“Let’s go.”
Katie rose gingerly, testing her legs. She slid her bag over her shoulder. “Shaw, we’re going to die, aren’t we?”
“Probably. Why?”
“Just wanted confirmation.”
CHAPTER 71
THEY TOOK A CAB FROM THE HARBOR, driving through small villages on their way west to Dublin proper. A chilly rain was falling and even the pubs they passed were mostly empty. As Katie gazed into the window of one bar and saw a cheery fire and a man pulling down a pint, she didn’t have the least desire to join him. Her alcoholism was apparently cured. All it had taken was the end of the world.
Before they’d left England Katie had phoned Kevin Gallagher and explained that her source had probably lied to her.
“Do you have absolute proof that he did?” Gallagher demanded.
“No, not absolute.”
“Do you have absolute proof that the facts of your story are untrue?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Then we’re standing by it.”
“Even if I’m not?”
“This is the biggest story of my life, Katie, so I’m going to pretend this conversation never happened and I suggest you do the same.” Then Gallagher had promptly hung up on her.
“Son of a bitch!” screamed Katie. “I hate editors.”
The cab dropped them off and they walked in the rain. Katie looked around.
“Isn’t that the university?”
Shaw nodded. “Come on.” They headed down a side street.
He knocked on a door where a sign hung.
“Maggie’s Bookshop?” Katie said.
The door opened and a tall, stout woman ushered them in.
She closed the door and Katie surveyed the books on all four walls. They were running for their lives and Shaw had forced her to vomit her way across the Irish Sea so he could take her to a bookstore in dreary Dublin?
The woman didn’t tell Katie her name, and Katie didn’t volunteer hers. She assumed the woman was Maggie.
“I’m so sorry about Anna,” the lady said to Shaw.
She led them upstairs where a room had been set up as a hair and makeup area.
“Sit here, please.” The lady motioned to a swivel chair in front of a long mirror. Katie sat and the woman picked up a pair of shears and lifted a handful of her hair.
Katie jumped out of the chair. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“You didn’t tell her?”
“Tell me what?” Katie said, staring at Shaw.
“Haircut,” Shaw said. He nodded at the woman. “Do it short and change the color. And then you can scalp me.”
An hour later, Katie James was a brunette with spiky hair, her eyes were brown instead of blue, her skin coloring was darker, her eyes rounder, her lips narrower. She wore bulky clothes that added about twenty pounds.
Shaw could not make himself shorter, but twenty minutes later his hair was mostly gone and the woman had done a number on his face, including a mustache and goatee, a bulked-up nose, and contact lenses that turned his startling blue eyes a muted brown. Katie couldn’t even swear it was him.
She led them to another room set up as a photo studio.
Katie said to Shaw, “She sure has a lot of sidelines for a bookshop owner.”
The pictures were taken and two hours later Shaw and Katie had brand-new passports, driver’s licenses, and other official papers showing them to be a married couple from a London suburb.
Shaw thanked the woman and paid her.
“I wish you luck,” she said.
“Oh, we’re going to need a lot more than luck, honey. Why don’t you go ahead and pray for a miracle?” Katie shot back as she slammed the door behind her.
As they walked down the alley she said, “Where to now?”
“Grab some sleep and then I have a doctor’s appointment in the morning,”
“A doctor’s appointment?” she said skeptically.
“Let’s get something straight. I’m not going to tell you everything.”
“Fine. Just so long as you know that cuts both ways.”
“The ground rules are set then.” He picked up his pace and she had to hurry along to keep up.
CHAPTER 72
THEY’D CHECKED INTO THE HOTEL as a married couple and thus had only gotten one room. Shaw had told Katie that he didn’t want her to be left alone at any time. “They almost got you once, they’ll definitely try again.”
They ordered some food, although Katie’s still touchy stomach could only manage some tea and bread. Then they sat at a little table facing each other to discuss matters.
“What I still don’t understand,” Shaw said, “is why they targeted The Phoenix Group in the first place.”
“It was Chinese-owned,” Katie answered as she cradled her tea cup and watched the drenching rain out the window.
“There’re lots of Chinese-owned places in London. And why pick London?”
“But a Chinese-owned think tank?”
“Okay, so why a think tank?”
“According to you they planted those docs about the Red Menace. A bunch of super-smart people working at a secret think tank being behind the global smear campaign seems plausible. It probably wouldn’t have seemed nearly as credible if they’d hit a local fast-food place, slaughtered a bunch of teenagers, and planted the incriminating docs there.”
“So they happened to stumble across The Phoenix Group, just happened to learn its Chinese connection, and sent in a strike team?”
Katie said, “There has to be a catalyst. Maybe someone they met with. Some project they were working on. They obviously had the place under surveillance. When I was there, I saw lots of people coming and going so we might have to check…”
She stopped talking as the horrible, absolutely awful possibility swept over her. She glanced at Shaw. By his look she could tell he’d reached the same conclusion.
“They would’ve seen you there,” Shaw said, a discernible edge to his voice.
“Yes, they would have,” Katie answered in a hushed tone. “And since they were already using me they might’ve focused on The Phoenix Group because of my connection to Anna. And then discovered the Chinese element.”
“But that’s only one possible reason,” he said, though the disbelief in his own words was evident.
“Yes,” Katie said weakly. “I suppose that’s true.”
She put down her cup and glanced at the bed. “Um, I’m really tired, Shaw. You can have the bed. I’ll take the floor.”
“No, I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“Shaw!”
“Just take the bed, Katie. It’s been a long day and we’re both exhausted.”
Katie changed in the bathroom, came out, and crawled under the covers. Shaw was already on the floor, a blanket over him. Katie turned out the light.
A few minutes later, as the rain continued to pour down, she said quietly, her voice quivering, “I’m sorry, Shaw.”
She didn’t get an answer.
CHAPTER 73
AS THE DAWN BEGAN TO BREAK OUTSIDE, Shaw sat up, leaned against the bed, and looked at a wide-eyed Katie. It was obvious from her puffy red eyes that she hadn’t slept at all.
“I have something to tell you,” she said, drawing the sheet around her.
“Katie, you don’t have to-”
She put a hand on his shoulder. “Please, let me just get it out before it burns a hole in my gut.”
He waited, watching her.
“I was doing this for the story. Even when I flew over to see you in the hospital, part of me was thinking about getting my career back on track. And then I got this new assignment and came to London. I could just feel I was on my way back.” She looked down, balling the bedcovers in her hands, cheeks quivering. “I don’t even think I’m human, not anymore. I used to be, I’m just not sure when I stopped. It’s been a while, I know that… I’m sorry.”
“Katie, you’re a reporter. It’s in your blood.”