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I think I need help.
—
Jamison Hardt picks up the video call within seconds, appearing on my tablet from his residence.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Ford. How was Kate’s interview with Death? Did you find out anything interesting?”
More mocking. I suppose it’s deserved.
“There was no interview, and Kate’s dead. Her tracker put her in Jersey, in the middle of nowhere. I believed she was trying to escape, so I killed her.”
Jamison flinches, unable to hide his pain. He definitely had a soft spot for her; to him she was an innocent victim, not an enemy. Is he remorseful he couldn’t protect her from me after Ingram’s death? Did he feel a sense of fealty toward her, out of loyalty to his departed protege?
“She knew the risks. I sent teams to recover her body. Then Death attacked,” I conclude.
“I gathered. It’s all over the news. The authorities are investigating. Did you get Kate’s body?”
I scowl, glancing at an image of the burning barn on my tablet.
“No. The barn where she hid was partially incinerated. They’re still sorting through the wreckage. They were lucky to get what they did — if not for the rain, there would have been nothing left.”
“I see,” Hardt says.
Perhaps he wished to give her a proper burial.
“Her death will raise a lot of questions. The media’s going to cover this story for weeks,” he adds.
I shrug. That’s the least of my concerns.
“At least until Anarchy, Inc. strikes again.”
“She didn’t deserve this,” says Hardt. “Have you no sympathy?”
No wonder it was so easy to overthrow his empire. He’s a soft, old man. He should have castigated Ingram for bringing her to the Enclave instead of killing her like they’d decided. Instead, Hardt let Ingram keep her as a pet. She could have died quickly and painlessly if Hardt had put his foot down. He didn’t.
“She would have destroyed us all if she could’ve,” I counter. “If it wasn’t for my intervention, her death would have caused the release of a cache of evidence about our organization. I neutralized it. If not for me, everything you’ve built would be crumbling — because of her.”
“It’s crumbling now, because of you!” Hardt seethes. “If you had left Ingram and Kate alone when they were in New York, they would be living there and not bothering anyone. Kate would have been doing as she was told; Ingram would have kept her in line. We would have been handling Anarchy, Inc. together.”
Assuming Anarchy, Inc. would even exist.
“Wouldn’t that have been a lot easier?” asks Hardt.
Of course it would have been. That wasn’t the point.
“I wasn’t worried about my mission being easy. When you’re trying to save the world, you expect it to be difficult.”
“Save the world?” Hardt snorts. “Please. This was always about revenge.”
That’s not entirely true, though I could understand why he would think so.
“When I learned that Ingram belonged to something big — something secret — I told myself that my life had a purpose beyond revenge,” I explain. “I didn’t want what happened to the Wilson family to happen to anyone else.”
“A noble goal.”
I nod.
“Yes, one that you stood in the way of, Jamison. You leeches, you parasites — sucking the world dry and feasting on its blood. My goal was incompatible with your existence. Taking over the Masters meant I could turn your power into a force for good.”
