The Overseer by Conlan Brown Page A

worked—a single lamp glowing on his desk.
    He turned back to his computer. No one was surviving the economy well, and that had seriously hurt their investing opportunities. It was a fact of life that the market had its ups and downs, but John’s attempts to save them from the market crash had only incurred the wrath of the federal government. And Devin had been so busy chasing after every wild goose people in other departments didn’t want to deal with that he hadn’t caught the problems in time. What a mess. Devin adjusted his tie, tempted for a moment to loosen it, but he still felt compelled to remain in his business attire as long as he was in the office. He returned to his work.
    He was only too aware of how everyone in the office, how all of Domani Financial, looked to him to see what was coming next—to tell them where to put the money and what to sell the investors on. But that would all be irrelevant if the IRS froze their assets. The money would be as good as gone, and business would screech to a halt. And business was a living organism, a bit like a shark. If it stopped moving forward, it would die. Who knew how long an investigation would take? Devin had always prided himself that Domani Financial had six months’ worth of assets to fall back on in case of a downturn, but with the economy going bad, those funds had dwindled. And they would ultimately be irrelevant if everything was frozen.
    There was a sound across the desk from him, at the door.
    Devin looked up.
    A grungy-looking man in dark clothes and a long coat. Lightning flashed, revealing a detailed view of stubble and stringy hair. The man said nothing.
    Devin closed his laptop computer and stood. “May I help you?”
    The man stepped forward, through the darkness. “My name is Angelo.”
    “Like Alessandro D’Angelo?”
    “Founder of the original Firstborn orders,” Angelo responded. “We share a name.”
    “Angelo,” Devin said with a nod.
    “It means angel,” Angelo continued, moving forward slowly. “A messenger.”
    Devin buttoned his gray sport coat, smoothing the front. “You have a message?”
    Angelo stopped just in front of the desk. “You’re walking into a trap.”
    “You called me on my phone,” Devin said. “You told me the same thing then, and I’ll tell you the same thing now.”
    “The Thresher will be unleashed,” Angelo said, eyes unblinking. “If you do this thing, greater evil will result than any temporary good you might do.”
    “I can’t help that,” Devin said unapologetically.
    “You don’t understand!” Angelo shouted suddenly. “None of you understand!”
    “I’m not entirely certain you understand what you’re saying.” Devin leaned forward, bracing himself against his desk. “But I’ll be certain to take your concerns under advisement.”
    Angelo seemed to crumple, hands twitching in some kind of repetitive tick as he pulled at his long hair. “I see it coming,” he said frantically, not looking at Devin. “I’ve felt it happening. I’ve watched it happen.”
    Devin stood, reaching for his phone. “Do you require assistance, sir?”
    Angelo shrieked to himself.
    “Do you require a doctor?”
    “You can’t do it,” Angelo said again, continuing to pull at his hair, delivering a blow to his own forehead.
    “Do you want me to walk you to the elevator?” Devin asked, patience getting thin.
    Angelo began muttering to himself under his breath, none of the words audible or coherent.
    Devin looked the man over. He was crazy. Completely insane. A raving lunatic.
    He snapped his phone open and walked toward Angelo. “You need help, Mr. Angelo. I’m going to make a phone call to an institution I think can help you.”
    Devin approached, setting a hand on Angelo’s elbow—the only legal place to touch a person in an unsolicited manner— and moved to lead him toward the door.
    Angelo stopped muttering and twitching. He stood up straight, facing Devin, looking him in the eye—noses