Marlon had his doubts about Buck. He had doubts about all Englishmen for that matter. The English had an annoying tendency to think too much. They were all little Hamlets at heart.

If he’d had a choice he would have chosen an AAB for this job, a good All American Boy. Left to his own devices he would have hand-picked a young hotshot, someone like him – younger of course, but someone with complete faith in the American way, a man willing to die at any moment for his country – a true patriot.

But with Buck he had to be perfectly clear –

“I’m making some changes. From now on Buck, you will be living in room 665. And by “living” I mean exactly that. You will be there full-time. You’ll eat all your meals, you’ll do everything there – you understand? We are in action mode now.”

Marlon waited for Buck’s begrudging acknowledgement.

“Until you hear from me, you will not leave that room. I need not warn you that any breach of this order will have the usual consequences.”

“I see,” Buck said unconvincingly.

Although he seemed reasonably compliant, Buck’s general apathy worried Marlon. In fact, everything about Buck worried Marlon. Buck was a vain twerp – one of those soft, smooth, lover-boy types Marlon hated most of all – the kind who could steal your woman from in front of your nose then laugh at you while making love with her later. Marlon had once been a cuckold and Buck was a cuckold’s nightmare. Why the Committee had chosen him was beyond Marlon. But it was typical of that group – they had no experience of life at all.

“When the call comes, and I say “do it” – you do it.”

Marlon emphasized the words with his darkest look. He wanted no misunderstanding here, no “mistake”. As far as Marlon was concerned, this was going to happen. He’d made up his mind – Max was going to hell –

Max and those crazy sadhus…

They are all going to hell.

11.7

Julia remained riveted to her seat in disbelief.

Is this a DKO?

Who authorized this?

Max hasn’t done anything yet!