“You’re dealing with terrorists.”

“That’s ridiculous,” William says.

“You’re selling chips that can be detonated by remote control. The woman on Trace Street walked into a lamp post, fell on her ass, and her head blew up. Tell me that’s not an explosive chip manufactured by your company that was placed in her brain.”

I give George a hard look and start moving toward him.

He says, “The chip was sewn into her mouth.”

Everyone turns to look at George. He says, “These chips are like blasting caps. We manufactured hundreds of them for the government, but they canceled the contract. I sold them to an arms dealer for two million dollars.”

“What was the government planning to use them for?”

“I have no idea.”

“How do you know the device was in her mouth?”

“The arms dealer called me to complain about the size of the explosion.”

“What do you mean?”

“I may have given them the impression the chips could take down a building.”

“They would have demanded a test.”

“We blew up a car.”

“How’s that possible?”

“The test was rigged.”

“You’re joking.”

“I tossed a chip into a car and detonated it. But the seats were filled with plastic explosives.”

“You’re dumb enough to cheat an arms dealer?”

“We were desperate. Our company was about to go broke. We needed the cash infusion.”

“Why was the woman’s chest wired with explosives?”

“They were testing the chip, but wanted a backup to destroy the evidence in case it didn’t work. They picked an illegal alien, threatened to kill her children, sewed the chip in her mouth, and sent her for a walk. When she got to Trace Street, she was crying so hard she walked into a post and fell down. She refused to get up, so they detonated the chip, surveyed the damage, and blew up the evidence. If this information goes public, we’ll all wind up in prison.”

William says, “We didn’t intend the chips to be used by terrorists. But it happened, and now you know. So what is it you want?”

“I want Gwen on the board and her shares reinstated.”

“That’s preposterous!” William says, “It’s common knowledge Mrs. Peters is a former stripper. The stockholders would never approve such a move.”

“You think they’d rather be represented by terrorist sympathizers?”

He sighs. “What else do you want?”

I look at Gwen. “If you could run any kind of business in the world, what would it be?”

She thinks a moment. Then says, “I’d like to design and sell t-shirts.”

“There you have it,” I say. “Gwen’s going to introduce a line of t-shirts.”

“You’re insane!” William says.

“You think she could possibly piss away more money with a t-shirt venture than you’ve lost with your business plan?”

“That’s not the point. We’re not in clothing. We’re an electronics company.”

“How about electronic t-shirts?” Gwen says.

“How about that!” I say, beaming at her. “She’s already created a tie-in!”

Gwen beams back.

“I want something too,” I say.

“Of course you do,” William says. “What?”

“An introduction to your arms dealer.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to eliminate this terror cell.”

 “I want something else,” Gwen says. “An assistant. And maybe a private secretary!”

“Then you shall have one,” I say. “Right, Mr. Wadsworth?”

“The inmates are running the asylum,” he says.


 

 

 

 

11.

 

Ten Days Earlier…

Maybe Taylor.

 

 

 

“ARE YOU KIDDING me?”

“It’s the next logical step,” Dr. Scott says.

They’re in the bookcase-lined office Dr.