“Not right then. First to Germany. Saw some doctors there. They gave me this eye. It ain’t glass, you know. Some high-tech plastic. Then back to the States. Put us up in different hotel rooms. Kept us apart. Lots of questions. Then they said, man, that’s it. See ya, don’t wanna be ya. A five-hundred-a-week pension. Straight into a bank account. Don’t even know from where. No taxes. And no medals. Can’t be no ah-fish-all record, they said. Jesus Christ, even when I asked for help they gave me the middle of the doughnut, you know. Come around, hold my hand, take off. Then they said I had to stop calling the number we had. That’s all I had. No names, just one number. They disconnected the damn thing.”

“Who knew about your outfit?”

“No one. They said the President knows. They said the numero uno at the CIA knows, the one who’s dead now, but no one else there’s supposed to know. You ain’t really CIA they said. They wanted to make sure we know that. And they said some fools in Congress know. Guess that’s where they got the funny money.”

He knocked back the rum.

“And the other two?” Dunne asked.

“Went separate ways. Until … Well, I ain’t never seen one of them, T. L., and …”

He was drifting. He started looking at his hands. He turned sharply toward Lopez.

“You ain’t taking my gun,” he said.

“I’m not giving it to no drunk,” Lopez replied.

“Okay,” Dunne said, trying to gain control. “Okay. You never saw T. L. But the other one?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” the man said.

Dunne ignored his reply.

“You saw him again, right?” he said.

There was no response.

“Do you have a tattoo on your chest?”

Still, no response.

“An M with an arrow going through it?” Dunne asked.

The man’s eyes widened.

“Oh shit,” Lopez said softly.

“Where’d you get it?” Dunne asked.

“No need-to-know.”

“Can I see it?”

“Fuck you. You a fag?”

Lopez stood up.

“I’d like to see it, too,” he said.

“Told you that would happen if you stuck around those fags for so long,” the man said. He tried to laugh.

Lopez picked up the hunting knife that was on the night table next to the bed. He grabbed the man by the shirt and pulled on the collar.

“Fuck you, Big,” the man said. But he did not resist.

Lopez stabbed the knife into the edge of the shirt and sliced the material. He ripped the shirt apart. The tattoo was on the left side of his chest.

Exactly the same place, Dunne thought.

“Where did you get that?” he asked.

“Cairo,” he said. “It’s not really an M, just looks like one. The guy told us it was an old symbol that protected warriors from getting shot.”

“You and …”Dunne said.