The Whole Truth

CHAPTER 95

FRANK AND ROYCE BURST INTO THE ROOM where Katie was being kept under the watchful eye of two FBI vets. Frank said, “We just got another credible bomb threat. They must’ve found out where she was. There’s an SUV waiting in front.”

They hustled down the stairs. Royce pushed Katie into the SUV and then called out to Frank. “This is the third damn time. We better bloody well get her out of the country, Frank.”

“I’m on it.”

“Where do you want me to take her this time?”

“Location four. I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes.”

Royce nodded, shook his head wearily, and climbed into the seat next to Katie.

“Here we go again,” he said kindly. “Sorry, Katie.”

The driver sped off and the man next to him, big and burly, turned to face her, a large gun in hand.

Caesar smiled and said, “Glad to have you with us, Ms. James.”

Katie looked startled, but then something jabbed her in the arm. She looked down at the syringe sticking out of her. And then at Royce who was pushing the plunger all the way down. As the meds hit her bloodstream, Katie slumped over in the seat.

Royce pulled the needle out and nodded at Caesar.

Caesar said, “Bugs?”

Royce expertly searched Katie for surveillance devices and shook his head.

Caesar handed Royce a battery-operated saw, which he used to cut off Katie’s cast. Royce checked it over minutely and shook his head again.

The truck slowed to a stop, Royce got out, and tossed the split cast into a passing garbage truck. He climbed back in. “If the cast is bugged, they’ll be on a jolly nice detour now. Hit it!”

The driver punched the gas and the Suburban shot forward, hung a left, and was gone.

Eight hours later the private plane touched down on a remote airfield in Italy. A truck pulled up next to the aircraft and a box was loaded onto it from the plane. Several men got in the truck and it rolled off. An hour after that it arrived at the Italian seaside, the Mediterranean moodily aglow under a setting sun. A launch carried the box, Caesar, Royce, and several other men out to the Shiloh.

The crew had been given the evening off. Only the captain remained on board, and he was sequestered on the upper bridge. Special visitors of a sensitive nature had been the only explanation given to the man. He didn’t ask for another.

Nicolas Creel was sitting in the ship’s library surrounded by first-edition books he’d purchased over the years, and unlike some collectors he’d actually read them. When the door opened and the box was brought in he didn’t smile. He actually felt as though he would never smile again.

He nodded at Royce. “Good work. I never had any doubts your association would pay off for me.”

“Pleasure, Mr. Creel. MI5 never saw my potential. And certainly never paid me fairly for it.”

Creel looked at Caesar. “Shall we let the illustrious Ms. James join us?”

The big man opened the box and lifted Katie out. She was just coming to. Caesar laid her on a table. The men stood there until she sat up and looked around.

“Welcome, Katie,” Creel said. “I may call you Katie? I feel like I know you so well even though we’ve never even met.”

Katie slipped off the table and dropped into a chair. She rubbed her head and grimaced as she clutched her arm. “Where the hell’s my cast?”

Royce said, “We thought it best to remove it. GPS devices can be embedded in such things.”

“It was just a damn cast, you idiot.” Katie held up her arm where the break in the skin was clearly visible.

“So you say.”

She turned her attention back to Creel. “But I do know you,” she said. “Nicolas Creel. Any journalist worth her salt would know you.”

“I’m flattered. Yet you don’t seem altogether surprised.”

“Once I’d thought out a few things the list of suspects narrowed considerably.” She glanced at Royce. “His involvement I didn’t figure on, though.”

Creel did smile now. “Of course not. But one must always have a safety valve. An inside source. And Mr. Royce shares my view of how the world should be. A view that you have now effectively destroyed. I can’t even imagine how much you’ve cost mankind.”

“What I’ve cost it? By stopping China and Russia from going to war?”

“There was never going to be a war, you fool!” Creel roared. “The cold war was the safest period humanity has ever lived through. My plan would have liberated the world. That’s right, I was a liberator,” he snapped, as Katie stared at him incredulously. “Now you’ve ensured that we will be ruled for eternity by savages who have no regard for human life. They have toppled all balance, crushed all possibility of diplomacy. We are as close to global annihilation as we have ever been, thanks to you, Katie James.” He said her name as though it was the most repellent two words that had ever passed his lips.

“Yeah, I’m sure that has you bummed. But I’m thinking you’re really pissed about losing out on all those weapon dollars.”

“I have enough money, I can assure you. But Theodore Roosevelt had it right. Speak softly and carry a big stick. America’s greatest presidents knew that military power was the key to everything. Everything!”

“Yeah, war is great, isn’t it?”

“You built your career covering them, so you have no room to complain. Glory always goes to the victor.”

“I didn’t cover them by choice. And my reporting showed the horror of wars. I never found any glory in it.”

“You obviously didn’t look hard enough. Political history is defined by such confrontations.”

“Didn’t some famous general say it’s a good thing war is so terrible or we’d grow too fond of it.”

“That was Confederate general Robert E. Lee at the Battle of Fredericksburg. And, as history has shown, he was a loser. I only deal in winners.”

“Have you ever been in the military, Mr. Creel? You ever been shot, or even shot at?” Creel didn’t answer her. “Well I have. And let me tell you, with people who actually fight the damn wars there are no winners or losers. They’re just survivors.”

“Yes, well, I didn’t bring you here for a lecture. I brought you here to die. But I wanted you to know why. And I want you to die knowing you have no one to blame but yourself.”

She moved a bit closer to him. “Can I tell you something?”

“Every condemned person is granted a few last words.”

“Go screw yourself.”

“Brilliant, Ms. James. What a wordsmith you are.”

The door opened and one of his men came in. “You have a visitor, Mr. Creel.” His voice sank lower.

After he listened to him Creel said, “Get her off the ship right now.”

The man said, “Sir, she mentioned something about seeing some computer files in your office.”

Creel’s eyes widened a bit. “I see. All right, I’ll come out.”

Out in the hall, Creel’s wife was standing in high heels and a short skirt. Two of Creel’s men stood next to her.

“My dear, what a pleasant surprise,” Creel said.

Her response was to slap him. Creel’s men grabbed and held her.

She screamed, “You think you can just leave me by the side of the road like a pile of crap? After all I did for you? And to you? You bastard! I’m Mrs. Nicolas Creel and that’s the way it’s going to stay.”

“I can see you’re upset. But all good things must end and the divorce payment is more than generous.”

“You’re not divorcing me. I know things,” she said, a triumphant tone in her voice. As Creel eyed her stonily, she hurried on. “I know you think I’m just some dumb shit. But do you remember I told you I liked your office? Well, it wasn’t for the reason you think. I’ve found it’s always nice to have a little ammo in case people get too big for themselves. So I checked your computer. You know, Nick, when you divorced your last wife you should’ve stopped using her name as your freaking password. And from what I saw you’ve been a really bad boy.”

“Well,” Creel began pleasantly. “That does put a whole new spin on the matter. Come with me and we’ll talk this out.” He looked at his men. “Send her launch back in. She won’t be needing it. She’s staying with me.”

Miss Hottie pulled away from the pair and sauntered after her husband.

When they entered the room and Creel shut the door behind them, Miss Hottie slowly looked around at the men in the room and then her gaze fell on Katie. “I know you, you’re Katie James.”

Creel stared in mock sadness at Miss Hottie. “I’m afraid your timing could not have been worse, my dear. And, by the way, you coming out here all alone and telling me what you know shows that you are indeed a dumb shit.” He glanced at Royce and nodded. Royce pulled out his gun and fired a bullet right into Hottie’s brain.

The dead woman toppled forward onto the table, slipped off, and crashed to the floor.

The phone buzzed. It was the captain. A boat was approaching the yacht.

“Who is it?”

“Looks to be the Italian police, sir. One of the boats patrolling the Shiloh’s perimeter.”

Creel looked at Caesar. “Drug James. There’s a body bag in the engine room. Put her in it and then take her and that” – he pointed to his dead wife – “to the sub. Quickly.”

Royce held a struggling Katie down as Caesar stuck a needle in her. She fell limp again.

As the men dashed off with Katie and the murdered woman, Creel adjusted his jacket and went calmly abovedeck to greet his visitors.