It had been a little over two years since they"d last met, at the funeral for a former Redaction team member who had been killed during an operation in Rome. Masterman, once a large and powerful man, now resembled a broken scarecrow. His frame had lost all of its bulk and his body was contorted at unnatural angles, almost as if he was wracked with pain whenever he moved. His complexion was pale, and sickly. The Colonel looked like a man ten years older than his true age. Except for the voice and of course, those eyes, which still held the familiar bombastic fire.
Masterman, to his credit, took the shock and surprise on Grant"s face well. “I had a run in with some flying lead and explosives. It ripped apart most of my back, damaged my spine and broke one of my legs. Not to mention what it
