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“I came to pay my respects. To her, and to you.”
Morgan let go of Jane’s cold hand, and delicately placed the sheet back over her still flesh.
“You got what you wanted, Jack.”
Morgan shook his head. “I can never get back what I want.”
The royal looked to the shrouded body.
“The city’s going crazy,” she told him after a moment. “Another lone-wolf attack. A troubled individual hitting out at a society they feel has failed them.”
Morgan raised an eyebrow. “That’s how you’re writing this off?”
She nodded. “Flex is a dark stain on the British armed forces, and the country, and he’s one that’s best forgotten as quickly as possible. The story that we tell can make all the difference.”
“And how will that happen?” Morgan asked skeptically, thinking of the carnage left in Flex’s wake—the lives taken, or blighted forever.
“People see what they want to see, and believe what they want to believe,” Princess Caroline explained. “A tragedy, where a broken veteran went on a rampage before throwing himself to his death. The media will lap it up like milk.”
“Why not the truth?”
Caroline shrugged. “Because there’s nothing to gain from it. The SAS tarnished. The police tarnished.”
“Yourself tarnished,” Morgan added.
She met Morgan’s eyes, and nodded. “You found Sophie’s killer, Jack, and now you’ve avenged yourself on the man who killed the woman who was special to you. I think it would be best if you stayed away from the UK for a while. Flex may have more friends.”
“They know where to find me,” Morgan replied, causing Caroline to smile whimsically.
“How have you lived so long, Jack?”
Morgan smiled in return. “Thank you for coming to see me, Your Highness. I’ll take your advice and change the scenery, but first, I have things to do.”
“Colonel De Villiers will see you’re taken care of,” the Princess promised.
“Don’t let him resign over this,” Morgan told her.
Caroline gave an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid that was a lie, and my idea. We thought that you’d be more likely to believe his help was genuine if you saw him falling on his sword.”
Morgan shrugged it off. Then he turned to take one last look at the woman who had taken his heart.
“I’ll leave you to pay your respects to Jane,” he said to the Princess. “She was a hell of a woman and a soldier.”
“I know,” Caroline confirmed. “I’ll be sure that she’s remembered as such. Goodbye, Jack.”
“Goodbye, Caroline.”
With those words, Morgan walked from the room, knowing that though the body of Jane Cook would be left behind him, her memory would be carried forever in his heart.
Epilogue
JACK MORGAN HAD been standing for a long time in the hospital’s corridor. He had been driven there by Marcus De Villiers, the men saying their farewells with some sadness, a mutual respect and admiration having grown between them. During the drive across London, De Villiers had informed Morgan that the media was indeed lapping up the story circulated that Flex had been a troubled veteran who had gone on a rampage, before taking his own life.
“It’s all very neat,” Morgan had remarked.
“You don’t leave much mess,” De Villiers had replied.
Jack Morgan knew that wasn’t true. Jane Cook was dead, as were a handful of innocent bystanders. So too were Flex and his crew. Morgan had not an ounce of pity for the dead killers, but even so, he wished he could have taken them down more cleanly, without so much blood being spilled.
