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“Once, but only because a guy I was trailing decided to take a ride.”
Reggie pointed at another structure. “Did you know Claude Monet painted a picture of Waterloo Bridge from a balcony here? And that Fred Astaire danced on the Savoy’s roof?”
“No, I didn’t know that.”
She closed the drape and turned to him. “But the oddest story I ever heard about the Savoy has to do with a cat named Kaspar.”
“Kaspar the cat?”
“Yes. He’s the oldest resident here, actually. Whenever there’s a dinner party at the Savoy where the number of guests is thirteen Kaspar comes out and fills a fourteenth seat.”
“That’s because superstition has it that the first person who gets up from a party of thirteen will die?”
“Precisely. I believe Agatha Christie even wrote a mystery about it.”
“But eating with a cat?”
“Kaspar is carved out of wood, which makes him invaluable as a dinner partner, if only for the ‘quiet’ companionship he provides.”
“Nice story,” Shaw said.
“Yes, isn’t it?” Reggie replied quietly.
“How many other Kuchins have there been?” Shaw asked.
“You deduce that from my vague phraseology? Big assumption on your part.”
“Not really.”
“What then?”
“You don’t get that good your first time out.”
“I’m not sure how good we really are. Gordes was a major cock-up all around, as you said.”
“Things happen in the field, no matter how well you plan it out. But the way I see it you have two major problems and they may be connected.”
She sat back down on the bed and looked up at him. “Okay. What are they?”
“First, you guys got ambushed. That means you either let somebody sneak up on you or you have a mole.”
“And the second?”
“Kuchin is still out there.” He patted the file he’d pulled from the safe. “And unless the guy in these pages has really mellowed over the years he’s not going to just walk away from this. And if he did take out those Muslim terrorists he’s apparently still got his killing mojo. Now, if he also has a plant inside your place that makes it even more problematic.”
“But if he did have a mole, how could we have gotten him down to the catacombs?”
“Not sure. But regardless, the issue becomes, what are you going to do about it?”
“Quite frankly, this is a little bit of new territory for us.”
“I’d like to help you with this.”
“You would have no idea what you were getting into, trust me.”
“That’s all I’m asking you to do, trust me.”
“I’ve never really trusted anyone. Perhaps not even myself at times,” she added in a strained voice.
