Murder in the Supreme Court (Capital Crimes Series Book 3) by Margaret Truman

explored. It would have been a shame to ignore a potential area of legitimate research. But now that public probing has lessened, we would be derelict in not pushing ahead with the valid findings that came out of those previous efforts. Wouldn’t you agree, Chester?”
    He nodded.
    What Sutherland really was thinking was that he wished he weren’t there. He didn’t understand why he’d been summoned to the meeting in the first place. He’d met with President Jorgens a week ago, and the matter of proceeding with the research had been thoroughly discussed. It was no longer his concern. He’d been out of CIA research for six years.
    At the time of his recruitment it had made sense to him. His orientation in medicine had followed the same route as most of his colleagues—research. That was where the action was, and the scramble for funding was an ongoing one. He’d been flattered when the CIA had approached him, and for eight years he’d devoted a portion of his time to the project known as MKULTRA, a top-secret program in which drugs and hypnosis were utilized in a search for effectivemind-and-behavior control. Hypnosis had been his specialty, although he’d taken part in many of the pharmacological studies as well. He’d been given carte blanche in the study; money was no object. National security was at stake, or so he’d been told.
    But then newspaper probes uncovered the use of drugs on unwitting subjects. Books were written that further laid it open to the public. The families of subjects, some of whom had been killed by the experiments, brought suits against the government. The program was hastily scrapped, and those physicians involved with it quietly returned to their private practices, their names deleted from records released under the Freedom of Information Act.
    Sutherland had been relieved when it happened. As much as he believed in the research, he’d found its demands an increasing intrusion into his practice and personal life. Above all, he did not want public knowledge of his involvement in government research. National security aside, there was still something inherently unsavory about it, he’d decided.
    Bill Stalk moved to the second item in his note pad. Sutherland listened patiently, forcing his mind to focus on what the director of the agency’s most secret division was saying. Eventually, he covered all six items.
    “It sounds as though you’ve developed a solid research program based on the past,” Sutherland said. “I wish you well.”
    “Thanks to you, Chester, and others like you, we have the foundation to build on. The dead ends identified themselves, which leaves us free to pursue more fruitful avenues of inquiry.”
    “People do not understand the necessity of such research,” Dr. Kalmani said. “The future of a free world depends upon being in the forefront of controlling human behavior.”
    Stalk told a joke which was met with polite laughter.McCaw lighted a cigar and puffed contentedly. Sutherland checked his watch. It was time to leave.
    “Anyone for a little skeet shooting?” Stalk asked. “I reserved the range at three.”
    “I have to get back,” Sutherland said. “I have weekend patients later in the day.”
    “You work too hard, Chester.”
    “The curse of my WASP heritage. If there’s nothing more to discuss, I’ll be leaving. Thank you for filling me in on future plans. They have no direct bearing on me, but as an old hand in the project it’s gratifying to be kept informed. Dr. Kalmani, it was a pleasure.”
    “For me, too, Dr. Sutherland. I trust we shall see more of each other in the future.”
    Bill Stalk stood, shook Sutherland’s hand and said in a lowered voice, “Chester, would you mind coming to my office for a few moments?”
    Sutherland glanced at the others. He did not want to linger, yet couldn’t deny the director his wish. “Yes, of course,” he said.
    Stalk’s office was in a corner of the building. It was austere; the desk was