The Whole Truth

Wars. They were the easiest things to start and hardest things to end. Shaw knew this, unfortunately, from experience.

He checked his watch again. It was time to go see A

A

CHAPTER 12

THE WALK TO TRINITY COLLEGE took only about ten minutes with Shaw’s long-gaited pace and pent-up anticipation. Her lecture nearly over, he waited for his lady across from a side entrance to the college close to Maggie’s Bookshop, a favorite of theirs. He spent a few minutes chatting with the woman who ran the shop.

On one shelf he found a copy of a book that A

When A

“Tense?” she asked, her German accent virtually nonexistent. A

“A little.”

“Bad flight from Holland?”

“Ride was great. Just an old rugby injury.” Actually it was the free fall into the canal cesspool, but she didn’t need to know that.

“Boys and their games,” she said in a mock scolding tone. “Is that how you got that?” She pointed to the bruise on his face courtesy of the Iranian who would never see freedom again.

“Luggage came out of the plane bin faster than I thought it would. Looks worse than it is.”

When they finally let go of each other, A

“How was the speech?” he asked.

“It was fairly well attended. However, in the interests of full disclosure I have to add that the heightened numbers were probably due largely to the catered food from the best Indian restaurant in town, and the open bar. I’m disappointed you missed it. I could have at least imagined you in your skivvies.”

“Why imagine when you can see it for real?”

She kissed him and intertwined her long fingers through his thick ones.

He held out her book he’d purchased.

“You paid for it? I could’ve given you one for free. They sent me all the unsold copies. They were so numerous I used them as furniture in my office.”

“Well, this one you’re getting the full royalty on. Will you sign it for me?”

She took out her pen and wrote something in the book. When he tried to see what, she said, “Read it later. After Dublin.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re interested in police states?” she asked.

“As much as I get around I’m usually in one at least once a month.”

He’d literally run into her on a Berlin side street three years ago. She was in the process of being mugged by two men and he’d just finished a solo mission not unlike the one in Amsterdam and was not in a particularly good mood. When the thugs saw him they made a big mistake by thinking they’d rob two birds at the same time. The police showed up a few minutes after Shaw called them when he’d finished beating both men unconscious. He’d hit one of them so hard he had nearly broken his hand on the man’s skull.

He’d walked A

Shaw had never had a serious relationship with a woman before. That might have stemmed from his relationship with his mother, or rather his lack of one.

Abandonment did that to you.

Yet from the moment he saw A

Nearly three years had now passed and her feelings had clearly deepened toward him. He knew that A

Well, that was about to end. Shaw was not yet free from Frank but he could wait no longer. He would make this work. Somehow.

“You’re pensive,” she said over di

“No, just hungry. With men they carry the same expression. I suppose they don’t serve coddle here.” It was a working-class meal of rashers, potatoes, onion, and sausages with pepper poured thick.

“Not here, no, but we can go elsewhere.”

“That’s okay. Food’s gotten better in Dublin over the years.”

“Yes, though I still can’t understand why Irish stew has no carrots.” She smiled impishly over her wineglass. “Even the British have carrots in their stew.”

“And that’s exactly why the Irish don’t.”

Later, as they were finishing their meals she said, “So what were you doing in Amsterdam this time?”

“As little as possible.”

“Your consultancy work slowing down?”

“Come on. I have a place I want to take you to.”

Shaw could feel the strain in his voice and sensed that A

“Are you all right?” she asked. “You’re acting very mysteriously.”

Shaw tongued his dry lips and attempted to smile. “I thought that was one of the things you liked about me. Mystery?”

He didn’t believe his own words and it was clear she didn’t either.

He rose. His legs quivered a bit and he silently cursed himself.

I jumped into a damn canal from four stories up and beat a gang of nuclear terrorist nutcases almost single-handedly. You’d think I could manage this without acting like a lovesick teenager.

A little later they entered a small pub north of the Liffey, which was the decidedly poorer and less glamorous half of Dublin. Yet Shaw liked it here, as did A

As she’d once said, “How can you possibly not love every molecule of a city that produced Swift, Stoker, G. B. Shaw, Yeats, Wilde, Beckett, and Heaney? And the master, Joyce.”

Just to see her reaction he’d answered, “I’m more into Roddy Doyle.”

“And I’m more into Maeve Binchy,” she’d shot back.

He ordered for them, which was unusual. When it arrived she said, “What is it?”

“Barm brack. It’s sort of a fruitcake.”

“Fruitcake! Don’t they use those for doorstops and to poison people?”

Shaw cut her a slice. “Just try it. You’re an adventurous gal.”

A

Shaw said, “Legend has it that if you find the ring in the barm brack, you’re destined to be married.”