George Martin: Busted flush

It's Flint. The rain is hissing on the pavement and running in rivulets down the crags of his stone face.

"I need you back."

I shake my head.

"What happened to you?"

"It's interesting how the death of one good man can put everything in perspective," I say.

His disgust is evident as he says, "So this is about losing Daddy."

"No, actually, it's about not wanting to be part of an organization that would make a twelve-year-old into a mass murderer."

"It was the cleanest solution."

"Not for Drake."

"What do you want?"

"To be left in peace. Oh, and your resignation." The fire in his eyes seems to burn brighter. "I have every action I've ever taken on behalf of the Silver Helix and Britain detailed. It will be released to the papers and to a particular blogger if anything happens to me or mine."

"All right." My surprise at the capitulation must have shown. "You can try to deny what you are, but nothing has changed. At heart you are still a killer, Noel."

Oddly the attempt to play head games doesn't faze me. I chuckle and begin to close the door. "Good night, Captain. Stay dry."

I return to Niobe and snuggle in close against her. "Now, where were we?"

She picks up the book and resumes reading. " 'For lo, the winter is past, and the rain is over and gone.' "