HE NEXT AFTERNOON Reggie and Shaw met at a café down the street from the hotel where they were staying. Shaw checked his watch.

“One hour,” he said. “The address we’re supposed to meet at is a five-minute cab ride from here.”

“Good, then we can catch up, Paddy.”

Shaw jerked around when he heard the voice.

Whit was standing there next to the table, with Dominic behind him.

“What the hell are you two doing here?”

“I’ll take that as an invitation to sit down,” said Whit, who did. Dominic sat across from him, resting his arm cast on the table.

Shaw looked at Reggie. “You arranged this?”

“I called and told them what was up. They were the ones who insisted on flying over.”

“Slept all the way,” said Whit as he stretched out his back. “Nice and rested for our little trip.”

“You aren’t going,” snapped Shaw.

“Why not?”

“Because he’s not expecting four, only two. And he said if I didn’t follow his instructions to the letter Katie is dead.”

“We thought about that,” said Reggie. “So when we go to meet, if they say no, Whit and Dominic will back off.”

“Back off? More likely they’ll be killed.”

“My life,” said Whit cavalierly. “I can do what I want with it.”

Dominic simply nodded in agreement.

“But if you’re really concerned,” said Reggie, “then call Kuchin back and ask his permission. You just have to hit last number received.”

Shaw pulled the phone out of his pocket and stared at it for a moment before looking up at Whit. “You do realize if he approves this you probably won’t be coming back alive?”

Whit glanced at his friend. “You okay with that, Dom?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

“There’s your answer,” said Whit.

Shaw made the call. The answer was a little surprising. Kuchin seemed happy to add two more to his list.

“I welcome you all,” he said before Shaw clicked off, shaking his head.

“Everything good?” asked Reggie.

“Oh yeah, now we got four funerals instead of two. Break out the champagne.”

* * *

They rode in a cab to the rendezvous spot. It was a warehouse, which didn’t surprise Shaw.

“It’s usually a damn warehouse,” he said to Reggie.

The door was unlocked. They went inside. There was no one there, just a tan GMC Yukon XL with the keys on the front seat and a set of directions under the visor.

That did surprise Shaw, at least until he thought about it.

“If we were going to set up an ambush, they just took that opportunity away. But this leaves us in control, so I’m not getting it fully.”

They drove out of Montreal heading northeast. Two hours later, following the directions, they turned off onto a one-lane road in an area covered with forest and not a sign of human life anywhere. Two hundred yards down this strip of gravel the truck suddenly cut off. Shaw tried to restart it but the engine never even turned over.

“We’ve got a half tank of gas,” Reggie said, pointing to the gauge on the dash. “Everything else looks normal.”

“It’s a new truck too,” said Whit from the backseat.

Shaw looked up at the button above the rearview mirror. “It’s also got an OnStar system.”

“So?” said Reggie.

“So they can take remote control of the car in case of an emergency or you lock yourself out. Or cut off the engine in case it’s been stolen. If someone overrode that system or piggybacked on it, they can pull the power to the engine and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“I think you’re right,” said Reggie as she looked out the window at the two trucks pulling up to their vehicle, one in front and one behind.

Six men climbed out with SIGs, Glocks, and MP5s pointed at them.

Twenty minutes later they were standing naked in a circle inside a small concrete-block building. They had been searched first by hand and then via a scanner, and then hosed down with a jet stream of water. After that the men repeatedly dragged hard metal combs through their hair and across their arms and legs, leaving long red marks on their limbs. They had also cut off Dominic’s cast and thrown it away. They’d given him a sling in replacement.

After they dried off they were given clean clothes to wear consisting of bright yellow jumpsuits, underwear, and sneakers with white socks.

“What the hell was that all about?” fumed Whit as he pulled on his shoes. “They almost drowned us.”

Reggie was dressing behind a door propped open for privacy, though everyone had already seen the others naked.

Shaw buttoned up his jumpsuit; it was several inches too short for him in the arms and legs. The sneakers were tight on his long feet. “Surveillance devices. These days they have trackers built into fake hair follicles, fake skin patches. They scanned and searched us for the obvious and did the hose-comb treatment for the sophisticated stuff.”

Whit smelled his skin. “There was something else mixed in that water. Probably causes cancer,” he said irritably.

“You should hope to live that long,” replied Shaw.

Reggie joined them after zipping up her jumpsuit. “Well, I can see you’re still Mr. Optimistic.”

“I’m just being realistic.”

“Why do you think the yellow jumpsuits?” asked Dominic.

“If I had to guess,” said Shaw, “the harder it will be to lose us.”

“Lose us?” exclaimed Whit. “How the hell could they possibly lose us?”

“I guess that depends on us, doesn’t it?” said Reggie.