HE AIR was cool, but oddly heavy. The darkness here was more intense than anything Reggie had experienced. She could only flash her penlight every few seconds to see where she was going. Twice she bumped into hard objects, skinning her arm and bruising a toe. She kept making her way down, pausing every few seconds to listen. After she passed through a door something grabbed her.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Shhh. You’ll wake the bloody dead.”

A light flashed on the face next to her, revealing a grinning Whit.

“What the hell were you thinking sneaking up on me like that? If I had a gun I would’ve shot you.”

Whit turned the light away from his face. “Sorry, Reg, I guess this place does something to you. Makes you all silly.”

“Is it all clear at least?” she said sternly, her breath returning to normal.

“Of all living things. See for yourself.” He swept his light around. Reggie took in the revealed objects.

Crypts.

They were in the catacombs of Gordes’s Catholic church. Since Reggie had articulated her plan to Professor Mallory back at Harrowsfield they’d used the church as the focal venue of their plans. Whit and Dominic had explored its interior and were thrilled to find it held all they needed to entrap their quarry.

“How many do you reckon?” she asked.

“Dunno. Didn’t bother to count ’em. It’s a lot, though.”

“Now show me the pass-through you found. That’s the critical piece.”

He led her back the way she had come in to an intersection of two passages: the one they’d come through that led to the catacombs, and the second heading off to the left. They walked down this long passage that was dimly lit by a few flickering electric lights, then Whit hooked a left, led her down a long flight of aged steps, through another door, and they finally arrived farther down the cliffs and on the other side of Gordes, near the villas.

He said, “Brilliant on your part using the religion angle.”

“It’ll only be brilliant if it actually works. Where’s Dom?”

“Back at our digs. He’s got an itchy finger to get this guy.”

“Then it’s your job to calm him down. I already told him that’s how mistakes happen. And with a guy like Kuchin we can’t afford any errors.”

They walked back to the catacombs.

“So where’s Bill?” Whit asked.

“Why?”

“I saw you talking to him earlier tonight. Just wondering.”

“You were spying on me?” Reggie said.

“No, just covering your back. Partners do that, you know.”

“Okay, partner, we’re going to Les Baux tomorrow to look at the Goya exhibit.”

“You think that’s wise?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because you could spend that time further ingratiating yourself to Kuchin, now couldn’t you?”

That was true, thought Reggie. And yet she wanted to go to Les Baux. Or maybe she just wanted to go with Bill to Les Baux.

Whit seemed to be reading her mind. “You talk about focus, Reg? Then why don’t you practice what you’re bloody preaching?” he said heatedly.

She looked up at him angrily. “You worry about Dom and yourself. And you’re the one who went off mission in your last lead.”

“What, by shooting a Nazi in his nuts and painting Hitler’s sign on his head? I told you before, I’m an artiste.”

“No, you just made our job a lot harder.”

“Oh, so you’ve bought into the professor’s theory on keeping a low profile so the future bastards won’t dig their hole deeper?”

“I don’t consider it a mere theory.”

“Well, consider this, love. You don’t think these blokes we’re hunting are dug in as deep as they can be? You don’t think they know folks are coming after them? The prof wants a low profile? I say we scream our work to the heavens. I want these bastards to know we’re coming. I want them to lie awake at night thinking about how grisly their deaths will be. I want them to piss in their pants with fear, just like the people they slaughtered had to. See, for me, that’s all part of the fun.”

“What we do isn’t fun, Whit,” she said, though by her expression his words had stung her, had uncomfortably reached a level in her mind she hadn’t before visited.

“Well, maybe that’s the principal difference between you and me.”

The two stared at each other in the semidarkness until Reggie said, “Do you have the poison yet?”

“Enough to kill ten Fedir Kuchins.” He looked around the room they were in. “I say right here is good. Tie him to that slab over there. Read him his life story and then do the drip-drip. You got down how you want to show the prick his terrible deeds? That’s the last piece as far as I can see.”

“Getting there. And after that?”

“Right, low-profile shit.” Whit flashed his light on a crypt against the wall. “That one’s top is very loose. Took a lot of elbow grease from Dom and me, but we got it done. Nothing but bones at the bottom, plenty of room. I checked around the village; they don’t use the catacombs anymore. Doubt they’ll ever find the guy till he’s bones too. Work for you?”

“Yes. I’m sure the professor will be very pleased too.”

“Not my job to please him.”

She grabbed his arm. “We have to be on the same page here. There’s too much at stake.”

He firmly disengaged her fingers. “I may disagree with people over stuff, but when the time comes to do the job, I’ll do the bloody job. That good enough for you?”

“Yes.”

“In the meantime, enjoy Les Baux with your beau.”

In another few seconds, Reggie was alone.

She waited a few more minutes and then made her way back out to the darkened streets. Even after midnight Gordes was lovely and felt safe. There was no one about as she made her way quietly back to the villa. She was aware that people would probably be watching her as she approached Kuchin’s place. His men kept a 24/7 vigil around their boss. What Reggie hadn’t counted on was someone watching her as she left the church.

And this time it wasn’t Shaw.