I pressed my back against the wall, clutching the Black Ledger against my chest like a shield. Through the door, the muffled bass of Silas’s voice vibrated.
"The D.C. meeting was a bore, Harrison," Silas’s voice boomed, followed by the amber clink of a crystal decanter.
"But the General was more than impressed with the theoreticals."
I froze. My father was on the line.
"The Pentagon isn't interested in theories anymore, Silas," my father’s voice crackled through a speakerphone.
"They want the Vance-Thorne Protocol. An army that doesn't question orders, doesn't feel fatigue, and, most importantly, doesn't leave a paper trail. An army to handle the state's more... delicate international interests."
"The General is coming for the demonstration," Silas added, his footsteps heavy on the
