“The story is coming out,” I added, “and whether anyone has read it yet is beside the point.”

“Off the record?”

The skin flexed where his eyebrows should’ve been. I said nothing.

“Or on, it doesn’t matter.” He laughed. “Here’s the truth, Whitney. I had no idea what was happening at Rubicon. As it turns out, neither did Ken.”

I began taking notes. The associate watched my hand.

“Of course, he had to fall on his sword. A lot of people had a stake in Rubicon, and they’re going to be very disappointed. It was a high-risk, high-reward venture, and for a while there it really looked like it would pay off.”

“People will be more than disappointed when they read my piece.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” he said quickly.

Was this the eerie calm and acceptance of someone who knows his corporate days are numbered, that people close to him are going to jail?

“You’re pretty casual about this,” I observed.

“Don’t think I’m not concerned,” Sloan said, “and don’t think I wasn’t moved. Like I said, your claims are substantially documented, and compelling.”

“And they’re true. People lost their lives.”

Sloan said nothing, but his eyes said yes.

I looked at the recorder. It was running. I made a note.

“When Ken forwarded what you sent him, he had more news to report,” Sloan continued. “Apparently Eva Kriss sold off her stock in Rubicon and disappeared overnight. I don’t recall the exact figure, but suffice it to say she sold high. At the end of today we’re issuing a press release, announcing that Ken has stepped down and Rubicon is dissolving. You can expect the market to react accordingly.”

It was a classic news dump, disclosing embarrassing or incriminating information on a Friday afternoon, hoping it would get buried over the weekend.

“This is not how a man of Ken Sample’s stature wants to end his career,” Sloan said. “Not that I feel sorry for him, between you and me. There was incredible negligence here. I was especially shocked by the allegation that these experiments were tolerated by municipal governments as part of some urban clearance initiatives. You really believe that?”

“Yes.”

Sloan clucked and said, “Outrageous.”

“You might be able to spin this for a few more days,” I said, “but what will you do when the story comes out?”

Sloan again looked to the associate and the clasps on the briefcase shot open.

“As it happens,” Sloan told me, “Ken did hear from Eva Kriss one last time before she went off to God knows where, Vienna or Montpellier, they seem to think. She sent him a package, and Ken’s last task at Rubicon was to confirm its veracity, as well as its significance. And with that, Whitney, I’d like to wish you a restful weekend.”

The CEO stood and started coming around the table.

“Where are you going?”