The Hyde Gene Effect

By AJ DeLaura

Tom Waller knows danger. As a highly trained agent for Tailfeather, the Nation’s most secret security organization, he has faced numerous perils throughout his service. This time, however, a seemingly innocent favor for Esme Barrows, his fiancé, may be his most explosive mission. Anton Kaszor, one of the world’s most brilliant and richest men and both a client and former lover of Esme, needs this favor. A favor which exposes Tom to unanticipated consequences.

Meanwhile, John W. Bingham, senior senator from the State of Delaware and popular chairmen of the United States Senate Arms Committee is about to announce his presidential candidacy for the Republican Party at a national event. Suddenly, the senator mysteriously disappears from the campaign hall and Anton, his closest friend and biggest collaborator, may be involved. Tom gets drawn into the vortex of Anton’s psychological maelstrom as the past envelops the present and threatens the lives of everyone important to him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 17, 2019
• ISBN: 9781796065367

AJ DeLaura

A. J. DeLaura grew up in Southeastern Connecticut where he currently resides with his wife. Most of his working career was involved in developing and delivering management training programs to supervisory personnel throughout the Southeastern Connecticut area. In the early 2000’s he founded his own training consulting firm, with clients from Southern New England to the Mid-Atlantic region. Recognized as an entertaining storyteller, he decided to put his skills to paper and has created numerous adult and children stories. This is his first novel.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Washington, D.C.

Senate Arms Committee Closed Hearing:

Senator John W. Bingham, Committee chairperson:

Welcome Professor Sturnmen. You are here today in this closed session of the Senate Arms Committee, to educate our members on your DARPA approved project.

He glanced to his left. Some members from across the aisle have an issue with your research. As a former active military officer, I see the advantage of your project’s purpose. I am further aware both China and Russia and others have been experimenting in this field. It is my belief the United States must be first to achieve this technology. However, I also understand the controversial nature of your research.

He looked to his left once again, causing a noticeable agitation among the seated members there. For the sake of our lesser informed members, your contributions to our overall understanding of your project’s purpose would be helpful. Each senator will have five minutes to ask their questions. Let us begin.

The Chair recognizes the Honorable Senator from Texas, Senator Aichinn.

Thank you, Mr. Chairman. Welcome Professor Sturnmen. Thank you for agreeing to speak to us today. I have what I believe to be a basic knowledge of the purpose and nature of your research. I support what you and your group are trying to do for our military and our nation’s security. Your research is vital to the success of our people in the field. The technology you seek to gain will make our military even stronger than it is today. I, however, appreciate our committee members on the left have some apprehension with its overall nature. To prevail in any future conflict with adversaries, we must expand the experimental envelope. Where would we be if we had not led the science of nuclear weaponry in World War II? Would you share with us an overview of your project’s purpose?

From the open folder before him, Professor Sturnmen began, Thank you, Mr. Chairman, and committee members. I appreciate and welcome the opportunity to share with the Committee what our research is about. Let me begin by telling you what it is not. We are not trying to clone humans to become military soldiers. We are not trying to make soldiers into killing machine robots. What we are seeking is a better understanding of human aggression at a genetic level.

Humans have survived over millennia not because they were stronger, or faster, than their predators. Heretofore, we believed humankind survived because of our superior brain. And indeed, our ability to out-think our predators contributed in a major way. It is our belief specific genetic mutations in the human genome became the determining factor aiding the survival of our species. Those mutations resulted in an aggressive stance giving a critical advantage for a thinking species’ survival.

The Senator from Texas. Why would aggression be critical to survival?

The logical decision for a thinking being is to run from a saber-tooth tiger, or a charging mastodon. But our prehistoric ancestors did not always run. They attacked, they charged, they fought, and they won their future.

What you’re saying is, without this aggressive tendency, we may not have survived. Is that right?

That is correct, Senator.

But professor, we are no longer confronted by saber-tooth tigers or charging mastodons.

Professor Sturnmen responded. No, we are not. However, many in my community believe this mutated gene, responsible for human aggressiveness, transmuted to a recessive state. The gene is resident in the human genome, but silent. Sometimes, this gene becomes active for some unknown reason. My research team pursues that trigger, if you will, which energizes the gene. If we are successful, we hope to be able to activate and deactivate it at will. This would allow us to strengthen our troops in battle, creating a more potent fighting machine, and return them to society in their normal state. The Chinese refer to this gene as the warrior gene. My team likes to refer to it as, the Hyde Gene Effect.

Wilmington, Delaware

A light mist hovered in the night air. Weather forecasts of a cloudless sky were wrong, as the conditions turned out to be unkind. A dull rumble of the four hundred excited invited guests filled the glamorous ballroom of Delaware’s famous Hotel Du Pont. Members of the top one percent mingled with middle class working supporters. Charity group executives and Hollywood celebrities rubbed elbows with military brass, and Congressional representatives shared beverages with Wall Street elite. John W. Bingham, Delaware’s senior senator, without a doubt, the most powerful man in Congress, was about to announce his intentions to accept his party’s endorsement as their candidate for President of the United States of America.

The sound crew performed last minute testing of the microphones; the lighting crew made necessary adjustments. The national and cable news networks scrambled about, prepared to take notes and ask pertinent questions. Their major lead anchors practiced their introductions as a row of American flags served as a backdrop for the intended speaker. Everything was ready for what would become an American tragedy.

Vibrations from his cell phone alerted him for the third time. He answered it as he walked up to his political adviser. Senator Bingham leaned toward his aide and whispered, Robby, keep me out of trouble. I have to speak to someone in private for a moment. I won’t be long.

Is there anything I can handle for you, Senator?

No, I got this. I just need a little personal time for a friend.

Okay. Rob hesitated. Who is it you have to see?

Rob Mackie, dedicated and committed to Bingham’s success, had been a part of the inner circle for twelve years. This was not part of tonight’s agenda. Tonight’s announcement would set the national political arena on its tail. He was eager to see the results of years of planning come to fruition.

The Senator placed his hand upon the shoulder of his trusted aide. I’ll tell you later. Just cover me for now.

He patted Rob’s back and left the hall, heading for the stairwell to the rooftop gardens.

The restored Hotel Du Pont hosted travelers since nineteen hundred thirteen. Tonight, it would be a launch site for the rest of the Senator’s political career. The award-winning Four Diamond hotel between New York and Washington DC, was an ideal location for the Senator to make his announcement. First, he had some personal business to attend to with a close friend who had requested his presence at the roof gardens atop this magnificent hotel.

The stairs were a natural choice for him. The Senator believed his physical conditioning kept him alive when his helicopter was shot down over Baghdad in two thousand and three. Besides, it gave him that extra time he needed to gather his thoughts before meeting with dignitaries, and the press.

He served three terms in the US Senate, a former Air Force pilot, and US House of Representatives, a sure winner for the nomination. John was tall, graying temples, articulate, a gentlemen’s gentlemen. Women trusted him, minorities loved him, and his enemies feared him. He would be a worthy opponent.

He pushed the heavy metal door open, entered the stairwell to climb the four flights of stairs to the top of the landmark skyscraper overlooking the City of Wilmington. The overhead lights cast long, dark shadows of his lean, athletic body as he circled the steps one floor at a time. Going down would take much less time and effort.

As he opened the fireproof door to the building observatory, the smell of cigarette smoke met his nostrils, filling him with surprise and doubt about the rendezvous. He thought it a cool evening to be out on the roof garden to meet with his old friend. A friend and supporter, a man he trusted and admired, who had encouraged his career. This friend’s behavior of late caused the Senator some dismay. It was 7:30 p.m. the dining hall full of anxious dignitaries, his fans and the international press. If he accepted the Grand Ole Party’s top slot and won the election, John Bingham would import a powerful blow to the liberal influence in America. If he lost, the Senate Arms Committee chair might pass to the liberal wing of the Democratic Party, and much of his life’s work could be in jeopardy. Everyone waited for him to announce his intentions, but they would have to wait a few moments longer until he responded to a friend’s appeal.

A chilling mist surrounded the city as the streetlights below strained their way through a veil of rolling fog, snaking its way up the river. The prospect of his party’s endorsement caused him to be quick and short with his friend. You sure picked a fine time to talk. What’s up? I thought you were ill and could not make this evening. What’s so urgent it couldn’t wait until tomorrow? he said, directing his inquiry to a tall thin man with a creamy fair complexion and reddish white hair.

I wanted to talk to you about that project I mentioned the other day, his friend answered in a subdued voice.

Look, this isn’t the time or the place. I cannot discuss anything with you now. You know what I am about to announce to the press. It is what we have been working toward all these years. Why now?

I understand, John. You don’t have time for me. This won’t take long, the man assured him.

Why meet out here? Call me tomorrow. We’ll set a date for lunch and talk, Senator Bingham said in a placating tone. I’ve got to get back downstairs; the Press are waiting for my announcement. We talked about this for so long and now it is going to happen as we planned. Come with me; let us go back to the hall. You are part of this, he enticed.

John, John, after all we’ve meant to each other, you can’t spare a few minutes?

What the hell’s wrong with you? You worry me. His voice increased in anger.

Maybe I’m not myself tonight. Do I sound different?

Losing his patience, the Senator, in a clipped tempo, answered. Not only do you sound different, but you’re not looking well. Rumors about your behavior are spreading. Call my office tomorrow. We’ll talk then. He headed for the metal door back into the building.

Adrenaline surged through the veins of the tall man as he lunged out at the Senator, grabbing him from around the neck. With lightning speed, he pulled back on the Senator’s head with his left hand toward his chest. With full force, he thrust the heel of his right hand down onto the Senator’s throat. The trachea crushed like an aluminum can.

He jerked his wrists upward into the air, twisting his victim’s neck with all his strength. The Senator, gasping for air, coughed blood, his eyes bulging with shock and disbelief. He grabbed at the tall man’s hands in vain. The assailant dragged his struggling victim to the edge of the building. With a formidable downward force, the powerful Chairman of the Senate Arms Committee, the potential GOP candidate for the Office of the President of the United States of America, slipped over the edge.

The darkness of the night swallowed Senator Bingham’s body in hushed silence as he fell through the cool mist, landing on a ledge below. Without a glance over the edge, the man left the roof garden of the magnificent Du Pont Hotel, strolling down the stairwell into the street below. He disappeared into the thickening mist. A smile of satisfaction slithered across his face as he glanced upward to the grand hotel’s lighted tower.

Senator Bingham’s body dangled over the ledge of the fourteenth floor, unseen from the roof garden or the suites below. Blood flowed from his shattered trachea and cascaded to the ledge below as his life ended. Much later, it would take a bird’s-eye view to discover his broken body.

Chapter 2

Waiting for Anton

Tom Waller grew weary waiting for his client, nursing his drink for the past half hour. Billionaire or not, if he doesn’t come soon, I’m leaving, he thought to himself. If it were not for Esme, I would have left long ago. She had made me promise to meet with Kaszor, so that’s what I will do.

She told him. Anton is desperate. You have to help him.

There is a limit to my patience, he murmured to himself as he marked his time.

The cocktail server interrupted his thoughts. Care for another, sir?

No, no thanks, he answered.

Six foot one, in his mid-thirties, he kept himself in top physical shape. He was a successful attorney, well respected and known as a hard-working professional, never married, too busy to commit to a wife and family. He had attended the United States Coast Guard Academy in New London, Connecticut, where he distinguished himself as an outstanding cadet. His commanding officers recognized him for his courage, leadership, and extraordinary achievements in service to his country. Upon graduating from the Academy, Tom attended Harvard law school and graduated Summa Cum Laude. He was a man in demand.

His server returned. Looks like your date stood you up.

Not my date, my client. He is late, for sure! I’ll give him a little more time.

You’ve been waiting quite a while. He must be a very important person.

I’m doing a friend a favor meeting with this guy, Tom revealed.

If he doesn’t show, I get off early tonight and, well, I don’t have any plans for later. I mean, we’re not supposed to go out with the customers, you know. But I wouldn’t mind risking an exception. I mean, you know.

He looked up at his server, smiled, and said, I’m sure he’ll show. My fiancée made me promise to wait until he came. It was that important.

Flustered, she said, Oh, oh, I see, sir. I’ll just get your drink for you. I mean, you didn’t want one. Right? Sorry, just forget I said anything, okay?

It’s all right, Cyndi, he said, looking at her name tag. It was nice of you to say something to me. I’m sure the evening would have been enchanting, he assured her. The server turned and hastened away, her face becoming flush.

She’s got to be in her early twenties, he thought. What’s the big deal? I was the big man on campus in med school, wasn’t I? Where the hell is he? I’ve got a good mind to give Esme a call.

Tailfeather

A secret branch of The Central Intelligence Agency, code name Tailfeather, followed the early years of Tom’s military career. This agency recruited exceptional men and women for covert operations of a national security nature. Tom made their short list. He accepted their unusual offer and soon began preparing for future assignments as a special agent for his country. He developed skills in the arts of subversive science from several secret military training schools, FBI, and the CIA. The excitement he experienced on his first mission charged him with an energy, directing the course of the next fifteen years of his life. Parachuting into the wilderness of San Salvador in search of a Russian FSB hitman convinced Tom he had made the right decision to join this elite group of patriots. As a military officer and later a private citizen, he never gave away his dual identity. It did, however, interfere with a normal life.

As he developed a role for himself in society, the specter of the mission always hung over him. He accepted his Tailfeather assignment without question and returned to his normal life at the mission’s conclusion. Compensation was in cash, leaving no paper trail. No one knew of his double identity or understood his reluctance to settle down. No one could figure out the reasoning behind his propensity for changing professions, least of all his father.

As his patience grew thin, his mind drifted back to memories of his father. The senior Waller wanted his son to join the family firm. Tailfeather superiors thought this could jeopardize future missions and create circumstances that may endanger his family. His reason for refusing his father’s offer was simple. He wanted to earn his own way and prove himself first before assuming a position at his father’s firm. Neither of his parents could understand, but they accepted his decision. It did not take long for other law firms to make lucrative offers, however. He accepted a position with a firm whose clients ranged from Fortune Five Hundred to Fortune 50 companies as Tailfeather directed. For a while, things were good, and he made a mark for himself in his new position. Tailfeather, however, often interfered with his law responsibilities, and he had to move on. They scripted his resignations.

Tonight was a personal assignment. He was here at this plush dining restaurant doing a favor for the woman he hoped would become his fiancée and together create the perfect life he felt his parents had shared. Once again, he glanced at his watch as his impatience grew.

A family of four entered the dining room and sat in a booth across the room from him. They reminded him of such an occasion when his family sat in the same spot so many years ago. It was that very location his father suggested he could become a partner in the family law firm. His sister, Katherine, had accepted his father’s offer to join the firm, and she excelled, gaining notoriety for her skill and success. After his father’s retirement, Tom, and his sister could run the business as they wanted, with no interference from him. Patience, time for you to season, to master the ropes, Ken suggested. Those words were unheeded. and continued to bother him. Go, do your thing. But, when you are ready, I may not be! he warned.

Under Tailfeather’s direction, Tom functioned as a private attorney and played the political game until he won a seat in the State legislature. With good looks and a charming personality, success in public service was easy for him. He made it on his own, doing it his way. As the youngest state congressional representative ever elected from his district, his political future appeared very promising. Both his mother and father could not have been prouder of him. Tailfeather receded into the background for a time.

It was on assignment for Tailfeather while at medical school. He met Esme Barrows, a bright, energetic, attractive woman. Determined, focused on her immediate goals, he thought. Esme contracted to complete a project for her alma mater. For her research, she met with returning-to-school students, Tom being one of her interviewees.

You must have taken one of those self-motivational courses, he said to her when they first met during her busy schedule.

No, I developed one!

Oh? he answered with a glint of skepticism and a raised eyebrow.

Yes, I worked as a ghostwriter for a public seminar company. You know the ones I mean, everything you ever wanted to know about anything.

Ah, I see. You took your own advice?

Yes. Writing for others was okay, but why not make some money while I am at it? I developed my reputation in the advertising business. Most of what we do is marketing, isn’t it?

He became pensive, as though giving her statement serious thought. I suppose you’re right. He was becoming captivated by her charm. She’s different, he thought to himself. Your name is unusual. How did you come by it?

Just like most French-Canadian children, my parents gave it to me.

Ah, French-Canadian. It’s a beautiful name.

You give yourself away with your eyes, she quipped.

I do? he said with surprise.

Yes, you do. Your face is very expressive. I see a deep and sensitive person in there, she said, staring into his eyes.

He looked back at her mahogany brown eyes contrasted with her sun-bleached brown hair. They continued to gaze at each other, trance-like, losing awareness of the bustling activity around them and of Esme’s assistant, Nicole.

She interrupted. Hey, are you two with us?

Oh. Sure, Esme answered, shaking off her reverie.

Let’s get on with this, it’s getting late! Nicole advised.

Tom cleared his throat. Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. Your eyes are so beautiful. His voice softened. Surprised those words came from his lips, he caught himself. I mean pretty, he said. Correcting himself again. No, I mean beautiful. If I give my thoughts away, what am I thinking right now?

That’s easy, she said with confidence. You’re curious if I’m available and when and where we can meet.

He looked into her eyes again and said, Incredible! You are right! That is what I’m thinking. She can read minds, he said, turning to Nicole.

Not really, that’s what I hoped you were thinking, Esme said.

Nicole interrupted again and pleaded, Come on, you two. Esme, we’ve got work to do and we’re losing the sun. She tugged on Esme’s arm, trying to drag her off to the administration building.

Tom asked, How can I reach you? Esme opened her belt bag, removed a piece of paper, and handed it to him.

My business card. Leave a message if I am not in. I will contact you. Bye, bye. She and her assistant ran off to continue the photo shoot. Tom stared at the two of them as they crossed the campus green.

Hm, he murmured. Where did she come from? He turned and walked away, shaking his head. He called her, and they began dating. Several months later, they were certain they had found the right person. Nicole was not as sure.

Cyndi returned, interrupting Tom’s thoughts. She placed a fresh drink in front of him. You didn’t order this, but I’m so embarrassed. The drink is on me, okay?

Please don’t give it another thought. Tom said. I’m flattered. Who knows, if things were different, I just might have taken you up on your offer. No need for embarrassment. All right?

You won’t say anything, will you? It could mean my job.

It’s okay. It’s okay. Annoyance sounded in his voice.

Cyndi left to attend to her other customers.

She returned with a plate of crackers. Thought you may want some of these as you wait for your client.

Thank you, Cyndi. I’m fine. Perhaps a glass of water, he said.

In moments of solitude, Tom would often think about the life he might have had if not for Tailfeather. Tonight seemed to be one of those occasions. During his second term in office, his father became ill. A mild heart attack foreshadowed a massive fatal event he would suffer a year later. Ken Waller left a sizable estate, enough to take care of his wife for the rest of her life and leave his children financially comfortable. His sister Katherine joined with her husband in his diplomatic career in Europe. The sale of the family law firm added even more of a margin of security. He did not seek reelection at the end of his term as State congressional representative, despite being urged of his party and his mother. Instructed by his superiors at Tailfeather, he applied to medical school.

He sipped his second drink, wondering about the histories of the other patrons dining there this evening. This was his mother’s favorite restaurant. His family shared many meals there.

One evening at his mother’s home, he discovered a fascinating piece of his father’s past. Helping his mother with her husband’s belongings, he came across a curious document and an accompanying accommodation.

Mother, he called, What is this medal for service above and beyond the call of duty?

Dorothy looked down at Tom’s discovery and said, Your father was a complex man.

What do you mean, a complex man?

Well, I suppose you can know now, she continued.

He looked at her, puzzled.

You know, your father and I were sweethearts from our college days. He wanted to marry me when we completed our academic schooling. She became quiet. He always wanted to be an attorney, marry me and have at least two children. There was one other thing he always wanted to do. She paused, got reflective. He wanted to serve his country in some meaningful way.

I’m not sure just what you mean.

After receiving his law degree, he enlisted in the Army. I completed my PhD. in literature and started teaching at the university. Your father joined Army Intelligence. He wanted to be a field operative. To go out on missions for his country.

Astounded by this revelation, he said. You mean become a spy for the Army?

I guess you would have to say so.

He remembered asking her. This document and medal recognize his service?

Yes. But because of his legal education, the army thought his service would be more beneficial out of the field. He was assigned a position in Washington and had an office at the Pentagon. Your father was a complex man. You are very much like him, complex. I see similarities in both behaviors, perceptive individuals with a secret calling. We both suspected you too, had your secrets.

Her words echoed in his mind this evening. Does Esme see him as complex? He thought.

Tom, one of those gifted people who possessed a broad range of interest and the gray matter to match, rarely failed at anything, academics, sports, profession, or politics. He succeeded at everything, except in fulfilling his father’s dreams and his own.

For three years in medical school, his mind remained engaged enough to keep him from feeling depressed about the loss of his father. In the middle of his last year, he received a cryptic message; It is time to come home. Tailfeather had directed him to reenter the legal profession and set up a one-man law firm. He hired a qualified girl Friday and hung out a shingle, waiting for the next assignment. It did not come right away. Perhaps Tailfeather had compassion.

As he glanced about the room, he observed how the dark wood paneling softened the subdued lighting emanating from the hanging Tiffany lamps. The room’s expensive antique furniture reflected the proprietor’s pride in her exclusive five-star restaurant. The fine leather booths, deep and roomy, allowed for the privacy of its patrons. Yes, I’m sure this is what Anton is used to, only the finest, he thought.

Earlier at Magna Matra - Forbes Magazine interview

Anton was uncomfortable sitting in his library chair answering questions from a Forbes Magazine writer. In his late thirties, fair complexion with ruddy blond hair, Anton was one of the country’s youngest self-made billionaires. His close friend, Senator John Bingham, suggested the interview.

The interviewer began. Thank you, Mr. Kaszor, for agreeing to meet with me. I am going to ask a series of questions about your life and business career. I have no intentions of making you uncomfortable, however, should any of my questions seem too personal, I understand any reluctance to answer. Let’s begin.

You grew up in the southern part of Delaware. Correct?

Yes, in Caners Corner, just south of Millsboro.

After completing a degree in business administration, you moved to the City of Wilmington. Why Wilmington?

To be frank, I determined to become rich and leave my poor roots behind.

You are a shrewd negotiator, wrestling your business desires from all opponents. And you prefer to work alone, trusting very few. An accurate statement?

Reasonable.

What was your first professional position?

I got a job at a successful real estate investment firm right after my University of Delaware graduation.

Why real estate?

On the advice of my Aunt Helen. She had been responsible for my upbringing and was a shrewd businessperson in her own right. She arranged for my initial employment with the company.

Which you bought out several years later.

He squirmed in his chair. Yes.

Is there any truth you saved every dollar you could, even while in high school?

He answered with a slight blush. I had an exaggerated reputation for being frugal.

Together with your aunt, you invested in some real estate, proving to be very lucrative. And by the time you finished your college education, had accumulated a small fortune.

He answered with an uncomfortable expectation. Correct.

You became associated with the giant Mid Atlantic real estate firm Shalter and Sons which you also bought out. What happened there?

Anton’s discomfort increased. They overextended themselves. When the real estate bubble burst. I made them a buy-out offer they had to accept.

In control now, you took the assets of a failing company and grew them into a fortune. The talk was you had inside information from a reliable source, giving you an advantage over the competition. Is there any truth to this?

People who are blind to opportunities find it difficult to accept the vision of others.

The interviewer shifted his position in his chair as he shifted his questions.

While working on your graduate degree at Harvard business, your passion for things scientific resulted in several computer related patents, you pyramided into a massive fortune becoming Time Magazine’s Man of the Future while at Harvard.

I am afraid you’re embarrassing me.

But it is true, your interests, and successes seemed limitless. You removed the Shalters from the business, preferring to run things yourself. Is that right?

I wanted to operate the business the way I saw fit, so I hired my own personnel. People loyal to me with no connections to the former owners.

I see. You also recruited your competitor’s best employees, offering them sizable increases in their compensation and a chance to grow with you. The interviewer sat back, waiting for a response.

Anton gripped a small white cloth in his right hand, transferring it to his left. He glowered at the interviewer as he constructed his answer. I believed diversification was the safest way to increase my net worth. Further, I believed opportunities awaited, challenging me to discover them.

And discover you did. You appeared determined to fulfill your destiny as quickly as possible and let no one prevent you from attaining your goals.

Yes, I suppose I did.

You require all of your employees to sign a personal contract with you, but… you pay them well above average. And although the conditions of the contract are rigid and non-negotiable, it’s reported you treat your employees like family. You were the first to refer to them as your associates.

True. They are loyal, committed, dedicated people who make a lot a money working for me.

They do. Despite the generous compensation, your associates also respect you as a person, an individual. You are as loyal, committed and dedicated to them as they are to you.

Why wouldn’t I be?

Mr. Kaszor, you allowed me to interview some of your employees. And to a person, they all said your generosity goes beyond your time, sensitivity, or even your personal understanding. In fact, one of your employees told me you grant financial aid at no interest loans to your long-term associates who are in need.

That surprises me, they told you. Look, my associates are the only family I have, other than my aunt, who is by now getting much older and showing early signs of Alzheimer’s disease. This is not for publication!

I am sorry to hear, sir. Do you get to see her much?

To be honest, no. I don’t enjoy visiting her in her present condition. She has moments of lucidness but will often drift off into a sorrowful world of her own. I have a difficulty dealing with pain, physical or psychological.

Is this why you seclude yourself deep within the fortress?

I will not respond to this question.

You designed and built this compound, housing your personal residence with a construction firm you purchased?

Yes, I did.

No one person knows the inner workings of the structure you call home, for you destroyed the plans upon completion of the work.

Yes. I want total control over my environment. I am afraid we must stop here. I have an important meeting to attend, and I am already late.

###

An elegantly dressed man who had stepped into the room and scanned the premises interrupted Waller’s reflections on the quality of the establishment.

Tom mused. What’s this, FBI?

The individual turned in Tom’s direction, focusing in on him. His eyes pierced the dimly lit room, pausing at first sight of Tom, comparing the image in his mind to the person sitting there.