The Whole Truth (22 page)
“Very generous of you.”
“It’s why I didn’t have my wife come. It’s impossible for the woman to keep her clothes on while on this boat, even with little kids running around. I mean, adults are one thing, and if the crew wants to ogle her, but children? It’s really quite an appalling facet of her personality. Had I known before the wedding? Well, there you are.”
“A small dent in your aura of omniscience,” Pender said, not bothering to hide his smile.
“Dick, I’ve found that you occasionally take liberties with me that you have no right to take.”
Pender looked startled. “I’m sorry, Mr. Creel. I had no intention—”
Creel set a glass of port in front of him. “By the way, it is the best.”
A pale-faced Pender nervously lifted his glass with Creel.
Creel said, “To a better world.”
“To a better world,” Pender mumbled nervously.
“Don’t look so glum, Dick, I wasn’t being
entirely
serious.”
This comment didn’t seem to make Pender feel any better at all.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes after I get the kids settled down to eat. Then after that I’m going to take them on a submarine ride.”
“You have a submarine!”
“I have everything, Dick. I thought you knew that.”
“Yes, but Italian orphans on a submarine?”
“And when one has everything, one needs to share,” Creel added firmly.
As Creel headed abovedeck to see his youthful guests, Pender set back to work. However, part of his mind was contemplating the oddness of mankind in general and the peculiarity of one enormously rich man in particular. He also made a mental note to never, ever treat himself as an equal to the billionaire. That, he knew, could be deadly. It was perfectly true that there were only a very few people who could do what Dick Pender could do.
But it was also true that there was only
one
Nicolas Creel.
S
HAW SLOWLY OPENED HIS EYES.
His first image was the far wall where a small cabinet sat. When he moved his gaze to the right, his line of sight took in the pair of long shapely legs standing next to the door.
He smiled, even though the painkillers were beginning to wear off and it felt like his left arm had been amputated.
“Anna?” he said, trying to lift up his good arm to reach out to her.
The legs moved forward, coming more sharply into focus.
“It’s Katie, Katie James. Do you remember me?” she said awkwardly, her voice actually cracking.
God, he mistook me for Anna!
Katie stopped next to the bed. Shaw very slowly moved his head up so he could see her standing there.
He said in a drug-induced, halting voice, “What are you doing here?”
Katie was momentarily frozen. She hadn’t thought of that one. What was she doing here, other than because of Anna? Her mind suddenly snapped into action.
“I called your cell phone and a nurse answered. She said you’d been hurt, so I came to, um, check up on you. See that you were okay.”
“You came to Paris?”
“Well, I was just over in London,” she lied. “It was a quick trip.”
Katie pulled up a chair, placed her purse on the nightstand, and sat down next to him. She slipped her hands through the side rails of the bed and took his large hand in hers, squeezing it. She saw the huge bandage covering his left arm, and the stain of blood streaking its outer edge, and also the bruises and cuts on his face and neck.
“Boy, you look like a train wreck, but they say you’re going to be fine.”
“Where’s Anna?” he said groggily.
She started to speak, but couldn’t say it. She couldn’t. The news might kill him. “I’m not really sure. Has she been contacted?”
Shaw nodded absently. “I told Frank. He took care of it,” he said vaguely.
He suddenly winced and clutched at his wounded arm, his left side obviously seizing up in pain.
Katie looked frantically around, saw the call button and hit it. A voice came on, Katie spoke to the nurse, and a minute later she arrived. More medication was sent through his IV drip and Shaw slowly drifted off.
Katie held on to his hand, kicked her shoes off, and leaned against the rail, watching the rise and fall of the man’s chest.
She sat there, unaware of the time passing. Exhausted by her travels and lack of sleep, her eyes finally closed. More time skipped by as she and Shaw slept heavily. Katie finally opened her eyes and found Shaw’s gaze locked on her. She slowly let go of his hand and sat back.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Why did you come here?” His tone was harsh and cut right into her. The meds-induced fog was clearly gone now.
“I told you. I heard you were hurt. And I mean, you know, you saved my life. One good deed deserves another,” she added lamely instantly, wishing she hadn’t said the stupid words. He seemed to stare right through her skin, peering directly into her soul of souls, a place not even she had ventured that often. It was completely unnerving.
“Are you hungry or thirsty?” she asked quickly, hoping to find shelter from his withering gaze in mundane matters.
“Where’s Frank? You had to get past Frank to get in here.”
“He’s around somewhere.”
Shaw tried to rise from the bed, but Katie gently forced him back down.
“You’ve got tubes coming out all over the place,” she warned him. “Just lie still or you’ll really do some damage.”
“I want to see Frank,” he said firmly. “I want to know where Anna is!”
“I’ll go and see if I can find him.”
“You
do
that!”
She found her mouth running dry as he stared at her accusingly, as though she’d committed some crime. And in truth Katie felt as though she had. She had lied to him and knew he could sense it.
She nearly ran from the room.
“So you didn’t tell him?” Frank said with the same accusatory tone Shaw had just used. They were back in the small room.
“He’s hurt and vulnerable and depressed enough,” Katie snapped. “It’s not right to tell him now.”
Frank didn’t look convinced, but he also didn’t argue the point.
“He wants to see you,” Katie said.
“I’m sure he does, but I can’t tell him what he wants to hear.”
“So what do we do?”
“We could keep him drugged up until he’s healed a little more.”
“How did he get hurt?”
Frank looked at her incredulously. “What, you want me to give you a debriefing?”
“If he keeps working for you he’s going to end up dead, you know that, don’t you?”
“It’s a risky profession. We try to be as careful as we can.”
“Does that include having your own men shoot at him? Because that seems a bit much even for your ‘profession.’”
Frank spun around to stare at her. He was about to say something when the sounds of a commotion reached their ears. Katie and Frank raced out and headed toward Shaw’s room. Screams pierced the air, there was a crash like a table had been overturned. A door slammed open. Multiple pairs of feet were racing over the tile floor.
Another cry seemed to rise above all the others.
“That’s Shaw!” Frank exclaimed. “What the hell’s going on?”
Katie suddenly glanced down at her hands. “Oh my God!”
“What?” Frank said quickly.
“My purse. I left my purse in his room. My cell phone was in it. It has Internet capability.” Katie’s face turned deathly white.
“Son of a bitch!” Frank screamed as he rushed down the hall.
They turned the corner and stopped.
Shaw was standing at the other end of the corridor, his hospital gown nearly torn off, blood running down his arm and tubes hanging off his body. Katie saw her phone clutched in his bloodied hand.
Katie’s gaze spun to Shaw’s face and she found she couldn’t look away. His features held anguish and heartbreak like she had never witnessed before.
“Shaw!” she cried out and ran to him.
He had dropped to his knees by the time she reached him. She threw her arms around him, tears spilling down her face.
“Anna!” he screamed. “Anna!” He did not even seem to be aware that Katie was there.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she said into his ear. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry.”
Hands pulled her away. People were shouting in French at her, but she wouldn’t let go. She couldn’t let go of him.
Then a voice barked at her in English. “He’s bleeding to death! Let him go! Or you’ll kill him, lady!”
Katie immediately released her grip, backed off, but continued to stare at Shaw as the hospital personnel put him on a gurney and whisked him away.
Frank glared at Katie, reached down, picked up her phone where Shaw had dropped it, and tossed it back to her.
“Thanks for all your help, James!” he said bitterly. “Next time, why don’t you just bring a gun and pop a round right in his brain? It’s quicker that way.” He stalked off.
Katie stared after him for a few moments then fearfully glanced down at the phone’s screen. Emblazoned across it was the headline “London Massacre.” She threw the Nokia down the hall and sank to the floor with fresh tears pouring down her face.
S
HAW SLOWLY PUT ON
his loose-fitting shirt, careful to work around the thick bandage on his left arm. The wound was so deep and wide that the surgeon had had to staple the folds of skin back together. A plastic surgeon had also been called in and had done the best she could at the time. There would be scars, the doctor told Shaw, who really could have cared less.
“We can do another surgery later, after the staples come out, fix it up better,” she’d told him.
“No,” Shaw answered without hesitation. He could still fire a gun, that’s all he cared about right now.
Fortunately, the hacksaw blade had managed to miss his tendons and there had been no nerve injury either. Yet as the doctor had told him, “If that blade had struck a centimeter to the right or left, we might not be having this conversation.”
It would be a while before Shaw was at full strength, but the doctors assured him he would make a complete recovery.
“I want to go to London, today,” Shaw announced to Frank as he finished packing his bag in the hospital room.
Frank sat moodily in a chair. “Let me guess why.”
“How fast can I get there?”
“Chunnel train’s quicker than planes these days. You can be in London in the same time it takes you to get through De Gaulle.”
“Private wings?”
“Sorry, I don’t have any available right now.”
“Then book me on the train. Make it for early this afternoon.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Book me on the train, Frank.”
“Okay, then what?”
“Where’s Katie James?”
Frank looked surprised. “Why?”
“I want to thank her.”
“Are you out of your frigging mind? After what she did?”
“What she did was fly halfway around the world to see if I was okay. Where is she?”
“Hell if I know. I’m not the lady’s keeper. I’ve got my hands full with your ass.”
“Tell me where she is,” Shaw persisted.
“What happened to me giving the orders and you following them?” Frank said spitefully.
“It stopped when Anna died because I don’t give a shit anymore. Where’s Katie?”
“I told you, I—”
Shaw interrupted. “You don’t let anybody just walk away. Now
where
is she?” he barked.
Frank glanced out the window. “Staying at some friend’s apartment off Rue de Rivoli near the Hotel de Ville while the guy’s out of the country.”
“I’ll need the address. Can you get me a car?”
“Can you drive with that busted wing?”
“So long as it’s not a clutch.”
Frank helped Shaw slip on his jacket. Shaw picked up his bag using his good arm.
Frank said, “Look, I’m sorry about Anna, Shaw. Really sorry. And believe it or not, I was going to let you go when you got married. And you can take as much time off as you need now.”
Shaw’s features clouded. “Why the hell are you telling me this now? And just for the record, why are you cutting me any slack at all?”
Frank stepped over to the window. He turned back. “Just looking for skinheads,” he said, smiling.
“Why, Frank? You hate me. I hate you. Not a great working relationship, but at least the ground rules are understood.”
Frank plopped back down in the chair, his gaze on the wall. “How do you think I came to work for this fine organization?”
“Tell me.”
He looked at Shaw. “I had the same choice you did. And my ass is still here.”
Shaw gaped at him. “You got railroaded too! And, what, you paid it forward to me?”
“Yeah! So what? And
just
for the record, I still hate you.”
“Thanks, Frank. And here I was thinking my life couldn’t get any better.”
Frank looked down at his beefy hands. “She must’ve really loved you. I never had anybody like that.”
“Well, now I don’t either.” Shaw paused at the door. “Is Anna’s body still at the morgue in London?”
Frank nodded slowly. “They haven’t released any of them yet. Ongoing investigation,” he added unnecessarily.
“She’d have wanted to be buried back in Germany. I’m sure her parents are making arrangements.” A part of Shaw’s mind couldn’t even contemplate, much less understand, that he was talking so calmly, so rationally about Anna’s upcoming funeral. He suddenly felt as though if he didn’t get out into the open air, his skin would catch on fire.
Frank followed him out. “Are you going to see James now?”
“Yes.”
“Want me to tag along?”
“No.” Shaw suddenly stopped and held his injured arm, evidently in pain.
Frank put a supporting arm on his shoulder. “Sorry about the screwup with the Nazi freaks,” he said in what seemed a sincere manner. “Right-hand, left-hand crap. It won’t happen again.”
“Yeah.”
Frank made a call as they were heading out of the hospital to the car waiting for Shaw on the street. He wrote something down on a piece of paper and handed it to him. “James’s address.”
“Thanks.”
Shaw slid into the driver’s seat and then popped his head back out the window. “Call me with the train info.”