Hawk cocked his head to one side. “Yeah, about the Cowboys—”
“Oh, no. Don’t you dare tell me you gave up your love for America’s team too. If you tell me you’re a Patriots fan, I’m gonna—”
“Let’s just table this discussion for now. I can see this devolving to the point where you try to tell me Stephanie Jackson wasn’t the cutest girl in the seventh grade.”
“It was Jennifer Preston,” Ray said.
“See what I mean,” Hawk said.
They both laughed and concluded the good-natured argument with a series of high fives and fist bumps.
“So, did you talk to your boss today?” Hawk asked, abruptly changing the conversation.
“I did.”
“You didn’t tell him my name, did you?”
“Of course not, Hawk. I know how to be discreet.”
“Good because I’m going in with a new legend. I can never be too careful these days with Michaels on my tail.”
“Will you have everything in place by tomorrow at noon?”
“Of course,” Hawk said. “Is that when he wants to meet?”
Ray nodded. “He told me he’s always open to meeting new recruits, especially ones that are trained well.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate your help. All I can ask for is a chance.”
“Now it’s up to you to impress him. And let me tell you that Oliver Ackerman isn’t easily impressed. But if anybody can do it, I’m sure you can.”
* * *
HAWK AWOKE EARLY the next morning so he could check for any correspondence from Alex. He wasn’t surprised to find a complete dossier workup for a former Navy Seal named Chuck Pearl with his picture attached. With an exemplary record that would impress but not overly so, Hawk’s new legend seemed like a cinch to land him a job with Ackerman’s security firm. Hawk printed out his prepared resume and then backtracked to eliminate his digital footprint.
The sound of the printer whirring was loud, so much so that Ray stumbled out of his bedroom and into the hall.
“What’s going out here?” Ray asked as he squinted and rubbed his eyes.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Hawk said. “I was just gathering a few things for my interview today.”
Ray grunted and marched back to his room.
Hawk studied his resume, reading and re-reading it until he felt comfortable with all the details. In concocting the cover, Alex had left as many things as possible close to the truth. Hawk grinned as he perused all the points, amazed at Alex’s attention to every element she included. Though their relationship wasn’t of the traditional or normal variety, he appreciated how Alex not only knew her way around his files, but she also knew little nuggets about him that made his dossier feel more personal.
Alex also included an entire file about the sport of cricket for Hawk to study. She noted that Ackerman was a big fan of Kieron Pollard, one of the stars for the Mumbai Indians in the Indian Premier League. Pollard was from Trinidad, where Hawk spent a few weeks one summer as a teenager rebuilding homes ravaged by a recent hurricane.
“It’ll be a great talking point,” she wrote.
Hawk agreed and did his best to catch up on the T20 version of cricket, which had supplanted the traditional test version of the game.
Cricket that doesn’t take five days to finish a match? No wonder the sport is suddenly becoming popular the world over.
Hawk immersed himself in the files to the point that he almost lost track of time. A gentle nudge from Ray snapped Hawk back into the present.
“You ready?” Ray asked.
“What time is it?” Hawk looked up and asked.
“It’s eleven-thirty. We need to get going. If there’s one thing Ackerman hates, it’s tardiness.”
Hawk retrieved his resume from the pile of documents he’d printed out earlier and stood up.
“Let’s do it.”
During the car ride to the office, Ray gave Hawk as many pointers as possible, warning him about the potential pitfalls and taboo topics.
Once they arrived, they both went through a security screening that included a metal detector. Ray went first and seemed to have a good rapport with one of the guards, chatting about the previous day’s Yankees game. Hawk followed but remained silent except when questioned.
Stay under the radar. Be forgettable.
Hawk reminded himself that this position was a means to an end, the kind of end that could lead to getting his life back if managed properly.
Ray gave Hawk a cursory tour, which consisted of a brief look at the company’s warehouse, which was loaded with weapons and surveillance tech.
“Impressive,” Hawk said. “You guys look like you’re ready for an all-out assault from Iran.”
“If it comes to that, we’ll be adequately prepared,” Ray said with a sly grin.
Ray led Hawk upstairs into the suite of offices, gesturing toward the couch.
“Have a seat while I let Ackerman know you’re here.”
Hawk complied and scanned the room. A handful of women keyed in numbers at their computer terminals, while several men scurried about the room, piling up documents on the desks. The pale walls remained bare, with the exception of a few framed motivational posters about success and excellence and victory. To Hawk, the office appeared about as sterile as possible, a corporate entity without a soul.
When Ray emerged from his boss’s office, Ackerman followed suit.
Wearing a grin that Hawk deemed disingenuous, Ackerman offered his hand to Hawk. The two men shook.
“Mr. Pearl, I’ve heard some wonderful things about you from Ray,” Ackerman said, chomping on a piece of gum. “Please, let’s talk in my office.”
Hawk nodded and strode toward Ackerman’s office.
“Have a seat,” Ackerman said as he slipped in behind Hawk and closed the door. Walking around to the back of the desk, Ackerman sat down and leaned forward, his hands clasped.
Hawk settled into his seat, sitting upright.
“Did you bring your resume with you?” Ackerman asked, holding his hand out.
Hawk gave over the documents.
“Complete with references and their contact information, I hope,” Ackerman said.
“Of course. It’s all right there.”
Ackerman remained quiet for a moment as he perused the papers that
