The Whole Truth (33 page)
“Probably. Why?”
“Just wanted confirmation.”
T
HEY TOOK A CAB FROM THE HARBOR
, driving through small villages on their way west to Dublin proper. A chilly rain was falling and even the pubs they passed were mostly empty. As Katie gazed into the window of one bar and saw a cheery fire and a man pulling down a pint, she didn’t have the least desire to join him. Her alcoholism was apparently cured. All it had taken was the end of the world.
Before they’d left England Katie had phoned Kevin Gallagher and explained that her source had probably lied to her.
“Do you have absolute proof that he did?” Gallagher demanded.
“No, not absolute.”
“Do you have absolute proof that the facts of your story are untrue?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Then we’re standing by it.”
“Even if I’m not?”
“This is the biggest story of my life, Katie, so I’m going to pretend this conversation never happened and I suggest you do the same.” Then Gallagher had promptly hung up on her.
“Son of a bitch!” screamed Katie. “I hate editors.”
The cab dropped them off and they walked in the rain. Katie looked around.
“Isn’t that the university?”
Shaw nodded. “Come on.” They headed down a side street.
He knocked on a door where a sign hung.
“Maggie’s Bookshop?” Katie said.
The door opened and a tall, stout woman ushered them in.
She closed the door and Katie surveyed the books on all four walls. They were running for their lives and Shaw had forced her to vomit her way across the Irish Sea so he could take her to a bookstore in dreary Dublin?
The woman didn’t tell Katie her name, and Katie didn’t volunteer hers. She assumed the woman was Maggie.
“I’m so sorry about Anna,” the lady said to Shaw.
She led them upstairs where a room had been set up as a hair and makeup area.
“Sit here, please.” The lady motioned to a swivel chair in front of a long mirror. Katie sat and the woman picked up a pair of shears and lifted a handful of her hair.
Katie jumped out of the chair. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“You didn’t tell her?”
“Tell me what?” Katie said, staring at Shaw.
“Haircut,” Shaw said. He nodded at the woman. “Do it short and change the color. And then you can scalp me.”
An hour later, Katie James was a brunette with spiky hair, her eyes were brown instead of blue, her skin coloring was darker, her eyes rounder, her lips narrower. She wore bulky clothes that added about twenty pounds.
Shaw could not make himself shorter, but twenty minutes later his hair was mostly gone and the woman had done a number on his face, including a mustache and goatee, a bulked-up nose, and contact lenses that turned his startling blue eyes a muted brown. Katie couldn’t even swear it was him.
She led them to another room set up as a photo studio.
Katie said to Shaw, “She sure has a lot of sidelines for a bookshop owner.”
The pictures were taken and two hours later Shaw and Katie had brand-new passports, driver’s licenses, and other official papers showing them to be a married couple from a London suburb.
Shaw thanked the woman and paid her.
“I wish you luck,” she said.
“Oh, we’re going to need a lot more than luck, honey. Why don’t you go ahead and pray for a miracle?” Katie shot back as she slammed the door behind her.
As they walked down the alley she said, “Where to now?”
“Grab some sleep and then I have a doctor’s appointment in the morning,”
“A doctor’s appointment?” she said skeptically.
“Let’s get something straight. I’m not going to tell you everything.”
“Fine. Just so long as you know that cuts
both
ways.”
“The ground rules are set then.” He picked up his pace and she had to hurry along to keep up.
T
HEY’D CHECKED INTO THE HOTEL
as a married couple and thus had only gotten one room. Shaw had told Katie that he didn’t want her to be left alone at any time. “They almost got you once, they’ll definitely try again.”
They ordered some food, although Katie’s still touchy stomach could only manage some tea and bread. Then they sat at a little table facing each other to discuss matters.
“What I still don’t understand,” Shaw said, “is why they targeted The Phoenix Group in the first place.”
“It was Chinese-owned,” Katie answered as she cradled her tea cup and watched the drenching rain out the window.
“There’re lots of Chinese-owned places in London. And why pick London?”
“But a Chinese-owned think tank?”
“Okay, so why a think tank?”
“According to you they
planted
those docs about the Red Menace. A bunch of super-smart people working at a secret think tank being behind the global smear campaign seems plausible. It probably wouldn’t have seemed nearly as credible if they’d hit a local fast-food place, slaughtered a bunch of teenagers, and planted the incriminating docs there.”
“So they
happened
to stumble across The Phoenix Group, just happened to learn its Chinese connection, and sent in a strike team?”
Katie said, “There has to be a catalyst. Maybe someone they met with. Some project they were working on. They obviously had the place under surveillance. When I was there, I saw lots of people coming and going so we might have to check . . .”
She stopped talking as the horrible, absolutely awful possibility swept over her. She glanced at Shaw. By his look she could tell he’d reached the same conclusion.
“They would’ve seen
you
there,” Shaw said, a discernible edge to his voice.
“Yes, they would have,” Katie answered in a hushed tone. “And since they were already using me they might’ve focused on The Phoenix Group because of my connection to Anna. And then discovered the Chinese element.”
“But that’s only one possible reason,” he said, though the disbelief in his own words was evident.
“Yes,” Katie said weakly. “I suppose that’s true.”
She put down her cup and glanced at the bed. “Um, I’m really tired, Shaw. You can have the bed. I’ll take the floor.”
“No, I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“Shaw!”
“Just take the bed, Katie. It’s been a long day and we’re both exhausted.”
Katie changed in the bathroom, came out, and crawled under the covers. Shaw was already on the floor, a blanket over him. Katie turned out the light.
A few minutes later, as the rain continued to pour down, she said quietly, her voice quivering, “I’m sorry, Shaw.”
She didn’t get an answer.
A
S THE DAWN BEGAN TO BREAK OUTSIDE,
Shaw sat up, leaned against the bed, and looked at a wide-eyed Katie. It was obvious from her puffy red eyes that she hadn’t slept at all.
“I have something to tell you,” she said, drawing the sheet around her.
“Katie, you don’t have to—”
She put a hand on his shoulder. “Please, let me just get it out before it burns a hole in my gut.”
He waited, watching her.
“I
was
doing this for the story. Even when I flew over to see you in the hospital, part of me was thinking about getting my career back on track. And then I got this new assignment and came to London. I could just feel I was on my way back.” She looked down, balling the bedcovers in her hands, cheeks quivering. “I don’t even think I’m human, not anymore. I used to be, I’m just not sure when I stopped. It’s been a while, I know that . . . I’m sorry.”
“Katie, you’re a reporter. It’s in your blood.”
“That doesn’t make it right. And I’m a shit, don’t ever forget that.”
“Okay, you’re a shit. But if we’re going to work together, we have to trust each other.”
“I trust
you
. I think the problem is you don’t trust me. And I can’t blame you.”
“I haven’t had a lot of practice, trusting people.” He paused. “But I’m going to have to work on it. Besides, I need your help. Sometimes you see things I don’t. I haven’t found many people who can do that.” He managed to smile weakly at her.
She smiled back, the small thaw in their relationship immediately rekindling her spirits. “I’m going to grab a shower. Get up on the bed while I’m in there. You must be stiff as a board.”
Shaw pulled himself off the floor and slowly eased down on the bed. He listened to the shower come on. The bed was warm from Katie lying there, and then his eyes closed. The next thing he knew he smelled coffee, bacon, and eggs.
He sat up and looked around. Katie was dressed and sitting in front of a room service table. She poured out a cup of coffee and handed it to him.
“What time is it?” he said.
“Eight-thirty.”
He sipped his coffee.
“Hungry?”
He nodded, rose, and sat across from her. “You should’ve gotten me up when you got out of the shower,” he said grumpily.
“It was a lot more convenient this way,” she said. “With you sound asleep I could get dressed in here and not in the tiny bathroom. You know, this marriage arrangement is going to turn out to be awkward,” she said, eyeing him over the rim of her cup.
He stretched out his bad arm gingerly.
“Is that why we’re going to the doctor’s?’
“Yes, but just not for the reason you’re probably thinking.”
“What a surprise.”
They grabbed a taxi to Leona Bartaroma’s cottage, a simple stone structure set off a gravel road. It was about two miles from Malahide Castle where Leona was a tour guide. When they got out and looked around Katie said, “Strange place for a doctor’s office.”
“She’s retired.”
“Oh, that makes perfect sense.”
Leona invited them in, said hello to Katie, and sat them down in her roomy kitchen overlooking the back garden. She said nothing about Shaw’s altered appearance but eyed Katie. “May I speak freely in front of her?”
“I wouldn’t have brought her otherwise.”
“Frank already called.”
“Of course.”
“He said you promised not to visit me.”
“No, I promised not to visit you about
this
.” He tapped his right side.
“His men are all around here,” she added.
“I know that.”
“How?”
“I smelled them.”
“So you know I can’t do what you want me to do.”
“How do you know what I want you to do? I haven’t told you yet.”
She looked curious while Katie’s gaze darted back and forth between the two.
“Tell me, then.”
He rolled his sleeve up, exposing the metal staples in his wound.
“My God, how did that happen?”
“I guess Frank forgot to tell you about that.”
She looked at the wound more closely. “It looks like it’s healing nicely. The surgeon did a good job.”
“I’m grateful for your expert opinion. But that’s not why I’m here.”
“Why, then?”
He took a small metal cylinder from his pocket. “I want you to put this in there,” he said, pointing to the rip in his arm.
“You’re not serious.”
“Shaw!” Katie exclaimed.
“Dead serious.”
“What is it?” Leona said slowly.
“You don’t need to know that,” Shaw said. “It’s stainless steel, if that helps.”
“It doesn’t. There’s the risk of infection,” Leona began.
“Put it in a sterilized bandage. But there’s where I need it. Can you do it?”
“Of course I can do it. The question is, why in the world should I?”
“Because I’m asking you. Politely.”
“How far in?” she said nervously.
“Not too far. Because I may need to get it out in a hurry.”
“This is ridiculous,” Katie snapped.
“Not too far in, Leona,” Shaw said again. “And you owe me.”
“I don’t see it that way.”
“But I do.” He pulled out his shirttail and lifted up the front, exposing the sutured tracks of the scar on his right side. “I do.”
Katie looked at the mark and then over at Leona and frowned. “Did you do that to him?”
Leona wet her lips. “I don’t have a surgery here, Shaw. No instruments.”
“Dublin’s a big town. I’m sure you can find what you need.”
“It’ll take a bit of time.”
“This afternoon,” he shot back, a tinge of menace in his voice.
“I can’t. I have to go to Malahide.”
“This afternoon.”
“All right. I’ll call you.”
Shaw rose to leave and Katie quickly stood too.
“I don’t have the means to put you completely under,” Leona said. “Just a local. There’ll be pain.”
He tucked his shirt back in. “There’s always pain, Leona.”
Outside, Katie said, “Okay, who the hell was that, Dr. Frankenstein’s wife? And what is going on?”
“It’s better that you don’t know, Katie. Trust me.”
“Trust you? What about trusting
me
like we talked about?”
“I said I was going to
work
on it. I didn’t say I was there yet.”
T
HE RAIN HAD PASSED
and it was a lovely day in Dublin. Skittish birds flitted from tree to tree; colorful flowers in neat beds waved in the slight breeze; people walked and chatted, drank coffee at street cafés; cars drifted down wide streets.
Inside the small, antiseptic room Shaw gritted his teeth and crushed the arm of the chair he was in. Leona, gloved, masked, and dressed in surgical scrubs, had pulled out several of the metal staples holding his ripped skin together while Katie gripped his other arm with her gloved hands.
“That was the easy part,” Leona said pleasantly as she dropped the last of the three staples she’d removed into a pan. There were four left in his arm.
“Glad to hear it,” muttered Shaw.
“Still want to go through with it? It’s going to set back the healing process.”
“Just
do
it, Leona.”
She used a slender instrument that looked like a miniature crowbar to pry open the wound and blood started to trickle out. Droplets of sweat popped up on Shaw’s brow. Katie tightened her grip on his arm. Leona had given him local anesthesia all around the wound but warned him again there would be pain. And the lady hadn’t been mistaken.