HE FINAL ELEMENTS OF THE MISSION in France had taken an inordinately long time to complete. Typically Shaw would get to town a day or two before the big event, receive his briefing, and hit his marks. Whether he lived or died was really the only unanswered question. This time had been different.

Frank had even flown in with a team to go over everything in meticulous detail. At the final prep meeting before D-day, he’d hammered the essentials home to Shaw again and again while they sat in a little cottage twenty miles outside of Paris.

He warned, “These guys are good, Shaw, really good. They don’t trust anybody, and anybody they don’t trust, they kill.”

“Thanks for the pep talk, Frank, I really appreciate it.” Shaw sat across from him, rubbing his hands slowly together and not meeting his colleague’s eye.

Frank observed this and suddenly slammed his fist down on the table. “Are you freaking nervous!”

Shaw looked up at him. “What the hell do you think?”

“I think I need the old Shaw, the man who never sweats. If these guys even smell your stink, they’ll put a slug right here faster than you can say, ‘Oh, shit!’” He pointed to the center of his forehead. “And then chop your body up while they chitchat about the weather and women.”

“I’ll be fine, Frank.”

“It’s the lady, right? You’re getting married now and you finally got something to lose.” Frank sat back and shook his head, a patronizing look spreading across his face. “Well, keep this in mind, lover boy, you screw up tomorrow, there’s no wedding, just four funerals. One for each part after the scumballs quarter you up.”

“How long have I been doing this? And I’ve walked away from every one.”

“There’s a first and last time for everybody. Just don’t make it happen on this one, I’m not done with you yet.”

Shaw reached over and gripped the man’s arm. “Tell me why you really went to see Anna.”

“I told you. I was being fair. And you should’ve been the one to tell her, not me. She had a right to know what she was getting into.”

“She’s not a little girl, Frank.”

“Did you tell her you weren’t retiring? That any second your ass could be grass?”

“What the hell do you care?”

Frank looked uncomfortable and shrugged. “She seems like a nice lady. You ever stop to think about what you getting killed might do to her? Or if one of the wackos we deal with on a daily basis gets wind of her?”

“I would never let anything happen to Anna.”

“But you’re not in control of that, are you? You’re not an accountant, Shaw. And in our line of work, you make a mistake, you get dead real fast. And maybe she does too.” He paused. “So with all that you don’t think she had a right to know?”

Shaw didn’t say anything, because more than a little bit of him was arriving at the conclusion that Frank, the hated Frank, might be right.

Frank rose, grabbed his overcoat, and headed to the door. “Good luck, Shaw. And if I don’t see you again, well, I’ll have to find somebody else, won’t I?”

“You’ll never find anybody as good as me.”

Frank considered this as he slipped on a battered hat. “You’re probably right about that. But I’ll settle for almost as good. And if they do end up killing you, right before the bullet hits you in the brain, just ask yourself one question: was the lady really worth it?”

Frank slammed the door behind him, leaving Shaw alone with only his thoughts.

“Yes,” Shaw said to the empty room. “She is.”