The victims of the Geneva Incident were herded into a great anti-chamber which was nothing more than a tunnel carved into rock. Reyes estimated they’d marched a good 100 feet down into the underground, their tall host, was silent the entire time.
Once corralled, Bill poked the doc in the side and pointed.
Vahl was not alone. Other tall, human-like beings joined him, and from the looks on their faces, Bill surmised there were very displeased.
“This isn’t good,” he whispered.
“How could you tell; they all look alike,”
“I’ve sat on boards on Wall Street a hundred times, Conrad, and I know someone who’s pissed off when I see it!” answered the exec.
-
“Why have you brought them here? They are not of the Surrogates.” said one.
Vahl retorted, “They must be outcasts.”
“They must be quarantined,” said another, this one wore a uniform – drab grey, with a helix insignia: Military scientist perhaps.
“Of course. I will see to it,” Vahl nodded, his wide-eyes blinking.
“Who is their leader?”
“Bill Stronarck,”
“Bring him!”