Indeed, his dear wife could be the poster child for insecurity. She had barely a high school education tucked inside a supermodel shell. Yet when he’d seen her flounce down that runway in New York he knew he just had to have her, because everybody else so desperately wanted the lady. Creel always wanted to be first.
As was his custom at night, he went to his office to work. The space was probably not as large as one would expect a man of his net worth to have, but it was efficient. He sat down at his desk, flicked on his computer, and saw the e-mail and attached files from Pender.
He read through them thoroughly, coming away considerably interested.
The Phoenix Group? It didn’t ring any bells.
He made a call with one request. “Find out exactly who’s behind The Phoenix Group, a think tank based in London, and do it as fast as possible.”
Every instinct Creel had was telling him this might turn out to be one more missing piece he needed to complete his grand puzzle. It would perhaps take a bit of luck, but even billionaire merchants of death were entitled to good fortune sometimes.
Several hours later his wish came true. His people were very good. They’d ripped through several façades set up to hide the true ownership of The Phoenix Group. And when people went to all that trouble to deceive, it was usually for a good reason. Now Creel could hardly believe his luck.
The Phoenix Group ownership had no ties to Arizona. The phoenix was mostly thought to be of Egyptian origin. But it also hailed from another part of the world. In that ancient land it symbolized power sent from the heavens. It also stood for loyalty and honesty. It could not have been more perfect.
Into the phone he said, “Keep The Phoenix Group building under twenty-four-hour surveillance. And I want complete files on everyone who works there. And the plans for every nook and cranny of that building. No detail is too small.”
Creel then called Caesar. It was very nearly time for his boots on the ground to go to work.
CHAPTER 29
SHAW WAS STANDING INSIDE Heidelberg Castle in front of the largest wooden barrel in the world ever to hold wine. He’d flown into Frankfurt from Edinburgh the night before and driven to Heidelberg that morning. His assignment this time was relatively easy, passing some papers to another man to be carried up the line.
After the task was completed he was supposed to drive to see Anna’s parents at their bookshop in the little town of Wisbach. Should he still go? Frank had made it clear that Shaw’s enslavement was not going to end anytime soon. In fact, it might only terminate when his life did. So what was the reason to go to Wisbach? He could not marry Anna and continue to work for Frank. He never should have asked her to marry him. Now that he had, he should just get the hell out of her life so someone else could give her what he couldn’t.
That would be the noble, unselfish thing to do, and yet Shaw felt neither noble nor unselfish. He did not want to lose Anna. He could not lose Anna. He would drive to Wisbach and perhaps on the way he would miraculously think of some way out of this nightmare.
The papers were passed a half hour later with nary a glitch to a young man who looked like an American college student right down to the Red Sox ball cap, grungy jeans, and Nike tennis shoes. Shaw continued his role as tourist by taking pictures of the castle and its grounds and learning about the history of one of Germany’s most famous castles and its seven-meter-thick walls. When it was safe to leave, he nearly sprinted back down the hill to his rental car and drove off for Wisbach.
He passed through the edge of Karlsruhe on his way to Wisbach. As Anna had said, the bookshop was easy to locate, being on the main road of the quaint village.
Natascha Fischer met him at the door. There was much of her daughter’s height and good looks in the mother. However, where Anna was talkative and outgoing, her mother was reserved and did not meet his eye as he introduced himself.
The bookshop was small but the shelves had good bones of aged pine and dark walnut. There was a rolling ladder perched against one wall of old volumes, and against another was a large desk littered with papers. Here sat a man even larger than Shaw. Wolfgang Fischer rose and extended his hand. Anna had told them he was coming. Natascha put a “Closed” sign on the door and locked it. She then followed her husband and Shaw through a door into the adjoining flat where the Fischers lived.
Like the bookshop it was neat and nicely decorated with many photos of Anna from infant to grown woman. While Natascha put on a pot of coffee, Wolfgang pulled out a small bottle of cognac from a cupboard.
“An event like this calls for something stronger than coffee, eh?” Wolfgang said in English, but with a heavy German accent that Shaw had a little difficulty following. Wolfgang poured out the drinks, sat down, and stared expectantly up at Shaw, who leaned nervously against a rough-hewn wooden mantel.
“Anna has told us much about you,” Wolfgang began in a helpful tone.
Natascha came back in with the coffee and some cakes on a tray. She looked disapprovingly at the glass of cognac in her husband’s hand.
“It is not yet four o’clock,” she said in a scolding tone.
Her husband grinned. “Shaw here was just about to say something.”
Natascha sat and poured out the coffee, but she shot anxious glances at their visitor.
Shaw felt the perspiration staining his armpits. He almost never broke a sweat from nerves, even when people were shooting at him. He felt like a schoolboy on his first date. His mouth was dry; his legs seemed unable to support his weight.
“I came here to ask you something,” he finally said, sitting down opposite them.
I might as well just say it. He looked directly at Dad. “Would you have a problem with me marrying your daughter?”
Wolfgang glanced at his wife, his lips curling into a smile. Natascha dabbed her eyes with a tea napkin.
Wolfgang lurched up, pulled Shaw to his feet, and gave him a bear hug that made Shaw’s ribs ache. Laughing, he boomed, “Does that answer your question?”
Natascha nimbly got to her feet, took Shaw’s hand in a firm grip, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and said in a quiet voice, “You have made Anna so happy. Never has she talked of anyone as she does you. Never. Has she, Wolfie?”
He shook his head. “And she makes you happy, yes, I am sure?”
“Happier than I’ve ever been.”
“When will the wedding be?” asked Natascha. “It will be here, of course, where her family is?”
Wolfgang looked at her crossly. “Well, what of Shaw’s family? Maybe they do not like to come to a small village like this.” He slapped Shaw on the arm, unfortunately on the spot where he’d been winged by the bullet in Scotland. It was all Shaw could do not to cry out in pain.
“Here will be fine,” he said. “I, uh, I have no family.” The Fischers looked at him curiously. “I was an orphan.”
Natascha’s bottom lip trembled. “Anna did not tell us this. I am sorry.”
Wolfgang said, “But now you have family. Lots of family. In Wisbach alone there are ten Fischers. If you include Karlsruhe and Stuttgart, it is many more. In Germany, thousands, is that not right, Tasha?”
“But not all will be coming to the wedding,” Natascha said hastily.
“Grandchildren,” Wolfgang said, staring at Shaw, a broad smile on his face. “Finally, I will have grandchildren. You and Anna will have a big family of course.”