“The problems were so severe that had the Service not been created, the number one superpower we now know may have been more like some of the poorer South American countries.”
Cutler leaned against the windowsill of the quarters as he listened intently to the history lesson.
“To undermine the North and to be able to purchase weapons, the South produced counterfeit American notes. The South was not alone; some in the criminal fraternity employed those who had used their skills to help the South after the war.
“For the new United States emerging from the bloody Civil War, it was believed that up to half of all currency in circulation was counterfeit. It weakened the power of the dollar and the standing of the country itself.”
Rockman poured himself and Max each a small brandy and took a sip before continuing.
“It was in 1901, following the assassination of another president, William McKinley, murdered in Buffalo, New York, that the Secret Service was tasked with its second line of operation. That duty was the protection of the president, for which it is now so well known.
“However, I am trying to recruit you into the counterfeiting unit, known as the CU. That is, if you agree to join us, and you pass an in-depth selection process.”
Rockman stopped talking and quaffed the exquisite Napoleon brandy in his glass.
Rockman, the Secret Service recruiter, had certainly done his research. The criteria laid down by the powers above for selection were stringent and challenging, both physically and academically. No criminal record was permitted; even minor misdemeanours would mean failure, and the interview would not have gone ahead.
Cutler had been sent for a medical exam the month before. He thought it was to do with his football, as it was his coach who had sent him. He felt it had been unusually thorough, and now he knew why.
“You have been pre-assessed and have a clean bill of health, and as far as we can judge, you show no present physiological or psychological problems. You have excelled at athletics, have no eyesight or hearing difficulties, and are physically fit. You would be able to withstand the same physical rigours as a US Marine, which you will need to, to pass selection.”
Rockman did not need to pick up the report on Cutler that was sitting on the desk. Rockman knew this background report verbatim; such was the time he had spent over the years managing others to groom into the Service.
Unbeknown to Cutler, John Redmond, his year third year mentor, was a psychiatrist, who had been evaluating the young Max Cutler at each session he had attended. Paul Edelman, his football coach, was not only part of Rockman’s recruitment team, but monitored radicals that often walked the same career and educational paths of ordinary citizens. Karl Horst, Max’s law mentor, had been a part-time code breaker for the Service for over forty years and was instrumental in Cutler getting the Saudi placement.
Both Rockman and Cutler now stood by the professor’s open fireplace, the warmth filling the room. Rockman looked straight into Cutler’s ice-blue eyes and said in a calm voice, “We have been keeping a close eye on you, Max. We think you have the skills required to pass selection and progress to becoming an agent.”
Whatever Cutler had been expecting, it was not that.
“I don’t know what to say, Mr Rockman. One minute I am enjoying a graduation drink with my professor, and the next I am being asked to enlist in the Secret Service. Why me?” Cutler asked.
Rockman bent down and placed a log on the fire before continuing.
“We only take on the smartest of the smart; men and women who are adaptable, brave beyond brave, so patriotic that they piss red, white, and blue, can adapt, change plans, and make decisions instantly. Are you made from that material?” Rockman asked. “Clever and patriotic, Cutler?”
“I’m as patriotic as the next man. I love my country, sir. As for being brave, I do not know. Brave is a word. Is it brave to run at the line-backers? This certainly isn’t the bravery of a typical soldier in Iraq, so unless you can define brave, I don’t know. I’m able to adapt quickly, but again, how long is a piece of string?” Max replied.
“Smart answer and you’ll probably only find the answers through time, and your actions and reactions to circumstances. Cutler, we have an excellent profile on you, and we think you can cut the cloth, so to speak,” Rockman retorted.
Cutler turned and went to the window overlooking the courtyard where graduates were enjoying themselves with families, friends, and lovers.
“I don’t mean to be ignorant, but I have no idea what you expect from me. My life has been academia for the past few years.”
Rockman sat down, filled his glass with more Napoleon brandy to just over the halfway point, sniffed the contents, and downed the contents in one gulp. He replied, “What would be required? Well, not wanting to keep you away too long from your family downstairs, let us see if I can give you a brief synopsis. New agent trainees are initially sent to the Federal Law Enforcement Training Centre in Glynco, Georgia, where they enrol on the Criminal Investigator Training Program. This ten-week course is designed to train new federal investigators in such areas as criminal law and investigative techniques and provides a broad foundation for agency-specific training.”
Rockman was now on a roll, with his back to Max, looking into the fire as he continued.
“Upon successful completion of the Criminal Investigator Training Program, new agent trainees attend a seventeen-week Special Agent Training Course at the Secret Service training academy, outside
