The Suits sat around the large conference table, which was about three times bigger than it needed to be for six people. Chief sat on one end and the Boss, who sat in a big, Boss-like leather chair, sat on the other. There was a control panel in front of the Boss, and he waited for complete silence before tapping a button on it.

Instantaneously, all the windows went from smoky to dark, and lights illuminated from above the table, highlighting each of the Suits in their seats. A big screen slowly dropped from the ceiling behind the Boss, and a projector lit up above him. In front of each Suit was a thin microphone that rose up from a small compartment in the table. 

The Boss stood up from his chair, and in the darkness the only thing you could see was his silvery vest. 

He read aloud as the screen behind him flashed the words: “Project Ching!” He paused for dramatic effect. It worked. The room was stone-cold silent. A visual of Stevie’s phone popped up on the screen. 

“I have put every last resource of this organization into capturing the Ching,” the Boss said in a quiet, controlled voice that cut through the darkness like a really sharp knife. “It is the most powerful device in the world. If we don’t capture the Ching, our organization will cease to exist.” 

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