Jericho fell silent for a moment. “Who else knows about all this?” he asked quietly.
“Outside of this room? Just Adrian Hell and an FBI agent we trust, although we’re trying our best to keep him out of it — mostly for his own good. But probably everyone who works here has heard rumors.”
“So why not just go public?” he asked.
Schultz leaned back and stretched in his chair. “We already thought of that, son. Hell, it was the first thing we considered doing. But the CIA has already made us out to be the bad guys throughout all this. And then the president came out and publicly backed us as the face of this country’s global support effort. For us to turn around now and start pointing the finger at anyone just makes us look petty and ungrateful.”
Josh nodded in agreement. “He’s right, Jericho. Even though we have proof, the CIA would simply turn around and say we manufactured it. It would be a long, drawn-out battle, in both the world media and the courtroom. Even with proof, it’d still boil down to our word against theirs, because of who they are. Sure, we’d probably win, eventually… but the fact it would take so long would damage GlobaTech’s credibility.”
“And that’s all you’re worried about, is it?” asked Jericho, scornfully. “Your fucking image?”
Schultz shook his head. “Not at all. But take a look outside. Take a look at the news. We’re the only ones able to provide the level of support needed to all the affected nations on this planet. We can do it quickly, because we don’t need anyone’s approval to release funding, travel overseas, send troops and supplies… none of that bureaucratic bullshit. If the public stops believing in us, they’ll stop accepting our help. And we’re smart enough to know that our ability to help people far outweighs our need to prove somebody wrong. At least at the moment.”
Jericho relaxed in his seat. He was feeling slightly more reassured that GlobaTech was on the level, though it was little comfort, given everything he’d just been told.
“But you can’t just let them get away with this,” he said after a moment. “Are you even going to try to stop them?”
“Yes, we are,” said Josh. “Of course we are… For the most part, I’m leaving that to Adrian. He’s got a plan… of sorts, and he’s staying off the grid until he can figure things out.”
“You’re leaving the fate of the free world in the hands of a fucking assassin?”
“Sounds insane, doesn’t it?” Josh conceded with a shrug, “But let me tell you something, Mr. Stone — there is no one more qualified, and no one I trust more, to do this.”
Jericho got to his feet again and paced back and forth, trying to wrap his head around it all. He was a military man. He was born and raised on bases all over the world. He considered himself a patriot, loyal to his country. If all of what he’d just heard was true…
“What about me?” he asked, eventually. “Where do I stand in all this?”
“Right now, the CIA believes you’re dead,” said Schultz. “And I, for one, would like to keep it that way — at least for the time being. If they knew there was another loose end that tied Matthews to everything that’s happened, they’d come after you with everything they’ve got.”
Jericho nodded thoughtfully, and then sat back down in his seat once again, looking at both men in turn. “What can I do to help?” he asked.
“We’re putting together a team — just a small unit, which we can use to help Adrian bring these bastards down. I’d really like you to be a part of it.”
Jericho nodded without hesitation. “When do we start?”
Josh cast a tense eye at Schultz before looking at Jericho. “Well… there’s… one more thing you should know…” he said.
Jericho narrowed his eye skeptically.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why you only have the use of your right eye at the moment?” continued Josh, his tone changing, sounding almost sympathetic.
Jericho moved his right hand slowly toward his left eye, gently running his fingertips over the material that covered it.
“It had crossed my mind, yeah…” he replied, with a hint of impatience.
He noticed an imperceptible nod between the two men, just as Josh stood and began pacing aimlessly back and forth on the opposite side of the room, pausing briefly at the window before turning to address Jericho.
“Here are the facts,” he began. “The bullet you took in Colombia did significant damage to your head.”
Jericho nodded. “I know, Nurse Fisher told me about the metal plate you boys put in there to keep my skull together.”
“That’s right,” he continued. “The bullet grazed across your forehead, about a quarter-inch into the skin. It essentially scratched your skull, all the way across.”
Jericho shrugged. “But it’ll heal, right? How does this affect my eye?”
Josh briefly massaged the bridge of his nose between his right thumb and index finger, and then scratched his head, as if searching for the right words. Jericho was pretty good at reading people’s body language, and he found himself increasingly concerned about his.
“You were very unfortunate, in that the bullet hit you at a slight angle, meaning the farther across your forehead it went, the deeper it burrowed. It damaged your optic nerve as it exited your skull, rendering your left eye permanently useless.”
Jericho’s hand moved to his bandage again, hovering over it. “So, I’m blind in one eye?” he asked.
“Yes… and no…” replied Josh.
He frowned, feeling himself tense up. “What the fuck have you done?” he asked, immediately sensing something wasn’t right.
Josh stood facing him, holding his hands up as he flashed a concerned, uneasy smile. “Now, I need you to stay calm and let me finish what I’m about to tell you before you react, okay? It’s important.”
Jericho slowly got to his feet, flexing his shoulders and standing to his full height. He’d learned from a young age that he had an intimidating physique. He’d never set foot in a gym — his muscles were developed through years of combat and military training, coupled with some very fortunate genetics.
“Start talking,” he said slowly, glaring first at Josh, then at Schultz.
“Heh… Alright, take it easy, Bruce Banner,” said Josh, apprehensively. “We’re on your side, remember? When you came in, it wasn’t certain you’d even live through the surgery. Once it became evident you would, we then started looking at the rest of your injuries. We knew we’d have to remove your eye, and we saw an opportunity to—”
Jericho’s right eye went wide, and he took a step toward the Brit, clenching his jaw tight as he fought the urge to grab Josh by his throat and squeeze.
“What… did you… do to me?” he asked, seething with rage.
Josh held his hands up. “We saved your life,” he said. “And hopefully your sight. We’ve made some amazing advances in stem cell research, and—”
Any trust he’d invested in them since waking up had gone. All he could think about was the most basic of human instincts: self preservation.
“You fucking experimented on me while my life hung in the balance?” Jericho yelled. He reached behind him and flung his chair across the room with one hand. It crashed into the wall, just to the left of the TV, causing Schultz to jump in his seat.
Suddenly, the door to the conference room burst open, and four men entered. They were all dressed similarly to Jericho, in GlobaTech-issue uniforms, except each of them had a sidearm holstered to their right thigh. The men were big, though not as big as him.