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“So you’re Jane Collins?”
Now Reggie snapped up her visor. “How did you know that?”
“The real estate agent was very helpful.”
“That’s an invasion of privacy.”
“No,” Pascal said calmly. “It’s just part of my job.”
“What job would that be?” asked Shaw.
“Let’s just say I’m in safety management.”
“Can we go now?” asked Reggie.
“Sure, I’ll just follow you on up and make sure you get in okay.”
“I don’t think the lady needs any help,” said Shaw.
Reggie said hastily, “No, it’s all right.”
Shaw puttered up to the villa, the Vespa’s single headlight illuminating the way, while the man followed behind. They could see that not only was the Citroën van back but there were two large SUVs that had somehow made their way up the narrow streets off the main road heading into Gordes without shearing off their side mirrors. The villa also had all the lights on inside. Shaw could see shadows pass back and forth in front of one window.
They slipped off the Vespa and Reggie opened the door. The beep-beep of the security system sounded.
Pascal had stopped near the scooter and he nodded appreciatively. “Good thinking, ma’am, using your security system. Can never be too safe.”
“Do you want me to come in, Janie?” Shaw asked as Pascal stood there watching.
; She hesitated before eyeing the other man. “No, that’s okay. I’m tired. Thanks for dinner.”
She closed the door and Shaw got back on the scooter.
“Foxy woman,” said Pascal.
Shaw had known men in special forces units around the world who looked just like this guy. They could run circles around the tall, bench-press-muscled jocks. In that line of work the essential wasn’t strength or even speed, it was endurance. The tortoise definitely won in that world. These guys could kick ass with the best, shoot the wings off bees at four hundred yards, change plans in midstream, read complicated maps on the fly, employ stealth when it was called for, and steamroll the other side when stealth was all played out. But in the end it was all about survival. That’s why Shaw had never lifted many weights but had instead run the soles off his sneakers up one side of a mountain and down the other. That and a good, true aim and stout nerves made all the difference between going home safe or getting wedged in a box for all eternity.
He broke free from these thoughts when Pascal stepped next to him and said, “You need anything else? If not, I’d appreciate you moving on so I can secure this area.”
No overt threat, very professional, Shaw thought. The guy was good. But then a man like Waller could afford the best. Shaw rode back to his room and phoned Frank.
“Okay,” Frank said after Shaw briefed him. “Game on. Keep me posted.”
Shaw changed his clothes, waited another three hours, and then headed back out again on foot, after retrieving his night optics—which looked like an ordinary camera—from the hotel’s safe deposit room. He slipped through the dark streets of Gordes. Normally he would be pleased that the target was in town and on schedule. Even though the villa had been rented and the private tour at Les Baux arranged, plans changed and there was never any guarantee that Waller would actually show up in Provence. Yet Shaw was not pleased. The target was here, but so was Janie Collins. Shaw suspected nothing good could come out of that.
CHAPTER
30
REGGIE LOOKED in the bathroom mirror as she washed away her makeup
with a damp cloth. She had on a long green T-shirt and white bikini panties, and her hair hung straight to her shoulders. She turned off the light and moved to the window overlooking the street in front. The van and one SUV were still there. The second truck had left about twenty minutes ago; Reggie had heard it start up but had been too late getting to the window to see who’d been in it.
She’d texted the professor and Whit and told them that Kuchin’s men were here. The message had gone out over a secure line, but would still seem innocuous to anyone who might intercept it. It had read simply, “Dear Carol, the views here are even more beautiful than I thought. I’m going to get up early to see the sunrise.”
She walked into her bedroom and edged open the window, which swung out like a door. From here she could see a portion of the rear grounds of the next-door property. She was startled to see the silhouette of a man sitting in a chair near the end of the pool smoking what looked like a cigar. There were no lights on in the back, but the moon was bright.
