“I know he saved our lives. I know he disobeyed orders to come with us. Do I need to know more?”

Whit eyed her and then Shaw and finally looked at Dominic for support. The young man’s gaze, however, went directly to the pavement.

“Fine,” said Whit. “You two just go off doing whatever. Maybe I’ll see you back in England and maybe I won’t. I’ll drop you a line when I finish off Kuchin.” He turned and stalked back into the station, Dominic scuttling after him.

Shaw looked at Reggie. “Is he always this good-natured?”

“He’s a bloody man, isn’t he? It’s not part of their psychology to be good-natured when they don’t get their bloody way!” She yelled these last words after Whit, but he and Dominic had already disappeared into Gare du Nord. Reggie stalked off in the opposite direction.

Five minutes later she and Shaw were driving off in a dark blue Ford compact Shaw had snatched because the driver had helpfully left the keys on the front seat. After driving three blocks Shaw had pulled over. He’d taken the plates off the Range Rover before ditching it. Now he switched out the Ford’s license plates with those.

“The cops will match the make and model before they check the plates,” he told Reggie. “Range Rover, not Ford. And the guy whose car we stole-”

“It’ll be the reverse. Plates before make and model. So on to Holland?”

“Right. Get some sleep.”

“What if you get drowsy?”

“I don’t,” said Shaw.

64

WHIT HAD just finished speaking. Dominic sat next to him, his wounded arm in a fresh cast. Professor Mallory and Liza sat opposite them in the library at Harrowsfield. Mallory tapped his new pipe stem idly against the old table while Liza, her mouth screwed up in concentration, stared down at her hands.

“You’re sure that this tall fellow, what was his real name again?” began Mallory.

“Shaw,” said Whit.

“Yes, this Shaw fellow. He could not have been the one who set you up?”

“He saved us, Professor. I don’t know why he would have sabotaged the hit only to later come in and pull our asses out of the fire.”

“It appears he may be exactly what he says he is,” said Liza. “An agent for another organization that was on Kuchin’s trail for another reason.”

“The nuclear trafficking,” said Mallory. “Yes, I suppose that is the most logical explanation. Damn inconvenient coincidence, going after the same scoundrel at the same time but for different reasons.”

Liza responded, “Not so much of a coincidence. They undoubtedly had the same thinking we did. Attack the man on his holiday because they might not get another chance.”

“And no word from Regina?” asked Mallory.

Whit shook his head. “Not yet, no. They’re probably on a boat right now chugging across the water to here. At least I hope they are.”

“But not to Harrowsfield,” said Mallory, looking alarmed. “She wouldn’t bring him here?”

“She’s not daft,” said Whit, but he looked away when he said it.

“You have to contact her, Whit, and tell her to come in alone,” said Mallory. “She cannot bring this man with her.”

“I’ve been trying to contact her but she’s not answering her damn phone.”

“Then you need to try harder. You need to go out there and find her.” Mallory waved his hand toward the window.

Whit looked enraged. “Out there? Where out there? Are you talking the grounds at Harrowsfield or the bleeding world? And she got herself into this bloody mess so she can sure as hell get herself out, can’t she?”

“I don’t think that attitude is helping,” admonished Mallory.

“Well, right this minute, I don’t really care what you think,” Whit shot back.

“I believe we all need to calm down,” said Liza. “Perhaps some tea.”

Whit snorted. “Tea? Hell, Liza, give me a bottle of Locke’s eight-year-old single malt and then maybe I’ll calm down enough to listen to this doddering old bloke again.”

Dominic spoke up. “I think we need to trust Reggie to do the right thing.” He looked around at the others, who now all stared back at him. “I know I trust her.” He sat back and rubbed his bad arm, seemingly exhausted after his little speech.

“I think Dominic is right,” said Liza.

“Do you really want to take that chance?” asked Mallory. “Sacrifice everything we’ve worked for here? You remember the concerns you had about her and this Shaw chap,” he added, looking at Whit. “She could be persuaded, perhaps. Blinded by, well, you get my point, surely.”

The Irishman looked uncomfortable now. “She pretty well explained that away. And the fact is we had the bastard in our crosshairs. The mission should have succeeded.”

“And then you were ambushed?” said Mallory.

Whit said, “The fact is, Prof, those blokes knew right where we were. They got the clear jump on us. I want to know how that happened. No, I need to know how that happened.”

“You might have made a mistake,” said Liza. “They could have grown suspicious and followed one of you. Learned about it that way.”

“No one would’ve known me and Dom were involved until D-day. Whenever Reggie came to visit us at the cottage there was no way she was followed.”

“You met at the church at night,” Dominic pointed out.

“That might be a hole,” Whit admitted. “But we have to know for sure.”

“And Kuchin is still out there,” said Mallory.

“It’s not done, Prof. I can’t keep breathing knowing he’s still alive.”

“And I’m sure Fedir Kuchin is thinking the same thing about us,” responded Liza.

“That’s what Shaw said,” added Dominic. “He wanted to help protect us against Kuchin.”

“And I told him we didn’t need his protection,” said Whit sharply. “And we don’t.”

“And no clue as to who he’s with?” said Liza.

“They have their own wings, so they’re not operating on a shoestring like us,” Whit told her with a touch of envy in his voice.

“I don’t like this at all,” said Mallory after a long silence. “I don’t know whether I’m more worried about Fedir Kuchin or this man Shaw.”

“Know what? I say we worry about them both,” retorted Whit.

65

REGGIE, clutching her stomach, stepped onto the wharf, knelt down, and kissed the grimy boards as the ferry pulled back from the dock and began its drift out to sea in heavy swells. It was piloted by a Dutchman whom Shaw had known for years, for reasons he would not divulge to Reggie. The drop-off point was actually a long-forgotten World War II-era naval landing spot technically in the middle of nowhere. It had taken nearly three days for Shaw and Reggie to get back into England, much of it spent on the vessel as it slowly made its way through turbulent waters.

“Thank you, Jesus,” moaned Reggie.

“The boat ride was a little rough,” Shaw remarked as he helped her back up.

“A little rough?” Reggie’s throat convulsed and she looked ready to throw up again, but finally she stood straight and let out a long breath, putting an arm on his shoulder to steady herself. “I thought the only place we were going to reach was the bottom of the bloody sea.”

“Last boat ride I took was across the Irish Sea. It was pretty choppy then too. The woman I was with kept throwing up, just like you. Must be a girl thing.”

“Who was that?” Reggie asked while eagerly if gingerly walking next to Shaw toward solid earth.

“That was a long time ago.”

“How did you know about this place?”

“It’s come in handy a couple of times in the past.”

“Quite a hole in our border security.”

“Every country has at least one.”

When they reached the grassy area next to the pier, Reggie checked her cell phone. It only had a sliver of juice left and no bars. She hadn’t been able to contact anyone about her status and still couldn’t. “Damn it. This is just great.”