A chapter one, randomly chosen
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Fall 1995
Chapter One
“Good morning. My name is Dr. Oliver Bradford,” the man said into a microphone on his shirt. “I am a psychologist who specializes in delayed stress and anti-social behavior. I am here today by request of Dr. Maggie Hudson to interview Captain Brian Ridley.” His eyes went to the young man in uniform seated across from him. “Brian is a combat veteran and is the sole survivor of a horrific event. This session is being taped via video and audio.” He paused. “Now, Brian, can you tell me a little about yourself and why you are here?”
Brian Ridley’s eyes rested on the casually dressed, middle-aged psychologist sitting in the high back leather chair across from him. He hated these mandatory psych reviews with the random non-soldiering doctors. There was no way this man could even begin to comprehend the things that he had done, the things that he had seen…The things that he was even thinking, let alone feeling. It was a waste of everyone’s time, but regulations were there for a reason. Like this room they were meeting in.
It was a secure observation/interrogation room that was made up to resemble an office with a window with a view. But according to regulations, Brian could not meet with a psychologist such as this one without escort so he knew that was no window —it was a two way mirror. But what was even more curious to Brian than a mock office, though, was the fact that the psychologist was not using Brian’s numeric identity when addressing him. What new tactics were these?
While Brian’s mind was processing, he also knew the psychologist was expecting an answer and Brian was weighing the pros and cons of playing fair with the doctor or turning the tables on him. Given the implied importance of the interview, he decided to play fair. Still, without even shifting or clearing his throat, he responded in his slow Texan drawl, “As a condition of my promotion, it is necessary for me to have a mandatory hour-long session to evaluate my continued mental well-being.” There was nothing more to be said.
“Good,” Dr. Bradford nodded then waited for Brian to continue. When Brian didn’t, the doctor prompted, “So, the fact sheet I was given says that you are twenty-one years old. Is that correct?”
“Yes, sir,” Brian acknowledged.
“How can you be a twenty-one-year-old captain?”
“I am not at liberty to say,” Brian responded. He knew the answer didn’t please the psychologist.
After several minutes of silence, Dr. Bradford leaned forward, folding his hands first. “Brian, if you and I are to be friends, if I am to help you, you have to help me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Brian acknowledged again.
“Ok,” the doctor sat back, looked at his notepad, took the pen out of its holder, and scribbled some notes. “Let’s try a different route. Tell me about Atlas Valley,” the doctor’s eyes now rested on Brian. “I can only imagine the weight that incident has left on your shoulders.”
Brian temporarily studied the cardigan-clad psychologist across from him. Interesting, Brian thought, knowing that this was another attempt to debrief him, to draw out further details about the operation in question – to answer the “Million Dollar Question” of what “really” went on in Atlas Valley eight years ago. Usually, the interviewers danced around the question. This man, however, got right to the point. But Brian knew this man didn’t have clearance to know the answer as there were very little who did.
Seven years ago, when Brian was able to submit his after-action report, he had told them every factual detail that he had recalled. Obviously, he had left gaps in his report because there were periods he couldn’t account for and questions he couldn’t answer. What else could they expect? He was the sole survivor of Atlas Valley – a military operation that had turned into a massacre.
When Brian didn’t answer, the doctor frowned and looked down at his notepad. “As you mentioned before, this session is mandatory for you,” he looked up and watched Brian’s uninterested look. As the doctor waited for a response, he studied the young man, trying to make sense of what he saw before him. When they told him he was going to meet with Brian, he had envisioned a large, chiseled, muscular man who held murder in his eyes and hatred in his soul. He had expected gruffness and tattoos, impatience with a challenging lack of respect, and the inability to sit still. A man with no empathy, plenty of superficial charm, and a love for manipulation.
Yet this young man exhibited none of that. The young officer’s uniform was worn to the exact “T” of military regulation. His black boots were polished, his uniform starched and pressed, his hat was even perfectly creased where it should be, its brim to the perfect arch, as it sat on the table beside him. His short hair was dark, his face freshly shaven, and his eyes revealed no emotion. Scars were visible on his face and neck, faint enough to avoid attention but visible enough to evoke the psychologist’s curiosity. He was not a hulk in his build, either. In fact, Brian’s looks were deceiving as he looked like a regular, normal, run of the mill soldier. He was not toying with the doctor, wanting to make a good impression, or attempting to be charming.
The doctor tilted his head. “It says here that you have an excellent memory with a wide knowledge base. Can you elaborate, Brian?”
Brian looked past the doctor as he studied the room, his expression not changing. He wasn’t going to tell the doctor he actually had a near eidetic memory or that he had spent the majority of his life studying – Studying history, war, science, medicine, geography, weaponry, languages, and a slew of other fields of study including psychology. His peers had called him the “Walking Book of Knowledge.” It was an exaggeration, but he had understood what they had meant. Brian had never gotten to go to school – traditional school, that is.
At the age of four, he had been put into an orphanage until he was placed in a very private boarding school called the Hayes Military Academy, which was run by a rigid retired PsyOps military man named Colonel Warren Hayes. Hayes was operating a classified training program that studied how military training affected children. All of the participants in the program were troubled orphans from all over the world who had committed repeated violent crimes and were beyond rehabilitation. The goal was to “reprogram” the troubled kids and channel their “talents” for the benefit of the world. Brian had been the only child in the program who hadn’t been an offender. He was placed in it under “special circumstances.”
Dr. Bradford frowned at Brian’s unresponsiveness. “You do understand that I cannot help you unless you interact with me, Brian. You understand that?”
“Yes, sir,” Brian said.
“Do you care to answer my previous question?” the doctor asked.
“No, sir,” Brian replied.
Dr. Bradford let out a sigh. He sat forward and allowed his hands to emphasize his points. “Brian, your commanders are concerned that you are suppressing your emotions by not talking about your years with Oscar Company. They would like to see you open up about what happened prior to your release from active duty, before your reinstatement. That includes anything that happened to you at Atlas Valley.”
He looked at Brian and saw the captain’s calm gray eyes fixed upon him, which made Dr. Bradford suddenly shift uncomfortably, a sense of intense fear taking hold of him. It wasn’t Brian’s calmness that made him fearful, but rather the overwhelming sense of stillness and confidence that radiated off the captain – the sense that Brian was perfectly in control of the room because he had already figured out at least six different ways to kill the doctor with random objects in the room. Dr. Bradford had heard rumors about Oscar Company.
Sure, he had thought they were just wild claims, even conspiracy theories, just like everyone else had, but learning that the rumors were true, that such a clandestine unit did exist — he had been horrified. Yet here he was, face to face, with an entity that Oscar Company had created, and Dr. Bradford was afraid. He was fearful and he was terrified because of what he thought Brian could do to him yet his curiosity about Brian’s psyche outweighed his emotions. Why wasn’t this young man a textbook schizoid? Why wasn’t he displaying all the psychopathic tendencies he should be? Was Brian just that good at hiding the violent demons within? Or was he manipulating the doctor? Deceiving him? Dr. Bradford decided to take on another approach.
“Do you think about harming yourself?” The doctor raised an eyebrow.
“No sir,” Brian responded.
“Do you think about harming others?” Bradford tried again.
“No sir,” Brian said again.
“But you are an assassin,” the doctor said in a factual manner. “You kill people for a living.” The doctor’s hands gestured as if he were weighing two items.
Brian said nothing simply because answering the doctor could cross that fine line of confirming or denying his own existence in the world at large.
The doctor furrowed his brow, wondering why Brian wasn’t responding. He decided to take another approach. “How do you feel when you take a life?”
Brian tilted his head, a slightly inquisitive glint in his eyes at this doctor’s tactics, but still said nothing.
The doctor now gave a slight, but unintended, smirk. “You are thought of as a monster, are you not? A feared creature of death…,” the doctor didn’t finish his question because he saw Brian’s eyes focus solely on him, seemingly studying the doctor’s face, eyes, demeanor —as if Brian was memorizing a target. Bradford suddenly felt intimidated and deeply regretted asking that question so, hoping the fearful squeak was not in his voice, he said instead, “Let’s skip that. Um. Okay. Do you suffer from any anxiety, rage, or any other feelings that you would like to talk about today, Brian?”
“No, sir.” Brian didn’t like how this man continually used his first name as if they were equals or as if the man was a familiar acquaintance. From how the man shifted under his gaze and the nervous behaviors he exhibited, Brian knew this psychologist was afraid of him. He knew that Dr. Bradford had been told the very short paragraph of unclassified details about Oscar Company and, as with anyone who had heard those details, he knew the man was wise to be afraid of him.
Brian had done things in his short life that caused people to fear him, things at which he excelled. They were horrible things done in the name of war. He was known by reputation, and yes, the doctor was correct — he was considered a ‘monster,’ and all who knew what he was steered clear of him.
Had Brian known a different life, he would take insult, but he had known no other, and he honestly didn’t care what others thought. He was doing his job, doing as he was ordered, and required no recognition or accolades for it. He knew the difference between right and wrong, friend and foe, friendly and combatant, armed and unarmed. Oscar Company was the culmination of the program at Hayes Academy. Colonel Hayes had pitched his program to the highly classified military unit often referred to as ‘The Firm.’
Dr. Bradford shifted again as time ticked away. All they had done so far was sit in silence. “How is your sleep, Brian? Do you suffer from any nightmares?”
“No, sir,” Brian said.
“What are your dreams like?” the doctor asked.
“I often cannot recall,” Brian replied.
“And the ones you do recall?” Dr. Bradford perked up.
“Walks in the park,” Brian responded, seeing the doctor look surprised. It wasn’t true as Brian’s dreams were more like mission briefings and debriefings with his mind filing and analyzing. Could those even be considered dreams? Brian didn’t feel he could trust this doctor with any information so he shrugged and didn’t elaborate as the doctor had hoped.
“I understand you have a terminal disease,” the doctor finally brought up one of the curious bullet points he saw on his notepad. “How does that affect your job performance, Captain Ridley?”
Brian raised his eyebrows over the change in tactics of the doctor. It still wasn’t the proper way of addressing Brian, but it was a step closer in the correct direction. “It doesn’t,” he responded and decided to reward the doctor with more information by adding, “I perform all of my duties and orders to my fullest ability.”
Encouraged by the response the doctor ventured further, “But isn’t it incurable?”
“Hence the designation of ‘terminal,’” Brian thought that part was obvious.
“Does it bother you?” Bradford prodded. “I would imagine knowing that there could be a sudden end is concerning. It would certainly bother me.”
Brian knew he had to give the man something more, just to show whomever observing this exchange that he could ‘cooperate’ with all of the effort it took the Firm in getting this doctor vetted to talk to him. “No. I’ve accepted my mortality, Dr. Bradford. Being a part of Oscar Company played a large role in that acceptance,” Brian responded easily.
The truth was he lost his fear of death when he was a child and replaced that fear with respect. At the Hayes Academy, they were taught how to grieve and how to move past loss. Life was fragile and he’d be the first to acknowledge that. He could tell his response brought more questions to the doctor, but before the doctor could ask them, Brian looked at his watch and said, “Doctor Bradford, if you have any other questions for me, please ask them. It appears we have only ten minutes left.”
From the next room, General Tom Ridley gave a humored smile. He had been watching the entire session from behind the camouflaged two-way mirror as Brian could not be left alone with a contracted psychologist, regardless of why the psychologist was there or the security clearance the psychologist was given. Dr. Bradford was the best in his field; studying delayed stress amongst soldiers since the early 1980’s and was used by the Veteran Administration. He was highly recommended, accustomed to secrets, and had the proper clearance to work with the military. However, Dr. Bradford had never encountered the Firm – or Brian -- before. Nobody did or would likely again.
Brian was Tom’s son by blood. The events leading to how Brian came to be at the Hayes Academy, and later part of Oscar Company, were not events of which Tom was proud. He regretted every choice he had made in regard to Brian up until Brian was fourteen. It had been serendipitous, too, that Brian had been unknowingly assigned to the division that Tom commanded.
Nepotism played no part in Brian’s career advancement – he had earned that all himself. Tom had only ever personally overseen that Brian receive the medical treatment he needed, that he had regular visits with his doctor, and that he was reconnected with family. Other than that Tom had little say or options. Even though he got to interact with his son often these last seven years, Brian had a difficult time acknowledging Tom as a father figure.
Beside Tom, Senator Samuel Stafford III watched intently. Sam was the longtime liaison for the Firm and sat on the Board that oversaw the Firm’s direction. Sam had spent his life in the military as well as the Firm. Besides his political duties, his purpose was to keep the Firm the top secret, highly classified operation that it was designed to be. Sam’s grandfather had been one of the nine founders of the Firm, as had Tom’s father.
Sam focused on the scene before him, his arms folded across his chest, watching Brian carefully. Sam liked the young captain. He admired him. Although he had never liked the idea of Oscar Company, he had seen the wisdom behind it. Oscar Company had worked like clockwork up until Atlas Valley and even then, Sam wondered what could have been done to change the outcome. He was the only member of the Board that knew Brian as a human, rather than his designation of ‘249, Oscar, Classified: Top Secret Weapon.’
Standing next to Sam was the woman who helped change that view. Colonel Maggie Hudson had her dark brown hair pulled into a bun at the base of her neck and was dressed in the green camouflage military uniform. Her blue eyes watched intently as she calmly took notes in a notebook. She had been assigned to Brian when they brought him in from Atlas Valley. She was both a medical doctor and a psychologist and she had been horrified when she discovered the age of her patient. She gave an earful to the first high-ranking officer she found, which happened to be Tom. Tom liked her passion right off and assigned her solely to Brian.
Maggie helped Brian recover from his physical and mental wounds. She had become more like a mother to him over the years and was the only long-term maternal figure he had known. He even referred to her as ‘Mom,’ first as a joke then as a nickname. As she had told him, it was an honor to be considered his mother.
Sam spoke. “I do see remarkable improvement in his manner toward the doctor. Having the doctor not refer to him by his number has thrown him off… and dare I say intrigued him? It is obvious that 2-4-9 needs to be called by his given name more often by us. And yes, I can see your point, Hudson. He isn’t quite ready to be dropped into the civilian world without more preparation and interaction with people. There’s something missing still.”
“As it has been mentioned before,” Maggie replied, “he adapts quickly to situations and is extremely observant. He suffers from no disorders or compulsions, other than what the Program has put into him that is. The isolation during his years as a Horseman and a Hell Hound were mixed blessings. Yes, they made a better warrior, but they didn’t do much for social skills. However, I believe that if we introduced ‘normal’ people into his life slowly, he will be able to take on any social situation as if he were ‘normal’ as well. I’ve seen tremendous growth since he has been placed with his own blood relations the last few years.”
“So you believe he can mimic their behavior until he realizes how to naturally behave,” Sam clarified and got a nod from Maggie in return. He nodded too and continued, “Because him passing for ‘normal,’ at this point, is important. We want him to be forgettable to those he contacts, not memorable because of quirks.” He drew in a breath and relented, “I do understand that he has the disadvantage of a reputation that precedes him with the Firm. That reputation must remain under wraps.”
Sam fell silent and carefully watched the interactions between Brian and the doctor before he looked at Maggie. “So he’s safe? It’s not going to come back and bite us in the ass if he relapses and imagines he’s in battle? Sure, in a controlled situation, like the Firm, we have structure for him to follow…But how would he do, say, in a grocery store?”
Maggie raised an eyebrow. “Solo or supervised? He has interacted in supervised situations with his nieces and nephews of all ages at various school functions. He has navigated common areas while supervised as well. We have not had authorization to take him off post. We also have not had authorization to allow him to attend socials. He has successfully interacted with and completed other branch’s advanced training programs, semi-supervised and with no incidents. However, I do find it important to clarify that while he has not been unsupervised among civilians outside of his relatives, I am confident he would be successful with civilians in civilian situations, first under supervision then eventually solo.”
“Since you brought up relatives, do you believe he has established personal feelings for his family?” Sam looked at them. “And if so, do you have any doubts as to whether that will affect his future performance on the battlefield? Knowing he has family at home?”
“I believe he has developed feelings for his family,” Maggie nodded. “I do believe he does experience familial love, and that he will fiercely protect his family, if only out of moral obligation. He knows the dangers out there so I believe that would make him fight harder to protect their safety and well-being.”
Sam nodded satisfied with her answers before looking back to Tom. “Tom, what do you think about the captain’s progress?”
Tom had been watching the psychologist’s further attempts to talk to Brian, knowing full well that Brian knew what was going on here and had the doctor figured out. He turned to Sam. “He is a top soldier, an excellent leader, and one amazing warrior. He has always been at the top of his class, at the top of Oscar Company, and has done nothing but continue to exceed our expectations. He knows the difference between right and wrong, has a straight moral compass, and does what is right for the mission. He has successfully passed all training programs and modules that you asked him to do over the last three years without hesitation or questions. He is the kind of officer and soldier that the Firm needs and the kind that I would like to have beside me in battle. I have no qualms about my recommendation.”
“And his health?” Sam turned his head slightly. “Any concerns there?”
Tom frowned. Tom had many concerns about Brian’s health, but he wasn’t going to voice them all officially on record so he said, “As Colonel Hudson has stated, it would be advisable to reopen the search for a civilian doctor who specializes in Brian’s condition. It’s been several years since we ran a search, but medicine is always moving forward at a rapid pace. We need to have knowledge as to what 2-4-9’s condition is, whether it is worsening, and what kind of time frame we have before he can no longer do this.” The thought both gutted and terrified Tom. He drew in a breath and stated, “Otherwise, his health doesn’t affect him as often in these later years as it did when he was a child. He does have occasional episodes, but he has learned to push through the pain and the incapacity it brings him. Whatever Colonel Hudson recommends in regard to 2-4-9 has my full and unwavering support.”
Sam nodded and then asked, “When was his last medical episode?”
“Eight weeks ago,” Maggie replied.
“On a scale of one to ten, how bad was it?”
“It was a solid nine,” Maggie frowned. “The past three have been progressively more intense, but the time in between medical episodes has been longer.”
“Recovery time?” Sam asked.
“Five days to one hundred percent,” Maggie responded quickly.
Sam nodded thoughtfully. “Five days from the time it starts or the time you stabilize him?”
“From the start.”
“Is there a pattern so that we can foresee an episode?”
“No concrete patterns. We’ve gone from averaging three weeks, with a twenty-four hour recovery when he was younger to about twelve weeks, with a five-day recovery now,” Maggie frowned. “If I was forced to say, I would expect one in the next four to six weeks. I would push to locate an actual specialist so we can find out why this is changing and why recovery requires more time when it hadn’t before. This disease is so rare, but as General Ridley pointed out, medicine and science moves fast. One such doctor may exist now.”
Again, Sam nodded, frowned then looked at Brian behind the glass before he turned and looked at Tom. “And as his father? Do you have any concerns?”
“None,” Tom didn’t even hesitate. “To him I am, and always will be his superior officer. He knows the difference, but he chooses to acknowledge only one and I accept that. This is his life; this is all he knows, and all he wants to do. He has the aptitude for it, he has the drive, and he’s a Ridley. I know he’s got it in him to make us proud.”
Sam turned back to look through the mirror, seeing Brian and the doctor sitting in silence before the doctor asked a question Brian wouldn’t answer. Sam slowly nodded, his mind churning all of the information. “Given all of the training he has had, I’m impressed with how he has interacted with Dr. Bradford. I was prepared for avoidance and utter silence.” Sam offered a smile before he continued, “The Board has discussed at great lengths what we are going to do with 2-4-9. As you know, we have some changes on the horizon, which may change the direction of what we will need to focus on. We’ve discussed the benefits of keeping him as we kept the Hell Hounds and there are several on the Board who are in great favor of that. They believe we are doing nothing more than creating a sociopath with probable psychopathic tendencies out of, well, for lack of a better word, out of a robot. They believe that he is incapable of emotions and human qualities. Others on the Board believe that he is more than a robot and recognize that he was trained differently than the other Hounds of Oscar. They believe that we can utilize his other skills and talents while keeping him in a more controlled environment.”
Sam reached into a briefcase that had been on the table in front of him and drew out an envelope. “The discussion is always on the table in regard to what we are going to do with him,” Sam continued, “but as long as the reports back to us are favorable, he remains under your command. I realize the majority of the Board has never actually interacted with 2-4-9 on more than an observation status, but his record and accomplishments do speak volumes, so that is favorable.”
Sam paused and looked at Tom and Maggie. He could tell they were worried. He sighed. “All right, I’ll put you out of your misery. Yes, the Board has reached a decision. We would like 2-4-9 to remain classified as what he is – A Level 8 Top Secret weapon.” He saw Tom frown and Maggie fold her arms. “I know his classification as an object, as a weapon, doesn’t please you but I’m not sure that will ever change – He is what we created him to be. At this point, he will be used in his trained capacity on an as needed basis and will be loaned on missions to our sister branches of the military, as well as our allies, as needed. When he is not doing that, he will be tasked with creating a sniper program for the Firm that incorporates his Oscar Company training with his supplemental training with the Army and the Marines. Next year we want 2-4-9 to complete BUDS and SQT with the Navy.” He paused then drew a breath and looked at Tom and Maggie. “We will talk about training with AFSOC if his health is stabilized by then. The last thing the Board wants is for 2-4-9 to learn how to fly anything himself. The Board would also like him to train further with other allied special forces to gain a rounded education of how they operate and provide feedback to their countries. In the meantime, the Board has seen fit to promote him to major, and transfer him, until further notice, to Fort Hope Outpost.”
Tom had realized he had been holding his breath as Sam spoke, only releasing it when he had heard the last sentence. He saw Maggie smile and Sam unfold a slip of paper, placing his name where it needed to be.
Sam continued, “Oh, and to address your concerns, Colonel Hudson, the Board does want a specialist in his disease to be pursued. I argued that it is important that 2-4-9 be thoroughly checked out before he does his allied training. I do not want an international incident should something happen because of his health. You shall remain with 2-4-9, Colonel, and continue to oversee his progress. And, perhaps to assist with that, we should start calling him by his given name, not his numeric identity, from this point forward, unless necessary. I’d like for you to be able to start introducing him into social settings so that he may learn to be ‘normal,’ as you put it, because we do need him to pass for a human. However you wish to manage that task, Colonel Hudson, is up to you and General Ridley. The Board and I can’t even begin to offer any advice as to how.” He folded the paper and handed it to Tom. “Tom, he is all yours. He has ten days to report to you at Fort Hope.” He paused and looked back through the observation window. “Colonel Hudson, I believe Dr. Bradford would like to be relieved. He looks mighty uncomfortable.”
Maggie smiled and left the room. Tom looked down at the envelope with relief then extended his hand. “Thank you, Sam.”
“Oh, don’t thank us just yet,” Sam replied and returned the shake. “He still has a lot of hurdles ahead of him and putting him into a new location is one of them. How do you think he will react to leaving Texas? He has spent the most years of his life here.”
“It’s orders. He will follow them with no complaints and adjust to Cable Glen,” Tom responded, watching Maggie enter the room on the other side of the wall and greet Dr. Bradford.
“Perhaps I should have asked how Jan will react to it,” Sam shut his briefcase then looked knowingly at Tom. “I’m sure she’ll make your life hell for it.”
“It’ll be just like any other day then,” Tom frowned, thinking of his wife. “But it’s only a matter of months now. We’re in the process of separating on paper. The divorce will be final in a few months, and she will be gone to New Mexico in June.” He paused. “We haven’t told the kids yet.”
“I was sorry to hear that,” Sam responded.
“Ah, hell, no one’s surprised, not even me,” Tom frowned. “The woman never could stand our way of life. She despised Texas and she hates Cable Glen even more… just as much as she hates my kids. Tommy’s insistence on attending West Point was the final straw because she says he is becoming more like me. I say no, that boy will be better than me. Now with Brian coming home…well, knives will fly.” He let out a deep breath. “I imagine we should thank her, though. As bittersweet as it sounds, she is part of the reason Brian ended up where he is. Between her rejecting Brian as an infant and him being so much like Julie.” He looked down at the thought of his first wife, frowned. “Well, the past is the past, right?”
“Julie was one of a kind,” Sam voiced. “She was a happy and vibrant soul, good with everyone and had a huge heart. I see a lot of her in Sydney and a lot of you in Brennan.” Sam smiled sadly then changed the subject. “So, Tommy’s going to West Point? I wish I could have written that nomination.”
“Yes, he’ll be fifth generation, but I hear you did Austin’s nomination.”
“I did. If Tommy’s fifth generation, wouldn’t that make Austin sixth?”
“I hadn’t considered that,” Tom smiled and shook his head, thinking of his grandson. “Thanks for making me feel old. My son and grandson both going to the Academy together. They’ll have their hands full there. A few of the guys I went to the Academy with are instructors there now.”
“There’s one or two that I was there with still. I’m sure both of your boys there will make fine officers. When do you think we will be getting them? We’ve got Brennan, we’ve got Brian, and we’ve got your son-in-law.”
“I’m sure we’ll get Austin first, since he’s grown up here in Sentinel,” Tom said. “But Tommy’s got some things to go through first. Jan’s his mother, remember?”
“We should’ve done a better character reference check on her,” Sam shot Tom a look.
“Hell, what woman could ever fill Julie’s shoes?” Tom asked. “I was trying to get normality back into my life. Failed miserably.”
“I couldn’t even begin to imagine being in the predicament you had been in,” Sam was empathetic. “I couldn’t have survived. I’d be the workaholic who lived at the office.” He then looked through the window. “God has His reasons, even if we don’t know them.” His eyes fell on Brian in the other room as the other psychologist left that room. “Tom, would you mind if I gave 2-4-9 the news of his promotion?”
“No, go ahead. I’m sure he’d love to hear it from you.”
The two men left the room and went next door, pausing to knock on the door. They opened it and Brian immediately rose to his feet. “At ease, Captain Ridley,” Tom acknowledged Brian’s stance.
“Captain,” Sam looked at the young man and extended his hand to Brian. “How are you doing?”
“I’m doing fine, Senator,” Brian shook his hand and met his eyes. Why were they not using his numeric identity either? Was it meant to throw him off, or was it something he needed to get accustomed to? He wasn’t sure he liked that possibility.
“Good,” Sam studied Brian for a second before he reached back for the envelope Tom had been carrying. “Captain Ridley, I’d like to thank you for all of the work you are doing for us, and a job well done on every assignment. I am looking forward to seeing your continued performance for the Firm.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Colonel Hudson and General Ridley will discuss several minor changes with you but, first, I wanted to give you these,” Sam smiled and brought the envelope up. “On behalf of the Board, I am honored to be able to present you with your orders and….” he brought out a pair of golden oak leaf pins, “your promotion to major.” Sam then replaced Brian’s captain rank on the lapels of his uniform. “Congratulations Major Ridley.”
Brian and Sam saluted before Brian accepted the plain envelope. “Thank you, sir.” For a moment, Brian stood, looking at it as he held it in his hands. He was almost afraid to open it. His future was in the envelope, and they weren’t using his numeric identity. What did that mean? His eyes went to Sam, who was grinning; Tom, who stood with a proud smile; and to Maggie who was beaming with happiness.
“Brian, aren’t you going to open it?” Maggie asked, eager to see Brian’s reaction to the news.
Brian looked at the three of them, sensing their eagerness. He took a breath as he slowly unsealed the envelope and removed the contents. His greatest wish was redemption and being sent to a combat readiness facility. He unfolded the piece of paper then immediately looked at his father with surprise and disbelief. This was not what he expected nor wanted as he saw the location he was being placed at. “Fort Hope, sir?” He wanted to be certain that’s what it said.
Tom nodded. “Congratulations, Major Ridley.”
Chapter Two
Avonlea Stone already knew she was going to regret coming on this trip. She was sitting beside her boyfriend, Connor Jones, on an airliner that had only been in the air for fifteen minutes. The morning had been rushed. He was grumpy, and too focused on all he had to do. He had spent most of the time before boarding tethered to a payphone, strategizing with his bosses over what his ‘mission’ was.
But now it was her time to have all of his attention.
And so far, that wasn’t happening. She glanced over at him as he concentrated on writing pages and pages of notes and thought about her next move.
Sure, she had been excited when Connor suggested that she “tag along” on this next business trip, which happened to be close to where his parents lived. He told her he would be staying with them, and he would love to introduce her to his mother. He also said he wanted to spend quality time with her since they had both been travelling so much during the first five months of their relationship. She was intrigued. She had never been invited to go home to meet her boyfriend’s family like this before. There seemed to be some sort of romance to it.
Since she had a clear schedule that week, he decided that it would be a good way to further solidify their relationship. Her heart had fluttered at his words, and she did feel that travelling together to meet his family would put them on a definite path in a definite direction to an eventual long-term goal.
However, if she had realized how different reality and her visions of this trip were going to be, she may have declined the offer and used her time to recharge her batteries elsewhere. Connor was focused on the appointment book he had on his lap and the files in his briefcase, now open on the tray in front of him, the sweet talk of “solidifying their relationship” long forgotten.
To Avonlea, it was as if he were sitting next to a stranger. He only looked up long enough to flag down the first-class flight attendant so he could request a refill on his scotch. The flight attendant was the one who looked past him to Avonlea and ask, “May I get you anything, Miss Stone?”
A more attentive boyfriend, Avonlea had thought but shook her head and replied, “No, thank you.” Then she focused out the window once again. She was not used to being ignored. She was Avonlea Stone, the celebrity, the star, the royalty of the movie world.
Being ignored by her own boyfriend was grounds for dismissal.
And yet, she kept giving him a chance. He wasn’t that cute or even that good of a kisser, she thought then scolded herself over it as she closed her eyes and looked out the window. “Big fat red flag, E,” she thought to herself. She knew all of the games she should play, all of the tricks to use, and the psychology to employ. She knew she should just slam his briefcase shut and start talking to him, demand his attention, put on a real good show.
But after the year she had just been through, she was finished with superficial acts and games. She wanted something real and solid; something where she could be herself and be wanted for who she truly was. Knowing that if she wanted a different outcome, she had to make different decisions. She allowed herself to be pursued by someone she wouldn’t ever date, someone who wasn’t her usual interest – In this case, a rising star of a casting agent she met by chance. She had loved the unknown of this relationship, the adventure of it, and held no regrets.
Until now.
She let out a breath, curious as to how long he would treat her like this. After all, if she was thinking of a possible long-term relationship with him, she needed to know if this was the real him, the man he truly was, or not.
So far, it wasn’t looking good for him.
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This excerpt is from The Leftover Son, book one of a series that tells a saga of very unlikely events. Want to know what happens next? Head over to Amazon and purchase in your preferred format.
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