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She understood that; it hadn’t been any different being a PFC in Baghdad. Whatever your personal feelings were about what you were ordered to do, you did it, unless it was illegal or immoral. And sometimes, she had to admit, you did it even then, because the gray areas were pretty broad.

“Good to know,” she said softly.

McCallister relaxed in his chair, as much as he ever relaxed. “Good to have it clear between us,” he said. “I understand you spoke to your sister on the way here.” That was another unpleasant little jolt, and Bryn let him know she didn’t like it without a word being said. McCallister gave her one of those little half smiles again, the kind that meant he didn’t really mean it. “You’re the property of Pharmadene now, Bryn. You won’t have a personal life we won’t know about. Sorry if that upsets you, but you’re now carrying top-secret information, and we can’t afford to let you just roam around without checking up on what you’re saying.”

“And what did I say?”

“Nothing specific, which is exactly what we’d like you to say. Nothing to anyone. Your family’s not close geographically, which is good; we’d like you to limit your interaction with them to phone calls for a while, and discourage any kind of visits. Having your sister get curious about this unknown out-of-the-blue uncle you’ve just acquired would be … awkward.”

“My family wasn’t planning any get-togethers until the holidays,” Bryn said coldly. “Is Big Brother going to spy on me on dates, too?”

“Probably,” McCallister said. “At the very least, your gentlemen friends will be checked out thoroughly. Or lady friends, if your tastes run that way.” He lifted an eyebrow, as if mildly curious.

“I thought you’d probably already know that, since you know so much about me.”

He shrugged. “I try not to pry except where strictly necessary.”

Which was so ridiculous that she wanted to hit him with a blunt object, preferably a bullet. “Didn’t you have something to show me? Or was this just an opportunity to humiliate and frighten me again?”

“And give you a loaded weapon.”

“That, too.”

McCallister stood up and came around the desk, passed Bryn, and opened the office door. “This way,” he said, and left. She scrambled up and after him, because he wasn’t waiting on her. “Well, that’s rude,” she muttered, and hurried down the hall to catch up. “You know, if I go somewhere I’m not supposed to, this badge thing goes off.”

“I know. I designed the system. If you’re in close proximity to me or someone else with a green badge, you’ll register as being escorted. Of course, until you try to open a door. Then you’ll set off a Code Red.”

“And what exactly happens during a Code Red?”

“You get thrown to the ground, handcuffed, and Tasered. If you’re lucky.” He sent her a half-amused glance. “Oh, and don’t think that you can randomly shadow someone with a green badge, either. We’re all well trained to challenge intruders and hold them for security. You wouldn’t get far.”

They rounded a corner—and this hall looked pretty much exactly like the last one, Bryn thought. Pharmadene wasn’t big on decorating. Now that she thought about it, McCallister’s office had been one big pile of modern nothing, too. No photos, plants, desk toys, the usual stuff people gathered around them. Not even a nonstandard paper clip tray. Of course, that could have just been him; he didn’t seem like a cube-toy-and-kitty-poster type of person.

But as she glanced into a couple of nearby open offices, Bryn thought it might have also been corporate policy, because she’d never seen such personality-free workspaces. Everything matched, everything alike, everything company owned.

Like her.

“In here,” McCallister said, and swiped his card to open up a closed door. No nameplate, she noticed, but didn’t have time to ask what they were doing here. He ushered her in with a light touch at the small of her back, not quite a push. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered and came on automatically, revealing … an unoccupied office. Completely bare, except for the same stripped-down glass-and-chrome desk McCallister had, only this one was without accessories, a computer, or anything else except a desk chair in a plastic dust jacket.

In the desk chair sat Joe Fideli, who reached into his pocket and took out a small device. It looked like a black plastic pyramid. He pushed the top of it, and it glowed red in slow, hypnotic pulses.

“What—” Bryn started to ask, but McCallister put his finger to his lips. She subsided, waiting, until Fideli checked something on his smartphone, then nodded.

“We’re good,” he said. “Just keep your voices down. I can’t do much about the soundproofing in here.”

“What the hell is going on?” Bryn asked.

“I wanted to tell you something,” McCallister said. “Something that shouldn’t be on Pharmadene’s public record.”

“So talk to me after hours.” If you ever stop working, she thought. She couldn’t imagine McCallister without his suit and tie. He wasn’t an off-duty kind of guy.

He and Fideli both shook their heads. “Doesn’t work that way, sweetheart,” Fideli said. “You already know you’re being followed. Thing is, we’re all being followed, monitored, tracked, you name it. You work for Pharmadene. You’re their property, twenty-four-seven. Having any kind of private conversation is a real effort.” Fideli looked at the red glowing device, which was pulsing just a bit faster now. “Enough chitchat. We’ve got about two minutes before I have to shut it down. Talk fast.”

McCallister turned to Bryn and said, “When you get the name of the person selling the drug to Fairview, I want you to tell Joe that you need to see your sister Sharon.”

Sharon. That sent a shock through her, and made her take a step back. “What do you know about Sharon?” Sharon had walked out of the house at nineteen and never been seen again. She might have run away. She might have … not. Privately, Bryn had always thought that something terrible had happened, something they might never fully understand, but the rest of her family carried on talking about Sharon as if she were still alive, still just absent.

“Nothing,” McCallister said. “It’s a signal to let him know we need to meet off book and exchange information. This is for your own safety, Bryn.”

She blinked and looked at Fideli. Him, she felt she could trust. “Joe?”

“He’s playing straight with you. Listen to him.”

“Why can’t I just do what you told me to do? Find the seller and turn him in?”

“Because,” McCallister said, “once you do, your usefulness to Pharmadene is over, and they’re not going to waste one more dose of Re turné on closed business. Understand? Succeed, and you’re dead.”

Her mouth opened and closed, but she couldn’t think of anything to say. The look on his face, anxious and earnest, convinced her that he meant what he said. Her life— whatever it was—hung by a very slender thread, and Pharmadene’s faceless bureaucrats and accountants held the scissors.

“I’m an investment,” she said. “Once I no longer pay off …”

“Exactly. They’ll let an investment mature, but a useless tool … gets discarded. Play for time. Give me a chance to find a way to keep you alive after that objective is achieved.”

Fideli held up a finger, watching the now rapidly strobing pyramid. “Thirty seconds, man.”

McCallister glanced at him, then focused back on Bryn. “Please,” he said. “Do what I’m telling you. And be careful.”

“Why do you care?” she asked, mystified.

He hesitated, then shook his head. “I don’t think you’d understand even if I told you.” His cell phone buzzed for attention, and he pulled it out and checked the screen. “I’m due for a meeting in fifteen. We need to wrap this up.”

The little flashing-red device was really working now, clearly warning them failure was approaching. Bryn quickly looked at Fideli. “One more thing: did you find Fast Freddy?”