“While I appreciate your reporting your observations, I cannot risk introducing you into the fragile mix right now. Let Creed bring them in. You will fly back separately.” Williams’ voice waffled between coaxing and barking.
He was on the verge of an emotional breakdown, but no one knew that better than Farrow. She had watched this man spiral into depression and power almost equally as fast. Farrow had been his trusted weapon for the last year. She had seen him try to work with his daughter. She saw him use humans like test rats for his scientific purposes. He was a genius and a monster, but that drew Farrow to him. She was mesmerized by his power. Besides, being his personal aide had its benefits, too. She was privy to more information than any other meta at the Facility.
“Farrow, do you understand?” Williams asked, disturbing her thoughts.
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m trusting you to follow my orders.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Before you leave, take care of one thing for me?”
“Name it, sir.”
“Creed never got around to killing Margo before he left. Terminate that wretched woman.”
Farrow smiled softly, “With pleasure.”
“Call me when she’s out of the picture. I’ve been waiting for revenge too long,” Williams’ voice had a tired hint to it.
“I’m on my way to Dr. St. Paul’s home now, sir,” Farrow smiled widely at the prospect of finally doing something. “Do you have a preference as to whether Dr. Andrews is terminated as well?”
“No, no preference there. He’s only in the picture because Margo brought him in. He poses no threat to us, but if he gets in the way, take him out, too.
“As you wish, sir.”
“Farrow, my dear. I treasure you as my assistant and look forward to many more years of you being my personal right hand, but if you fail me by allowing Margo Winter to live, don’t even bother coming home. Have I made myself clear?” The old scientists’ voice was throaty with old anger by the end of his statement, and knowing him as well as she did, she was sure he had spittle dangling from his leathery mouth. She grimaced at the image.
“I understand, sir.” She waited respectfully for the audible click indicating he had hung up the phone, and bit her lip furiously forcing herself silent as she waited.
Click.
With that sound, Farrow felt both liberated and isolated, and the thought occurred to her. What would happen if she just walked away? She could catch a flight stateside before Williams would cut off her financial support. She may even be able to buy a car when she landed in California. All she would have is her suitcase, her sniper rifle, the clothes on her back, the cash in her wallet, and hopefully a car with a full tank of gas. Would it be worth it? Is any of this really worth it?
All she had ever known was the Facility and Dr. Williams. She thought power and prestige were the world. The more she did his bidding, the more in his good-graces she was, the more power she felt she received. All the other metas knew who she was and never even thought to challenge her. Her status as Williams’ personal assistant kept her an elite at the compound.
But she was having second thoughts now. Something about this particular assignment was making her question her personal motives.
Farrow shook her head as though swatting away a pesky gnat. It was easier not to think. Just obey orders soldier, she told herself.
38 In-Flight Conversations
Only twenty minutes in to the flight and Alik was already bored. Missy came by with a tray of sodas. “Is there any access to internet on the flight?” he asked.
“I’m sorry sir, but wireless devices are prohibited because they could interfere with communications in the cockpit. I could bring you an assortment of in-flight movies that are available for viewing on your personal screen. We also have a large collection of magazines and books if you’d prefer.” Missy smiled helpfully.
“Yeah, I could read something. Anything having to do with medical news or current events would be great.”
“I’ll see what I can dig up for you,” she said with a wink and sashayed down the aisle.
“‘Medical news or current events,’” Creed echoed. “A little light reading, eh?”
“Not much else to do,” he said, obviously uncomfortable talking with Creed.
“We have seventeen hours to kill,” he glanced up at his fellow meta warily. “No pun intended.”
“What were you planning to do?”
“Well, I thought of taking a nice long nap, myself,” Creed leaned back in his plush chair causing the leg rests to extend.
“Didn’t you sleep well in Paulie’s guest house last night?”
“Oh, well, don’t get me wrong. The accommodations were great. It’s just…”
“Bad dreams?” Alik asked probing.
Creed shrugged.
“Hum…”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, man. It’s just not unusual for a guilty conscience to cause a person unsettling dreams,” Alik shrugged innocently. “At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”