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“Not my call.”
“Where were you going to hit him?” asked Reggie.
Shaw hesitated. “Les Baux, the caves.”
She considered this. “Probably a better place than the one we chose.”
“Hey,” barked Whit. “We did the best we could with what we had. And you coming into the equation didn’t help matters,” he added, glowering at Shaw. “We might not have fancy jets but we usually get the job done.”
“I’ll have to take your word for that. But if you think you can protect yourselves against this guy without help, you’re wrong. You can ask some dead Muslims about it.”
“I don’t care if he snuffed a couple of those guys,” declared Whit. “And you know what else? I’m going after his ass again. And this time we’ll get him.”
“The only thing you’ll get is dead.”
“Why don’t you just shut up and drive?” Whit turned to stare moodily out the windshield.
Shaw glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Reggie staring at him.
He mouthed, It’ll be okay.
But even as he said it Shaw knew he was lying to the woman.
He turned his gaze back to the road.
CHAPTER
62
KUCHIN’S PLANE was halfway across the Atlantic. Rice had accessed the Internet to check on the Facebook page that had been set up for Reggie posing as Jane Collins and also the other background information they had found there. It had all been deleted.
He fearfully told Kuchin of this while the man rested in his seat.
“We didn’t print copies out either,” Rice said, his voice trembling. “So we don’t even have her photo.”
“I have her photo,” said Kuchin surprisingly. “I took it when you both were out on the terrace talking before dinner.”
“You had suspicions?”
“No, I wanted a picture of a beautiful woman. But now, now I have suspicions,” Kuchin added sarcastically.
“We have nothing on Bill Young.”
By now Kuchin had drawn sketches of Reggie, Shaw, Whit, and Dominic. His eye and memory for detail were astonishing. He showed them to Rice, who nodded approvingly. “Spot-on, Evan. You’re quite an artist.”
“I want the three sketches of the men transferred into a digital format or whatever it is called. Can this be done in a way that would allow a search through a photo database?”
“I believe so, yes.”
“Then make it happen. Along with the photo of the woman, of course. On every database we can buy our way onto.”
“Understood. But if you have a picture of the woman why did you sketch her too?”
Kuchin didn’t answer this. Instead he said, “I do not like leaving Europe. The accents from the men were unmistakable, particularly the Irishman.”
“But not the lobbyist?”
“No. He is different.” Kuchin rubbed his battered jaw. “I have been hit before in my life. I have never been hit that hard. I am stunned my jaw isn’t broken. A strong man. A dangerous man.”
