THEY WERE SITTING in a car outside Charles de Gaulle Airport. Shortly, a turboprop plane would be taking Shaw to Avignon. The plan was for him to stay there a few days before venturing on to Gordes, which was less than an hour’s drive away.

Frank said, “Amy Crawford is already in Provence.”

“I’ve worked with her before. She’s a top-notch field agent.”

“Got the plan down pat?”

“In my head it’s perfect. We’ll see how it flies on the ground.”

Frank made to light one of his little cigars, but Shaw stopped him. “Give it a rest until I’m twenty thousand feet up. I need the extra oxygen right now.”

Frank put his cigar away. “Nervous? Not like you.”

“I saw Katie the other night.”

“The hell you say. Where?”

“Right here in Paris. You telling me you didn’t know?”

“Scout’s Honor. First I heard of it.”

“Come on, Frank. She showed up at the restaurant where I was having dinner. How do you think she managed that?”

“You ever stop and think that the lady is a world-class journalist? She finds stuff out.”

“Right.” Shaw clearly did not believe this.

“What’d she want?”

Shaw didn’t answer right away because he didn’t really have an answer. What did she want? Was it really just to see for herself that I was okay? But I told her that on the phone.

“Shaw?”

He noticed that Frank was staring at him and didn’t look happy. “You just zoned out on me. You’re heading out on a mission against one very scary guy and you’re already zoning? Not good.”

“She didn’t really say what she wanted. And she only stayed a minute.”

Frank gripped his arm. “What, you telling me you didn’t invite her to join you for dinner? She traveled all that way and-”

“How do you know how far she traveled?”

Frank made a face and slumped back in his seat.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” said Frank grumpily.

“Half the time you act like you don’t give a crap if I live or die. The other half it feels like you’re trying to play matchmaker.”

“My mother was the same way with me. Must be genetic.”

“We’re not family, Frank.”

“Hell, in some ways we’re closer than family. And who else do you have?”

Shaw looked away, tapped his travel documents against his thigh. Who else did he have? Just Frank? God, that was a depressing thought. “So why do you think she came to see me?”

“Ask me a hard one. She wanted you to tell her, face-to-face, to stay.”

“You know that for a fact?”

“It doesn’t take a brilliant deduction. And no, she didn’t tell me that, if that’s what you’re really asking.”

“Nothing can happen between her and me, Frank.”

“Well, something already has, apparently.”

“Anna’s grave isn’t even cold and-”

“It doesn’t have to be about that. You think a smart lady like Katie doesn’t know what you’re feeling about Anna? She knows you’re not going to jump into bed with her. She knows you may never jump into bed with her. And I don’t think she even wants that. At least not now.”

“So now you’re a shrink?”

“I’m just a guy making a reasoned observation.”

“So what does she really want?”

“You two shared a lot. Went through hell together. Both came out of it emotional wrecks. I think she just wants to be your friend.”

“Well, here’s a news update for you, my line of work doesn’t allow for friends.”

Shaw slammed the door shut behind him and walked off to grab his wings to Avignon.

Frank stared after him until the tall man disappeared into the masses entering the airport. He told the driver to head on. He pulled out his cigar, started to light up, and then stuck it back in his jacket pocket.

“Sometimes you don’t know how lucky you are, Shaw,” he muttered to nobody.

FEDIR KUCHIN was a very smart man, smarter than all of them had thought. Not only had he outwitted Professor Mallory, but he’d outmaneuvered Reggie and her team on the ground in Provence. The penalty for this failure was steep. Reggie stared over at the bodies of Whit and Dominic. Whit’s head was gone; Dominic no longer had a face.

Reggie had been forced to kneel in the center of the freezing room while Kuchin and his men encircled her. There really was no escape this time. She looked up into the long, cruel face as he stroked her chin with one of his hands. She would have attacked him, but her hands and legs were bound. She focused on the bodies of her dead colleagues so she wouldn’t feel the touch of the monster against her skin.

Kuchin laughed, a smug, deep laugh that seemed to go on for minutes. Did you think it would be that easy? he said to her. Did you really? After all those years of guarding myself against this very thing, you really thought someone like you could get to me? You’re an amateur sent in to do a professional’s job.

The stroking changed to a hard slap and Reggie fell backwards, hitting her head on the concrete floor. He immediately pulled her back up by the hair. His face nearly touching hers, he said, Tell me your name. Your real name.

Why? she mumbled.

Because I like to know these things.

No, I won’t.

He hit her in the mouth with his gun, loosening two teeth and breaking a third. She tasted blood and pieces of her gum and swallowed part of one shattered molar.

No.

He hit her again in the stomach and she doubled over. He stomped on her right hand, snapping two fingers. He crushed her left knee with another blow.

Now!

Reggie, she muttered as the blood trickled down her face.

Reggie, what?

Reggie Campion.

Well, Reggie Campion, now you’ll know.

Know what?

What it feels like to die in beautiful Provence.

He motioned to one of his men, who came forward with the canister. A moment later Reggie could taste the petrol as it poured over her, clogging her nostrils, stinging her eyes.

She wanted to be brave. But she heard herself scream, No, please. Don’t. Like a child. Pathetic. Weak.

Kuchin smiled, took the match from his pocket, struck it against the heel of his shoe, and held it up for her to see.

No, no, she cried out.

I actually thought you’d be a worthier foe, Reggie, said Kuchin.

No, please, don’t kill me.

This time the monster wins, Reggie Campion, he said.

He dropped the match on her head and she burst into flames.

With a scream muffled only by the covers over her face, Reggie threw herself out of the bed and landed on the floor, her body twisting and turning, grinding itself into the floor as she fought the imaginary flames. Then, coming to her senses, she stopped and lay still for several minutes. She managed to crawl to the bathroom before emptying her stomach in the toilet, and then collapsed on her back on the cool tile floor.

She lay there breathing hard, waiting for the waves of sickness to fade. Finally she struggled up, stumbled to the window, and looked out onto the grounds of Harrowsfield. As the time to leave on the mission grew closer she usually liked to spend less time at the estate and more at her flat. However, the sexually energetic couple in the room above her had still not satisfied themselves. So she’d come here.

Yet as she had driven away from London she’d also felt a pang of envy. When’s the last time I had sex? Pretty pathetic when I can’t even remember.

The rain had passed but the air had not lost its chill. Reggie lifted the window and leaned out, taking deep breaths as the nightmare’s sickening effects faded.

I’m having night terrors about the bloke and I haven’t even faced him yet. Not good, Reggie. Not good.

The worst part had been the vision of Whit and Dominic lying dead. Her fears could not be a reason for them to die. She had to get her head straight.