Swedenborg 29

Art entered Sohner’s office. Sohner’s face looked as grim as he had sounded when he’d called.

Art thought about sitting, but Sohner’s glare stopped him.

“We have a problem,” Sohner snapped.

Art’s mind raced. The girl was dead. He had Stas, as unreliable as he was becoming, watching Frank. What was he missing?

“Yes?”

“Plantir.”

Ah.

“Word has gotten back to me,” Sohner continued, “that he has been contacting more of our former test subjects.”

“There’s nothing to find.”

“He doesn’t have to find anything. Some of our funding sources are not comfortable with negative publicity.”

“McMann is a good friend of his,” Art suggested. “Perhaps it’s not wise to pursue him as a test subject.”

“No, that’s a risk we must take,” Sohner said. “He has … something. He might be what we need.”

“What do you want me to do? He’s a public figure, and his opposition to us is known. It might be risky.”

“Yes, nothing extreme. But something needs to be done.”

Art waited for more. The look on Sohner's face told him htere will be nothing more. 

“Leave it to me. I’ll come up with something.”

He quickly left the office.

Nothing extreme, he thought. At least nothing extreme that could be traced back to him or INS.

Then he smiled. A solution to the problem of the party and to Plantir. He left the building to make the call. So that it couldn’t be traced somehow.

Pax et bonum