Rogers shook his head. “Not technically. It was Chris Ballard’s company.” Knox

said, “I know that name, Ballard. He’s retired now.” “To the Outer Banks in

North Carolina. Big mansion on the beach.” Rogers paused and then added, “He’s

dead. Or he should be.” They both looked at him, startled. “Why do you say

that?” asked Puller. “Because I threw him out a window four stories up. But then

he came back to life.” Puller glanced at Knox, who was staring at Rogers, her

face drawn in concern.

 

Rogers saw her look. “I’m not screwed in the head, lady. It couldn’t have been

the same guy, of course. But another guy who looked like the one I killed was

out on the beach the next day. I don’t know what the hell is going on.” “Why did

you go there? And why did you throw who you thought was Ballard out a window?”

asked Puller. “To get information on Jericho. And when he told me squat I

chucked him out the window. He deserved it after what they did to me.” “Why

didn’t you just leave the test program?” asked Knox. “You think I had that

option? I was a prisoner.” “But you did eventually get away,” pointed out

Puller.

 

Rogers nodded. “I planned it for months. They never saw it coming. See, they

built me too good. They didn’t figure in cunning and my ability to lie. They

gave me that and I used it against them.” “So they messed with your mind too?”

said Knox. “They messed with everything. You know how strong I am. But that was

nothing compared to what they did up here.” He tapped his head. “How so?” In

answer Rogers picked up a screwdriver from a can on the shelf, placed the tip

against the palm of his hand, and pushed it in.