She snapped her fingers. “He did say he overheard the Russians, or according to you, the fake Russians talking about someone else being in the building. If they were watching the back of the office they would’ve seen him go in. But they didn’t do another search because a window was broken and a woman was screaming out of the office and they were afraid the police would show up.”
Shaw’s expression grew clouded. Katie said, “Did that happen?”
He nodded slowly. “The woman was Anna. She broke her office window, tried to get out that way, but was killed before she could.”
“How do you know that?”
“The street camera recorded it.”
“My God, you saw it happen?” She put a hand over his. “Shaw, I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you won’t write the story.”
“I can’t do that. The world deserves to hear it.”
“Really? Even if it’s all lies? Or maybe Katie James believes she deserves to get back on top, any way she can? Even if it means the end of the world as we know it?”
Katie’s face flushed and she drew away from him. “That is not why I’m doing this!”
“Then tell me why you are doing it.”
“I’m a journalist. I have a story. A story of the decade! I can’t just sit on it because you have a bunch of pet theories, or because you say the world might end.”
“And what if I’m right? Are you prepared to deal with it?”
“Yes,” she said, but her voice shook slightly.
“Then we have nothing else to talk about.” He rose and held the door open.
“Shaw, please don’t do this.”
“We have nothing else to talk about,” he said more firmly.
She slowly walked past him and he slammed the door shut behind her.
CHAPTER 60
NICOLAS CREEL’S TRIPS to China and Russia had been successful. No firm deals had been announced, but he had laid the groundwork for that to almost certainly happen and soon. When the “real” truth of The Phoenix Group came out – and Creel expected Katie James to publish it anytime now – the dynamic between China and Russia would quickly change from regional competitors to that of absolute enemies. And the trillions of dollars would begin flowing his way.
Yet with that triumph just behind him, he still had a problem.
He once more sat on the top deck of the magnificent Shiloh, one of the world’s greatest super-yachts, while his ditzy wife lay sprawled naked on a plush chaise longue on the foredeck. Creel had finally gotten fed up and demanded that she put something on. She flatly refused, claiming that even a string bikini would unbalance her tan.
She’d told him in a pouty voice, “My body is perfect. No tan lines. No lines, Nicky! You can’t make me.”
How could one respond to such stark logic, to such earnest narcissistic proclamations? Creel had almost laughed, as he would’ve when a child had done something silly. No, this marriage was clearly not going to last. His ship phone rang. It was the captain. Mrs. Creel had finally fallen asleep.
“Then put a damn blanket over her, neck to toes,” Creel instructed and hung up.
The woman he’d met in L.A. when he’d been given the philanthropic award was an art curator at the Met in New York. With multiple degrees from Yale, she was stunningly intelligent, world-traveled, attractive, nicely built, and he seriously doubted she would have been the least concerned about tan lines across her ass. He’d had a wonderfully fascinating evening with the woman that had involved no physical contact at all. He’d have his attorneys draw up the divorce papers when he returned home.
But that looming domestic change was not the problem Creel was troubled by.
He stared down at the photo of the man with Katie James. James had left Shaw’s hotel in tears, Creel had been told. Was the man going to screw this up? He wanted revenge. He was highly skilled. Yes, a potential problem. Shaw’s days were probably numbered. But then what was one more?
Creel gazed out onto the calmness of the Mediterranean where a hot sun slowly burned its way downward to the lazy shimmer of sea. Despite selling the best military hardware on earth, he was a peaceful man. He had never struck anyone in anger. He had, it was true, ordered the deaths of people, but it was never done with malice.
Yet from the first club wielded in anger to an A-bomb that wiped out six figures’ worth of people in a few ticks of the clock, physical conflict was an essential part of humanity. Creel knew this, just as he knew that war had many positive attributes. Most significantly, it made people forget the frivolous and bond together for the greater good.