In a spacious modern office decorated to the finesse degree wealth and influence could afford, Connel sat behind a wide desk, raising his head to look at his sharply dressed subordinate who just got inside.
"Sir, we have finished investigating Furors Energy."
He took the document that was being held out to him, as his subordinate continued:
"They did not really put a tight lid on the information."
Connel went through the report he was holding, and held back a sneer:
"They are counting on us to foment the rumors that will soon spread."
Cunning. That was the word that flashed through the mind of the subordinate, as that was what had been analyzed by their team too, but he remained stoic and waited. And indeed, Connel spoke calmly, as he ordered:
"Then help them with the rumors. Make them even more exaggerated. They want to use the convention as a springboard, but we will dig a pit for them to fall into."
"Yes, sir."
