Chapter Seven #2
“I had one. But after today, I’m rethinking it.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“So your background is numbers, and my background is boots on the ground. Being in the Navy but working on the green side as a Marine medic gave me the hands-on field experience we need, particularly for our fast-action responders. I’d like to focus on that team first. My work for the Navy was gratifying, and serving is my calling in life.
Having said that, there were a lot of pieces that made my military career shorter than I had anticipated, and they might apply here. ”
“Give me two off the top of your head,” Neesa said.
“For women, there are safety issues and sanitary issues not faced by men.”
“Right.” Neesa leaned forward and picked up her pen.
“There are normal health issues and personal injuries. For our people, I think we need to consider morale issues as our people deal with the psychological effects of seeing how devastating Mother Nature can be. PTSD. Our people aren’t dealing with war.
War is a government choice. The events our fast-action crew deploys to internationally are out of the blue.
Male and Female, newborn and frail with age, all impacted in the middle of living life, suddenly having all their resources destroyed.
It takes a toll on those in the field. Then there’s the idea that you have to jump off at any minute, right?
That’s not something we did in the military.
Maybe for a special forces group, they might get a call, and snap, they’re gone.
We had time to plan and wind things up.”
“But our people get the call out, and whatever was happening—tickets to the big game, dad in the hospital, wife in her ninth month of pregnancy—they have to grab their jump bag, race to the plane, and fly to somewhere in the world for some amount of time.”
“Exactly,” Rylee said. “Mail, plants, pets, clothes at the dry cleaner, you have to have that all planned for in advance, all the time.”
Neesa laid her pen back on the desk. “It’s a particular type of person we’re looking for. Someone who’s down with all that.”
“A very small population. And we want them for us. Other groups want that unique demographic for themselves. So there’s a competition for that small field.
The more we form a cohesive, supportive family, the better.
But a questionnaire won’t do it. It’s standing shoulder to shoulder that will get us our answers.
” Rylee reached up and scratched her scalp.
“So I had two ideas. One was to talk to Hailey Stapleton, sorry, Sterling now. Hailey Sterling. Since she left us to work for Iniquus Logistics, she told me they have a whole program to support families when their Iniquus operator gets called out. These support workers go in and fill the need. I’ll give you a for instance: When Hailey’s husband is out of town, her yard work is done, her car is cleaned and repaired, if she’s sick, someone’s there cooking and cleaning and tending her, this group picks up the day-to-day load that Ares would shoulder if he were around.
Does it replace Ares? Absolutely not. But it doesn’t force his family labor onto her shoulders.
That helps Hailey, and Ares is content knowing that his wife is being cared for by the Iniquus family.
ISO, she calls it, an Iniquus Support Officer. ”
“Honestly,” Neesa said, “I’d much rather allocate money to help keep our people than spend it on recruiting and training while we watch the rotating door spin.”
“We don’t know those needs, and we don’t know if that would move the needle.
So I was going to propose that I train with a few of the Fast Response folks and deploy with them—not to do their job but to observe and ask questions about their experience.
I don’t want to be what we call in the military a ‘good idea fairy,’ someone who sits in the office and thinks they know better than boots on the ground. ”
Neesa pursed her lips. “I don’t think your deployment is a good idea. Not with your health issues.”
“Tingling fingers and toes. It’s not advancing past that yet. I’m good.”
“Are you?” Neesa canted her head. “Seriously, Rylee, are you?”
“Today, yes. Tomorrow?” She shrugged. “But I could always start and see. I can pull myself out if necessary. This isn’t a vanity project.
I’m not going to endanger anyone, let alone myself.
By the way, our team that was down in Colombia is coming in.
I told them to rest and catch up with their personal lives, and we’d see them Monday for a debrief.
But I already reached out to Lima Team, and tomorrow I’ll join their evolution, fast roping out of a helicopter. ”
“Rylee, no.”
“I know how. I did it for years, remember?”
“That’s—"
An urgent knock sounded at the door before it cracked open for Sun Yu to stick his head in.
“We have a problem.” The lawyer said, sliding his slight frame into the room, shut the door, and leaned against it like he was holding back a gale.
Both Rylee and Neesa dropped their feet to the floor, put their shoes back on, and shifted into professional postures.
“Murphy, the leader of the team coming in from Colombia, called from the airport. The Secret Service has detained three people from that team.”
“No shit?” Neesa gasped. “Secret Service? But why?”
“They had a counterfeit scent K9 sniffing people as they got off the plane. Three of our team had counterfeit money on their persons.”
“That doesn’t make them counterfeiters,” Rylee said. “That means they were the victims of a counterfeiter.”
“The Secret Service agrees. They aren’t accusing our people of anything.”
“So what’s the problem?” Neesa asked. “Give the special agents the fake money and be done with it.”
“Apparently, it’s more complex than that.
The Secret Service is requesting a meeting.
I had the CEO and CFO on a conference call with Kumar Singh, one of the Secret Service special agents on this case.
We all agreed that their team should come here and meet with you tomorrow morning at nine o’clock. ”
“Who is the ‘you’ in that sentence?” Rylee asked. “Both of us?”
“The CEO said Neesa, since she’s the money side of the shared operations directorship.”
“Good, because I’m going to be jumping out of helicopters.” She sent a searching glance toward Neesa.
Neesa caught Rylee’s gaze, then turned to Sun. “Yeah, that’s fine. Anyway, I can help, I’m glad to. I’ll catch Rylee up after her evolution.”
“Hey, Sun, was this fake money on their persons?” Rylee asked.
“It was mixed in with WorldCares cash straps. The three had the banded money in their carry-ons and said they were never out of sight, per our rules.”
“Mixed in with, like in our bands?” Rylee asked.
“That’s my understanding.” Sun hadn’t moved further into the office but stayed there pressed to the door.
“The Secret Service wants to bring their K9 tomorrow to sniff through our vaults to see if this has happened in the past. It’s possible that we might have sent the teams out with the fake currency.
Somehow, we might be the distributors rather than the recipients. ”
“Mixed in the straps?” Neesa said. “I certainly don’t break the band and look at each bill when I inventory them back in the vault.”
“I’m trying to wrap my head around this one. You said the Secret Service detained them?” Rylee asked.
“They are detained,” Sun said.
“Do we have someone over there supporting them?” Rylee asked.
Sun shoved his hands deep into his trouser pockets. “We sent counsel.”
“No criminal charges, though. Right?” Neesa asked.
“Right now, our people are in full cooperation with the Secret Service. They’re showing documentation: the money they were given, the money they spent, and the money that’s coming back. Unfortunately, we send them out with hundred-dollar bills.”
“Hundred-dollar bills are what we always send,” Neesa said.
“Hundred-dollar bills,” Sun nodded, “are the denomination of U.S. notes that are the most popular for counterfeiting in the world.”
Rylee leaned forward. “And a dog smelled this? The dog is the one saying these bills are counterfeit.”
“That’s right,” Sun said.
“Did anyone follow up on what the dog alerted to? I mean, were they counterfeit?” Rylee pushed despite Neesa’s scowl. “I’m serious. What if our people just had bacon grease on their hands, and that’s what Fido was sniffing? This could be a nothing burger.”
“It’s a something burger,” Sun said.
Rylee lifted her eyebrows. “Because?”
Sun shifted off the door and grabbed the knob. “Because the Secret Service said it’s a deluxe burger with all the fixings.” And he walked out.