“Rodney,” he said to the doorman in passing, pleased he remembered the man and getting a respectful nod in return. There’d been a time when everyone from the receptionist to the garage attendant had been an Opti agent waiting for advancement into active duty. Relying on rented personnel made internal security a living hell, but he was starting to appreciate the mobility it gave him.
The elevator was there and open, but he took the stairs, pleased his breathing was slow and even when he reached the fifth floor. “Hammon,” he said in greeting to the floor’s receptionist, smiling when the man scrambled to his phone, probably to alert his personal secretary he was on his way in.
Feet thumping on the faded carpet, he strode past the vacant offices and silent break room, empty since he took possession. It was just the highly skilled and irreplaceable who were left. He had fewer drafters since Peri had blown the whistle on the corruption in Opti and they had slipped like water through sand, but his fingers were on the pulse of the few who remained, and he knew them well enough that he thought up their schemes before they did. They might be gods, but he had made them and they were his to control.
“Margo,” he said pleasantly as he pushed the scarred door open and walked into his outer office. “When you’re done with your Danish, will you see if Helen is available to take my return call?”
“Yes, sir,” the older woman said as she threw her napkin away before reaching for her outdated but efficient Rolodex. He’d almost gone with a younger woman fresh out of college and the latest gadget on her hip only to be shocked to find that the effectiveness of shorthand and a cup of coffee on his desk in the morning more than made up for the lack of a pretty face. She’d known how to fix the outdated intercom that had come with the place, too.
Shutting his door behind him, Bill stood at the wall-size window overlooking the medical campus his temporary offices were situated on. The Detroit River was a sterile white ribbon cut with black at its center, where tankers kept it ice free. Solar arrays and surrounding buildings reflected the rising sun to give a feeling of light and purpose. Cars moved and drones flitted above them, but the green spaces were gray and dead in the bitter, dry cold, making Detroit look more like its original core of industrial steel, hard and unforgiving.
From here, with the ever-evolving skyline of Detroit as a backdrop, it was easy to pretend nothing had changed, but it had. The nine facilities bloated with government money were long gone. His backers had dwindled to one, and she was growing impatient even as she continued to invest heavily in his promise that he could take the anchor out of the equation and create a more productive drafter. And yet, with everything he lost, there was an undeniable excitement he hadn’t felt since he first made the decision to divert funds, then agents, from their government tasks.
It had gotten too big and he’d somehow become an administrator. Small was better. Smaller would be even more so.
Maybe I should give some serious consideration to becoming Peri’s anchor.
“Sir?” came Margo’s voice from the ancient intercom. “Ms. Yeomon is on the line.”
Adrenaline jumped. Turning from the icy vista, he strode to his empty desk. Everything he needed was in his laptop. “Helen!” he said cheerfully, careful to hide his Bronx accent as he picked up the land-based phone. “If I had known you were going to call this morning, I would have arranged to be available.”
There was a click as Margo hung up, and he glanced at the tiny light on his state-of-the-art phone. The line was secure as a cell phone could never be.
“It’s not a problem, Bill,” Helen said, her low, mature voice laced with confidence. “Your time is spread as thin as mine. I’ve had a chance to go over Peri Reed’s progress, and I have to say I’m excited your goal to bring her in is moving forward. She’s been accelerated, yes?”
“Halfway, ma’am,” Bill said pleasantly, beginning to pace. “She is currently AWOL from WEFT and on her way to Detroit to meet with one of my representatives. Though I was unable to accelerate her, there’s no reason for her not to do it herself, seeing as she’s hooked on Evocane.”
“That you have her working again is encouraging,” Helen continued. “Even if it’s against us, for the moment.”
His pace bobbled. “She will come back, ma’am. We made her.”
“As you say,” the woman agreed. “I called to find out if you’re comfortable with discontinuing the maintenance of the earlier live trials. A tidy house is a strong house.”
Discontinuing maintenance? She meant shredding five years of records and euthanizing an entire wing of people he’d kept near comatose for nearly as long. “Yes, ma’am,” he said evenly. “The faulty wiring has been seen, too. I was waiting for your approval.”
“Mmmm.”
He knew her reluctance wasn’t because of the lives in the balance. Striding to the wall, he waved the environment controls awake, turning the air-conditioning on as he loosened his tie.
“Has Reed drafted since she was on the Evocane?” the woman asked lightly, and he heard the sound of shifting pages.
“She has, ma’am, and Peri appears to be maintaining a stable mentality even with the additional stress.”
“Fine,” Helen said decisively, and Bill exhaled in relief. That wing made him uncomfortable. “Discontinue maintenance and destroy the records. I’ll look forward to your continued reports.”