The Whole Truth (A. Shaw 1)

“Ride was great. Just an old rugby injury.” Actually it was the free fall into the canal cesspool, but she didn’t need to know that.

“Boys and their games,” she said in a mock scolding tone. “Is that how you got that?” She pointed to the bruise on his face courtesy of the Iranian who would never see freedom again.

“Luggage came out of the plane bin faster than I thought it would. Looks worse than it is.”

When they finally let go of each other, Anna stared up at him, but at five-eleven and wearing two-inch pumps she didn’t have to crane her neck too much. Still, Shaw had never been more grateful for his imposing height.

“How was the speech?” he asked.

“It was fairly well attended. However, in the interests of full disclosure I have to add that the heightened numbers were probably due largely to the catered food from the best Indian restaurant in town, and the open bar. I’m disappointed you missed it. I could have at least imagined you in your skivvies.”

“Why imagine when you can see it for real?”

She kissed him and intertwined her long fingers through his thick ones.

He held out her book he’d purchased.

“You paid for it? I could’ve given you one for free. They sent me all the unsold copies. They were so numerous I used them as furniture in my office.”

“Well, this one you’re getting the full royalty on. Will you sign it for me?”

She took out her pen and wrote something in the book. When he tried to see what, she said, “Read it later. After Dublin.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re interested in police states?” she asked.

“As much as I get around I’m usually in one at least once a month.”

He’d literally run into her on a Berlin side street three years ago. She was in the process of being mugged by two men and he’d just finished a solo mission not unlike the one in Amsterdam and was not in a particularly good mood. When the thugs saw him they made a big mistake by thinking they’d rob two birds at the same time. The police showed up a few minutes after Shaw called them when he’d finished beating both men unconscious. He’d hit one of them so hard he had nearly broken his hand on the man’s skull.

He’d walked Anna back to her hotel after she refused to go to a hospital. He held ice against her face for an hour and then slept on the floor of her hotel room because she was still so unnerved by the attack.

Shaw had never had a serious relationship with a woman before. That might have stemmed from his relationship with his mother, or rather his lack of one.

Abandonment did that to you.

Yet from the moment he saw Anna Fischer, bruised and bloodied though she was, on that dimly lit avenue in the German capital, Shaw knew that his heart was no longer his alone.

Nearly three years had now passed and her feelings had clearly deepened toward him. He knew that Anna loved him. Yet he could sense her growing bewilderment at his lack of commitment.

Well, that was about to end. Shaw was not yet free from Frank but he could wait no longer. He would make this work. Somehow.

“You’re pensive,” she said over dinner. At age thirty-eight she still wore her hair long. It curved seductively around her sculpted Germanic bones.

“No, just hungry. With men they carry the same expression. I suppose they don’t serve coddle here.” It was a working-class meal of rashers, potatoes, onion, and sausages with pepper poured thick.

“Not here, no, but we can go elsewhere.”

“That’s okay. Food’s gotten better in Dublin over the years.”

“Yes, though I still can’t understand why Irish stew has no carrots.” She smiled impishly over her wineglass. “Even the British have carrots in their stew.”

“And that’s exactly why the Irish don’t.”

Later, as they were finishing their meals she said, “So what were you doing in Amsterdam this time?”

“As little as possible.”