Winter's Warrior: Mark of the Monarch (Winter's Saga 4)

The professor found that incredibly funny. His laughter was genuine, and ended with him nodding in appreciation of all Kenneth Williams had told him.

“So what is it you want to know about the Monarch Program?” the professor offered, shrewdly opening the door for discussion without promising any alliance.

“I am under the impression that it was a mind control program originated by our CIA to create the perfect assassins.” Kenneth took another sip of his Scotch.

“For the sake of our discussion, let’s just assume I agree with that highly simplistic definition of the program.” The professor’s piercing gray eyes never left Kenneth’s face. “How would the program be of interest to you?”

“No, sir.” Kenneth smiled a wide, wicked grin. “You misunderstand. My program should be of interest to you.”

A conspiratorial glint sparkled in Arkdone’s eyes that had nothing to do with the empty liquor glass in his hand. “I’d be very interested in taking a tour of your Institute.”

“That can easily be arranged.” Williams was smiling, quite pleased with how well the conversation was going.

“Currently what use are your…what was it you called them?”

“Metahumans.”

“Yes, of course. For what purposes are your metahumans used?”

“Many assignments where physical strength and stamina are essential. They are all trained in the art of warfare including tactical and strategy, physical hand-to-hand and martial arts combat, all weapons ranging from crossbows to sniper rifles. Of course, there is more.”

“More?”

“Yes. Each metahuman is unique.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, for example, I have parties interested in purchasing anywhere from one to twelve trained metahumans. The subjects are too young to be distributed to their sponsors, but my investors have been so impressed with what they’ve seen thus far, they’re willing to financially back their projects until the subjects’ training has come to fruition.”

“Let me put it bluntly, Dr. Williams,” Professor Arkdone leaned forward and waited for his colleague to do the same before he continued. “I would like to know what assignments would best suit a metahuman.”

“That depends on the metahuman.”

“Elaborate.”

“Yes, that’s essentially what the serum does.”

Professor Arkdone narrowed his gaze, beginning to tire of the game.

“Forgive me, sir,” Kenneth shifted in his seat. “I mean the serum ‘elaborates’ the natural given talents of each individual metahuman. So, for example, you are a professor of psychology. Had you been dosed with the serum before the age of eight and survived the first week, you would have developed not only physically but intellectually as well. Your understanding of the human mind would have been…enhanced.”

“So, if a subject who had a genetic predisposition toward telekinetics or telepathy were given your serum, they could become a very powerful tool in their investor’s arsenal.” The professor leaned back, his hand holding his chin thoughtfully, the handsome smile returning to his aristocratic face.

Kenneth Williams watched the professor with cunning and waited for him to speak.

“Yes, I can see how your program would be interesting to me, and I’m starting to imagine how my program could be of interest to you. However, allow me to feign ignorance. Please explain how you believe the Monarch Program could be of use to your work.”

“I’m sure a brilliant mind like yours has already drawn the correct conclusion.”

“Humor me.”

“You do realize I have laid all my cards out on the table, and you haven’t given me any more information about yourself than I already knew coming into this meeting.” Williams shrugged innocently.

“I know of what I am capable. If you’re looking for a collaboration of some sort, you must be willing to dispense with your reluctance toward being forthright with me.”

Williams nodded, “I could say the same to you, sir. However, because I believe you to be a shrewd and discreet individual, I do not mind the current level of disclosure on my part.”

“You have assassins right outside this room ready to kill me upon your signal. Am I correct?” Arkdone’s voice was calm, calculating.

Williams casually placed his empty crystal tumbler on the mahogany table between them. “I have no more intent to kill you than you do me, should this conversation prove—fruitless.”

Knowing smiles curled across both their faces.

“I like you, Dr. Williams.” Arkdone nodded, watching Williams with a shrewd eye.

“The feeling is mutual, sir.” Williams barely contained his excitement at their shared appreciation for evil.

“What is it you’d like to know about the Monarch Program?”

“Everything.”

“Too vague. I could teach a class on the subject, were such a topic allowed at the University.”

“All right, let’s start at the beginning.”

“Origins?”

“Yes.”