybe he was right. Shaw still wasn’t sure how it had all happened. But he did know that he had wanted it to happen. He had wanted the woman in a way that he had wanted no other. Perhaps even Anna. He couldn’t explain it and didn’t have the energy to even try.

  The phone stopped ringing. He sat up, rubbed his head, now feeling even guiltier for not answering the call. The phone started ringing again. Okay, now he had another chance to at least make this right.

  “Hello?”

  “Bill Young?”

  The voice from the catacombs, so close then, seemed right in his face now. Shaw almost never felt afraid anymore. It wasn’t that he was careless or considered himself invulnerable. Paralyzing fear simply had been eradicated from his psyche through an accelerated process of evolution. He spent much of his time in dangerous situations. If he continually froze up, he’d be dead. The ones who didn’t let fear get the best of them tended to live to fight another day. He was one such man.

  Now Shaw felt fear like he hadn’t in a long time. But it wasn’t for himself.

  “How did you get this number?” He already knew the answer and yet he was hoping beyond all reason that he was wrong.

  The next voice he heard destroyed this possibility. “Shaw, stay away. Do not do what this guy says. Just stay away.”

  Katie sounded scared but also resolute. In those few words Shaw was reminded starkly of how courageous the lady was. She was sitting next to one of the great psychopaths of the ages and she was telling him to just let her die. Frank had been right; he didn’t deserve her.

  “Mr. Shaw?” said Kuchin.

  “How did you get to her?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Kuchin. “I have her. Now I want you and the woman.”

  “I can only speak for myself.”

  “You and the woman,” repeated Kuchin.

  “And you’ll let Katie go? Right, sure. I’ll come. Just me.”

  “If it’s just you, don’t bother. Your friend here will not be alive to greet you.”

  “I’m telling you I don’t know where she is.”

  “Then I suggest you try very hard to find her.”

  “And if I can’t?”

  “I have a box, Mr. Shaw. It’s from my days in my home country. In that box are some very persuasive tools that I employ from time to time. Indeed, I just used them on another acquaintance of mine. I have to tell you that he did not seem to enjoy it. I do not often pull out my little box, but I will for your friend if you do not do as I say. I will videotape my work and send it to you.”

  “What if I can find her? What then?”

  “I will call you back on this number in two hours.”

  “That’s not enough time.”

  “In two hours,” repeated Kuchin. “Then I will tell you exactly how and when this will happen. And I would advise you strongly not to let this conversation go beyond you and ‘Janie.’ Such a tactic would be fruitless and will ensure your friend’s death in the most painful way I can possibly achieve. You saw the pretty pictures on the wall beneath that church. You know what I’m capable of.”

  “Listen to me—”

  But Kuchin was gone. Shaw stared down at the phone like it was a live grenade that he needed to throw himself on to save everyone else. But it wasn’t a grenade, it was a phone. And he apparently couldn’t save anyone. And Reggie? He couldn’t ask her to do it. He wouldn’t ask her to do it.

  He would tell Kuchin when he called back that he had found Reggie. They would arrange the meeting. He would go alone, make an excuse, and do his best to get Katie out alive. That was all he could think of.

  He looked up when something thumped against his door.

  “Yeah?” His voice broke on the simple word.

  “It’s Reggie. Can we talk?”

  Shit.

  “I was just getting ready to crash,” he called out.

  “Please.”

  He hesitated, but finally opened the door and motioned her in. She eyed him curiously.

  “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to vomit.”

  “I’m fine.”

  She sat in a chair, he on the couch.

  “What’s up?”

  Reggie started talking, but he wasn’t listening. Shaw knew that Kuchin was too smart for something as simple as his plan. He would want proof that Reggie was coming. He would ask to speak with her. Shaw would never get the chance to save Katie unless…

  “Shaw? Shaw?”

  He looked up to see Reggie standing next to him, poking him in the shoulder.

  “Yeah?” he said in a bewildered tone.

  “You haven’t listened to one bloody word I’ve been saying.”

  “I’m sorry. Look, this is just bad timing.”

  She eyed the phone still clutched in his hand and looked at him suspiciously. “What’s going on?” she demanded.

  “Nothing is going on.”

  She knelt in front of him, her hands on his knees. “Something is going on and you’re going to tell me what it is.”

  Shaw could barely form words. Indelibly painted on his brain were the images of Katie and Kuchin. “It’s nothing. I’ll handle it.”

  She pounced. “Handle what?”

  “Will you please let it alone?”

  “It’s him, isn’t it?”

  “Who?”

  She grabbed his thick shoulders and shook them. “Oh for God’s sake. Talk to me.”

  He stood abruptly, causing her to fall on her backside, and walked away. “I said I’ll handle it.”

  She rose, followed him. “How?”

  “I’ll think of something.”

  “He has someone, doesn’t he? Someone you care about?”

  He whirled, terrible suspicions running through his own mind now, but none of them made sense. “How did you—”

  “I guessed,” she said. “I don’t think you’d ever be scared for yourself. So it had to be somebody else. How did he get to them?”

  Shaw sank down on the edge of the bed. “I don’t know.”

  “Who is it?”