Frank goes for the next one.

He lies flat on his board and paddles hard, feels the wave pick him up, then goes into a squat. He straightens up just as the wave drops, points the front of his board straight toward the shore. It’s classic, old-school straight-ahead longboard style, but for the thousands of times Frank has done it, it’s still the best kick there is.

No offense to Donna, or Patty, or any of the women he’s made love to in his life, but there’s nothing like this. Never has been, never will be. How does the old song go? “Catch a wave and you’re sitting on top of the world.” That’s it, sitting-well, standing-on top of the world. And the world is going about a thousand miles an hour, cold and crisp and beautiful.

He rides the wave and hops off.

He and Dave paddle back out together.

“We’re looking pretty good for old men,” Frank says.

“We are,” Dave says. When they get back out to the shoulder, he says, “Hey, did I tell you I’ve decided to pull the pin?”

Frank’s not sure he heard him right. Dave Hansen retiring? He’smy age, for God’s sake. No he isn’t-he’s a couple of yearsyounger.

“The Bureau’s offering early retirement,” Dave says. Kind of gently, because he sees the look on Frank’s face. “All these young kids coming up. All the terrorism crap. I talked it over with Barbara and we decided to take it.”

“Jesus, Dave. What are you going todo?”

“This,” Dave says, waving his hand toward the water. “And travel. Spend more time with the grandkids.”

Grandkids. Frank’s forgotten that Dave’s daughter, Melissa, had a baby a couple of years ago and is expecting another one. Where does she live? Seattle? Portland? Some rainy place.