You've done beautifully, good little worker bees in the service of your queen. I had nothing more than a wide overview at the beginning, but I knew I could count on you to do the brain work and fill in the details for me. Bait the trap with some dead urban explorers and wait for the curious to show up. You did.

The information I learned from your sweat-hours was invaluable, and more, much more than I could have dared hope for. There were accidents, to be sure, but that's the cost of doing business. Some people's lot in life is to be collateral damage in the service of the Bigger Picture.

Science is a god, and he demands to be satiated with the blood of mortals before he allows his secrets to be told. Advance requires loss. It's an eternal tradeoff, one step forward and all that.

It's just that Big Business does it in a Big Way, and I detest the heartless corporate climate that slaughters innocents both through action and inaction.

++++++++++

So Doan is dead, and Arney's retirement was cut short by Ms. Burgess.

You didn't hear the story? Oh, mea culpa.

All it took was two e-mails, one to Arney and one to Burgess. "I know about Phoenix" and "You had a career in imports." Simple, straightforward, and elegant. Spoofing the from line is child's play.

Arney confronted Burgess the night that Hermes, in the midst of his little downward spiral, tweaked Moreland. It was beautiful chaos. The storms raged outside, the Mechanical King was wreaking internal havoc. Burgess was in her office taking care of the last third of a bottle of red wine when Arney stormed in, full of rage and fury.

There was a noisy confrontation. Arney reached for his gun, but Burgess, adrenalized and alcohol driven, was the faster draw. She's surprisingly quick, deceptively so. She painted one wall of her office red, courtesy of Mr. Arney. A shot rang out, and then nothing but the jangling of bracelets.

I hear Arney was sent into that house of leaves and quickly forgotten.

++++++++++

Lee was a pushover. All I needed to do was remind him of his questionable financial habits and the unfortunate photos I had of him in Taipei and he handed me the keys. The poor man...his heart really is in the right place, but money corrupts even the most high holy among us.

I wonder, can one be a pawn without ever really realizing it, even at the end?

++++++++++

As for me, I knew that you needed to be fed scraps in order to find even more scraps. Keep it interesting but simple, I told myself. Too hard and they'll go play Pong. Too easy and they'll underestimate me. It was an interesting balance, presenting information to gain information while living behind a wall of anonymity.

I know you're wondering who I am.

Call me Ishmael. Call me Stromboli. Call me what you will.

You knew I was a snake when you picked me up.

If I wore a hat, I'd tip it. Thank you.