The Whole Truth (25 page)

Shaw wasn’t listening. He was watching the image of Anna as she called out the window, obviously for help, help that would never arrive. Then a moment later he saw her climb up onto the windowsill.

“Was she going to jump?” he said sharply.

“To that awning below, we’re guessing.”

“But she never made it,” Shaw said dully. “Why?”

“I have to warn you that the next few frames are . . . Well, they’re not easy to watch.” Royce turned to look at him. “Are you sure you want to keep going?”

“I need to see it.”

The next scenes were played out quickly. Anna was on the sill of the window, in her stocking feet, grasping both sides of the window with her hands.

Mentally, Shaw was telling her to jump, jump, before it was too late, even though he knew it already was. It was an agonizing moment for him; he couldn’t even imagine how terrifying it had been for her. The next frame, however, sent his agony to an entirely new level.

He saw the first bullet pass through her chest and a wash of blood and tissue was propelled from her body. A split second later another chunk of Anna was blown out into the fresh London air. As she toppled back inside her office, Shaw finally looked away.

“We can finish this later,” Royce suggested.

“Keep rolling, I’m okay.”

Several minutes later the men emerged from the front door. Seconds after that the van was gone.

“And no one heard or saw anything?” Shaw asked. “Even a woman screaming out the window? Shots fired, her blood hitting the street?”

“The buildings on either side of this one are scheduled to be renovated so they were empty. The buildings opposite
are
occupied but the tenants were notified that the city was doing some hazardous gas work in the area that day and they were to leave their premises before noon or risk a hefty fine.”

“And no one bothered to call and check whether that was true?”

“There was a phone number on the notice. Several tenants did call and received confirmation that it was true.”

“Only the number was phony.”

“Correct. And the cones blocked off the normal automobile flow and foot traffic. And it’s a dead-end street. There’re never many vehicles down here anyway.”

“Leaving The Phoenix Group all alone. It was well planned out,” Shaw grudgingly admitted. “I’d like to see Anna’s office now.”

“Well, first I’d like to introduce you to an owner of The Phoenix Group.”

“They’re here?” Shaw said sharply.

“One of them flew in as soon as he was notified.”

“Where from?”

“What do you know about the phoenix symbol?”

“Bird that never dies. Rises from the ashes. Egyptian origin.”

“Your description is accurate, as far as it goes. The phoenix is actually a symbol that has various origins. Egyptian as you said. It’s also Arabian, Japanese, and at least one other.”

“Which is?” Shaw said impatiently.

A small man appeared in the doorway. He was dressed in a black suit and his expression matched the color of his clothing. Royce rose to greet him.

“Shaw, let me introduce you to Mr. Feng Hai. Of China.”

CHAPTER 53

W
HILE SHAW WAS INSIDE THE BUILDING
Katie had been busy outside. She’d actually gotten there before him and had hidden around a corner when she saw him arrive by cab. She’d flashed her no-longer-valid press badge at the officer on duty outside the entrance and fired off a series of questions to which the man in blue offered not a single answer.

“Move along,” he said, his beefy face showing considerable irritation.

“Not into a free and independent press, Constable?” she asked.

“What I’m
into
is you blokes letting us do our bloody jobs without you poking your noses into places it don’t belong.”

“Your name will never appear. You’ll be an unnamed source.”

“You’re bloody right my name won’t appear. Now move along!”

Katie walked slowly down the street a bit, staring up at the windows of the building as she did so. Shaw was in there getting the whole story while she was out here with zip.

If I could just . . . Back on top. Another Pulitzer.

She was so intent on her thoughts that she nearly jumped when something touched her arm. She whirled around and saw him, his soft felt cap in hand, his wide, nervous eyes squarely on her.

“Can I help you?” she asked suspiciously.

“You are a journalist, yes?” His voice was squeaky and not exactly brimming with confidence. She easily guessed that English was not his first language. He was short and painfully thin. His teeth were crooked and yellowed. His clothes barely rose to the level of threadbare.

“Who wants to know?” She peered over his shoulder as though expecting to see someone else there.

He looked back at The Phoenix Group building. “I have come here every day to see it. This place, I mean.” He gave an involuntary shudder.

“It
is
disturbing,” she said, still wary of the man.

He seemed to sense her discomfort. “My name is Aron Lesnik. I am from Krakow. That is in Poland,” he added.

“I know where Krakow is,” Katie said. “I’ve been there. What do you want with me?”

“I saw you talking to that police officer. I heard you say you are journalist. Is that true? Are you journalist?”

“Yes. So?”

Lesnik glanced once more at the building. When he turned back to her, his eyes were filled with tears. “I am so sorry for those people. They were good people and now they are dead.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve and looked at her pitifully.

“It was a real tragedy. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Katie wondered why she always seemed to attract the nutcases. The man’s next words made her forget that thought.

“I was in there. On that day.” He said this in a hoarse voice.

“What?” Katie couldn’t have heard the man right. “In where?”

Lesnik pointed to The Phoenix Group building. “In there,” he repeated, an agonizing pitch to his voice now.

“Where the murders happened?”

Lesnik nodded, his head bobbing up and down like a child making a confession.

“What were you doing in the building?”

“I was looking for work. A job. My English is not that good, but I am good with computers. I go there because I hear they need people who are good with computers. I have appointment. It is on that day. That . . . bad day.”

“Let me get this straight,” Katie said, trying but failing to hide her excitement. “You were in that building for an interview when the people were killed?
While
they were being killed?”

Lesnik nodded. “Yes.” His eyes filled with tears again.

“Then how come you’re not dead?” she said suspiciously.

“I hear the guns. I know about sounds of guns. I was young boy in Krakow when the Soviets would come with guns. So I hide.”

A bit of Katie’s suspicion drained away. She’d had to hide from men with guns when she’d been reporting overseas. “Where did you hide? I want precise details.”

“On the second floor there is machine in a little room they use to make copies of papers. It has doors in back. A little space to hold things. It was empty. I am not big. I crawl inside. I stay there until the shootings stop. Then I come out. I think they shoot me too when they find me. But they do not find me. I am lucky.”

Katie was nearly vibrating off the pavement. “Look, it’s probably not a great idea to talk about this here. Why don’t we go somewhere else?”

Lesnik immediately backed away. “No, I say enough. I come here every day. I come, because I can’t stay away. Those people, all dead. All dead except me. I should be dead too.”

“Don’t say that. It obviously wasn’t your time to go. Like you said, you were lucky. And besides it’ll be good to get it off your chest,” she urged.

“No. No! I only come up to you because I hear you are journalist. In Poland we have journalists who are heroes, heroes in Poland. They stand up to Soviets. My father, he is one of them. They kill him, but he is still hero,” he added proudly.

“I’m sure he is. But you can’t just not tell anyone. You have to go to the police.”

Lesnik took another step back. “No, no police. I do not like police.”

Katie looked at him warily. “Are you in some sort of trouble?”

Lesnik didn’t answer her. He simply glanced away. “No police. I must go now.”

She clutched his arm. “Wait a minute.” Katie thought quickly. “Look, if I promise not to reveal my source, can you at least tell me what you saw? I promise, I swear on a stack of Bibles I won’t ever tell who told me. After all, you came up to me. You must want me to help somehow.”

Lesnik looked unsure. “I don’t know why I come up to you.” He paused. “You . . . you can do that? Not tell?”

“Absolutely.” She looked over his anguished face, his small, childlike frame, and his shabby clothes. She could easily envision him hiding terrified inside a copier as gunfire erupted all around him. “How about I buy you something to eat and we can talk? Just talk. If you’re still uncomfortable, you can walk away.” She put out her hand. “Deal?”

He didn’t take her hand.

“I’m sure your father would want to see the truth come out. And to see murderers punished.”

He slowly slipped his fingers around hers. “Okay. I go with you.”

As they walked along Katie said the one question she’d been dying to ask.

“Did you see who did it?” She held her breath waiting for the answer.

He nodded. “And I hear them too. I hear them good. I know the language they speak very good.”

“Language? So they were foreigners?”

Lesnik stopped walking and stared at her. “They were Russians.”

“You’re sure? Absolutely certain?”

For the first time his face took on a confident expression. “I am Pole. From Krakow. I know Russian when I hear it.”

CHAPTER 54

“W
E NAMED THE COMPANY
after the Chinese phoenix, the
Feng Huang
,” Feng Hai said as they sat in an office off the main foyer. “In Chinese mythology the phoenix stands for virtue, power, and prosperity. It was also said that the bird represented power sent down to the empress from above. You might know that
Feng
means male phoenix.”

“And Feng is also your surname,” commented Shaw. Unlike the West the Chinese put their family name ahead of their given one. So Hai was the man’s first name.

Feng nodded. “That also gave me the idea, that is correct.”

“And the connection The Phoenix Group has to China?” Royce asked.

“It is simply a Chinese company doing business in London, like many others.”

“Your employees seemed to think a wealthy American from Arizona owned it,” Shaw noted.

Feng shrugged. “Rumors, obviously.”

Shaw said, “I think it was more than that. I think it was a deliberate cover.”

Royce sat forward while Feng glared at Shaw. “So it was basically a think tank that studied global issues funded by you and your partners? That was the business model?”

Feng nodded.

“And you set it up for what reason?” Royce asked.

“To find answers to complicated questions,” Feng said. “The Chinese too have an interest in such problems and solutions. We are not all heartless polluters and people who put lead in children’s toys, gentlemen,” he said, attempting a weak smile.

“Did The Phoenix Group make any money for you?” Shaw asked.

“We did not do it for money.”

Shaw looked around at the elaborately decorated interior of the office. “This building must be worth, what, thirty million pounds?”

“It has been a good investment. But as I said, money is not our chief concern. We, my partners and I, we are good businessmen. We make lots of money in other things. The Phoenix Group was our way of doing some good. Giving back, I think you say.”

“And you have no idea why anyone would have wanted to attack this place and kill everyone?” Royce asked, the skepticism in his voice unmistakable.

“None at all. I was most distressed when I heard. Most distressed. I . . . I could not believe that such a thing could happen. The people here were scholars, intellectuals. They work on issues of water usage rights, globalization of world economies, atmospheric warming due to carbon-based fuel use, energy consumption, matters of international financial assistance to third world countries, political dynamics. Benign intellectual subjects, gentlemen.”

“Anna Fischer wrote a book on police states,” Shaw pointed out. “That hardly qualifies as a benign intellectual matter.”

“Ms. Fischer was most excellent at her job.”

“You knew her?”

“I knew
of
her.”

“Had anyone here met you before?” Shaw asked quickly.

“We, my partners and I, prefer to keep a low profile. But we received regular reports.”

I’m sure you did
, Shaw said to himself.

“Have you found any evidence that will lead to the people who did this?” Feng asked anxiously.

Royce shook his head. “No fingerprints, no shell casings, no trace at all, I’m afraid.” He did not mention the video feed.

“That is most discouraging.”

“But we did find one thing of interest, Mr. Feng,” Royce said. “Would you care to see? It’s a real eye-opener.”

CHAPTER 55

A
RON LESNIK WOLFED DOWN HIS SANDWICH
and drank his coffee in large slurps. Part of Katie was disgusted by his eating habits, and part of her was sympathetic. He must be terrified, she thought. Terrified, probably broke, and obviously hungry.

Lesnik wiped his mouth and let out a small sigh. He caught her staring at him and his features turned embarrassed. “Thank you for food.”

“You’re welcome. Do you mind if I use this?” She pulled out a mini-recorder.

“No. I tell you, but I don’t want people to hear me.” He looked around nervously. “I am scared.”

She put the recorder away. “Okay, I’ll just write it down.”

He relaxed and sat back.

“Now tell me everything you saw and heard,” she said.

Lesnik’s story only took a very few minutes. He’d been interviewing with an older man named Bill Harris on the second floor.