"You are exactly the kind of man I was afraid you were."
Petros inclines his head. He turns the knob of the door he came through.
"Detective Donovan."
"Yes."
"Take care of her."
He goes through the door.
Sean turns to me.
He does not speak.
I watch him do the math. I have watched him do it once before, in the warehouse, in the four seconds after I put away his service weapon.
Petros was in the next room. Petros heard everything.
Petros is the war.
The math takes him three seconds.
"You did not tell me," Sean says.
"I was going to."
"When?"
"After we slept in the same bed for the first night without one of us thinking about who was listening," I say.
He does not answer.
I walk past him to the door of the study.
The legs have been zip-tied to a chair too long, and I do not let him see me shake.
He follows me.
We cross the marble of the foyer to the front door.
I reach the front door.
I stop at the threshold.
I do not turn around.
"I have been hunting him longer than I have been hunting his father."
He stops where I have stopped.
"Petros."
"Yes."
"How long?”
"Four years. I started in Geneva. I have never surfaced him. Not to Alessandro. Not to your captain. Not to anyone."
