17 - Soulless

“Then, if that’s all…?”

Atlas stood up from the leather chair and extended his hand across the table toward George Burhock. They had sat at the end of it that was closest to the front of the room, well away from the door: though there was little risk of eavesdropping thanks to the soundproofing of the walls, Atlas could neither prove that nor did he expect the man to simply take his word for it. Emphasizing privacy was a demonstration of a small courtesy that he had no issue extending. Especially not for a multi-million dollar arrangement.

“I see everything I’ve heard is true,” the older man said. He got to his feet with a grunt and reached over to shake his hand. “That has to have been the most soulless exchange I’ve ever partaken in.”

Anyone else would have taken that as an insult, but Atlas considered it nothing but a point of satisfaction. What use was a soul in matters like these? “Efficiency, Mr. Burhock.” He withdrew his hand