The man gazed down from Karsten’s office window. His close-set eyes flanked a bulbous nose spidered with veins.

Watching the four teens disappear through the Turtle Beach gate, the man cracked his knuckles. Nervous and angry at the same time.!!!Punk kids on Loggerhead? Why? What are they doing here?

The man moved to the desk and folded his burly frame into the leather-bound chair. Leaned back. Lit a cigar.

Time to remind Karsten who’s in charge.

Moments later the doctor bustled in, oblivious to the presence of another. He stopped short, startled by the smell of burning tobacco.

Seeing the man at his desk, Karsten stiffened.

“Why is a pack of kids roaming the property?” the man demanded coldly.

“I can’t keep them off the grounds.” Karsten swallowed. “Children of LIRI employees have the Board’s permission to visit the beaches.”

“Aren’t you the director? Can’t you control your own facility?”

Karsten bristled, but said nothing.

“I want all outsiders banned from the island,” the man said. “Immediately. Keep them out of the woods.”

“Why are you here? It’s madness for us to be seen together.”

“I took precautions. No one knows.” The man’s voice went even colder. “And watch your tone. I’m here because you’ve failed to show progress. Perhaps you’ve forgotten our agreement.”

“I’m working on it.”

“You made promises. You have obligations.”

“What you seek is extremely complicated. These things can’t be rushed.”

The man simply stared.

“Give me more time,” Karsten whined. “I’m close.”

“You’d better be. I hold my partners to their bargains. Count on that.”

The man rose, drew on his cigar, then dropped it, burning, into the wastebin.

“Impress me, doctor,” he said. “Your time is running out.”

The man left without a backward glance.