his throat. “Dr. Bennett, I am sure by now you are aware of the tragic death of Dr. Jacobson and his family.”
“Yes, sir, I am. It was a shock to us all.”
“Indeed. A terrible accident … that,” the general said, picking a piece of lint from the sleeve of his suit. “I am sure you are also aware that we will have to find a replacement as team leader on the Mandarin Project.”
“Yes, sir, I am,” Myles said. In spite of his best efforts to appear calm, his left leg was twitching up and down uncontrollably. His heart pounded in his chest so forcefully that he was certain the general could see it.
“You don’t have a family, do you, Dr. Bennett?”
Myles was caught off guard by that question. “Uh, no, sir, I don’t, but—”
“I don’t have to tell you how important this project is, do I, Dr. Bennett? You see, we want to be certain the person we select as Dr. Jacobson’s replacement is totally dedicated to the success of this project. Committed to do whatever it takes. Someone who will not be encumbered by—shall we say … family responsibilities?”
“Oh, yes, sir, I understand. And let me just say that I have been involved with this project since the beginning. I was the one who—”
“Yes, yes, but are you committed to seeing it through, no matter what it takes?” The general leaned forward and looked directly into Myles’s eyes.
Tiny circles of fog had formed on the bottom half of each lens of Myles’s glasses. He quickly pulled them off and began wiping them clean with the corner of his lab coat. “Uh, yes, sir, I’m committed. I am.” He squinted to try to see, but all he could make out was a blurry figure rising behind the desk.
“That’s good, my boy. That’s what I wanted to hear.” The general pushed a button on his phone. “Linda, send a memo to all department heads, informing them of Dr. Bennett’s promotion, effective immediately.”
CHAPTER 13
Seattle
Joe’s Barbeque was a small storefront restaurant a couple of blocks down Third Avenue on the ground floor of the Washington Mutual Tower. A cold wind swirled into the place, rifling the stack of yellow to-go menus beside the front register as Kyle walked in. Lewis had already grabbed them a spot at one of the tables, which was a good thing, because it was already getting crowded. It wasn’t one of Kyle’s favorites, but Lewis loved the place. Their claim to fame was coffee-based barbeque sauce with plenty of kick to more than just the taste buds.
It wasn’t much to look at inside, even though they had tried to give the place some atmosphere. The walls were covered with weathered wood and rustic hardware like the inside of an old barn, while wooden picnic benches covered with red-and-white-checkered tablecloths filled the room.
Kyle squeezed between the people and benches and took a seat across from Lewis.
Lewis nodded at Kathy, the only waitress in the place, who in spite of her enormous bulk, slipped effortlessly down the narrow aisle.
As always, Lewis ordered the pulled pork sandwich with the espresso sauce, home-style fries, and a Coke, while Kyle ordered the sliced turkey with decaf sauce, coleslaw, and water.
“You go to Haskin’s funeral?” Lewis asked.
“Yeah,” said Kyle. “It was strange. His parents didn’t want his remains cremated. They just had a closed casket. The whole time, all I could think about was the fact that there was nothing in there but his head.”
“Shit.”
“I know. The forensic report come in?”
“Yeah, I’ve already gone over it, and in a long-winded, scientific manner, it basically says we don’t have shit.”
“What do you mean?” Kyle asked.
“What I mean is that all the blood samples collected were matched to the three dead men, so whoever killed them wasn’t wounded. And all the fingerprints taken belonged to either the dead men or Henderson.”
“That’s it?”
“Basically.”
“So what do we do now?”
“We keep working the leads
“Yes, sir, I am. It was a shock to us all.”
“Indeed. A terrible accident … that,” the general said, picking a piece of lint from the sleeve of his suit. “I am sure you are also aware that we will have to find a replacement as team leader on the Mandarin Project.”
“Yes, sir, I am,” Myles said. In spite of his best efforts to appear calm, his left leg was twitching up and down uncontrollably. His heart pounded in his chest so forcefully that he was certain the general could see it.
“You don’t have a family, do you, Dr. Bennett?”
Myles was caught off guard by that question. “Uh, no, sir, I don’t, but—”
“I don’t have to tell you how important this project is, do I, Dr. Bennett? You see, we want to be certain the person we select as Dr. Jacobson’s replacement is totally dedicated to the success of this project. Committed to do whatever it takes. Someone who will not be encumbered by—shall we say … family responsibilities?”
“Oh, yes, sir, I understand. And let me just say that I have been involved with this project since the beginning. I was the one who—”
“Yes, yes, but are you committed to seeing it through, no matter what it takes?” The general leaned forward and looked directly into Myles’s eyes.
Tiny circles of fog had formed on the bottom half of each lens of Myles’s glasses. He quickly pulled them off and began wiping them clean with the corner of his lab coat. “Uh, yes, sir, I’m committed. I am.” He squinted to try to see, but all he could make out was a blurry figure rising behind the desk.
“That’s good, my boy. That’s what I wanted to hear.” The general pushed a button on his phone. “Linda, send a memo to all department heads, informing them of Dr. Bennett’s promotion, effective immediately.”
CHAPTER 13
Seattle
Joe’s Barbeque was a small storefront restaurant a couple of blocks down Third Avenue on the ground floor of the Washington Mutual Tower. A cold wind swirled into the place, rifling the stack of yellow to-go menus beside the front register as Kyle walked in. Lewis had already grabbed them a spot at one of the tables, which was a good thing, because it was already getting crowded. It wasn’t one of Kyle’s favorites, but Lewis loved the place. Their claim to fame was coffee-based barbeque sauce with plenty of kick to more than just the taste buds.
It wasn’t much to look at inside, even though they had tried to give the place some atmosphere. The walls were covered with weathered wood and rustic hardware like the inside of an old barn, while wooden picnic benches covered with red-and-white-checkered tablecloths filled the room.
Kyle squeezed between the people and benches and took a seat across from Lewis.
Lewis nodded at Kathy, the only waitress in the place, who in spite of her enormous bulk, slipped effortlessly down the narrow aisle.
As always, Lewis ordered the pulled pork sandwich with the espresso sauce, home-style fries, and a Coke, while Kyle ordered the sliced turkey with decaf sauce, coleslaw, and water.
“You go to Haskin’s funeral?” Lewis asked.
“Yeah,” said Kyle. “It was strange. His parents didn’t want his remains cremated. They just had a closed casket. The whole time, all I could think about was the fact that there was nothing in there but his head.”
“Shit.”
“I know. The forensic report come in?”
“Yeah, I’ve already gone over it, and in a long-winded, scientific manner, it basically says we don’t have shit.”
“What do you mean?” Kyle asked.
“What I mean is that all the blood samples collected were matched to the three dead men, so whoever killed them wasn’t wounded. And all the fingerprints taken belonged to either the dead men or Henderson.”
“That’s it?”
“Basically.”
“So what do we do now?”
“We keep working the leads
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