Roy lay on the floor, breathing hoarsely. A few seconds later he fell silent. Small red speckles covered his nose and mouth, and bright red blood spilled from his nose, forming an expanding pool across the floor. Jacob felt numb inside. He dropped the silver disk onto the floor. Isor had designed it for use by undercover operatives, but Jacob had never expected to use it himself. He hadn't even realised that it was in his pocket until he had seen it there in his outstretched hand.
He stepped closer to the desk and pulled his father's console towards him. Lifting it high over his head, he threw the console at the opposite wall, and it shattered into a dozen pieces. Jacob stepped over his father's body and opened the desk drawers, one by one. He tipped their contents into a pile on the floor. Next he grabbed the wall cabinets and slammed into them with his shoulder until they toppled sideways onto the floor. He kicked the cabinets over and over, hard enough to dent their sides and shunt them across the floor. His lungs burned with the effort of his outburst, and sweat clung to his face.
Roy lay on his side with a cabinet resting across his feet. His left arm was lying at an odd angle as though he had been reaching for the door. Jacob stared at his father's twisted fingers. Whatever he had been seeking would remain forever out of his reach. Jacob let out a loud cry. It was over. It was finally over.