EPILOGUE
Colonel Randall Chastain kept his tone even. “That is a foolish decision, Mr. Pharaoh.”
Pharaoh took the insult with the typical placidity of a CIA operative. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Colonel. Nevertheless, those are your instructions.”
Randall took a breath and tried to explain. “Dr. Friedman may not be a physical threat, but he is far more intelligent than he seems. He is persistent and dedicated, and if he keeps going, he will find something he can use against us.”
“Then make sure he can’t find anything.”
Randall finally showed his frustration. “It’s not that easy, Pharaoh. I don’t even have clearance for all of the records the Company has.”
“Those records have been taken care of. You have access to everything sensitive that needs to be removed.”
“Pharaoh…”
“Enough,” Pharaoh said. His voice was still calm, but his eyes were hard as diamonds.
“Faith Bold is currently the most celebrated law enforcement officer on Earth. She’s a household name.
If we kill her, it will cause significant and far-reaching problems. If we kill her husband, it will cause significant and far-reaching problems. Those problems can be dealt with, but if we are placed in a position to have to deal with them, it will cause you significant and far-reaching problems. Do I make myself clear? ”
Randall’s lips thinned. “Crystal, sir.”
“Good.” Pharaoh clapped his shoulder. “Relax. He’s just a vet.”
He left Randall’s office, nearly colliding with one of the analysts. He chuckled and patted the man on the chest, laughing again when he saw the man’s bleached-white face.
“Come in, Broward,” Randall said when Pharaoh moved on.
Lieutenant Jayce Broward blinked and walked inside. He cleared his throat and handed Randall a sheet of paper. “The most recent test results, sir.”
“Thank you,” Randall said. Broward started to leave, and he called, “Wait for a moment.”
Broward flinched and paled again. Randall rolled his eyes. Why the hell was everyone so jumpy around him? He hadn’t killed any of his subordinates. Not since he had Charles execute Frederickson for stealing information he intended to leak to the press.
He frowned. Charles was gone now, killed in his attempt to eliminate Dr. Friedman. They still didn’t know how that had happened.
Just a vet, my ass.
He reviewed the report. The numbers were very encouraging. Aside from Sierra-9, Bravo-18, and Mike-7 showed promising improvements. He placed the paper into the appropriate file and nodded at Broward. “Please inform Whitaker, Carter, and Khalifa to proceed to the next phase.”
Broward swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
He saluted crisply and left the office. Randall leaned back in his chair and stared at the clock above the wall.
Pharaoh wanted him to leave Dr. Friedman alone, but he couldn’t do that.
Not with Charles gone. Pharaoh was convinced that Friedman was harmless, but Randall knew better. He needed the man out of the way.
A thought occurred to him. Those test results really were impressive.
Perhaps, if their performance continued to exhibit this high-level of control, they could risk a test. It would be unfortunate if Dr. Friedman were mauled to death in his office.
Unfortunate, but not unheard of for a veterinary doctor to die that way.
A smile spread across his face. Pharaoh wanted him to handle this problem? Very well. He would handle it.
And soon, the 93rd’s efforts would come to fruition. When they did, the Company wouldn’t need Josiah Pharaoh to babysit him anymore. He could have the long leash he wanted.
And the freedom to accomplish his dreams.