American Mutant by Bernard Lee DeLeo Page A

of the table, while Karen and the black man went around to the far side. Connor guided the hooded man to an empty chair across from Karen.
    “You can take your hands out of your pockets now Gordie, but do not make a scene.” The man took his hands out of his pockets and allowed them to rest at his sides.
    “Derek, I want you to know none of this could be avoided. Karen can tell you I did my best. The gentleman next to Karen teamed with me in the company on quite a few missions. You probably recognize him from my file.”
    “Nathaniel Johnson,” Quenton exclaimed. “I thought you looked familiar.”
    “Just call me Nate,” the man replied smiling. He stuck out his hand, and Quenton shook it enthusiastically.
    “I thought you would have been dead by now, with all the things you and Thomas pulled off years ago.”
    “I probably should be. Anyhow, any friend of Thomas is a friend of mine.”
    “Thank you.” Quenton looked back to Connor. “Okay Thomas, I can take it. Let me see who you have with you.”
    Connor smiled. “Okay Gordie, take off your hood, but stay quiet until Derek catches his breath.”
    The man removed his hood as Quenton gasped, and stood up so quickly his chair banged to the floor behind him. He started to rush around, but Connor stopped him, picked up his chair, and guided him back into it.
    “Mr. Whitney, I.” Quenton began.
    “Derek,” Connor interrupted. “Hold on to the deferential treatment until I explain what this traitorous bastard has been up to.” Connor guided Whitney into the other chair.
    “Are you in charge here Quenton, or not?” Whitney asked angrily. “I hope you.”
    “Gordie,” Connor broke in. “Do not make a fool of yourself. Tell Derek all about what you have been up to.”
    Whitney began to get animated with his hands as Connor sat back smiling at Karen across the table. “I have nothing to tell you Quenton. This mutant of yours murdered my staff, and kidnapped me. I demand you have this monster put behind bars.”
    Nate had begun laughing half way through Whitney’s monologue. Karen giggled as Connor shrugged his shoulders at her. “I told you this was a waste of time.”
    “Derek, I asked Thomas not to really interrogate Whitney until you were present, because you would know more about what should be asked.” Karen gestured at Nate. “Nate can substantiate what we have to tell you.”
    Whitney began to get out of his chair, only to be clamped back down into place by Connor. Connor waved a finger in front of his face. “Naughty, naughty, you stay put until we are through here.”
    “Quenton,” Whitney shouted. “Do something. Don’t just sit there like an ass.”
    Quenton ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “Mr. Whitney, I know enough about the man next to you to know if he says you are a traitorous bastard, then you are exactly that. You still draw breath because Dr. Blakely thought I might add something to this session.”
    “Surely, you don’t think. “
    “What I think Mr. Whitney is you had better start talking. You will be telling us everything one way or another.” Quenton reached under the table and hit a switch. “Okay, we are now being video taped and recorded. Would you like to begin Thomas?”
    Connor nodded, and took Quenton through the night’s happenings. He explained what he had found out about Whitney’s connection to Pierre and the Red Chinese. Whitney began to object, but one look from Connor shut him up. He sat for the rest of Connor’s dissertation in silence. Nate confirmed the hit, and how he came to be in Karen’s apartment at Whitney’s order. Connor finished with what he thought might be a plausible explanation for the carnage in the warehouse.
    “Thomas, you really think they will buy a war within Whitney’s hierarchy?” Quenton asked.
    “Well, they will not have any dissenting voices,” Connor replied. “After all, what other explanation will they have for it?”
    Quenton nodded. “It might work,