The Whole Truth

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.”

“Why Dublin?’

“I’ve got people to see.”

“Like who? Leona Bartaroma at Malahide Castle? I know you went to see her.”

“FYI, I’ve got Katie James with me.”

“Lucky, lucky you.”

“So can you get me to Dublin?”

“Look, I had a hard enough time convincing the folks upstairs that your freelancing with MI5 was a good use of your time. If they find out you’ve split, all bets are off.”

“Just get me to Dublin.”

“I can, but you’ve got to swear you won’t see Leona about that.”

“I do.”

The next day Shaw and Katie were driven from London to Wales in an old bus. After that they ducked into the damp hold of a ratty tugboat that was now crossing the Irish pond in pitching seas. Katie spent an hour throwing up into a bucket as they bounced to Ireland. Shaw kept handing her soaked towels to wipe her face.

Katie finally sat up, nothing left to heave out of her gut.

“Your sea legs are impressive,” she said. “I’m more of a landlubber.”

“The high-speed ferry wasn’t an option since everyone in the world is looking for you.”

“Everybody wants to be famous until they are and finds out it sucks.”

“We’ll be there shortly.”

“Good to know,” Katie said, one hand over her still-writhing stomach. “So we get there, and then what?”

“And then we meet someone who can help us go deep underground. Disguises, new IDs.”

“And then what?”

“And then we figure out the next step.”

Later, Shaw walked over and looked out a porthole. The tug had slowed, the rocking had ceased. They were past the breakwater and into the harbor.

“Let’s go.”

Katie rose gingerly, testing her legs. She slid her bag over her shoulder. “Shaw, we’re going to die, aren’t we?”

“Probably. Why?”

“Just wanted confirmation.”