“So, what does Port City Industries do exactly?”
“Well, we do a few things. We are in the manufacturing business mostly.”
“And you do all of that here in the U.S?”
“Yes, we do everything in the U.S. No labor force or plants in other countries.”
“Wow, that is pretty rare these days.”
“It is and it is still a family business albeit a large one and some of our employees have been with the company for generations. I wouldn’t dare take their jobs away just to save a buck on a bolt or something.”
“That is very impressive.”
“Yeah, it shouldn’t be. It should be the norm.” The coffee machine indicated it was done and I got up to get the coffee.
“Let me help.” Mac offered again, standing.
“I’ve got it.” I smiled.
He sat back down.
“So, what sort of things do you make?”
“We make components for various engines. Large engines. We have a lot of defense related contracts especially with the Navy for various components to ship engines. We don’t make the whole thing; we just provide integral pieces. We then send them to the shipyards for the final assembly.
I returned and handed him a cup of coffee. I brought over the caddy of essentials from the counter sweetener, non-dairy creamer and stir sticks.
“And now you’re branching out into the medical field?” Mac inquired between sips of coffee.
“Yes, to manufacture the components of a prosthetic and provide them to the hospitals. Same general idea, we will make the parts and someone else does the final assembly.” I paused for a sip of coffee in an effort to control my senseless rambling. “That’s the business side of it and I want to help wounded veterans.” I added.
“You seem to feel pretty strongly about that; do you have someone close to you that was wounded in that way?” He wanted to know.
I blinked at him. I wasn’t sure how to answer. “The short answer is, yes.” I said deciding to be honest just not too honest yet.
“I’m sorry to hear that, I do too.”
I looked at him in surprise. Although I don’t know why I knew he had been a marine. So of course, he was bound to know people who had been injured. “Someone you are close to?”
“Yes.”
He too was being vague. Fair enough. “I see.”
“So, your idea wouldn’t help someone after they lost their limb, correct?”
“Correct, the prosthetic is a replacement of the internal components of the limb so that from the outside everything looks normal, skin, hair etc. A replacement limb after the fact would be more of a robotics thing.”
He nodded. “Do you have a degree in this field?”
“No, it was developed by a doctor I met. If it gets accepted and implemented, then I will hire Dr. Klaus full time and we will hopefully start helping more people.”
He leaned forward in the chair.
“You mean you’ve already tried this on a human?” He looked surprised.
“Yes.”
“Wow, how did it work?”
“Very well, actually.” I smiled more at the secret that the success story was sitting in front of him.
“Are they able to use the limb normally?”
“Oh yes and you’d never even know they had an implanted limb. Well, except for maybe the scar.”
“Amazing.” He leaned back in his chair looking thoughtful.
“Well, yes, actually it was. It took some convincing of the doctors at the time.”
“You must be very persuasive.”
“I don’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”
He laughed. “I bet not.”
I shrugged not willing to venture down this particular rabbit hole. “How’s the coffee?” I asked hoping to change the subject.
“Not bad for hotel coffee.” He smiled. He had a warm and charming smile that reached his eyes.
“Tell me a little more about you.” I said.
“What is there to tell? I am a marine and I work for NCIS.” He smiled.
“Okay, how long were you in the marines, do you see any combat, what unit were you in? Besides being an agent afloat and now the director what else have you done, how long have you been the director, and do you like it?” I sat back after my litany of questions.
He raised his eyebrows at me and sipped the coffee. “Okay, wow.”
I smiled.
“Yes, I saw combat in the marine corps. I was a sniper.”
I involuntary drew in a breath. A sniper. Those guys, at least in our unit, were hard core and our heroes.
“What?” He paused.
“I have a lot of respect for snipers.”
He nodded. “Being the director is okay, but it really wasn’t my idea. I got saddled with being the interim director and then your grandfather talked me into staying in the position.”
I nodded. Grandpa could be very persuasive. “He wouldn’t have asked you to stay in that role if he didn’t believe you were good at it.” I reassured him.
“Being good at something and enjoying it are sometimes two different things.”
“So, tell him you don’t like it.”
“I have.”
“And?”
“He laughed and told me to suck it up.”
“That sounds like him. That is a front for what he is really thinking. If he told you that it was because he didn’t or couldn’t tell you why he needs, you in that role.”
“Maybe.” He sipped his coffee.
“So, what don’t you like about it?” It was my turn to lean in and hang on his every word.
“I don’t like sitting behind a desk all day. I miss being out in the field.” I could see it in his eyes that he did truly miss it.
“Well, if you want, you’re welcome to come over and kick in my door and demand coffee if you need the adrenaline rush.”
He laughed a genuine laugh. I liked the way it sounded. “I could ruin a lot of doors.”
“I think I know a couple of people who could probably fix them.” I laughed.
“So, you’re headed back to Gates Point.” It was more of a statement then a question.
“Yes.” Was all I could manage to say.
