Read Online Deliver Us From Evil by David Baldacci - Free Book Online Page A

business your competitors and people who worked for you were constantly
     looking for any signs of frailty. If they thought they’d found it, your mortality rate went up a thousand percent. He understood
     that lesson well, since it was how he’d come into the business many years ago. His mentor had let a minor slight go by with
     no consequences. Three months later he was being eaten by wolves in the Pacific Northwest and Waller was in charge. Over the
     next two decades, there had always been consequences whenever someone had betrayed him. He had no desire to be devoured by
     wolves. He would much prefer to do the eating.
    He looked at the person sitting next to him. Alan Rice was thirty-nine, a graduate of a prestigious university in England,
     who’d traded the halls of academia to help Waller run his empire. Some men were just drawn to the dark side because that’s
     where they could thrive properly.
    Rice was slender, his hair prematurely white. Though his features were delicate, his mind was muscular, brilliant. Men like
     Rice were seldom content to be second-in-commands. But he’d also helped triple the size of Waller’s business in a short period
     of time, and Waller had given him additional responsibilities commensurate with his talents. Waller was the only indispensable
     one in his business, but it was close to the point where he could not run it without Rice.
    Waller flexed his gloved hand.
    Rice noted this movement and said, “Recoil on the pistol bad?”
    “No. I was just thinking about the last time I’d killed someone.”
    “Albert Clements,” said Rice promptly. “Your Australian point man.”
    “Exactly. It makes me wonder. I pay them extraordinarily well, and yet it never seems to be enough.”
    “You have thousands, you want hundreds of thousands. You have millions, you want tens of millions.”
    “And they must think I’m a fool to let them get away with it.”
    “No. They just think they’re smarter.”
    “Do you think you’re smarter than me, Alan?”
    Rice looked over his shoulder at the building they’d just left. “I’m more intelligent than the man you just killed, if for
     no other reason than I have no wish to die at your hands. And I would if I tried to fool you.”
    Waller nodded, but his expression wasn’t quite as convincing.
    Rice cleared his throat and added, “I understand that Provence is beautiful this time of year.”
    “There are few times when Provence isn’t beautiful.”
    “You’ve spent much time there?”
    “My mother was French, from a little town called Roussillon. It’s the site of some of the largest ochre deposits in the world.
     Many famous painters, like van Gogh, traveled there to obtain the earthy pigments for their palette. And unlike many other
     villages in Provence, the buildings are not white or gray stone but wild reds, oranges, browns, and yellows. If I were a painter
     I would move to Roussillon and capture its images using only its colors. We had happy times there, my mother and I.”
    “Have you been back as an adult?”
    “Not to Roussillon, no.”
    “Why not?”
    “My father died there when I was twelve.”
    “What happened?”
    “He fell down the stairs and broke his neck.”
    “An accident?”
    “So they believe, yes.”
    Rice looked startled. “So it wasn’t an accident?”
    “Anything is possible.”
    “Then your mother…?”
    Waller placed a large hand on Rice’s narrow shoulder and squeezed a little. “I didn’t say my mother, did I? She was sweet
     and good. Such an act would’ve been unthinkable to the purity of her soul.”
    “Yes, I’m sure. Yes, I understand.”
    The orbital ridges around Waller’s eyes seemed to deepen. “ Do you understand, Alan?” He removed his hand and pulled a note from his pocket. “I see that a young American woman is leasing
     the villa next to mine.”
    “We just found that out. However, I doubt she poses a threat.”
    “No, no, Alan. We don’t know what she poses