"I don't want to discuss it over a cell, Karl." This conversation was definitely a bad idea. "She comes and goes. I think it's getting worse."
"I'll try to get over there late this afternoon and look in on her," Van de Vliet said. "I want to see her every day."
"Karl, we can't give up hope. Never give up hope."
He clicked off the phone and thought about his crapshoot with God. Kristen had wanted to play, to experiment with the Beta. But nobody made her undergo the procedure. She should never—
His cell phone rang.
"Yeah."
"Mr. Bartlett," came a female voice with a Brooklyn accent, "it's Bernd Allen calling."
"Put him on."
Shit, Bartlett thought, this is news I don't want to hear.
Bernd was a Brit who was in charge of day‑to‑day accounting for Bartlett Medical Devices. He was forty‑seven and not a risk taker and he was always worried about something. That was his job. These days he had plenty to be worried about