“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.