The Whole Truth (A. Shaw 1)

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Yes, this should have been a time of great triumph for Creel as he strolled around the site where the new orphanage would be. But it wasn’t.

And for one reason only.

Caesar had arrived from London and ridden a launch out to the Shiloh. Katie James had slipped through their fingers. One of Caesar’s men had been stuck with the damn needle instead. And Shaw, the man with the eyes like Creel’s, had been right in the middle of it. He and James were now out there together. Doing what, only they knew.

According to Creel’s sources Shaw had run out of The Phoenix Group building like he was on fire twenty minutes before he arrived at James’s flat. And worst of all, Creel didn’t know why.

For the first time in a long time, the fourteenth richest man in the world felt a twinge of real fear. Nicolas Creel was not a man who bet the farm or thought himself infallible. He was brilliant enough to know that he didn’t actually know everything. He was a man who could adapt a plan on the fly, apply new intelligence to maximum effect, and realized that a plan set in stone was always doomed to failure.

And as he thought about this, the mother superior hugged him, her angelic tears staining his blazer. “God will bless you for this,” she whispered in his ear.

And above all, Creel was a man who hedged his bets any way he could.

“Mother Superior, can I ask a favor please?”

“Ask and it shall be done, my son,” she said.

“Will you pray for me?”

CHAPTER 70

SHAW AND KATIE HAD HIDDEN OUT in a small row house outside London near Richmond that Shaw had previously arranged as a safe house. The next night they had received a visitor, an Italian with a Dutch accent. He was the same man who ran Shaw’s favorite restaurant in Amsterdam. He said a polite hello to Katie and then nodded at Shaw, who was scrutinizing him closely.

“How did you get here?” Shaw asked.

“Train,” replied the fellow. “A bit more congenial security-wise.”

Shaw nodded in understanding while Katie watched curiously.

“You have it?”

The man took out a small package from his pocket and handed it to Shaw.

Shaw tried to give the fellow a roll of euros but he pushed it away.

“At least for your expenses,” Shaw said.

“Come see me in Amsterdam, after this is all over. Spend your money there with good food and bad wine.”

The men shook hands and then the Dutch-speaking Italian was gone.

Shaw put the package in his coat pocket and looked at Katie, who was staring at him expectantly.

“Care to share?” she asked.

“No.”

Shaw next called Frank and filled him in. At the end of his lengthy explanation, Frank’s comment was brief but to the point.

“Ho-lee shit!”

“I was expecting something a little more helpful.”

“What do you want me to do? You’re got no real proof and you still don’t know who the third party is.”

“Then get me to Dublin and I’ll take it from there.”