Testimony of Mr. J. Stanley

Follett?No, that was after the IG holding company and the foundation, the holding company was Follett's idea, the foundation was Jason's, and it was old Jim who paid our bills anyway.Jason probably met him at some cocktail party, I first met him at Sinclair's wedding, this guy seems to conjure money out of thin air, you know what I mean, if I say I Never questioned where the money came from, would be lying, but around 2000 IG was trying to buy a small company that made medical devices and we needed that money. Stanley put the empty glass back where it was, and folded his hands on the quilt. "Sinclair and I are the chairman of the foundation, but we both understand where the actual power falls.Sinclair has four children, three boys and the youngest a daughter, God bless them.You can understand why he is almost no longer involved in the operation of IG.In fact IG has swelled so much that sometimes I feel like it's 'running' me. "

"You resigned in 2007," Gibson said, flipping through the file. "That doesn't sound good."

Stanley opened his mouth, but was interrupted by a short knock on the door. The nurse opened the door without waiting for an answer, took the tray from the cart without saying a word, and put it in front of Stanley.Lunch that day was mashed potatoes and green beans boiled in salt water, and Stanley simply pushed the food aside.

"You should eat some."

"If the charges are convicted, I will have enough time to try prison food, not now, thank you."

"You still have not answered my question."

"Which specific question?"

"Did you shoot Jason Coleman?"

"I was about to get there," Stanley pointed to the glass, and Gibson refilled him with water and put it next to the dinner plate. "It started with Danny Marcel and Razor."

-

The tie was too tight, and Stanley raised his hand to tug at the collar, stopping himself just in time, pretending to be looking at his watch.An informal cocktail party was held immediately after the press conference. The lobby of the IG R&D Center was always empty like a piece of saline land. At the moment, it was overcrowded. Stanley could recognize some reporters and pharmaceutical company representatives he had met a few times. As for others, he I really don't know why they are here.

The R&D center was put into use only a few months ago, a three-story building complex crawling on the mountain.Stanley's office is on the third floor. If the weather is fine, you can see the glimmer of the lake in the distance over the undulating canopy.He hoped that he could hide now, stay away from the crowd, and finish reading the mountain of reports.On the temporary large screen, the promotional video of IntelGenes began to loop for the [-]th time, and the over-abstracted and beautified DNA strands were spinning lazily on the screen. "With the high-profile 'Red Arrow' project," the recording said cheerfully, with an insurance broker's optimism, "and the brand new 'Photon' project, at IntelGenes we have a responsibility to—"

Stanley closed his eyes, and his head began to ache, not serious, perhaps more imaginary than actual pain.He stopped a waiter and took a new glass of champagne from the tray.

Someone touched his arm, Jason put his arm around his shoulders, and pushed him into the crowd, "Look who I've got," he announced to his planets, slapping Stanley on the back hard, Stan Leigh almost splashed champagne on his front. "Gasper, this is Jim. Of course you know each other. You met at Lane's wedding. Jim has helped us a lot over the years, hasn't he, Jim?"

Jim Follett was gray-haired and looked like a public school teacher, the type who wouldn't hesitate to get a detention.The way he looked at people reminded Stanley of an osprey, and there was a birdlike nervousness in his demeanor.He shook hands with Follett, said of course he remembered, and thanked him for his investment.The other party's answer was to raise his glass and look away.

Jason went on to introduce him to the others, Whitehall Secretary Melinda Tucker, "Eddie" from GSK, David Schultz from Marketing, and Stanley mechanically shook hands with them, forgetting their faces and names.Jason started telling the story about accidentally blowing up the holding cabinet all those years ago, and everyone was laughing, mostly out of politeness.Stanley escaped from the encirclement on the pretext of needing a refill, and walked to the buffet table.

"Stanley?"

It's endless, Stanley turned around, glanced at the visitor's pass hanging on the other's chest, "Listen, if you want to conduct an interview, you need to contact our public relations—"

"I'm Danny Mather, The New Observer," the reporter looked like a comic book character with round glasses and a funny pointy nose. After the response, he added, "'Piggy', do you remember?"

Piggy, the nickname in Stanley's head, was always associated with the dark dormitory, because Danny always stayed there like a photophobic fungus, afraid of sports, insects and pollen, and seniors. The doctor snatched his glasses.The reporter in front of him was still half a head shorter than Stanley, and there were ink stains on the collar of his crumpled shirt that hadn't been washed. "Danny," Stanley said, shaking his outstretched hand, "I remember."

"I knew you'd remember, that's what I told the editor, and I told Cynthia: 'That Stanley, went to boarding school with me,' and that's what I said," said Marcel, pulling out the The ballpoint pen in his pocket, clutched in his hand as if it were some kind of weapon, "Listen, can I talk to you?"

"A small talk among friends, or a 'chat' by a reporter?"

"In the meantime, assuming I happen to quote you, I'll state that this is an anonymous source—"

"No," Stanley shook his head. "Sorry, Danny, you still have to go to our media liaison. Rules are rules."

"Of course, the rules are the rules," Marcel held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, "I just noticed that you were talking to Melinda Tucker just now, does this mean that there is indeed something behind the 'Razor' project? Government funding?"

The small talk was far from a "conversation," and he couldn't remember Tucker's face, but Stanley didn't bother to explain, "Danny, what you need is to call the public relations department, and they may arrange You interview Jason, he is the head of the 'razor' experimental group."

"Dr. Coleman has declined my interview twice."

Stanley took a glass of ice water from the dining table and took a sip. The experimental team and R&D personnel of IntelGenes do not interfere with each other. They rarely ask what others are doing or not doing. The "razor" experimental group is Jason's pet project, and even has its own database and security code. "I'm really not the best person to answer that question," he told Danny Mather, "unless you want to know what trouble the 'Photon' project has gotten me into lately, but as usual, people only Jason is interested."

He meant it as a joke, but the reporter turned serious instead, "Do you read "New Observer?"

"I know it's a respectable magazine, but no, I rarely read it."

Marcel gestured for Stanley to follow him, and Stanley hesitated, followed him through the crowd and the sliding glass doors to the empty steps outside the R&D center.The reporter fished a cigarette from his jeans pocket and asked Stanley if he minded, to which Stanley shook his head. "Last March, the New Observer ran an article questioning Jim Follett and his two companies registered in the British Virgin Islands," said Mather, lighting a cigarette. There are 'friends' in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, as well as in IG, of course."

"I don't understand what you're implying."

"It's not a hint, an accusation." Mather bit the cigarette filter, "Fleet is in the arms business, it's no secret, Whitehall has always turned a blind eye. An ocean shipping company, two cargo ships are sent from the port of Lima to Antwerp every week. The customs declaration says 'construction materials', but they are actually weapons and guns, but this is not the point. This kind of story is now Can’t surprise readers anymore,” he let out a short laugh that sounded like a dog sneezing, “but Jim seems to be upping the ante on the weapons he’s selling, and to do that he needs Jason Cole Elman."

"You think the IG is making, what, biological weapons?"

"Yes."

Stanley knew what this was, a false "report" that catered to the public's appetite for conspiracy theories, "Danny, I think you should go."

The reporter raised his hands in protest, "I'm not making up stories for sales, I mean, of course it's for sales, but that doesn't mean I'll make up stories."

The sliding glass door opened, and a security officer in a dark gray uniform stepped out. He was almost as wide as three Mussels. "Is everything all right, Mr. Stanley?"

"Everything is fine," Stanley glanced at the reporter, "but Mr. Mussel is leaving soon. Can you take him to the parking lot? Make sure he leaves safely."

"listen--"

The security guard stood in front of the little reporter, "This way please, Mr. Marcel."

-

Later that day, Stanley finally read the story.There are no lights on in the office, only the computer screen and the warm light of the incubator are on, and the cornflakes are lazy