knocks.
“What?” he asked through the door. Silas knew what would come. A debrief of his interrogation, if they could even call it that. But he didn’t want to talk. He wanted to wash it all away.
“I have a few questions, if you’re not too busy. It can wait until later.”
Damn.
Silas didn’t want to discuss it, now or ever. But if he refused to answer Nick’s questions, it would surely go in the report. Masry would pay one of her famous visits to inquire as to their progress. To pry, more like it. The less she knew, the better.
He wanted to get it over with.
“Yeah, it’s fine.” Silas leaned away from the door just in time for Nick to open it. He moved toward his drink tray at the far side of the room and tried to act as natural as possible.
“How can you drink that stuff?” Nick asked as he watched Silas scoop a few ice cubes into a tumbler followed by a healthy splash of amber liquid from the decanter.
“It’s vintage 1950’s scotch. How can you not?” Silas had given up trying to convert Nick to the old ways. He tired of wasting good liquor on the unappreciative youngsters of this generation.
“What’s the backstory on Wilkinson? She doesn’t have a file, but you didn’t waste two minutes deciding to recruit her. You personally flew to Chicago to collect her and arrange for her transport. What made you think she’d be a good fit for the program?” Nick sat on the modular leather couch and pulled out his tablet to take notes on their conversation.
“Look, Nick. Some of this is strictly off-record. I can’t tell you if you’re going to document this.” Silas sipped his scotch and kept his eyes impassive.
With a huff, Nick folded his tablet into its plain black case and set it on the couch cushion next to him. “All right.”
“Margaret Wilkinson doesn’t have a file with CPI. Her brother did.”
“She doesn’t have a brother. I just ran her demographics report.”
“His name was Alexander, Alex to us. He was recruited back in the old days, when we were still relatively public.”
“Public?”
“Okay, not public, but not lockdown security like we are now. We’d go to the homes, administer the tests in their living rooms, talk to the parents and families. They knew they would be brought to an elite program, but they didn’t know any specifics.”
Nick’s eyes drifted away as he tried to process the information and came up empty. “I guess I don’t follow.”
“I recruited Alex Wilkinson, made at least seven or eight home visits for various tests and interviews. He made it into the final rounds and was eventually recruited, so there were quite a few times I spent an evening in the Wilkinson home in Atlanta.”
Nick stared.
Silas cursed that he would have to explain it, that he would have to relive the past for that much longer. “Maggie was eight, maybe nine. Cute little thing, but smart as a whip.”
“Whip?”
“She’s off the charts, Nick.”
“So why doesn’t she have a file? Where are her test scores?”
“She was never officially tested.” Silas gulped the last of his scotch and poured himself another glass. “A year after Alex was recruited, correlations became clear. We went on security lockdown, and we’ve stayed ever since. You know, sever all contacts with your old life. Never communicate with anyone on the outside.”
“But Alex didn’t sign up for that.”
“Exactly.” Silas sighed with relief that Pastromas wasn’t that lost. “He contacted her. We know they spoke for six minutes, but we don’t know what information he passed along. We only know she didn’t show up for school the next day. She disappeared into the underground. We’ve had minimal sightings of her since.”
“But you tried to recruit her before.”
“Once, maybe two years ago. On the way to the facility, she jumped out of the pod as it drove over a bridge. The escort saw the door open, but no one saw her after that. Not until today.”
“Then why would you
“What?” he asked through the door. Silas knew what would come. A debrief of his interrogation, if they could even call it that. But he didn’t want to talk. He wanted to wash it all away.
“I have a few questions, if you’re not too busy. It can wait until later.”
Damn.
Silas didn’t want to discuss it, now or ever. But if he refused to answer Nick’s questions, it would surely go in the report. Masry would pay one of her famous visits to inquire as to their progress. To pry, more like it. The less she knew, the better.
He wanted to get it over with.
“Yeah, it’s fine.” Silas leaned away from the door just in time for Nick to open it. He moved toward his drink tray at the far side of the room and tried to act as natural as possible.
“How can you drink that stuff?” Nick asked as he watched Silas scoop a few ice cubes into a tumbler followed by a healthy splash of amber liquid from the decanter.
“It’s vintage 1950’s scotch. How can you not?” Silas had given up trying to convert Nick to the old ways. He tired of wasting good liquor on the unappreciative youngsters of this generation.
“What’s the backstory on Wilkinson? She doesn’t have a file, but you didn’t waste two minutes deciding to recruit her. You personally flew to Chicago to collect her and arrange for her transport. What made you think she’d be a good fit for the program?” Nick sat on the modular leather couch and pulled out his tablet to take notes on their conversation.
“Look, Nick. Some of this is strictly off-record. I can’t tell you if you’re going to document this.” Silas sipped his scotch and kept his eyes impassive.
With a huff, Nick folded his tablet into its plain black case and set it on the couch cushion next to him. “All right.”
“Margaret Wilkinson doesn’t have a file with CPI. Her brother did.”
“She doesn’t have a brother. I just ran her demographics report.”
“His name was Alexander, Alex to us. He was recruited back in the old days, when we were still relatively public.”
“Public?”
“Okay, not public, but not lockdown security like we are now. We’d go to the homes, administer the tests in their living rooms, talk to the parents and families. They knew they would be brought to an elite program, but they didn’t know any specifics.”
Nick’s eyes drifted away as he tried to process the information and came up empty. “I guess I don’t follow.”
“I recruited Alex Wilkinson, made at least seven or eight home visits for various tests and interviews. He made it into the final rounds and was eventually recruited, so there were quite a few times I spent an evening in the Wilkinson home in Atlanta.”
Nick stared.
Silas cursed that he would have to explain it, that he would have to relive the past for that much longer. “Maggie was eight, maybe nine. Cute little thing, but smart as a whip.”
“Whip?”
“She’s off the charts, Nick.”
“So why doesn’t she have a file? Where are her test scores?”
“She was never officially tested.” Silas gulped the last of his scotch and poured himself another glass. “A year after Alex was recruited, correlations became clear. We went on security lockdown, and we’ve stayed ever since. You know, sever all contacts with your old life. Never communicate with anyone on the outside.”
“But Alex didn’t sign up for that.”
“Exactly.” Silas sighed with relief that Pastromas wasn’t that lost. “He contacted her. We know they spoke for six minutes, but we don’t know what information he passed along. We only know she didn’t show up for school the next day. She disappeared into the underground. We’ve had minimal sightings of her since.”
“But you tried to recruit her before.”
“Once, maybe two years ago. On the way to the facility, she jumped out of the pod as it drove over a bridge. The escort saw the door open, but no one saw her after that. Not until today.”
“Then why would you
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