The Whole Truth

“Impressed now?” said Shaw.

As Royce dropped to the floor, Shaw was already past him heading to the sub. And Katie.

The belly of the Shiloh was a series of huge hangars, the thirty-five-ton submarine parked in dry dock in the center of one of them. Shaw watched the men standing guard. There were three of them, one even larger than Shaw with long black curly hair. A radio buzzed in the hand of the big man. He listened, said something Shaw couldn’t hear, and he and the two other men hurried off.

Shaw clambered on top of the sub, lifted the hatch, and dropped down inside. He searched as quickly as he could. When he saw the arm and legs of a woman sticking out from under a bench near the rear of the vessel, he felt his heart nearly stop. When he pulled the woman out and saw the blonde hair, he felt paralyzed. When he realized it wasn’t Katie he started breathing again. Then he saw the body bag and it all hit him again. He unzipped it with shaky fingers.

Then he heard another sound. The men were coming back.

CHAPTER 97

“TAKE HER OUT OF HERE NOW. And bury her in the excavation pit for the orphanage,” Creel instructed the two men who held the body bag between them. “Put her in a box. I’ll arrange everything at the construction site. I’ll tell them it’s a time capsule. Where’s Royce?” he asked Caesar.

“Around here somewhere.”

One of the men said, “Do you want us to kill her first, Mr. Creel?”

“No, I want her to wake up and realize she’s been buried alive. They say there’s no greater fear in humankind. I want her to feel that horror.”

The body bag was loaded on the launch and the men set off.

Caesar said to Creel, “What now?”

“Now you disappear. Until the next time.”

“I don’t think so.”

They slowly turned. Shaw was standing there pointing a gun at them.

Creel flinched as he saw who it was, but then quickly recovered. “They call you Shaw, don’t they?” Shaw said nothing. “I know of your co

He pointed his gun at Creel’s head. “I don’t see it that way.”

“Mr. Creel?”

The captain was staring fearfully at them from the steps leading to the top deck.

Shaw took his gaze off the two men just for an instant. It was still too long.

The shot fired by Caesar burned a crease along the side of his head.

Shaw instantly rolled to his left and placed four compact shots of return fire.

Creel had already taken up hiding behind the bar area while Caesar was seeking higher ground to get a better shooting angle. Shaw sent those plans awry when he nailed the man in the foot. Caesar emptied his clip at Shaw. A moment later while Shaw was lining up his killing shot, his gun jammed.

Caesar dragged himself up the stairs with Shaw right behind. The two giants squared off on the top deck. After a few jabs to test the other’s defenses, Caesar landed a shot to Shaw’s injured but numbed arm and got a blow to the gut for his troubles. He next tried a headlong charge and his superior weight carried Shaw off his feet and the two men flew against the bridge console. Caesar grabbed hold of Shaw’s shirt, nearly ripping it off. Shaw tried to take out the man’s legs, but Caesar, showing considerable agility for a man his size and despite the wound in his foot, jumped out of reach and then attacked.

He gripped Shaw around the neck and started to squeeze. Shaw got a hand in under Caesar’s chin and tried to lever his head back. But Caesar ducked under Shaw’s grasp, spun behind him, and got him in a chokehold.

Shaw tried to break Caesar’s grip but quickly realized that even if he’d been at full strength, Caesar was too powerful. His eyes started to bulge out and his knees buckled.

Caesar, obviously sensing victory, said, “First your lady and now you. Nice little pair. She died without making a sound when I pumped the round in her brain.” He tightened his grip. “And I can see the same silent exit for you, asshole.”

At the man’s words, Shaw’s mind went entirely blank, and then with a scream he broke Caesar’s grip from around his throat. He bent the man’s arm back so far and with such violence that he wrenched it completely from its socket.

“You,” Shaw said.

Caesar dropped to his knees, vomiting from the pain. Shaw smashed him in the face with one of his size fourteens, toppling the man onto his back.

“Are.”

A knife flashed in Caesar’s good hand, but only for a second before Shaw tore it free with a strength born of rage.

He plunged the blade straight into the man’s gut and then slowly walked it up Caesar’s torso, cleaving flesh and bone along the route until he stopped at the man’s throat. Caesar was just about to die when Shaw pulled his pistol, cleared the jam, cycled in a fresh round, took aim, and fired it into the man’s forehead.

“Dead,” Shaw finished.

CHAPTER 98

A LARGE CHOPPER CIRCLED THE SHILOH. Over a PA system a man’s voice said, “FBI, we are boarding this ship. This is the FBI, we are boarding this ship.”

A hundred meters away the Italian police boat was skimming toward the ship. As the chopper landed on the helipad and the police boat tied up to the yacht Nicolas Creel stood imperturbably in the middle of it all.

The FBI and Frank wanted to arrest Creel on the spot. The Italian police insisted that this could not be done. They spent the next twenty minutes arguing, with neither side making any inroads.

“Mr. Creel is within Italian waters.”

“And what does the FBI want with me anyway?” Creel said i

Frank piped up, “Tax evasion! How about creating global mayhem? How does that grab you, asshole?”

Creel turned to the Italian police captain. “I have no idea what this man is raving about. They’ve invaded my yacht. Guns have been fired. Some of my men have been injured and even killed I believe. I’m the one who should be pressing charges. You were just out here, Officer. Did you see anything amiss?”

The policeman glowered at Frank. “Nothing at all, Mr. Creel. And now I will escort these men to shore.”

“I’ll be along to press charges against them.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” an FBI agent said. “We have the full power of the United States behind us.”

“Well, you are not in the United States,” the policeman retorted. “You have no jurisdiction here.”

“Actually they do.”

All heads turned as Shaw came down the steps from the bridge.

Creel stared up at him. “I’m listening.”

“The kidnapping of an American citizen,” Shaw said.

“Who?” snapped the Italian police officer.

“Katie James!” Frank bellowed. “I suppose you’ve heard of her, Katie James?”

“She is here, you are saying this?” the officer exclaimed.

“She is not here,” Creel said smugly.

“Really?”

They all turned again as Katie stepped onto the deck. Now Creel paled and he looked out to the water in bewilderment.

“Your guys took the woman who was killed, I guess your wife, in the body bag after Shaw made the switch,” Katie said. “They didn’t bother to check that it was me in there. We were about the same size and weight.”

The Italian policeman looked at Creel. “Your wife is dead?”

“Of course she isn’t. She’s not here. I had her taken back to town. You must have seen the launch pass by.”

“And then how did Katie get here?” Frank said.

“Same as he did,” Creel said, pointing at Shaw. “Obviously, they’re trespassing.

Katie held up her broken arm. “The tracking device wasn’t in the cast. It was in me.” She pointed to the wound on her arm. “They cut me open at the same spot as my compound fracture to put the transmitter inside me.” She looked over at Shaw. “It was a technique I recently became acquainted with.”