The man in charcoal cleared his throat. “We are not questioning your contribution.”

The man in gray leaned forward. “We know you have a strong personal attachment to the early ideals of this organization.”

“Which is why,” said in the woman in black, “you’re not objectively qualified to judge its current needs.”

“My subjectivity is an asset,” said Stell. “You seem to think we’re dealing with manufactured weaponry here. Only I seem to realize we’re dealing with people.”

“A case could be made,” said the man in charcoal, “that they are both.”

Stell shook his head. It always came back to this—to money, and power, and the board’s desire for both. If the board had their way, they’d turn each and every captured EO into a weapon. Preferably single-use.

“Marcella Riggins makes a mockery of EON, and of you,” said the woman in navy. “You claim you are doing everything you can, using every tool at your disposal, and yet you keep settling for low-range munitions when you have one perfectly suited to the task.”

He understood then, with painful clarity.

Eli.

“At least low-range munitions have safety catches. Eli Cardale does not. I won’t authorize him for use in the field.”

The man in charcoal sat forward. “You yourself have advocated for this kind of utility.”

“This is different,” said Stell. “Eli isn’t an ex-soldier. He’s a mass murderer.”

“One who has been cooperative for more than four years.”

Stell shook his head. “You don’t know him like I do.”

“And so we return to the issue of objectivity,” said the woman in

navy.

“Insight isn’t the same as bias,” snapped Stell. “You think we have a mess on our hands right now. It’s nothing compared to what would happen if we set him free.”

“Who said anything about free?” asked the man in black. “There are countermeasures. According to our records, tracking devices were installed—”

“It’s not just a matter of losing Eli,” said Stell. “It’s what he’ll do before we find him again. He can’t be controlled.”

At this, the man in gray produced a briefcase. “With that in mind,”

he said, sliding it down the table, “a sturdier solution.”

The clasps came open to reveal a smooth steel ring, nested on a bed of black. When Stell reached in, he discovered it was actually two rings, one pressed into the other. A seam ran along each circle, so that the fused collar could hinge open and closed.

“Haverty’s methods were admittedly problematic,” said the woman in black, “but in this case, they were also useful. His initial tests explored Cardale’s general ability to heal. His second series explored the extent of that healing—and its limitations.”

A small remote, flat as a credit card and half as wide, lay impressed in the fabric beneath the collar, a single button on the smooth dark surface.