Shaw sat down. The sight of the wound seemed to have wilted his anger. “Soft head. Designed to tumble through your body, trashing everything in its path. And it tends to stay in you, which means a surgeon has to cut you open in another place, while you’re just about dead, to get the sucker out.”
She eyed him from over the rim of her cup. “How many gunshot wounds do you have? You can show me, I won’t tell.”
“A good plastic surgeon could take care of that scar.”
“I know. They wanted to when I got back to the States.”
“So why didn’t they?”
“I didn’t want them to.”
“Why not?”
“Because I wanted to keep the scar. That explanation cover it for you?”
Her face softened and she said in a calmer tone, “Look, you have every right to be pissed off at me. If you were messing in my life – not that I have one right now, but if you were – I wouldn’t be happy about it. For what it’s worth, I was just trying to help. You picked a great lady and it’s easy to see how much she loves you.”
Shaw drank his coffee but said nothing.
Katie continued. “And no more meddling from me. I swear. I hope things work out for you both.”
He finished his coffee and rose, looking very uncomfortable. “Anna and I are fine. I told her… I told her things I should have told her a long time ago.” He took a few steps toward the door before glancing back. “I’m glad to see you got out of Edinburgh okay.”
“It’s coming in awfully late, but I want to thank you for saving my life back there. I mean really thank you.”
“How’d you find out about Anna?”
“Hey I am an award-winning investigative reporter. Your hotel room. You left her name engraved on the blotter. And I found a book receipt in your jacket pocket. I’d actually heard an Anna Fischer speak a few years ago and was very impressed. Figured it was worth a couple of phone calls to see if it was the same one. From what I’d seen of you it would take an exceptional woman to keep your interest.”
Shaw looked a little surprised by this praise, but didn’t say anything.
He happened to look at her desk parked next to the hotel room door. Piles of papers, news clippings, and writings were scattered over it. On the laptop screen was a headline detailing the recent events with Russia.
“Your next Pulitzer?” he asked.
“A girl has to keep trying. And do it far better than the boys just to stay equal.”
“You sound like Anna.”
Shaw hesitated and then slowly pulled something from his pocket and passed it to her. It was a card with no name on it, just a phone number.
“I don’t give that out to many people.”
“I’m sure you don’t.”
“But if you went to see Anna there’s a chance the man I work for might come creeping around. If he does.”
“You’ll be the first one I call.”
“Take care of yourself. I doubt we’ll be seeing each other again.”
“I thought that the last time and look where we are. Having a nice cup of coffee together.”
A second later he was gone.
CHAPTER 37
AFTER SHAW LEFT FOR PARIS the Russians publicly announced that if they were so terrible the world would not, of course, condescend to use all their filthy oil, so they cut their exports in half. As the number two exporter of crude behind only Saudi Arabia, and the possessor of the globe’s largest proven natural gas reserves, this was not an empty gesture. Russia exported more oil than the next three countries – Norway, Iran, and the United Arab Emirates – combined. Global production had barely kept pace with demand when all export cylinders were firing. With the Russian black gold not totally available there was no way to make up the shortfall.