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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.


Tags: David Baldacci A. Shaw Thriller