All the way back in the Golden Hay HQ, Gillian Henderson burst through the double doors of the executive chamber, his face flushed and furious. The polished oak walls of the boardroom reflected his agitation as his Italian shoes echoed across the marble floor.
"What do you mean he's gone?!" he snapped.
"We just got word back from Thorne, sir," the agent, sitting on the work panel replied, visibly terrified. "He said Grant just disappeared."
Vector spoke, "Our speculation is that he was rescued during the protest in Mattress Street."
Gillian looked at him. "What?"
Trying not to let things escalate, Charles Wynne, the old legal hawk, looked up from a report with a weary grimace, seeing the raging look on Gillian's face.
Around the table sat other senior board members— Maria Gentry, Vice Chair Doncaster, Councilor Kwong, and the head lawyer Vector Callahan, who was even more terrified than the rest of them.
