“I’m not going to write the story, if that’s what you think. I don’t know enough to write it anyway.”
“If you do write the story, you’ll ruin a lot of hard work and help the bad guys.”
“I’ve never been into helping the bad guys.”
He paused, studying her closely. “It was a drug transaction. We’re trying to keep cash out of the hands of terrorists. There, now you know all.”
“Good guys don’t open fire like that.”
“I know,” Shaw admitted. “I don’t know why they started shooting.”
His candor seemed to melt away most of Katie’s doubts. She added in a cautious tone, “But then why were your own people shooting at you?”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to find out.” He leveled his gaze directly at her. “And get out of Edinburgh. You survived tonight. It’d be a shame to waste it.”
In a few seconds he’d disappeared.
Katie sat back into the leather of the Mini. She’d seen much death in her career, heartbreaking stuff that you never really got over. But there had been something about tonight… And she had never met anyone quite like this guy.
Had everything he’d told her been a complete lie? As a veteran journalist she often found that to be the case. But he had let her go. And he had saved her life. She realized a little guiltily that she hadn’t even thanked him for that. If not for him she would’ve been bits of flesh scattered across Scotland.
Katie snagged her bag from the backseat and drew out a notepad and a pen. Before she’d switched to journalism, she’d been an art major. She flipped open the pad and quickly sketched a drawing of Shaw. She also jotted down notes.
She talked to herself as she wrote. “Dark hair, about six foot five, two-forty. Shoulders the size of Nebraska. Amazing blue eyes.” She put down her pen. Amazing blue eyes? Where did that come from?
It didn’t matter. The odds of her ever seeing him again…
She climbed over into the driver’s side, drove down an alley, left the car, and ducked back in the Balmoral through the delivery entrance.
CHAPTER 25
SHAW DIDN’T BOTHER to get his clothes from the hotel. He’d placed any personal items he had with him in a storage locker at the train station. He called Frank as soon as he was safely away from the hotel. The man waited until the fourth ring to answer.
“What the hell game are you playing?” Shaw barked into the phone.
“You should be celebrating another successful mission. We got the drugs, the bad guys didn’t get any cash, and we got one guy left standing who’s talking like a mynah bird as we speak. I’ve personally already popped the champagne.”
“Your guys opened fire unprovoked.”
“Wow! Really?”
“Yeah, really. What happened to you have the right to remain silent and keep the blood in your veins?”
“So we took out some of the Tajiks, so what? You know how much those suckers can eat? And my budget is strained as it is.”
“And your guys were shooting at me.”
“Then maybe you should pay attention.”
“Pay attention to what?”
“We don’t like retirees, Shaw. You go when we say you can, if ever.”
“My deal-”
“Your deal is shit. Your deal has always been shit, but you never wanted to face up to it. Well, tonight was your wake-up call, my friend. Your only one. Next time maybe they don’t miss. And consider yourself lucky. Oh, by the way, your orders for Heidelberg are waiting at the airport. Chartered jet, wheels up in two hours. Man will meet you at the front entrance of the airport. Meanwhile, enjoy the rest of your evening in lovely Scotland.”
Frank clicked off and Shaw simply stood there on Princes Street in the middle of the ancient city of Edinburgh with thousands of people all around him.