Dragon Blood

Chapter 20

Richard Kincaid collapsed into his favourite armchair. The tightness in his back and knees eased slightly. He was getting old. Too old. As a younger man serving in the military, he thought he would be taken out by a bullet, maybe a stray spell when fighting against the Ancients, not sciatica and a stiff leg.

He considered getting another drink. Madeline was already mad enough to kick him to the spare room, so she wouldn't care if he were totally drunk. She hadn't even looked at him when she left to take Maddox home. He couldn't blame her for being so mad. In her eyes, he'd chosen his friend over their daughter. Her daughter. Even his wife had stopped pretending that she was his in any way.

Ashton Price came into the room a moment later and hoisted a sealed black case onto the desk before opening the liquor cabinet. He rifled through the bottles until finding a very old bottle of port and humming happily. He poured two glasses, handing one to Richard, and settled into the second chair. "I always look forward to this time of year," he held the glass up to look at the rich red alcohol. "You can't find this anywhere."

"You just can't afford it." Richard muttered emotionlessly.

Ashton shrugged and took a slow drink. The phone on Richard's desk rang. He reached out and pressed the speaker button. "Good evening, gentlemen." Came the familiar male voice of their superior. "Please announce yourselves."

"Richard Kincaid."

"Doctor Ashton Price."

Richard resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. Publicly, Ashton was a stain on the medical community. His medical license had been revoked ages ago. This was the only place where he could still claim he was a doctor. The silence by Mark's absence hung heavily in the air until the male cleared his throat. "Where is Mark Landon?"

"It seems Mr. Landon has fallen into the minor ten percent of our experiments." Ashton almost laughed. "He's gone quite mad, I think."

"You don't need to sound so pleased about it." Richard snapped, his irritation beginning to leak through his well controlled mask of calm.

"Why not?" Ashton chuckled. "The three of us are the only field agents in the experiment. Given the vast differences in our daily interactions, I am impressed that it took this long for one of us to snap."

"Kincaid," the male voice cut between the two. "Elaborate."

Richard gave himself a moment to patch the crack in his resolve. "In the past few years," he started slowly. "Mark Landon's temper has gotten further and further out of control. It's in last year that the increase has become... noticeable. He is deliberately and cruelly antagonistic. He has lost the respect of any one under or parallel to him. His superiors are beginning to withdraw support. He is becoming the face of the police reform movement."

There was a low buzz through the speaker as the unnamed male and the other secret attendees discussed the new information. Ashton hummed tunelessly, swirling the port in his glass while Richard stared at the sealed black box. "Very well," the male finally spoke clearly again. "We will begin the extraction process for Mark Landon. Kincaid, it will be up to you to begin training his replacement."

"Do we have a replacement in mind?"

"Several. We are no longer in need of the political reach. Our priority has turned to numbers. We would like you to begin with Christian Churchill."

"No."

A tense silence hovered in the air at his stark refusal of what was clearly not being presented as a suggestion. "Would you like to repeat that, Mr. Kincaid?" the male's voice was filled with a mix of warning and curiosity.