The arrogance of such small-minded men. How easily they believed the whole world was owed to them.
They never thought to look the gift horse in the mouth.
45
The General
Day One Hundred and Fourteen
“This changes nothing, Sinclair,” the governor said. “You know that. Your resignation letter on my desk tomorrow morning. After this conversation, I never want to see you or hear from you again.”
“That won’t be a problem.”
“You go too far. Men like you—you think you’re ironclad. That the rules don’t apply to you. There are still rules!”
“You hired me to break them,” the General reminded him.
“Only the ones I sanction!” Governor Duffield shouted. He was getting worked up again. That wouldn’t be good for his heart.
The General smiled to himself. “You know, I’ve always despised you, Henry.”
A spluttered cough on the other end. “Excuse me?”
“Such a weak-minded pansy you’ve always been. Always anxious for someone to tell you what to do.”
“You can’t speak to me like that! I’m the—”
“I know exactly who you are. Now let me tell you who I am. I am the man who will regain control of this region instead of cowering in the capital, reacting to crisis after crisis. I am the one who’s going to rule this state, not you. You pathetic miserable worm.”
“How dare you—”
“I will not resign tomorrow or any day. In fact, very soon I’ll be sitting in your chair. I’ll have your job. And I’ll be doing a hell of a lot better at it.”
“You can’t,” the governor sputtered. “You have no authority—”
“But I will. It’s unfortunate that you chose not to trust me. I planned to oust Eubanks first, not you. But you’ve forced my hand. It’s a pity. Things would be easier with you functioning as governor, but we make our own choices. And must live with them.” He paused. “Or not.”
He imagined Governor Duffield standing in the center of his plush office, holding the empty decanter in one hand, staring in growing suspicion and horror at the two melting ice cubes at the bottom of the glass.
Osborne would be in his customary position by the door, not sitting but standing, hands clasped in front of him, his face expressionless as he examined the governor for the first signs.
“How are you feeling, Henry?” the General asked.
A long beat of silence.
“What did you do to me?”
“How’s your throat? Do you feel a bit of a burn? You’re probably feeling nauseous right about now. Some bad stomach cramps. Am I correct?”
A soft clink registered through the phone. Probably the glass slipping from the governor’s fingers and thudding against carpet.
“What did you do to me!”
“Only what I had to do,” the General said smoothly, trying and failing to hide the smile in his voice. “You’re the one who drove me to it. In a way, you’ve brought this upon yourself. If only you’d trusted me. None of this would be happening.”
“I feel…sick.”
“What you are experiencing is acute arsenic poisoning. It is colorless, odorless, and tasteless, which means you would not have noticed it in your drink. I hope you enjoyed every drop of that cognac. While that particular bottle cost me dearly, I consider the after-effects absolutely priceless.”
“You—you—” Henry Duffield croaked.
Another dull thud sounded. Duffield falling to his knees, leaning forward, hunching as wrenching pain seized his stomach.
“You’re experiencing severe gastrointestinal distress, as if someone has sawed through your guts with a dull knife and is now pulling out your entrails, hand over hand. Next comes acute respiratory distress syndrome as your circulatory system collapses, followed by cardiac arrhythmia and an agonizing death within a few hours.”
The governor’s desperate gasps filled his ear.
The General found the harsh rasping sounds incredibly satisfying. He gazed at the smooth peaceful water and wished he could have been present in person.
“You are probably thinking—but can no longer say—that I won’t get away with this. The thing is, I will. Few autopsies are taking place right now. The Collapse has strained local, state, and federal resources beyond the breaking point. You understand. There are some benefits to a nationwide—nay, worldwide—crisis.
“It will appear that you had a heart attack. For those who are aware of your unhealthy addictions, this will not come as a surprise. In fact, a stash of these pills will be discovered in your desk drawer.”