Whitfield gave a jerky nod. “Two Afghan villages were unfortunately wiped out. But neither my organization nor any branch of the U.S. government was directly involved in that or with any other experiments.”

The suspicion on Castilla’s face deepened. “Other experiments?”

“Yes,” Whitfield admitted. “There have been extensive experiments on humans in North Korea as well as large-scale, but less intrusive, long-term studies on children worldwide.”

Klein was initially surprised by the man’s forthrightness, but after a moment’s thought he understood. The damage was already done and everyone in this room lived in far too fragile a glass house to start throwing stones.

Castilla lost a few shades of color. “The North Koreans?”

“Yes sir. But I want to stress that the technology was developed in a very compartmentalized manner. They have no access to it. The facility was focused on—”

“Providing an endless supply of guinea pigs,” Castilla said, finishing his sentence.

“Initially, I wasn’t aware of Dresner’s unorthodox research methods—”

“Unorthodox?”

Whitfield pretended not to hear. “Unfortunately, the complexity of the human mind can’t be replicated by animals or computers. Again, I want to stress that we kept a great deal of distance between us and those activities.”

“But you didn’t discourage them.”

He shook his head. “Your own Jon Smith will tell you that the Merge has already saved more soldiers’ and civilians’ lives than died in Kot’eh and Sarabat. And we’re not just talking about the military system. When the Merge is integrated into things like automobiles and commercial planes, more people will be saved worldwide in a few months than—”

“So the end justifies just about anything: human experimentation, the military making decisions without political authority—”

“With the only goal being keeping the country safe,” Whitfield said.

“But that’s how it always starts, doesn’t it?” Castilla said, standing and beginning to pace around the room. Once again, Klein felt sorry for the man. Power could be intoxicating, but having no higher authority to turn to—being the final word—had a way of slowly crushing men of conscience.

Finally, the president turned back toward them and stared directly at Whitfield. “I want you to give Fred all the information you have on every dime you’ve siphoned off. I want his assessment of the chances it could be discovered by some outside party.”

Klein shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He’d done a great deal for his old friend, but getting involved in this might be a bridge too far. “Sam…”