Gabe handed Reyna the gun. “If he moves a muscle, shoot him. I’m going back for some rope.”
Reyna had never handled a gun before in her life, but at point-blank range, she had a feeling that she could manage it.
Everett gulped. “Don’t shoot.”
A few minutes later, Everett’s hands and feet were tied to the chair and Gabe took the gun back and finally left. Everett watched her. His eyes still hadn’t quite lost their shock.
She touched her throat where the handcuffs had dug into the skin. “I had assurances for you. Unclear if I should hold to them now that you pulled that shit.” He winced. “But if you don’t tell me, they’ll kill you. And I’ll let them.”
Everett couldn’t deny it. She had shown him what she was capable of. “I was spying on a new mark. Roland Batiste.”
Reyna wrinkled her nose at the name. Roland had stalked her and threatened her, physically and sexually, while she lived with Beckham. Death would be too kind for him.
“I was supposed to be doing the same thing I did with Beckham. But I found out sensitive information about the company that I shouldn’t know. I don’t think anyone else is aware yet that I do. But in all my snooping, I found it.”
“Found what?” she snapped anxiously.
“They bought a huge tract of land and are building facilities on it.”
“We already know that.”
“Do you know what they’re for?”
She didn’t respond.
“Camps,” he whispered in horror. “Human feeding camps.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“I would have heard about this,” Beckham snarled later that night, back at headquarters.
Reyna paced agitatedly. Beckham, Gabe, and Tony had recounted what had happened to Sydney and Washington. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it. Couldn’t fathom how it was possible. How Harrington could get away with it. How he thought that everyone would just allow this to happen.
“You’re on the outs,” Gabe said. He almost sounded satisfied at the insinuation.
“Which means we’re blind,” Sydney snapped at Gabe. “Without Beckham in the know within Harrington’s inner circle, we’re blind.”
“I don’t think Everett’s lying,” Reyna spoke up. “He was shaken. I saw all his acts in that room. This wasn’t one.”
“And you’re an expert on spy tactics, are you?” Sydney asked dryly.
“It sounds like William,” Washington said. “It’s in line with his basic philosophy in life.”
“Philosophy again, Roger?” Sydney asked with a sigh. She massaged her temples and sank into a seat at the head of the conference room.
“We know William works within a certain set of core beliefs. Human subjugation is fundamental among those. The blood type cure only facilitated that goal—a means to an end. It would make sense, then, that he would want to push forward with his own agenda while he’s in power. A conqueror claiming more territory.”
“Will he overextend himself? Will Rome fall?” Reyna mused.
“Wishful thinking,” Gabe said.
“Let’s say this is Harrington’s endgame,” Sydney said. “How is he going to structure it? He’s not going to come out to the public and say he’s starting feeding farms. He’s going to cache it in something the people find permissible.”
Everyone was silent as they thought about the million scenarios Harrington could possibly use to make these camps work.
“It could be anything,” Gabe said. “He’s just as likely to commandeer the military and march people into the camps as he is to kidnap them or offer them a job in some new factory he owns. Who knows what’s going on in his twisted mind?”
“That’s precisely why we have people here who know him,” Sydney snarled.
