Upon returning to his office with Lagner, Robert Masten was startled to find someone waiting for him inside. The person stood waiting in darkness, standing behind Masten’s large glowing computer monitor.
The man’s face was immediately recognizable, even before Masten flipped on the lights—squinting briefly at the sudden brightness.
His features were strong and chiseled. Eastern European had been Masten and Lagner’s original guess, but it was obvious now, seeing him in person. With short, peppered hair and deep eyes.
Liam Duchik spoke as they approached. “It’s time.”
Masten tried to appear relaxed, adjusting the sleeves of his suit jacket. “Time for what?”
“For our patient to exit.”
“What? Why?”
“Things have gone too far.”
Surprised, the director looked at Lagner, then back over the top of his desk. “Reiff is stable now. Finally. This is not the time to just—”
“The patient has become a liability. Or perhaps you can’t see that.”
“He’s a larger asset. We just—”
Duchik interrupted again. “Save your breath. I watched your interview. Your assessment. Whichever you’d like to call it, the man is a threat.”
Masten stepped forward, almost pleading. “Listen to me: There’s something going on here. Something big. Huge. The man is not just stable; he’s an anomaly.”
“An anomaly?”
“It’s inexplicable,” admitted Nora.
Duchik’s eyes moved to her. “Is that right?”
“Whatever it is that’s happening to Reiff,” she said, “it’s real.”
Duchik let the statement hang in the air before changing tack. “Is he mentally stable?”
“We think so.”
“You think so.”
Masten clarified. “By every measurement, his cognitive abilities appear to be completely intact. Which was the goal.”
The man nodded. “A goal that has been achieved.”
“It has. But there’s something else. Something we never expected. Something we can’t even explain! That might just be miraculous.”
With no reaction from Duchik, Masten continued. “You saw what he did. The drawings. You have to see the possibilities. The potential staring us right in the face!” He grew almost desperate. Incredulous. “Jesus, don’t tell me you’re going to ignore it. Tell me you’re at least a little fascinated. Just like we are.”
Duchik’s face remained like stone. A faint look of curiousness in his two dark eyes, but not in response to what Masten was saying. In response to how he was acting.
“Have you never been duped, Mr. Masten?”
“What?”
“Have you never been swindled?” The handler’s face grew sardonic as Masten could only gawk. “Have you never met a Thrillist?”
The director could only stare back in frustration.
“This man is deceiving you,” said Duchik. “He is reading you. And you cannot see it.”
He couldn’t believe his ears. Without a word, Masten reached into his jacket pocket, retrieved the drawing, and tossed it onto his desk. “You’re telling me this is made up?”
The other man glanced at the paper, wearing a bemused look.
“How?” inquired Masten. “How would he know about that?”
“It’s a tad vague, is it not?”
“Vague?”
“I see what could resemble columns in what could resemble a large room. The rest is the mind seeing what it wants to see.”
“What it wants to see? You’ve got to be kidding!”
“The mind seeks order, Mr. Masten. It seeks structure and explanation. Familiarity. It is a well-known technique. A tactic of the brain for dealing with an infinitely complex world around it. Something I’m sure Dr. Bennett can explain in great detail.”
Masten was speechless. Utterly speechless. He turned to Lagner for confirmation of the idiocy before them, but she was reactionless.
“The truth, Mr. Masten, is that I don’t care. I don’t care whether our patient is a charlatan or some sort of medical miracle; it doesn’t change anything. The man is still a liability. Not just to me, but to others.”
“I-I can’t believe this.”
“Believe it,” replied Duchik. “You’ve done your job. You’ve completed your mission. Revel in that. Now exit our patient, or I will.”