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.. that." Let's call it what it is," Camille said. "I masturbated this afternoon." Yeah, I got that part," Andy said, his eyes glancing toward the picture again. "And I'm OK with euphemisms if you are." We're both adults - or nearly so - so we should be able to talk about this without resorting to code words," Camille said, wondering if she was telling the truth.Andy closed his eyes and nodded."So, I'm OK with what you did," Andy said. "I'm even OK with you sending the pictures out - but be careful when you do that. OK?" I was terrified that I'd sent them to you by mistake," Camille admitted. "Your number is the one I call most frequently and ... I wasn't really thinking clearly. Are you angry that I sent them to Evan?"Andy blinked and gave his best impression of one of Camille's mannerisms. He didn't understand the question."No," he answered. "I mean, if you're going to send them anywhere, I think he'd be the person I preferred." Then, outside of how I answered the phone, what are. Fifteen more years flew by, during which time her body slowly betrayed her and aged to the point that she wasn’t quick enough to dodge one particular bullet, which broke her shoulder.She flew a desk after that. Shoulder replacements were not yet a routine kind of thing. Her body was no longer that of a field agent, but there was nothing wrong with her mind or experience. She knew politics and she knew people and giving the order to take another fragile human life didn’t make her sad any longer. There were three classes of people in the world, as far as Jane was concerned. There were people who deserved her protection, people who were wasting perfectly good air by breathing it ... and her people.By the time her boss called her into his office and told her he wanted her to handle one particular case herself, her reputation in the agency caused people to move to the other side of the hall when she walked down one. She was a legend.“I don’t work in the field,” she told him.“This is right.
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