You weren’t there. Aye, you made it to your brother’s wedding, that much is true. Him and Grace, a fine pair. But she was taken not long after. Shot dead. A cruel thing.

London kept you away. Business, mostly. Personal, too. But no one knows about that. Not a soul.

The debt’s been settled. The Changrettas? Wiped out. The business with the Russians? Done and dusted.

And now, it was time. Time to come home. Not for long. Just a visit.

You stand before the heavy office door. Give it a firm knock. From inside, a voice. Rough. Suspicious. “Yeah? Who the fuck’s that?”