by Justin Bell
CHAPTER SIX
Washington, DC.
"So now you're here?" asked Tristan Davies, looking at Agent Grace. "You're here, and we're supposed to think everything is hunky dory?"
"I'm not sure what you want me to tell you, Mr. Davies," Grace replied, gently setting the remote down on the table. "This is what's happened so far. The truth. All of it. I've left nothing out."
"The truth can only carry you so far, Agent Grace. For four million dollars, I'd expect the truth to be a bit more satisfying."
Grace looked curiously at Davies. "I didn't realize Operation: Harvest was about your satisfaction."
McKie raised his hand signaling a mock truce between the two men. "Easy, gentlemen. We're all on the same side here."
"I'm not convinced," replied Grace, turning towards McKie. "I didn't have to take the lead position on this operation. I volunteered because I thought it was the right thing to do. I see the benefits here."
"Benefits? Could you enlighten me as to the benefits of genetically modifying an unstable assassin into some super human killer?"
Grace kept his lips pulled tightly shut. This felt like a softball for McKie to step in and take a swing at.
"Tristan, please," McKie interjected. "Let's not get melodramatic. This four million dollar investment up front will save six times that much money in future operations and potentially save hundreds of lives."
"I must have missed that meeting," Davies replied, not budging.
"Okay, okay," Director McKie said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "Let's wrap this for the day."
Grace stood, following the lead of the other men at the table.
"Richard, thank you again for making the trip. We won't keep you much longer, but please stay in town until we have a final debrief, okay?" McKie's voice was gentler than Davies, but it was clear that this wasn't a request, it was a directive.
"Of course," replied Grace, only because he was following orders. He worried that by the time he got back North, things with Operation: Harvest might just be screwed up beyond all possible saving.
