“Is that a tree?” Julia asks without looking up from the tablet.

“Yes,” Cole answers.

“She’s kicking over a tree. With one foot.”

“It’s not a very big tree.”

“I can see how big it is. And the man watching her?”

“A police officer with the Altamira Sheriff’s Department. His name’s Luke Prescott. They were high school classmates.”

“And she’s showing him what she can do,” Julia says. “Lovely.”

When she reaches the end of the video, she sets the tablet down faceup. A tiny gesture, but one that seems to challenge the veracity, or at least the importance, of what she’s just seen.

“Microdrones took these?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“Not ours, I presume.”

“If they were yours, I wouldn’t have lost four of them when the wind picked up, and I’d still be able to see her after dark.”

“I’m flattered. It is hard to find good help these days, isn’t it?”

“Why do you think I’m here?”

“Better microdrones?”

“Let’s talk about the footage.”

“I’m supposed to believe this woman is on Zypraxon?”

“I think it’s worth taking a closer look. Don’t you?”

“Where’s Dylan now?”

“He’s got a hideout in Arizona. A little tract house outside Tucson. I’m sure the neighbors don’t know who he is or what he’s done.”

“And the reason we’re not busting the doors down and stealing the pill from him?”

“He says he’ll destroy it if we try. When I met him with him, he said he’d set up some sort of incinerator that would burn the supply he had as well as all his research if he didn’t get back to wherever he’d hidden them by a certain time.”

“So he’s modified Zypraxon’s formula since you shut down Project Bluebird?”

“Since we shut down Project Bluebird, yes,” Cole reminds her.

“He’s not using the formula we have. So if we want to wash our hands of this, we’d also have to wash our hands of any chance of seeing this drug work, and then we’d be left to deal with this Charlotte Rowe on our own. Which means we might have to wash our hands of her as well. If we have the stomach for it.”

“Suddenly it’s we again.”

“Yes, well, we disagreed on how Dylan should have been dealt with when he walked away overnight. This safe house. Is he refining the pills there?”

“It doesn’t look like it. I think he’s got a lab or a storehouse somewhere, but he’s stayed put since making contact with us. Wherever the place is, I’m guessing somewhere in Arizona. When he goes for it, we’ll follow him.”

“But he hasn’t gone for it?”

Cole shakes his head.

“Why am I not looking at video of him, by the way?” Julia asks.

“Because he can’t kick over a tree with one foot.”

“That we know about. So you had him followed after your meeting?”

“I did. And we spoke again after, and he agreed to download a tracker to his phone. It was my condition.”

“Your condition for what?”

“I’m not proposing a relaunch of Project Bluebird, Julia.”

“Not yet anyway. What are you proposing?”

“A closer look. That’s all.”

“So is this just a friendly warning that you’ve been seduced by Dylan again?”

If she’s not willing to play around, there’s no reason he should, either.

“I need TruGlass.”

Julia stiffens, carefully removes her glasses. Maybe it’s a subconscious gesture, triggered by the mention of her most potentially revolutionary invention, or maybe the gesture’s simply designed to maximize the impact of her sudden glare.

“TruGlass is a prototype, Cole.”

“You expect me to believe it’s been a prototype for seven years?”

“You have spies inside my company?”

“I had my father in your bed every other weekend until he died.”

“Well, isn’t that charming. I didn’t realize he was working for you.”

“What’s charming? Your affair or my candor?”

“You mobilized millions in capital to finance the crazy experiments of a handsome Navy SEAL who fucked you three ways from Sunday.”

“You willingly contributed your millions when I showed you a rat tearing the head off a python in ten seconds.”

Julia sits back in her chair and smiles at her lap. Cole can’t tell if it’s humility or anger that’s inspired these gestures.

“I’m not judging you for what happened between you and my dad. Over and over and over again. In fact, I find it kind of comforting.”

“How’s that exactly?”

“It’s a testament to Dad’s character, really. That he married the bimbo but screwed around with a woman of substance and accomplishment on the side.”

“That’s a helluva way to talk about your mother.”

“Standing up for my mother’s integrity has never been your job, Julia. But again, I’m not judging you.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“When you try to dismiss your genuine interest in Zypraxon as solely the result of some deception I foisted upon you because I was cock-whipped by Dylan Cody, you leave me no other choice.” This doesn’t seem to faze her, so he crosses his arms and lets the fingers on his left hand come to rest atop the spot where her scar resides. He taps three fingers along his collarbone several times to make his point. If she gets it, she doesn’t let on.

“You realize we all have our contingency plans, right?” she says. “Should any of this ever come back to bite us in the ass.”

“As do I.”

“I have satellites on that island 24-7. Any ship gets within two hundred nautical miles of it, I get detailed manifest information in twenty minutes.”

“We all need friends with satellites.”

“I’m serious, Cole.”

“I know, and I feel bad for you because it sounds boring. And repetitive. Get a hobby, Julia. There’s nothing left on that island for anyone to find.”

“But there might be again soon is what you’re saying, isn’t it? Provided you like what you see once you get a closer look at this Charlotte Rowe and whatever Dylan’s convinced her to do.”

“Provided we like what we see.”

“We?”

“You, me, Stephen, and Philip.”

“Right. But you’re not suggesting a relaunch of The Consortium.”

“Not yet. No.”

“Not until I give you TruGlass.”

“It will help me make a determination about the potential next steps. How’s that?”

“The problem, Cole, is that I’m not just giving it to you. I’m giving it to Charlotte Rowe, about whom I know nothing other than she can stop a truck with one arm and kick over a small tree with one foot.”

“I brought you a file. It’s interesting reading.”

“I’m sure, but will any of it tell me whether or not she can be trusted with my most valuable piece of technology?”

“No.”

“Then the answer’s no.”

“Four willing test subjects failed miserably. And apparently another one Dylan tested on his own, a woman. So gender isn’t the deciding factor. But for some reason, it’s working like clockwork in Charlotte Rowe, and we’re not sure why.”

“Dylan knows. Why did he pick her?”

“He has a theory, but that’s all. And he’s got some clear biases around her that will become evident once you read her file. We need a closer look, Julia.”

“Bring her in.”

“If we bring her in, we take ownership of her. We take ownership of Dylan’s problems and his mistakes. Right now we should watch, support, and learn.”

“This isn’t just about surveillance, is it?” she asks. “This is about showing her what you’re capable of. You want to impress this girl with my invention.”

“Dylan and I are working two different angles. He used a lot of vinegar. I plan to use more honey.”

“TruGlass isn’t a party favor.”

“That is not the honey to which I’m referring.”

“And if she takes my invention and runs to the press with it?”

“I’ll stop her,” Cole says. “Quickly.”

She taps her fingers on the folder, as if the mere act of opening it now will constitute an unacceptable surrender to Cole’s request. “This is giving me a headache. I hate headaches. I’d rather be stabbed in the stomach than have a headache.”

“You’d prefer Dylan to be out in the wild on this? On his own? Honestly, I’m not just assessing how we might all benefit from this. I’m also containing it.”

“There’s nothing connecting any of us to what he’s done with this woman. Maybe it should stay that way.”

“Or maybe Zypraxon finally works. And this really is what we’ve been waiting for.”

He’s got her. He can tell from the long, unbroken stare she gives him.

“I’ll give you two pairs,” she finally says.

“That’s generous.” And unnecessary, he thinks, which means there’s a catch.

“One’s for her; the other’s for Dylan. He’s to wear it at all times. The minute he takes it off, I’ll blow this whole thing apart.”

He knows better than to ask what blow this whole thing apart means. He’s already relieved she didn’t propose another alternative—to wipe the slate clean.

“I’m sure that will be fine,” he says.

“Make sure. So we can be confident this isn’t a waste of our time.”

“I will,” he says.