HAW SLOWLY PUT ON his loose-fitting shirt, careful to work around the thick bandage on his left arm. The wound was so deep and wide that the surgeon had had to staple the folds of skin back together. A plastic surgeon had also been called in and had done the best she could at the time. There would be scars, the doctor told Shaw, who really could have cared less.

“We can do another surgery later, after the staples come out, fix it up better,” she’d told him.

“No,” Shaw answered without hesitation. He could still fire a gun, that’s all he cared about right now.

Fortunately, the hacksaw blade had managed to miss his tendons and there had been no nerve injury either. Yet as the doctor had told him, “If that blade had struck a centimeter to the right or left, we might not be having this conversation.”

It would be a while before Shaw was at full strength, but the doctors assured him he would make a complete recovery.

“I want to go to London, today,” Shaw announced to Frank as he finished packing his bag in the hospital room.

Frank sat moodily in a chair. “Let me guess why.”

“How fast can I get there?”

“Chunnel train’s quicker than planes these days. You can be in London in the same time it takes you to get through De Gaulle.”

“Private wings?”

“Sorry, I don’t have any available right now.”

“Then book me on the train. Make it for early this afternoon.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Book me on the train, Frank.”

“Okay, then what?”

“Where’s Katie James?”

Frank looked surprised. “Why?”

“I want to thank her.”

“Are you out of your frigging mind? After what she did?”

“What she did was fly halfway around the world to see if I was okay. Where is she?”

“Hell if I know. I’m not the lady’s keeper. I’ve got my hands full with your ass.”

“Tell me where she is,” Shaw persisted.

“What happened to me giving the orders and you following them?” Frank said spitefully.

“It stopped when Anna died because I don’t give a shit anymore. Where’s Katie?”

“I told you, I—”

Shaw interrupted. “You don’t let anybody just walk away. Now where is she?” he barked.

Frank glanced out the window. “Staying at some friend’s apartment off Rue de Rivoli near the Hotel de Ville while the guy’s out of the country.”

“I’ll need the address. Can you get me a car?”

“Can you drive with that busted wing?”

“So long as it’s not a clutch.”

Frank helped Shaw slip on his jacket. Shaw picked up his bag using his good arm.

Frank said, “Look, I’m sorry about Anna, Shaw. Really sorry. And believe it or not, I was going to let you go when you got married. And you can take as much time off as you need now.”

Shaw’s features clouded. “Why the hell are you telling me this now? And just for the record, why are you cutting me any slack at all?”

Frank stepped over to the window. He turned back. “Just looking for skinheads,” he said, smiling.

“Why, Frank? You hate me. I hate you. Not a great working relationship, but at least the ground rules are understood.”

Frank plopped back down in the chair, his gaze on the wall. “How do you think I came to work for this fine organization?”

“Tell me.”

He looked at Shaw. “I had the same choice you did. And my ass is still here.”

Shaw gaped at him. “You got railroaded too! And, what, you paid it forward to me?”

“Yeah! So what? And just for the record, I still hate you.”

“Thanks, Frank. And here I was thinking my life couldn’t get any better.”

Frank looked down at his beefy hands. “She must’ve really loved you. I never had anybody like that.”

“Well, now I don’t either.” Shaw paused at the door. “Is Anna’s body still at the morgue in London?”

Frank nodded slowly. “They haven’t released any of them yet. Ongoing investigation,” he added unnecessarily.

“She’d have wanted to be buried back in Germany. I’m sure her parents are making arrangements.” A part of Shaw’s mind couldn’t even contemplate, much less understand, that he was talking so calmly, so rationally about Anna’s upcoming funeral. He suddenly felt as though if he didn’t get out into the open air, his skin would catch on fire.

Frank followed him out. “Are you going to see James now?”

“Yes.”

“Want me to tag along?”

“No.” Shaw suddenly stopped and held his injured arm, evidently in pain.

Frank put a supporting arm on his shoulder. “Sorry about the screwup with the Nazi freaks,” he said in what seemed a sincere manner. “Right-hand, left-hand crap. It won’t happen again.”

“Yeah.”

Frank made a call as they were heading out of the hospital to the car waiting for Shaw on the street. He wrote something down on a piece of paper and handed it to him. “James’s address.”

“Thanks.”

Shaw slid into the driver’s seat and then popped his head back out the window. “Call me with the train info.”

Frank nodded glumly. “You’re just going to see Anna’s body, right? You’re not going anywhere near where it happened. Right?”

“I’ll see you later.”

“Damn it, Shaw, you are not to go anywhere near The Phoenix Group. Do you hear me?”

“I’ll make a deal with you, Frank. A deal so good you can’t refuse. Wanta hear it?”

Frank looked at him suspiciously. “I don’t know, do I?”

“You let me poke around The Phoenix Group.”

“Shaw,” Frank began, but Shaw kept talking over him.

“You let me do that, I’ll work with this MI5 guy Royce on the Russian piece.”

“I don’t think that’s—”

Shaw interrupted. “And I’ll sweeten the pot. You sign off on it, and I’ll keep working for you until I drop.”

Frank was silent for a long moment, then slowly said, “But what about retiring?”

Shaw gave him a look that somehow contained both helplessness and menace. “Retiring to what, Frank? Is it a deal?”

Frank hesitated. “Yeah, sure.”

Frank started to say something else but with a squeal of tires, Shaw was gone.

Frank turned and walked down the street to find a bar and a drink.