When he awoke on the morning of May 28, Mick Dunbar was not a happy man. Today was his birthday, his thirty-sixth
birthday, and he had to face the bitter fact that he wasn't so young anymore.
On this particular morning, he even felt old. His shoulder ached from that bullet wound ten years back, he seemed to have more gray in his dark hair than he'd had the night before, and shaving off his mustache didn't make him look any younger. Mick knew it was going to be a long day.
The moment he arrived at Scotland Yard, he saw that the birthday jokes had already begun. His office was empty. His...