Badges

hear you say that. Part of the reason for me asking is that you’re going to be assigned to another agent who is up to his or her ears in case work and won’t have a lot of time to hold your hand. Now that’s not to say they won’t take the time to show you the local ropes and what you need to know to do your job, which can only come from on the ground here in Orlando.”

    “Understood, sir. Will I be assigned to a male or female Agent?”

    “Does it matter?”

    “Not really. I just thought for my first field assignment, I would be better placed with a male to get me started.”

    “Why is that?” John asked.

    “I know it sounds silly, but I would tend to have more confidence around a male agent in the first few months of acclimating to the job. If it is a female agent, no problem, sir; I’ll make it work.”

    John walked over to his desk, pulled the duty roster from his inbox, and looked it over. “As luck would have it, Agent Capparell, you are being assigned to Special Agent Winfield Coulter, who has been with the bureau for fifteen years. Does that meet with your approval, son?”

    The new man stood and said, “Sir, please don’t think I’m going to be trouble for you. I guess I shouldn’t have brought it up at all.” He glanced down at the floor.

    “If it affects your job or how you might perform on your job, you did precisely what you should have done, and I make no judgment on your request. Now, you should have processed in before meeting with me, correct?”

    “Yes, sir, I’m ready to get my desk and get started.”

    “Come with me,” John said with a smile.

    They opened the door and left the office to find Ruth.

    “Ruth, would you get our new agent here a desk and whatever else he doesn’t have? Then get him with Agent Coulter, his field partner as of now.”

    “Yes, sir, I’ll take care of everything.”

    “Thank you, Ruth.”

    John shook hands with the agent again and went back into his office. He walked over to the coffee pot and poured himself a fresh cup. As he mixed in the cream, he looked out of his office window at the new agent and decided he liked what he saw.

    Capparell had coal-black hair, green eyes, and the body of a twenty-six-year-old recent grad of the FBI Academy, which meant it was in top physical condition. He was somewhere around six feet two inches and couldn’t weigh more than one hundred and ninety pounds. His skin was flawless, showing no signs of ever having pimples terrorize his face.

    When John felt something move in his pants, he realized he was looking at his newest employee with eyes that were not the eyes of a supervisor. He returned to his desk to cease the process of undressing the man with his mind. As the Church used to teach him, “Custody of the eyes.”

    The rest of that first day was consumed by the routine of a typical FBI field office, and before John realized it, the end of the workday had come. He reversed his steps from the morning and was in his car and on the way home with the air conditioning humming away, keeping the interior and John cool from the oppressive August Florida sun.

    Entering his home, he was met by his well-trained and well-loved German shepherd, who was always glad to see his daddy.

    “Hello, boy! You been a good boy today and not destroyed the house?” John said, only half kidding with the excited canine. “Wanna go out?”

    In answer to that question, Max immediate danced around on his hind legs and then dashed to the back door. John caught up with his four-legged companion and let him out, then adjusted the air conditioning down a couple of degrees. Taking off his jacket, gun, and shield, he hung them in the front closet.

    Without Max, the house would have been a very empty and lonely home for John after losing his partner of twenty years to cancer. Hard to believe it had only been three years. He opened his refrigerator, looked in, and found the same old crap that was always in there. He absolutely hated grocery shopping, and any excuse to avoid it was taken with glee.

    Unable to stomach anything that was in his own refrigerator, he picked up his house phone and hit the number one button on speed dial.

    “China Garden, how can I help?”

    “Chen, this is John. Would you send over the usual, please?”

    “Right away, sir, thank you.”

    John hung up the phone and let Max back into the house. He knew from experience that he would have twenty-five minutes from the time he hung up the