The Whole Truth (43 page)
Frank piped up, “Tax evasion! How about creating global mayhem? How does that grab you, asshole?”
Creel turned to the Italian police captain. “I have no idea what this man is raving about. They’ve invaded my yacht. Guns have been fired. Some of my men have been injured and even killed I believe. I’m the one who should be pressing charges. You were just out here, Officer. Did you see anything amiss?”
The policeman glowered at Frank. “Nothing at all, Mr. Creel. And now I will escort these men to shore.”
“I’ll be along to press charges against them.”
“We’re not going anywhere,” an FBI agent said. “We have the full power of the United States behind us.”
“Well, you are not in the United States,” the policeman retorted. “You have no jurisdiction here.”
“Actually they do.”
All heads turned as Shaw came down the steps from the bridge.
Creel stared up at him. “I’m listening.”
“The kidnapping of an American citizen,” Shaw said.
“Who?” snapped the Italian police officer.
“Katie James!” Frank bellowed. “I suppose you’ve heard of her, Katie James?”
“She is here, you are saying this?” the officer exclaimed.
“She is not here,” Creel said smugly.
“Really?”
They all turned again as Katie stepped onto the deck. Now Creel paled and he looked out to the water in bewilderment.
“Your guys took the woman who was killed, I guess your wife, in the body bag after Shaw made the switch,” Katie said. “They didn’t bother to check that it was me in there. We were about the same size and weight.”
The Italian policeman looked at Creel. “Your wife is dead?”
“Of course she isn’t. She’s not here. I had her taken back to town. You must have seen the launch pass by.”
“And then how did Katie get here?” Frank said.
“Same as he did,” Creel said, pointing at Shaw. “Obviously, they’re trespassing.
Katie held up her broken arm. “The tracking device wasn’t in the cast. It was in me.” She pointed to the wound on her arm. “They cut me open at the same spot as my compound fracture to put the transmitter inside me.” She looked over at Shaw. “It was a technique I recently became acquainted with.”
“That
is
how we followed her here,” the FBI agent said. “And then we got a distress call from Shaw and came charging in.”
“I am confused,” the Italian policeman said. “What is all this about?”
“This man—” Katie started to say before Creel interrupted.
“She’s been making these outlandish accusations on the Internet. Now I suppose she’s going to say that I’m some criminal mastermind, Officer. Which is absolutely preposterous.”
“He kidnapped me,” Katie said.
“And I’m saying I didn’t. It’s your word against mine. Hardly the stuff of a successful prosecution.”
“Mr. Creel is building an orphanage in our town,” the Italian said.
“I don’t give a shit if he’s gold-plating every road you got,” Frank exclaimed. “We are taking his ass with us.”
“I do not think so.”
Creel said, “Officer, I will remain here, on my yacht. I’ll call my lawyer and these things will be dealt with in an orderly, legal fashion.”
“He also has a submarine on here,” Shaw pointed out.
Creel rolled his eyes. “Oh, yes, let me escape in a submarine. Very James Bond.” He studied Shaw closely. “But I believe the facts will show there
is
a violent criminal on board. This man murdered my personal bodyguard. Look at the blood on his hands and shirt.”
Shaw was indeed covered in Caesar’s blood.
Creel added, “Go up on the bridge and see for yourself.”
One of the policemen ran up, then came right back down looking green and making the sign of the cross. “My God, he has been mutilated.”
The officer looked at Shaw. “Did you kill that man?”
“Yes.”
Creel said triumphantly, “At last, a confession.”
“I killed him in self-defense. I didn’t exactly get this way all by myself.” He indicated his bruised face and torn shirt.
“That’s for an Italian court to decide. Officer, please take this murderer off my boat immediately.”
The policeman drew his weapon, as did his men. Frank and the FBI agents did the same.
“No,” said Shaw. “I’ll go with them.”
He looked at Creel. “This isn’t over.”
“Of course it isn’t. You’ll bring your ludicrous charges and my team of lawyers will fight them and by the time it’s over I’ll still be a free man loved by the world while you rot in prison. Now that’s what I call justice.”
Shaw launched himself at Creel before he was pulled off. No one saw Shaw’s hand slip inside the man’s pocket.
A breathless Creel said, “And now you can add assault charges to the list.”
“Come on, Shaw,” Frank said. “We’ll get this all straightened out. And you,” he said, pointing at Creel. “You try to get off the boat in a sub, a chopper, or a freaking spaceship, your ass is history.”
“Good-bye, gentlemen. I look forward to addressing all of this in court and to seeing each of you suitably punished,” Creel said coolly. He faced Shaw and smiled broadly. “And I’ll think of you every time I’m on my yacht.”
After the chopper and boat left, Nicolas Creel retired to his stateroom. He had numerous phone calls to make to deal with this mess, the first being to the men who were no doubt planting his fourth wife in Italian soil right now. Yet he would get it all worked out. He always did. It would just take a little time, a little money, and a little ingenuity mixed with nerve. That’s all it ever took.
He slipped a cigar from his humidor and felt in his pocket for a lighter. His hand closed around a metal object, but it wasn’t a lighter. He pulled it out. It was slender and flat. How the hell had that gotten in his pocket? He looked at it closely. Was that a smudge of blood? He could also smell something, something that seemed remotely familiar.
Creel had no way of knowing that at that moment Shaw was gripping a small remote control device. His hands manacled together as he rode in the police boat, he eyed Katie who was standing next to him. She looked at him—more specifically, at his torn shirt. Only Katie seemed to have noticed that the stitches Leona Bartaroma, the tour guide/retired gifted surgeon from Dublin, had sewn over Shaw’s arm wound were missing. Then Katie eyed the small device in his hand before glancing up at him.
As their gazes locked, Shaw started to say something, but Katie shook her head. “It’s okay, Shaw. You do what you have to do.”
She squeezed his hand and looked away.
While the FBI chopper soared over them Shaw looked out to sea where the large steel floating footprint of the
Shiloh
sat like a great overstuffed whale on its back. Yet he wasn’t thinking about billionaires’ water toys bought with death money. Nor did he dwell on PM masters like the deceased Pender. Neither was he focused on going to an Italian jail for killing Caesar. And right now not even the truth concerned him all that much.
Against the dark sky he thought he could see Anna’s face staring at him, perhaps beckoning to him, he wasn’t sure. They were just two people trying to love one another in a world that didn’t always allow that to happen. They had been caught up in a nightmare not of their making. And Shaw was so enraged by it all, so paralyzed by a loss that he would never be able to fully understand or overcome, that it was all he could do to merely press the button on the tiny remote he was holding. But staring at Anna’s imagined face in the sky he found the strength. When he was done he tossed it over the side where it disappeared into the water leaving barely a ripple. The effects elsewhere would be far more lasting.
In his stateroom, Creel felt the metal object growing warm. It was the last thing he would ever notice.
When he heard the screams and smelled the smoke the captain raced down the stairs and entered the stateroom. Yet by the time he got there the spot where Creel had been sitting was now only a blackened mass of ash and bone lying on the floor. Later examination would show that it was the remains of the man even if it no longer resembled a human being. The captain would later testify that Creel had been completely alone when he died. And thus no one would ever be able to explain exactly what had happened. Or why Nicolas Creel had apparently committed suicide using a highly lethal phosphorus-based incendiary device.
O
PERATING ON A TIP
, the local police discovered the body of Mrs. Creel in a freshly dug hole at the bottom of the excavation pit the next morning. A few minutes after that, Shaw was released from an Italian jail. He walked out a free man with a fresh shirt on and his arm wound stitched up nicely courtesy of a local doctor called to the prison.
It would take a long time to uncover, catalog, and dissect what had happened with the Red Menace, Nicolas Creel, and Pender & Associates. But regardless, that truth could never be told to the public, decided the powers that be, including the United States, Russia, and China. Every scrap of information unearthed about Nicolas Creel’s grand plot was immediately classified and buried forever. It might seem amazing that this was possible, but it was also true that such “burials” happened all the time all over the world.
Katie, Shaw, and Frank, among others privy to the details, were sworn to secrecy for the rest of their lives.
Katie had not taken this directive well. “Why keep it a secret? So we can make the same mistake again?”
She was told that if the world learned how close it had come to Armageddon and how governments around the globe had been deceived it would cause people to lose faith in their leaders.
“Well, maybe people should,” Katie had shot back.
Yet when the president of the United States himself pleaded his case and appealed to her sense of patriotism, Katie had finally relented. But she had issued a caveat.
“Next time, why don’t you people think about these things before rushing to judgment? How’s that for a strategy?”
Eventually the world shrugged off this near-cataclysmic event and moved on, as it always seemed to do. It might not have been as safe as it was during the cold war, yet at least it wasn’t a mere
perception
of security built on lies.
Shaw, Katie, and Frank traveled to London where there was a memorial service for the victims of the London Massacre. Anna’s parents were in attendance, but Shaw kept his distance from them. Being attacked by Wolfgang Fischer in a London cathedral was not how he wanted to memorialize the woman he loved.
He did travel once more to Wisbach, to visit Anna’s grave. On the second day he was there, and unknown to him, Katie and Frank arrived in the small town and knocked on the door of the Fischers’ home.
Wolfgang, looking very old and tired, answered.
Katie said, “I’m Katie James. This is Frank Wells.”
Wolfgang looked at them suspiciously. “What is it you want here?”
Frank said nervously, “I need to set the record straight, so to speak, about Shaw.”
“I do not need the record set straight with
that
man,” Wolfgang said, his face flushing.
“Yeah, I think you do,” Katie said firmly.
“Why is that?”
“Because he deserves it. He deserves the truth. And you need to do it for Anna.”
“For Anna? What do you mean!”
“Your daughter was brilliant and beautiful and accomplished and also head over heels in love with that man. And you need to understand why.”
“Let them come in, Wolfgang.”
They all looked at Natascha, who was standing behind her husband. “Let them come in and we listen. She is right. We must do this for Anna.”
Frank and Katie swept past Wolfgang and for the next couple of hours the four of them discussed what had really happened.
“My God,” Wolfgang exclaimed when it was over. “I would like to see Shaw. Tell him, tell him . . .” He looked helplessly at his wife.
“Tell him how we feel, that it is different now, how we feel,” Natascha finished for him.
“Yes,” said Wolfgang. “Different.”
Katie said, “Get your coats.”
S
HAW SAT ON THE GROUND
next to Anna’s grave. The leaves were just starting to turn and the wind had a bite. It felt good to be here, as though she were still alive. Her presence seemed very real. He believed he could stay here forever.
He heard them approaching long before he could see anyone. He rose and stared as the group came into view, Wolfgang leading the way. Shaw started to furtively back away from Anna’s grave until he focused on Katie and Frank. Then he stopped, unsure of exactly what was going on, or what he should do.
Wolfgang walked directly up to him. “These people”—he motioned to Katie and Frank—“they have told us things about what happened.”
“They have told us the
truth
, Shaw,” Natascha said, taking his hand in hers. “And we are so sorry for how we treated you.”
“Yes, so very sorry,” Wolfgang added with a guilty glance at him.
Shaw looked sharply at Katie and Frank. Frank didn’t meet his gaze, but kept his eyes pointed at the ground. Katie just gave him an encouraging smile.
Wolfgang slipped his arms around Shaw and hugged him, while Natascha embraced both men. Soon, tears were slipping down the Fischers’ cheeks. Even Shaw’s eyes moistened and his lips quivered from time to time as the three stood around Anna’s final resting place with their arms interlocked, quietly talking.
Katie had to keep wiping bunches of tears from her eyes as she watched with Frank.
He finally whispered, “I can’t take this anymore. I’m no good with the emotional stuff, Katie. Give me a nine-millimeter Glock stuffed down my throat over this crap any day.” He turned and left, but not before Katie thought she heard a tiny sob escape his lips.
Nearly an hour later Wolfgang and Natascha took their leave.
Katie slowly walked over to Shaw as he stood by the grave.
“Thanks for what you did,” he said, his gaze on the mound of dirt.
“How are you holding up?”
“Part of me knows that Anna is dead. The other part . . . just can’t accept it.”