Teddy couldn't resist the chance to redeem himself. 'We've all heard that line before,' he said in a stage whisper. The cadets around him froze.

Neff whirled on Teddy and pointed angrily, 'But not from me, you haven't!'

This new guy meant business. Teddy could not hold up under Neff's hard stare. Again, he lowered his eyes, and again, he felt humiliated.

Neff moved on down the line. 'Name?' he asked.

'Damien Thorn... Sergeant.'

Neff shot a quick glance at Mark, then looked back at Damien. 'You don't look alike,' he said.

'Cousins, Sergeant,' said Damien, taking a risk and flashing a brilliant smile.

There was a flicker of something in Neff's eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. ‘All right,' he said. 'But the same goes for you. No privileges.'

Damien nodded, and followed Neff with his eyes as the Sergeant moved on to the next cadet. There was something about this man that unnerved Damien, that made him feel oddly excited. But exactly what it was, he was unable to tell. At least, not yet.

***

Sixty miles away, in the heart of Chicago, Richard Thorn walked across the ornate lobby of the enormous building that was the home office of Thorn Industries. With him was Bill Atherton, president of the company. There were a few other people about, but for the most part, it was still too early for any but the most diligent workaholics, or those just coming off the night shift.

Atherton, the kindest and most self-effacing of men, would have made a superb spy. No one ever noticed him. At sixty-four, he glided through life as if on one of those moving walkways in airports, getting slowly but surely to his destination with no discernible effort.

Upon graduation from college, Atherton had gone to work for Thorn Industries in Planning and Development. He had gradually worked his way up the corporate ladder until he was now second only to Richard Thorn, who was the chairman of the board and chief executive officer. He still lived in the house he had bought when he married his college sweetheart. She was still his wife, still his sweetheart, and the first and only woman with whom he had ever been to bed. Life held no surprises for Bill Atherton, and he was vaguely puzzled by the ups and downs of friends whose existences were far more volatile than his own.

Atherton may have been a bit bland, but he was far from stupid. No one got to be president of Thorn Industries by being stupid. Today he had something specific on his mind, something that had been bothering him for quite a while now. It had to do with Paul Buher, director of Special Projects and Atherton's immediate subordinate.