CHAPTER 6
It was Monday morning and General Hawk was up at 0500 hours for his routine morning run. Ever since basic training, he relished the feeling that the morning activity provided for him. It was also one of the only times, that he felt like he could clear his head and have some genuine alone time. Others in his current military position would have given up the physical training years ago, but Hawk was no ordinary soldier. He was the commanding officer of one of the most important military organizations in the world. G.I.Joe was comprised of the best of the best that every branch of the U.S. military had to offer. In this capacity, he was no exception. If his recruits could do it, so could he. Over the last few years, his pace had slowed and his stride decreased, but he could still complete the course in under regulation time. His knees felt the terrain a bit more than before, but he was rapidly coming upon his fiftieth year of life, and it was to be expected. As he made his way to the top of the final hill before the base, he began to ponder the difficult task at hand. He had been in charge of the G.I.Joe team for nearly five years and he of all people understood the importance of change and progress. His team’s job was to ensure the safety of the American people and their allies worldwide. If Uncle Sam had come to the Joe team to create an anti-drug task force, then it was definitely something of extreme importance. The rulebook never specified that the threats to human life couldn’t come from a non-military source. Opioid addiction was a huge problem and G.I.Joe would need to be on the frontlines in order to help wage the war against them.
It wasn’t all that long ago that his sister had lost her son, his nephew, to painkiller addiction. Robert had been in a severe motorcycle accident a few years back while he was deployed in Afghanistan. The crash had shattered both of his legs and fractured his spine. The military doctors had given him a grim prognosis, never expecting him to walk again, but he was a strong-willed individual and after many months of recovery and rehabilitation, he eventually did. The army had granted him an honorable discharge and the Veteran’s Association had provided him with more than adequate post-surgery care. Unbeknownst to his family, Robbie had developed an addiction to his pain medication, oxycontin mostly, over the course of his recovery. He had successfully hidden it from everyone, but when his doctors tried to wean him off of the prescription meds, he found himself supplementing his addiction by other means. At first, he started by visiting various doctors under aliases and requesting pain meds, this progressed on to filling bogus scripts. Later, a close friend introduced to heroin because the pain meds were doing little to alleviate his pain. By the time anyone caught on, he had already been introduced to fentanyl-laced heroin, and unfortunately, it was too late.
Hawk fought to hold back his tears, as he sprinted the remaining distance to the base. Robbie had overdosed on the night before his twenty-third birthday just outside of a popular downtown club. When the police found his body in the dark alley behind the club, he still had a needle lodged in his arm and a small red baggie in his pocket that tested positive for fentanyl. His family was devastated, and it would take more than a few sessions of counseling before his family would come to understand what had happened to him. Robbie, like so many other prescription pain medication users, had built up a tolerance to both the prescription and the street narcotics, as he continued to self-medicate in an effort to squelch his pain. Heroin only numbed his body, but he was still experiencing breakthrough pain. This was very common in patients who had experienced severe physical trauma. Robbie’s multiple broken bones had healed over time, but he continued to suffer from extreme nerve pain. Online research led to him self-medicating with illegal fentanyl patches and eventually a more potent form of the substance sold by dealers on the streets. This dangerous cocktail of both substances was simply too much for his body to handle as the purity of street fentanyl is never consistent. If inhaled in amounts as small as two milligrams, it can stop a healthy individual’s heart.
The funeral was enormous and people from all over showed up to pay their respects. Robbie’s father and his Uncle Hawk were both military men, so there was no shortage of enlisted in attendance. Having served in the army, Robbie was entitled to a full military funeral that concluded with a twenty-one gun salute. After his nephew’s funeral services, Hawk wrote a letter to his local congressman urging them to expand the DEA and also the addiction services offered to veterans by the VA, but it seemed little had come of his request.
The drug task force continued to ignore prescription drug abuse and instead continued to devote a lot of their time and resources to the harder street drugs like cocaine, heroin, and LSD. Within a few years on Robbie’s death, NIDA (the National Institute on Drug Abuse) reported that opioid addiction was taking more victims each year than violent homicides in various states around the nation. It was a blessing when DEA Officer, Bulletproof, showed up under the direct order of POTUS. It appeared that someone in upper government had finally heard his concerns and several senators and governors in key states like New Jersey and New York were advocating to create a nationwide task force to address this new epidemic. The general felt confident that if G.I.Joe was involved, they would be helping to prevent the unnecessary deaths of other Robbies around the nation.
He hit the showers upon his return to base, and then made his way to the mess hall. His mind was still preoccupied with images of Robbie’s death and funeral services when Major Morris sat down across from him.
“Good morning General Hawk. Mind if I join you?”
Hawk nodded and offered him a seat.
Thank you, sir. I must say that I am really looking forward to the interviews. You truly have some fine soldiers under your leadership and I am thankful that so many of them are willing to be a part of the war on drugs.”
The general acknowledged the compliment and then responded with one of his own.
“We try our best major. I would like to thank you as well. Your mission is one that I hold near and dear to my heart. You may not be aware of this, but I lost my nephew, an army guy, to opioid addiction just two years ago. For all my military influence and toughness, there was nothing I could do to prevent his death. Now, I have been given an opportunity to put some of my best men and women on the battle lines, in order to get this epidemic under control. The work that you will be doing is invaluable to the health and wellness of countless citizens and for that, I salute your services”
“Thank you for that Sir. At the same time, please accept my deepest condolences for your loss. I too have lost people close to me and I can only hope that by expanding this task force, that we will be preventing many unnecessary future deaths, and getting a lot of the drug-pushing scum off the streets. It won’t be easy but rest assured General, I will do everything within my authority to make this mission a success!”
“Yes, Major Morris, I know that you will, and with some of my finest men and women joining your team; I only hope that you will be able to do it quicker and more effectively.” The sincerity in the general’s voice spoke volumes. “Now, if you could excuse me, Major, there is one other thing I need to see to before the interviews start.” Hawk stood up, straightened his top coat and saluted. The major returned the gesture and then the general was off through one of the side exits.
Bulletproof finished his breakfast of eggs and bacon and continued to peruse his files. He looked up at the clock on the wall, he had just forty-five minutes before the selection process would begin. Always aware of time restraints, he got up and returned his tray to the slop box, then made his way outside to call his wife.
The line trilled. Once, twice, and on the third ring, the familiar sound of his best friend’s voice greeted him.
“Hello Earl, how are things going? Did you get a good night’s sleep? I swear, I will never get used to you being away so many days and nights. I sure am glad that we don’t have any small children, but Rufus sure misses you. That dog is so devoted to you. He sits for hours just staring at the front door with his leash in his mouth waiting for you to come walking through.”
He loved his wife dearly, but boy could she talk. Half of the time, he never even got to respond to her questions, but it was nice to hear her voice, and he sorely missed her and her home cooking. Lenore’s warm buttermilk biscuits and country-fried chicken could run circles around the processed eggs and government bacon that he just endured. And his wife was a saint. She kept their house immaculate and the gardens in bloom. When he was home on leave, she would even freshly grind the coffee beans for his morning brew. She one of the last of a dying breed, nothing really bothered her for more than a few minutes and she had a unique way of putting a positive spin on even the worst circumstances.
“Everything here is going well, and I have interviews scheduled with some highly skilled candidates within the hour. I miss you, baby, squeeze the puppy for me, and I promise I’ll be home soon. I love you.” He barely got out his last words, before she started telling another story.
“Whiskers, you know, the Romero’s cat. I caught him digging up my award-winning begonias again. Maybe that’s---” There was a slight pause. “Oh…O.K. darling. I love you too. Be safe and call me tonight if you get the chance.”
Without waiting for his response the phone line clicked. The whole conversation had taken only four minutes, but it was four minutes that he deeply cherished. He flipped his phone shut and then proceeded to make his way back into the building. After a brief stop in the latrine, he walked down the hallway, up two flights of stairs and then into the waiting area for the war room. He was early, but two well-groomed Joe team members in military dress uniforms were already signed in with the secretary and patiently awaiting their interviews. The first officer was perusing the latest issue of Blue Frontiers, while the second man was enjoying the comics in the daily newspaper with a large Rottweiler sitting near his feet.
“Good morning gentlemen.” Both men immediately dropped what they were doing and stood up to salute.
“Good morning Sir!” The two answered in unison.
“At ease soldiers. I will be with each of you shortly. Am I addressing Lieutenant Junior Stone and Sergeant Perlmutter?” The two men nodded. “Excellent, I can’t wait to speak with both of you. Please take your seats and relax. I will have Lieutenant van der Ness call for you when we are ready for you inside.”
He then reached for the doorknob and entered the private office. He crossed the room and thought to take a seat at an iconic-looking, ornately-carved, wooden desk, but decided instead to take a better look around the room. The desk’s etchings included the crest of the United States which was depicted by a bald eagle with spread wings grasping thirteen arrows in one claw and an olive branch in the other. Two large American flags stood at the opposite corners of the room behind the desk, and three large oil paintings adorned the walls. General Eisenhower’s portrait hung on the left, while General George S. Patton’s portrait hung on the right wall. A third oil painting hung on the wall behind the desk. This one was of a man he did not recognize. He stepped behind the desk in order to read the gold plaque fastened beneath it. The engraving read: General Joseph Colton, a Real American Hero.
He had heard of the man but previously did not know what he looked like. His stoic expression matched those captured on the faces of the other two famous generals. A world map adorned the surface of a second desk off to the left side of the room, and there were six high back leather chairs available for seating in different areas of the room.
The War Room had a stately feel to it, but at the same time seemed quite humble. The chairs had already been positioned so that two were behind the main desk and a single interview chair was stationed in front of it. He sat down in one of the fine, red leather chairs behind the desk and placed Lieutenant Junior Stone’s open file on the desk before him. A few minutes later, General Hawk entered through a previously concealed door on the right.
The Joe commander had since changed into his finest dress uniform that highlighted his three-star status. His gold buttons, cufflinks, and shoes were polished to perfection, and his military bars were perfectly mounted. This was the one element of his position that he disliked. Give him a flak jacket and looser fitting fatigues any day. The hype of a fancy uniform really just made him feel a bit awkward, but the President had insisted upon it, so he complied.
“Good morning General Abernathy, long time no see. I see that this room shares some of the secret architecture of the Oval Office”
“Yes indeed, we try to keep people guessing. So, welcome to my humble office, Major Morris. I’ll be ready to start whenever you are. Could I interest you in something to drink before we begin? I can have the lieutenant bring us something.” The clock on the wall indicated that they had ten minutes before their first scheduled interview.
“A pitcher of water would be wonderful. I am prepared to start the interviews now, but I did have a question for you.”
“Absolutely. How can I be of service major?”
“I was curious as to your level of involvement in this process. Will we be tag-teaming, or is the dialogue mostly left in my hands? If you will be playing the second chair, Sir, I would very much like to see your interview questions so that we can avoid any replication.” General Hawk smiled and was more than happy to answer the request.
“Major, I have already interviewed all of your candidates prior to them joining G.I.Joe. My place on the panel is a formality mostly. I may interject if I feel it necessary, but my plan is to be a casual observer. If you would like to consult about the candidates after their interview, I am more than willing to offer my insights then, but these are Your interviews, and the room is yours to control. Should I have Nadine get our beverages and then send in our first appointment?”
“That sounds wonderful. Thank you, Sir.”
General Hawk pressed the intercom button on his desk and waited for Lieutenant van der Ness to respond.
“Yes, General.”
“Hello, Lieutenant. Could you please fix me a cup of coffee and get a couple of waters before showing in our first candidate, Lieutenant Junior Stone?”
“Absolutely sir.”
The secretary stood up and made up a tray with several glasses, a cup of coffee and a pitcher of iced water. She disappeared briefly in the other room and then reappeared in the doorway to call for LJ Stone, who promptly stood up and followed her into the conference room. As the well-dressed member of the Coast Guard approached the desk, both members of the review board rose to salute the candidate. After the exchange, Major Morris asked him to have a seat.
“LTJG Stone, it is a pleasure to meet you. Your resume is nothing short of spectacular, and I am impressed with your service record, but all that aside, can you give me one good reason why I should select you for this task force over all the other qualified candidates?”
The question caught the Joe team veteran a bit by surprise. He had expected to answer questions about his time in the service and on special missions with the G.I.Joe team, not to simply come up with a reason that made his service to the country better than that of his teammates. He pondered the question for a moment, and then thoughtfully responded.
“With all due respect Sir, I do not feel that I am better than the other candidates. However, I do feel that by working together with other qualified members of the team that we all contribute to making each other better. An efficient machine is just a combination of well-placed parts. I feel that I could be a valuable asset to this team due to my experiences patrolling the open seas with the Coast Guard. I am also an adept sailor with thousands of logged nautical hours operating the various watercraft employed by all branches of the military. Over the past twelve years, I have also been involved with at least two dozen major drug seizures, and just knowing that I played a part in getting some of that smack off the streets, has been very fulfilling.”
The 0-2 seemed satisfied with his response and continued to lean forward in his chair while he awaited his interviewer’s reply. The major’s body language did little to indicate whether he found the answer to be acceptable.
“How are you at taking orders soldier?”
Skip chose his words carefully.
“I can be a bit smart-lipped at times Sir, but I always do what’s in the best interest of my team. I would also like to inform you, sir, if I could, that prior to my enlistment, there were no members of the Coast Guard on the Joe team. I felt this to be an extreme oversight and did all I could to ensure that I would be the first G.I.Joe team member to represent the Coast Guard. I mention this only because I feel this accurately demonstrates my determination and commitment to the service of this great country.”
“Yes, I do believe I read that in your resume, and I understand that there are now... several other Coast Guard members on the active roster?”
General Hawk briefly chimed in at that point.
“No, that is incorrect Major Morris, Skip is the one and only Joe team member hand selected from the United States Coast Guard.”
“Oh, I am mistaken. I apologize. Thank you for that General. In regards to your other comment Mr. Stone, I can deal with a little smart-assedness in a soldier, but I also need operatives who can think on their feet and are not afraid to question orders, if the need arises. Can I count on you to be that metering rod if needed?”
The veteran servicemen nodded in agreement.
“Good to know. I will be making my final decisions by the close of business tomorrow, but I do have one additional question for you.”
“Absolutely Sir.”
“Did your parents love you as a kid? I mean come on, who in their right mind names their son Skip A. Stone?”
Cutter snickered at the remark, but if it really bothered him it hardly showed. He leaned back in his seat and crossed his left leg over the other.
“Listen, Earl, one four-letter first name holder to another, who looks at a cute little baby boy and names them Earl? Seriously? It’s an old guy’s name, and I honestly can’t think of one other person with your name, but I promise Sir, I won’t hold that against you.”
Bulletproof laughed at the quip and was quick to make a notation on the candidate’s resume.
“Thank you LTJG Stone, that will be all. Please exit through the side door.”
Skip rose from his chair, saluted and exited as instructed.
“Well, what did you think of Skip, Major? To be honest, I had a similar response when looking over his resume yesterday. It is a rather unrealistic name, but I checked his birth certificate and it is legit. Although I am a bit surprised that he didn’t mention his father, Brick.”
The major could do little more than roll his eyes.
“No, I’m serious.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt you, General Hawk. I like him, and I have a good feeling that he and I will get along just fine. Could you ask Nadine to see Sergeant Stanley Perlmutter in? His resume left me with a favorable impression.”
General Hawk pressed the intercom and requested that Sgt. Perlmutter is shown in. When the door opened and a well-dressed army officer accompanied by a rather large and imposing Rottweiler walked in, the name on the resume immediately made sense. Both gentlemen stood to salute and after the candidate returned the gesture, Major Morris inquired as to why the sergeant felt the presence of the dog was necessary.
“Sgt. Perlmutter, do you mind explaining the presence of your pooch at this interview?”
“Sir, I’m a K-9 officer, and Junkyard and I are a team. Ole Junk here has been trained to sniff out narcotics and is also adept at identifying gunpowder residue and finding cadavers. I wouldn’t think of joining this task force without him at my side, and he’s very loyal. He’d be heartbroken if I was asked to join this team and he couldn’t be with me.”
Major Morris took in the spectacle and considered Perlmutter’s response. He admired this candidate’s resume and his devotion to his animal partner simply reinforced those positive vibes. The sergeant had a shining resume, having been a K-9 officer and dog handler in the army for close to fifteen years prior to joining the G.I.Joe team.
Major ‘Bulletproof’ Morris satisfied with the explanation, then asked the same question he had asked LTJT Stone.
“Sergeant Perlmutter and Junkyard is it?”
“Yeah, that’s my boy! Good ole Junkyard.”
The rottweiler’s ears perked up at the mention of his name, but he remained seated alongside his partner’s chair.
“It is a pleasure to meet you both, and your resume is nothing short of spectacular. I must say, I am impressed with your service record both in the Army and with the G.I.Joe team, but can you give me one good reason why I should select you for this task force over all the other qualified candidates?”
The dog handler thought it over for a moment and then looked down at his trusted companion, Junkyard. I sir, am no better than any of the other candidates, but when you put Junkyard at my side, I can now hear and smell things that many other people cannot. This, in turn, allows me to be a specialized member of the entire outfit. At the end of the day, I’m just a soldier, but give me a team and a common cause, and I become so much more.” He reached down and pat his faithful friend on the head. “Oh, and most people tend to like Junk here a little better than me. He’s the life of the party.” He then scratched the rottweiler behind the ears. “Isn’t that right my best buddy?”
The major took note of the candidate’s response, but his stoic expression gave away little.
“So Perlmutter, which one of you has fleas?”
Bulletproof was making a joke, of course, to gauge his reaction, but he wasn’t quite sure that his interviewee got it.
“Well, I guess we both would since Junk and I sleep on the same bed, but we both switched to a new flea shampoo last week, and I gotta say, it’s been working great. Haven’t had a single itch since!” Junkyard barked once indicating his approval.
The three of them all got a chuckle out of the response.
“O.K. Mutt, I will be reviewing your application and we will be notifying everyone as to our final selections by the end of business tomorrow.” As he awaited some type of response to the nickname, the sergeant simply nodded in understanding.
“I appreciate this opportunity to further serve our country. Oh, and weren’t we supposed to not use code names?”
“That is correct, sergeant. Thank you for coming in and could you please exit through the side door?”
“Of course Sirs. Come on Junk.”
He then stood up, saluted the pair and with K-9 in tow headed out the door.
After he exited, Bulletproof looked over to General Hawk.
“Let me guess, He didn’t flinch at my nickname because you guys already call him that.”
“Oh, did you think you were being creative? Yeah, the Joe team already beat you to it” General Hawk was quick to offer up.
“Is it because of his last name, general?”
“No, actually it’s because he has a tendency to act like a dog.” The major grimaced a bit but went with it.
“So who’s scheduled next?” Hawk inquired.
“I’ve got Hector Delgado and then Thomas Larivee.”
“I’ll buzz for Delgado.”
The major nodded his approval. When the door opened, General Hawk did a full-on double take. The Senior Chief Petty Officer was seldom seen in full dress blues, even though he almost always wore his Dixie hat and U.S. Navy issued blue pants. He had also neatly trimmed his beard and mustache. He stopped at the front of the desk and waited for the other two officers to stand before saluting. General Hawk was the first to speak.
“Major Morris, I present Senior Chief Petty Officer Hector X. Delgado.” After the three saluted, the Navy veteran sat down in the chair provided, but it was evident by his actions that he was uncomfortable being in full uniform, as he scratched at his pants leg, tugged at his shirt collar, and fidgeted in his seat.
“So Mr. Delgado, do you mind if I call you that instead of Senior Chief Petty Officer? It is a bit of a mouthful.”
“You can call me anything you want, just don’t call me late for dinner. You know what I’m saying?”
The sailor laughed at his own joke, but when the panel didn’t respond in turn, he offered up a more sincere reply.
“My friends call me---” he paused before continuing, remembering that code names were to be stricken from the interview process. “Hector. They call my father Mr. Delgado. That’s if I actually knew my father, what with me being adopted and all.”
The major did not find his sense of humor appealing and found his voice and mannerisms to be slightly grading as well, but he pushed past his initial impression and moved on to his first question.
“So Hector, your service with the Navy has been--- a bit spotty at times. According to your file, it seems you have a little bit of a problem with authority. Care to comment on that and why I should look past that and still consider adding you for this task force?”
The sailor was hardly surprised that Major Morris had gleaned this information about him, and had completely expected it to be brought up during his interview.
“Well Sir, I wouldn’t necessarily say that I have a problem with authority. I would say that I am not afraid to question authority which can... result in me being perceived as outspoken and even rebellious.” As the Navy officer continued his explanation, a rather odd thing occurred. A medium-sized, green and yellow, squawking parrot flew through an open window on the side of the room and landed on his right shoulder.
“Oh, sailor boy, awk! awk! awk! Why so dressed up?”
The bird then followed up with a shrill sounding wolf whistle.
“Quiet Polly, I’m kind of in the middle of something here. I told you to stay put.” The sailor quickly pinched the bird’s beak shut.
“Is there a problem Hector? Is this parrot a friend of yours?”
Hector looked at Polly.
“Yes and no Sir? Polly and I have been together a long time and even seen combat together, but sometimes, he doesn’t listen when I tell him to remain in the room. He clearly suffers from separation anxiety.”
The parrot squirmed free of his grasp and hopped onto his other shoulder.
“This sailor has definitely seen some action! Awk! Awk! Awk!”
The animated parrot’s wolf whistled only exaggerated the point.
“Listen, birdbrain, you’re not helping me here.”
If Senior Chief Petty Officer Delgado’s voice wasn’t irritating enough, the parrot’s incessant squawking certainly wasn’t assisting his cause.
“Perhaps you could send the bird away?” Bulletproof seemed anything but amused by the situation.
“Alright Polly, you need to go back to the room pronto, or I’ll be reserving you a room right alongside old Davy Jones himself. Now scram-o!”
“Awk! Awk! Shiver me timbers! Shiver me timbers! I’m leaving. Awk! Awk! Awk!” The vexing little bird alighted from his shoulder and quickly exited through the same open window.
“I’m sorry Sirs, Polly means well. Could we possibly start over?”
“That won’t be necessary. Mr. Delgado, I appreciate you stopping by and I’ll be making my decision by the end of business tomorrow.” Although a bit crestfallen at the comment, he stood up and promptly saluted both members of the review panel. “You’re dismissed, soldier. Please exit through the side door.”
“Thank you, Sirs.” As he turned away from the two, he promptly unbuttoned and loosened his collar. Then walked out of the room.
“What was that all about?” Major Morris inquired only after the door closed. “I assure you major, Hector is top-notch, but you have to take him with a grain of salt. He means well and would be the first to put his neck out on the line to save any member of this team. He is at the top of a short list of soldiers that I would request to watch my back.” General Hawk was quick to defend Hector’s character, but could also understand Bulletproof’s trepidation in choosing him as a member of the DEF.
“I value your opinion general, but I was really not expecting that spectacle. His resume had a few question marks which I was willing to overlook but. . . I’m really not feeling his overall personality.”
“Shall I call in the next candidate? We are running a little ahead of schedule so if you need a break, that would be fine.” General Hawk motioned to the clock on the wall.
“No, I’m good with bringing in the next possible recruit.” Hawk pressed the intercom. “Nadine, could you send Mr. Larivee in please?”
“At once general.”
When the door opened a sharply dressed African-American Army Sergeant walked in. He promptly saluted before reaching the desk which elicited a bit of an awkward salute from the two men behind the desk.
“At ease sergeant. Please have a seat and then we can get down to business.”
Thomas Larivee sat comfortably before the two ranking men, even bringing his right leg up and over his left knee. To a casual observer, his posture exuded confidence and poise.
“So Sergeant Larivee, I have been looking over your service record and must say that statistically speaking, it’s possible that you may have saved more lives on the battlefield than any other army medic ever known. Two medals of honor, a bronze star, and a purple heart. That sir is quite impressive! Especially considering that you were in the army for a mere eight years”
If the army sergeant felt any pride, he certainly didn’t show it. He sat quite comfortably and seemed to shrug off the compliment.
“Simply doing my job Sir. I wouldn’t be a very good medic if I was in a habit of leaving my injured teammates on the battlefield to die. War isn’t pretty, and it’s my personal responsibility to prevent the deaths of my brothers, by not only patching them up on the field but also by ensuring their safe arrival at a legitimate military hospital.”
The sergeant’s humility and lack of pride thoroughly impressed Major Morris to a point where he almost ended the interview there, but he decided to ask his question anyway.
“Well Sergeant, I thank you for your service and devotion to healing those in need, but can you give me any other reason why I should pick you for this task force over all the other qualified candidates?”
Thomas Larivee made sure he had the major’s undivided attention before answering. Once satisfied that the major and general were tuned in to him he began.
“Because quite honestly, I need to help others and people are safer if I’m there to help. I also have had experience dealing with the drug epidemic and have been trained to recognize the signs of a drug overdose and to administer Narcan if necessary. My medical background makes me the perfect go-to person for recommending substance abuse counselors and programs to those in need.”
Sergeant Larivee never took his eyes off the major for the length of his response. As much as the major was judging his character, the sergeant was doing the same exact thing, watching for any micro expressions that might indicate that his interviewer was not as dedicated to the cause as he wanted others to believe. Sergeant Larivee detected no signs of deception and remained calm, cool and collected.
“Well thank you, sergeant, for your time, it was a pleasure meeting you. I will be making my final selections by the close of business tomorrow. Please be sure to exit by way of the side door.”
The army medic nodded in acceptance and even managed to smile before standing to once again salute the panel. This time, he waited for both men to stand before performing his salute, and then walked confidently out of the interview room.
“Well major? What do you say to a muffin and a cup of joe? Our next interviews are not scheduled for at least twenty minutes.”
The general had asked Nadine to set aside twenty-minute blocks for each candidate since he was unaware of the major’s interviewing style. After observing the first four, he did begin to notice a pattern.
“That sounds like an excellent idea. When have you ever known a cop to turn down coffee and a pastry?” Bulletproof laughed and then they both enjoyed a quick chuckle as Hawk buzzed for Nadine.
Lieutenant, could you bring in two fresh cups of coffee and some muffins?”
“I’ll have them into you momentarily Sirs.” and the intercom switched off.
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