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Joshua Fitchett. He had either been murdered or killed himself in some final act of insanity. Was this proof of the claims that Fitchett had made concerning the world ending, or simply proof that he was insane? Who knew, and today, who cared? They already had one fantastic story, the death of Fitchett, complete with fiery film footage of the mansion.

CHAPTER EIGHT
SWITZERLAND
    Sheppard and Markell came into the boardroom and looked around earnestly. They had heard about Fitchett’s “death.” They had more reason than most to question it.
    “Do you see him?” Markell asked.
    “No, Andrew. Maybe they want to talk to us all first before they bring him in.”
    Both men took their seats around the table, eager to start the meeting. They settled in to their usual spots, at the end, side by side. After meeting weekly for seven years, everyone had settled in to a pattern, and when one of the scientists absent-mindedly took the wrong chair it seemed to unnerve the whole proceeding.
    Most often, the content of the meetings made it seem as though they were discussing a purely theoretical assignment, as if none of it were real. Sheppard suspected that after Fitchett’s announcement—letting the entire worldknow of the threat and the existence of their organization—and then the inferno at Fitchett’s mansion, things were about to change, and that change would be reflected in today’s meeting.
    They had sat together for seven years—seven years of intense theoretical work, separated from the world, locked inside their own little bubble, a small band of scientists working together. As promised, they had been provided with all the resources they needed. They had been freed from all extraneous activities, thoughts, worries, and needs, to allow them to pursue their research.
    “Everybody, please take your seats,” Dr. Hay said. “We have a great deal of information to share and discuss.”
    Sheppard couldn’t help but notice how much she had aged during these past years. The weight of the world on her shoulders seemed to have worn her down. She actually looked smaller, her complexion sallow, and he wondered if she slept at all.
    The rest of the people stopped talking or milling around and sat down.
    “Obviously,” Dr. Hay began, “the major issue on the table today concerns the events of the past two days involving Joshua Fitchett.”
    Sheppard was pleased that they were cutting to the chase. The technical issues could wait.
    “As you are all aware, many rumours have surfaced over the past years that have risked exposure of our project,” she continued.
    “Subsequent to these rumours surfacing, we have alwaysbeen able to use our resources to discredit, deny, or create counter-rumours to cause these reports to be discounted,” Donahue added. “Although, quite frankly, we’re not sure how successful our counter-efforts have been.”
    Hay continued, “While some questions have remained at an academic and scientific level, we have been largely successful in protecting the general population from discovering the true nature of both our organization and the problems facing our planet … until now.”
    “We had some forewarning that Fitchett was planning to make an announcement,” Donahue said. “And that led to our attempt to invite him to participate in the project.”
    “Do you mean the botched kidnap attempt he mentioned in his press conference?” Markell asked.
    Donahue shot him a dirty look. Seven years together had not caused the two of them to like each other any better. Andrew was Sheppard’s closest friend, his confidant, and the man he worked with most closely, but even he had to admit that Markell was a bit of a hothead who almost seemed to enjoy poking those in charge—people like Donahue. If it hadn’t been for his genius, his off-putting behaviour might have been less tolerated.
    “Yes, those were our operatives,” Donahue admitted.
    Hay picked up the story. “Unfortunately, we were not