"About all of it. The asset. The archive. The things I've discovered." I lean back in my chair, letting my body language shift from defensive to open. "Project Omega was larger than anyone realized. The implications are staggering."
"I knew it." His eyes are greedy now, hungry. "Tell me everything."
"It's not that simple. The documentation is extensive. It would take hours to explain." I pause, as if considering. "But I could show you. I have copies at my residence. If you're willing to come there, I can walk you through the evidence."
"Tonight?"
"Now, if you prefer. The sooner you understand the scope, the better positioned you'll be to act."
He's already standing. Men like Edmund can never resist the promise of an advantage. They'll follow any bait if they think it leads to power.
"Give me a moment to inform my staff."
"Of course."
He leaves the study. I remain seated, counting seconds, running scenarios.
Edmund will have security. At least one bodyguard, possibly two. They'll need to be handled first.
Edmund returns with his coat, a flush of excitement on his cheeks.
"Shall we?"
"After you."
We take his car. Town car, tinted windows, no privacy partition. Edmund insisted on bringing one bodyguard. He's in the front seat, thick-necked and watchful. Professional, but not Foundry-trained. I can tell by the way he checks the mirrors. Too regular. Too predictable.
Edmund talks during the drive. About the political landscape. About his brother's weaknesses. About the opportunities he sees emerging from the chaos of the past year. I let himtalk, making appropriate sounds of interest while I memorize whatever I find important from the rambling.
The driver will be the first complication. He's not a threat, but he's a witness. The bodyguard is the real problem. He's armed, alert, and ready to throw down.
"You know," Edmund says, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "my brother has no idea what's really happening. He thinks the old order will simply continue. That the Custodians can maintain control the way they always have."
"And you disagree?"
"I think adaptation is survival. The ones who recognize the shift will thrive. The ones who don't..." He shrugs elegantly. "Well."
"You've given this a lot of thought."
"I've had years to think. Years of watching my brother squander opportunities. Years of being told to wait my turn." His voice hardens. "I'm done waiting."
"I understand."
And I do. I understand ambition. I understand patience. I understand the cold calculus of eliminating obstacles.
The difference is that Edmund sees people as stepping stones. I'm starting to see them as something else entirely.
At least, one of them.
We're on the highway now, traffic thinning as we approach the exit that leads to my building. The driver has settled into cruise control. The bodyguard is checking his phone, relaxed in a way he shouldn't be.
"There's something I should tell you," I say quietly, "before we arrive."
Edmund leans closer, eager. "Yes?"
"The things I've discovered about Project Omega. They implicate certain Custodians directly. People who were involved in the original program. People who are still protecting its secrets."
"Which Custodians?"
