Twenty Eight
“It destroyed him, keeping this dreadful secret all these years.” — Francesca BoyleIsaac stood for a moment, looking at the frail genius that he had grown to regard as a friend and mentor over the last few years. His mind spun, seeking a more benign interpretation of what he'd uncovered. But he could find none. After half a dozen breaths, he went and lowered himself into one of the visitor’s chairs and stared across the desk at the emotional husk that, until a few days ago, had been d**k Boyle.
“So tell me,” he repeated. “What are you putting in the generics?”
“I think you know,” d**k replied, staring into space. “Bill knows you’ve been through the plant here and at Wade Park. And he’s examined the audit logs in the accounting system — so he knows you’ve been checking the i
