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.
It’s him. It’s Fedir Kuchin.
If Reggie had had a gun, she could have ended the man’s life right then. But that was not the way they did things.
She saw the man flinch. Had he seen her watching? That would have been virtually impossible. She was not in his line of sight and there was no light at her back. Still, she eased back into the room but left the window open, figuring if she tried to close it that would alert him that someone was watching.
She drew a deep breath, pulled off her T-shirt and panties, slipped into her bikini, and walked down the stairs. She slid open the rear door and stepped to the darkened pool.
“Okay,” she said quietly, “here we go.”
She slipped into the warm water, kicked off, and started doing her laps.
From the cliffs Shaw watched the two villas through his night glass. He saw Reggie standing at the window and then leaning out to peer next door. His gaze next swung to the man in the other villa’s rear grounds. Evan Waller sat there smoking a cigar while two of his security men stood nearby. Shaw zoomed in on the man. His optics gave off no signature, so he wasn’t overly concerned that anyone could spot him. And even if they had night-vision equipment, he was looking through a crevice formed between two boulders. The odds that they could “make” him under those conditions were too small to worry about.
Waller’s movements were leisurely. He was talking on a cell phone. A few minutes passed and Shaw was about to give up his surveillance when he saw Reggie emerge from the back sliding door in her bikini, a towel in one hand.
“Oh, come on,” Shaw said to himself. “You know the creep was already spying on you.”
As though he had heard Reggie come outside, Waller rose and walked over to the wall that separated the two villas. One of his men joined him there and was pointing at Reggie’s villa. Shaw zoomed in some more. It was the same muscle that had peeped on the lady earlier. He was probably giving Waller a blow-by-blow account of the incident. The resolution on Shaw’s optics was good, but not quite good enough to show someone smiling. However, even without the confirming picture, he was convinced the man was grinning about whatever he was thinking right now.
Shaw flinched when the muscle bent down and formed a stirrup with his hands. A moment later Waller was boosted up and peering over the wall. Shaw swung his surveillance in the other direction. Reggie was still doing her strokes. Shaw hoped she would keep doing them until the two men went inside. His hopes were dashed as she stopped swimming and walked up the steps and grabbed her towel.
Shaw swung back around to look at Waller, who was still peering over the wall. The son of a bitch was probably drooling by now. Or maybe wondering if the lady would be a good recruit for his prostitution business.
He looked back at her. Don’t strip, Janie. Don’t.
Now it appeared as though she’d heard him. At least she kept her bikini on, toweled off, wrapped it around her, and walked into the house. No one watching her could see the waterproof bud in her right ear where she had been receiving communications from Dominic. Shaw wasn’t the only one watching them from the cliffs tonight.
Waller quickly climbed down from his perch and the two men went inside. Shaw left his observation post and walked back to his room. There was sweat under his armpits though the night was cool. He called Frank and told him what he’d just seen. His boss wasn’t nearly as concerned as he was.
“I don’t care about the chick. All I care is that he goes to Les Baux on schedule.” He added ominously, “And that better be all you care about too, Shaw.”
Shaw slowly put the phone down. He was a pro, been doing this forever. The only time he’d really lost it was when he’d allowed himself to care about something other than the mission. Well, when he’d found himself caring about someone.
CHAPTER
31
WEARING HER SUNDRESS, sandals, and a bright blue kerchief around her hair, Reggie unlocked the door to her villa, stepped through, and nearly bumped into him. She looked up at the man and confirmed for herself that he looked even more intimidating in person than he had in the old photos. He was dressed in black slacks and a white short-sleeved shirt that he wore tucked in and that showed off his trim waist. Though in his sixties he had retained a great deal of the muscle of his youth. His shoulders were broad, his arms sinewy, and his thighs hard under the black fabric. And yet what drew her attention were the eyes.
She’d beheld the gaze of many mass killers, but the power in Fedir Kuchin’s eyes was something at a different level. They seemed capable of snatching every secret she’d ever kept right out of her soul. Compared to him the old Nazis were scared children.
He put out a hand. “I appear to be your neighbor,” he said. “Evan Waller.”
His Ukrainian accent was gone now, buried under decades of a homespun Canadian cadence.
She shook hands, his long fingers enveloping hers. “Jane Collins.”
He stood uncomfortably close. He was four inches shorter than Shaw but still towered over her.
“I understand you had a little misunderstanding with one of my men last night. The fault is entirely mine. Rest assured it will not happen again. I would like to make it up to you. Perhaps dinner tonight? At my villa or in the charming little village up the cliff?”
His big body seemed to press in on her while she thought this through. She gazed for a moment over his shoulder and saw two of his men staring at them. One had a little smile glazed onto his mouth. He was probably the one who had seen her naked by the pool, she thought. Male lust was as easy to read as alphabet blocks. And then there was the smaller man from the night before. For some reason she was more leery of him than the bigger man.
“Well, that’s very nice of you, but—”
He smiled disarmingly as he interrupted her. “No, no, before you reject me, think about it. I didn’t even allow you to lock your door before pouncing. My apologies. I will await your answer later.” He eyed her straw basket. “You are going to do some shopping, I see?”
She nodded. “They have a wonderful market twice a week in the center of town. Everything from clothes to vegetables.”
“Well, I must investigate this market for myself. Would you mind if I walked with you? It’s a lovely morning and I would like to stretch my legs.”
“Did you just get in?”
He slipped an arm through hers and she was forced to walk next to him. His action was gentle, seemed natural, and yet Reggie found no viable option of resistance without ripping her limb free.
“A long flight, yes. I live in Canada, my homeland. Before that I was in Hong Kong. Another even longer flight. Have you ever been there?”
Reggie shook her head.
“A city more full of energy than any other.” He smiled and added, “And a place where one can get anything one wants. But you are American, correct? You’re used to getting what you want.”
“Why do you think I’m American?” she said, feigning suspicion.
“M
erely a reasoned deduction based on your accent and appearance factors. Am I not correct?”
“No, I am American.”
“Then we are neighbors in that way too. Our two countries. I see providence at work here.”
“When I came home last night your men knew my name.”
Kuchin waved his free hand carelessly. “Standard security procedures, I’m afraid. You see, I am a very wealthy man. I live a very boring life and I have no enemies of which I’m aware. But the company I head up, they insist on these precautions.” He laughed. “I’m Canadian after all; a peaceful hardworking people.” He patted her arm. “I can assure you that there will be no more intrusions into your privacy.”
Really, thought Reggie. Does that include spying on me while I’m swimming? She hadn’t the benefit of Shaw’s night optics, but from the corner of her eye she had observed him watching her last night from over the wall. And Dominic had confirmed this through her ear bud. Alerted by Shaw’s information of the peeping guard, they had set up an observation post barely a half kilometer from where Shaw had been watching from the cliffs. However, Dominic and Shaw had been totally unaware of each other’s presence.
“Are you really sure about that?” asked Reggie. “Your security person seemed very persistent.”
Kuchin was beaming as he rubbed her arm. “I am quite sure. He works for me. And I can see that you are a delightful young woman whom I feel quite safe with.”
I look forward to proving you wrong on that, Fedir, thought Reggie.
“And I understand that you were with a man last night? Please tell me he is only a casual acquaintance so that I have some hope of seeing you on occasion while I’m here.”
“I just met him recently.”
“Wonderful. So no husband or longtime beau then?”
“No.” She looked up at him in feigned perplexity.
He seemed to interpret her look in just the way she desired. “No, no. I am single but I could have children your age, my dear. Just indulge an old man who desires the innocent company of a beautiful young woman and nothing more.”
She said playfully, “You don’t look that old.”
“You just made my day far happier.”
“And you’re sure nothing more?”
“You’re playing with me, is that right?”
“Maybe a little.”
“Good, that is a good first step. Have you been to Provence before?”
“Once.”
“I have been here often. If you would permit I would take it upon myself to show you some of the beautiful sites near here. The Palais des Papes, or Popes’ Palace, in Avignon, the finest example of a Roman aqueduct in all of France at Pont du Gard, the photo exhibition caves at Les Baux-de-Provence, the beauty of Roussillon, and the wine country to the north. In fact, I know a café in Gigondas where the pastries alone are worth the trip.”
“My goodness, you certainly don’t waste any time, Mr. Waller.”
“And why live if one desires to waste time? For me life is precious. I go, go, go because I know one day it will be over. And no matter how much money one has, or fine houses, or anything else, it will all be gone when you breathe your last. And please, it is Evan. You embarrass me by using my surname.”
“Well, Evan, let’s start with the market and go from there, how does that sound?”
“Perfectly logical.” He squeezed her arm in a way that indicated his insistence on “nothing more” was a lie. “Off to market we go.”
Reggie could now understand what the professor had meant by the charm of the man. If she didn’t know of his past, she could find him intriguing, fascinating even. But she did know of his past and this allowed her a way around the charm. And from there it was but a small step to ending the man’s life.
CHAPTER
32
SHAW WAS MAKING his way around the crowds that had already gathered at the market. There were hundreds of vendors, some with simple baskets pulled from their old, tiny cars and set up on rickety tables, while others had row after row of stacked goods on professional-grade display racks. Idly killing time, he had been here an hour, had two cups of coffee and an almond croissant, and was about to make his way down a long narrow street where still more sellers had migrated when he saw them approaching.
He acted on his first impulse and took cover behind a rack of cotton dresses and ladies’ hats. He crouched down, as though he was examining a pair of leather boots on one counter, but his eyes behind the sunglasses were focused on two people.
Janie Collins and Evan Waller were walking arm in arm up the street to his left. She had a basket in one hand and Shaw could see that she had already purchased some things. Two steps behind them were the muscle. One was the runt from the night before, the other one was six-five and about two-eighty. Shaw scanned the other streets, doorways, and even the rooftops to see if any additional guards were around. He didn’t see any, and he would have if they were there.
What the hell is she doing with him? The guy must not have wasted a moment.
He fell in behind them, but keeping well back and using the cover of people and goods for sale whenever they looked around and might’ve spotted him. This was one of the few times when his height was a drawback. Taking refuge next to a stand selling hand-cranked music boxes and T-shirts, Shaw stopped to take a good, hard look at Evan Waller. He came away impressed, at both the man’s obvious physical fitness and his confident manner. He was clearly regaling the lady with amusing anecdotes, and for some reason Shaw’s gut clenched every time he saw her laugh at one of the man’s remarks.
For a moment Shaw thought Waller had looked in his direction when he was exposed in front of a stand selling leather jackets, but then the man had looked away and guided his companion to another destination. Shaw watched as Waller purchased a handcrafted necklace for her and then placed it around her neck, his fingers lightly touching Janie’s skin. Twenty minutes later, her basket full, the pair, followed by the silent sentries, slowly made their way back down to their villas, leaving Shaw standing there undertaking a swift analysis that led to nothing helpful.
He hurried back to his room and called Frank.
“The lady’s playing with fire and might just get burned,” Shaw said. “There must be a way to protect her from this guy.”
“Whoa, Shaw, whoa. I thought we had this conversation. We didn’t send your butt to Provence to protect some rich chick from the States. You’re there to bring in Waller, that’s all.”
“We can’t just let this guy…”
“What? Have his way with her?” Frank chuckled. “Geez, you’re a piece of work.”
Shaw sat on his bed and rubbed his thumb against his index finger so hard it made a squeaking sound. “He could kill her. Or kidnap her and make her a prostitute.”
“Yeah, right. He kills or snatches a wealthy young American staying in the place next to his just so the police will come and investigate? I don’t think so. And why would he do that when he can get as many fourteen-year-old orphans from Asia as he needs for his business? The guy’s on holiday. He finds out there’s a good-looking chick next door that swims in the nude. He probably just wants to get laid.”
“And that’s okay with you?”
“It’s none of my business. Do you see it differently?”
Shaw hesitated. He wasn’t exactly sure how he saw it. No, maybe he did, but was afraid to voice it, at least to Frank.
“What if she screws up the op?”
“How so?”
“I don’t know. But how about we just pull the plug on the whole thing?”
“Are you nuts?” barked Frank. “We don’t get him this time, he might not surface again until London or New York goes boom with a mushroom-cloud chaser. Now focus on the op, Shaw, and cut this other crap out.”
Shaw put down the phone and let out a small groan. After this was over he was never, ever coming back to France.
CHAPTER
33
REGGIE BENT LOW to s
nap a picture of a bee on a stalk of lavender. She rose, slipped the camera in the back pocket of her white jeans, and walked toward the Abbaye de Sénanque. Founded by Cistercian monks in the twelfth century, it was located about thirty kilometers from Gordes along a winding drive through the mountains on roads that were ostensibly two lanes but practically only had room for one car.
She walked toward the ancient building where for centuries men had come to learn the intricacies of their faith. Now it housed a chapel, a bookstore and gift shop, and other event space. Monks still lived there and produced a variety of items for sale, including honey and liqueurs. The grounds were covered in the lavender fields for which Provence was known, although Reggie had passed equally impressive swaths of sunflowers on her way here. However, she had not come for the horticultural aspects