Turtle went into his room. He turned on the hot water so it could warm up, and he removed his shirt. While the water ran, he briefly examined old battle wounds in the mirror on his chest and stomach. Nothing new: each had its own story. Most he remembered; some were long forgotten.

And around his neck hung a silver crucifix. He held the tiny crucifix, a treasured family heirloom, between his meaty thumb and forefinger. Turtle said a prayer for safety for his team, including Clara on her own mission, and especially for Randal, in the midst of trial.