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He carried Jansen over his shoulder, the gun held out in front of him just in case anyone else was around who wanted a piece of him. He used a lamp cord to tie him up, lifted his cell phone and his car keys, kicked open the front door, leapt off the short stack of steps, and climbed into a two-door gray hatchback parked in front of the house.
Ten seconds later he was flying down the road. The car had GPS and he inputted his destination with jabs of his finger.
Gordes.
He checked the clock on the dash that also had the current date.
Market day.
He might still have time. He floored the little car and reached a main road. He punched in a number. Frank’s voice came on. When he heard Shaw he started yelling.
“Shut up, Frank, and listen.”
“Me listen! Shaw, I will have your ass—”
“They’re going to hit Waller.”
That caught Frank’s attention. “What? Who is?”
Shaw filled Frank in on all that had happened. “I’m pretty sure it’s going down today. I need some backup.”
“There is none. We pulled all our assets from the area.”
“There’s nobody?”
“I’ve been spending all my time covering for your ass with my bosses. They think you went nutso over this chick. They are pissed.”
“I can’t do this by myself. I need some help. Waller has a lot of muscle.”
Frank was silent.
“Hey,” Shaw cried out, “talk to me.”
“There is one asset in the area.”
“Who?”
“Me.”
“Why are you still here?”
“Forget it, I just am.”
“Why, Frank?”
“Because I’ve been looking for you, that’s why. Happy? Now how do you want to play this?”
“Here’s how.” Shaw started talking fast.
When he was done Frank said, “Do you really trust this woman?”
“To the extent I trust anybody, yeah, I trust her.”
“Well, I hope to hell you’re right.”
Shaw clicked off and floored it. The hatchback’s engine whined to near its breaking point as the Provençal countryside whizzed by.
He reached the turnoff to Gordes, saw the traffic backup, ditched the car, and sprinted up the winding road. Reaching and clearing the side street leading to the twin villas, he saw no guard in front of Waller’s place, which meant he was probably not there. He looked around at the groups heading up to the market and the line of cars and vans filled with goods for sale. Walking up to one slow-moving truck that had racks of clothing and hats piled in the back, he pulled out some euros, and a minute later Shaw was covered up with a colorful poncho, a wide-brimmed canvas hat, and a cheap pair of sunglasses that the driver had thrown in from his own pocket for free.
