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Yes, blood was sometimes unnecessarily spilled. She’d made enemies along the way, and some of her colleagues now despised her, but thanks to her efforts, the mission was always accomplished. That’s what had made her the golden girl.
So much for a comfortable retirement. It was time to go back to work.
Old age confers anonymity, which makes it the most effective disguise of all.
“We’re concerned about her well-being. Actually, we’re concerned about everyone who was involved with Operation Cyrano.”
“And the information remains classified, for the safety of everyone involved. But now, I’m afraid your names may have been leaked, and that’s why we’re tracking you all down, to check on your welfare. To see if you’re in need of help. I must say, I never expected you to end up in a place like this.”
“And I’m Danny Gallagher. If you’re ever in London and need a splinter removed or your appendix whipped out, I’m your man.”
“I probably should. I never told her the whole story, Diana. Maybe I should. Maybe it’s time she learned everything.”
“Boston. Some other agency’s assuming control of the remains. It’s like they don’t trust a Podunk pathologist in Maine to do the job.”
But Bianca is dead, I’ve been dragged into a murder investigation, and somehow the mess is all tied to Diana. It always seems to be.
I nod. “And she’s one of the reasons I resigned.” “One of the reasons?” “The main reason.”
“She turned me into a traitor,” I say.
The truth is far more complicated, but when you live in a world of mirrors, the truth is always distorted. Too often, it’s what we choose to see while ignoring all the inconvenient bits, the nagging details that distort our view. We crave clarity, and so we lie to ourselves.
And what I’ve told myself these last sixteen years is that Diana Ward destroyed me, when in...
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Living hard doesn’t mean dying early; sometimes it just means those hard years end up on your face.
This new generation looks only to the future, with little regard for the past and what it could teach them. What we could teach them.
