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remembered his father—George Redding. The Reddings had adopted him when he was three and George had loved him and been an amazing teacher. He was the one who had explained the order of things. “You have to keep your soldiers in line, Petie. When fighting a war—and trust me, we are fighting a war—you have your minions down on the bottom. Now they may not seem all that important. But they are. They’re like fleas—they can be disposed of and most easily replaced within the ranks. But the problem is, they can also be broken down the easiest by the enemy. They will almost always talk when push comes to shove, so it’s very important you have a solid foundation.
    “Next are your henchmen. These guys recruit the minions. Minions do little jobs. You can control their minds. Henchmen do more difficult jobs. They have to be discrete, trustworthy. Then there are the helpers. They are your confidantes and partners. Then there’s you—the leader, son. You are a leader.”
    Peter took a sip from his drink. “Yes, Dad, I am,” he muttered.  His cell phone rang. It was a henchman calling. A very important henchman with very important connections. Connections who put a lot of money into Frauen Pharmaceuticals and Peter’s back pocket.
     “Our little problem taken care of?” Peter asked.
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Good.” He leaned back in his leather chair and sighed. “And the girlfriend?”
    “I don’t think she knows any more than what we heard, but we can’t be too sure.”
    “No, we can’t. No loose ends. I want to know her every move.”
    “Anything else, sir?”
    “No. Money will be wired to your account. Good work.”
    “Thank you, sir. Good night.”
    Peter hung up the phone. The jet engine roared down the runway. Hamilton. The good doctor. A minion. Not one who believed in the cause, though. A minion by force, just like Horner. There were only a few of those who Peter kept a close eye on. They could ruin everything he’d worked so hard for. Everything his dad would have been so proud of. Men like Hamilton and Horner scared him, but he needed them—or guys like them. Hamilton was easy to dispose of. Dumb fuck should’ve realized his office would be wired. Horner was another story. Once the job was finished on the chemist’s end, Peter would feel much better when they’d gotten rid of him.
    He took another long sip of his drink. He didn’t like setbacks and these bumps in the road were definitely setbacks. This Dr. Morales better not be a problem. He didn’t want to have her killed, too. He didn’t need a body count adding up. Body counts alerted cops and cops sniffing around anything was never good. The Hamilton case would never be solved. The henchman who had taken care of the doctor was good at taking care of problems. He’d proven it when he had been involved with the Petersen fiasco. The young man had orchestrated the whole thing. A job well done.
    But God how Redding had hated all of that bad business, however, he’d soon realized when Andrew Petersen had blown him off, he would need to make a strong and definite impression on his next victim—Dr. Horner. Yes, the young man had done a nice job there, and now with Hamilton taken care of, he’d once again proven he had the stamina to get things done. Best of all, Chad Wentworth had connections…nice political connections. And to think Chad had been discovered guarding the double doors outside The Brotherhood meeting in Valencia only four years ago. He had come a long way.
    “So fuck it,” he said aloud. “Fuck it! This little setback is good for the character.” However, Redding knew any setback—minor or major—was not good for this project. Peter hated problems and loose ends. Hopefully Dr. Morales would keep her nose out of things. She would be much better off that way. The lights flickered from the city below, growing more distant as the plane reached cruising altitude. The alcohol began to ease tension from his shoulders and his