The Protocol: A Prescription To Die - Plot & Excerpts
After spending the afternoon with a dolt and a freak, she needed to be alone. She longed to have a conversation with someone having an IQ higher than a toothpick and, from what she could observe, neither of these guys fit the bill. They each served their purpose though, and she was paying both of them very well. Based on Titmueller’s efficiency, she’d be able to increase the protocol assignments by at least ten percent, if not twenty, very soon. His knack for completing the protocol assignments, while at the same time processing the bodies, was, if nothing else, impressive. Butch, on the other hand, was too quiet and self-aware. She could normally read people like a book. He had her uncharacteristically flummoxed. The jury was still out on him. His assignments were not as critical to operations. He was her glorified errand boy. He had a presence that no one dared question. It was a quality she needed. Right now, for some reason, Teague was turning out to be a sliver in her palm.
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