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"Great," DeVoe said. "We've gone public." |
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They were in Julius Wick's new office, outfitted in a claret-and-blue Bijar and a robust mahogany desk, at which Julius sat facing his wife and DeVoe. He said nothing. |
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"What's in our favor is the rumor going around," Claire said. "They're saying he's got a drug problem. The agent says he's got a reputation for being aloof and a little unpredictable in his behavior, sometimes violent. She says people are speculating he's been experimenting with cocaine or LSD." |
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"Until they start sampling his body fluids," DeVoe said. "Where's he now?" |
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"A private hospital in Belmont." |
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Claire shook her head. "She carried on about the house being off the market." |
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DeVoe leaned back in his chair. "Time to call Roman." |
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Julius snapped his head around. "Christ, no, Frank." |
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"You got a better suggestion?" |
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"We're not in the business of killing children" |
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"Oh? What the hell were you doing with Black Flag?" |
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"That's not the same thing." |
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"Did you think your designer virus was partial only to Viet Cong guerillas over twenty-one? Give me a break, he's got to be taken out." |
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"Can't you people ever come up with any other options? Does it always mean . . . eliminating someone in the way? And now a child?" |
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"In a way it's a humane option," DeVoe said. "We do nothing and the country watched a twelve-year-old boy turn into an animal because of a secret government project with the president's and your name on it." |
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"So we're doing him a favor by killing him?" |
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"Actually, him and maybe a lot more people," DeVoe said. "Ever consider the possibility that he might be contagious? I'm no scientist, but what if he's now the carrier of a whole new kind of plague that attacks the rage centers and is spread on contact? Ever think of that, Julius? It would make AIDS look like chicken pox." |
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"That's ridiculous," Julius said. "It's not communicative." |
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