And the guy was just too fucking pretty. He looked like a fucking movie star. That was what really tipped the scales. It just pissed the overworked, in his opinion, desk manager off.
“No,” Jason said, handing back the form.
“This is the proper paperwork, yes?” the man asked, blinking.
“That is the proper paperwork,” Jason replied. “But I’ve got authority to deny those. So… No. Goodbye.”
Vil considered the little man for a moment. He was puzzled. He was fully aware that most people outside of Georgia did not know who the Kildar was. That, in fact, the Kildar would prefer to keep it that way.
But he also knew, because the Kildar had told him, that the authorization was at a very high level. He should, by rights, have been terribly obsequious, perhaps not even asking for a bribe. The Kildar had told him the man would not ask for a bribe and that Vil should not offer, that that would cause problems. But there were problems.
“I would like to make a call,” Vil said, pulling out a cell phone.
“Fine,” Jason said. “Call whoever you’d like. The answer is still no.”
The guy was still looking confused. He had a weird accent, maybe German or something. Maybe he would have understood “Nyet” or “Non” or whatever. Let him call whoever he wanted. SOCOM might think it was hot shit but it pulled no weight with the U.S. Marshals Service!
“Pierson.”
“Colonel Pierson, this is Vil Mahona. I am one of the Kildar’s—”
The guy was talking Russian so Pierson responded in the same language.
“Team leaders,” Pierson said. “You’re on an open line, Vil.”
“Yes, sir. I apologize for that. Sir, I am having a difficulty. I have been tasked to obtain five vessels for the Kildar’s use from a facility in the town of Hollywood, Florida. You are familiar with this facility, yes?”
“I am familiar, no,” Pierson said, smiling. “But I can figure it out. Go on.”
“The desk manager has refused my request,” Vil said. “The Kildar has assured me that I have proper paperwork and the man even admitted that to me. But he still refuses. I am wondering if I should offer him bribe?”
“No,” Pierson said definitely. “Don’t. Don’t ever offer an American official, police or soldier a bribe. That’s like… That’s like saying a Keldara is a coward. Let me speak to him.”
Now the guy was babbling in a foreign language. What the fuck were foreigners doing asking for his boats?
The guy finally stopped and held out his phone.
“This is colonel,” the man said. “He is wishing to speak to you.”
“I’ve got a billion other things to be doing,” O’Connor said, but he took the phone. “What?”
“It’s customary to state your name when you answer a phone,” whoever was on the line snapped. “I just want to get this straight. You were presented with a requisition. Was all the information you normally require present?”
“Yeah,” O’Connor said. “But I don’t know who this fucker is, I don’t know who you are and I’ve got authority to deny and I’m invoking it. So you can go revolve on your little stool as far as I care, Colonel.”
“You’re Marshals Service, right?”
“Yeah. We’re not fucking Army, we’re not fucking Marines, and we’re not your God-damned boat dealer.”
“Just checking,” the man said. “Give the phone back.”
“Vil,” Pierson said. “Where are you?”
“The Hollywood Florida Central Governmental Surplus Repository,” Vil said, reading it off the form.
“Just as a matter of interest, what are the authorization code and security code on the form?”
Vil read them off and got a read back.
“The security level on that is Ultra Blue?” Pierson said. “For real?”
“Yes, sir,” Vil replied.
“And he kicked it back?” Pierson snapped. “Is he fucking insane?”
“You come to my understanding of the situation,” Vil said, sighing in relief. “I feared it was me or that I did not understand.”
“Oh, I so have some calls to make.”
“You still here?” Jason asked.
“I am, sir,” Vil said, closing the phone. “I shall be for a time, yes.”
“Then wait outside,” O’Connor said, gesturing with his chin. “I’ve got paperwork to do.”
“Yes, I will,” Vil said, picking up the form.
“We are getting the boats?” Sergejus Shaynav asked.
“There is a problem,” Vil said. “I have presented it to Colonel Pierson. If it is not to be resolved, he will call us back.”
“I have never driven a boat,” Viatcheslav Devlich said, nervously. “I can barely swim.”
“We are the Keldara,” Vil said. “McKenzie has told me the words to the Song of Remembrance talk of the days when we were feared warriors in boats. The Vikings, yes? We’ll figure it out. How hard can it be?”
“How long do we wait?” Viatcheslav asked.
“Until dark,” Vil said. “Then we call the Kildar for further instructions.”
However, it was barely thirty minutes until a government sedan pulled into the yard and a tall man wearing a Marshals Service windbreaker got out. Unlike the man in the office, the newcomer was wearing a gun and badge on his belt although he was in civilian clothes.
“Which one’s Vil?” the man asked, walking up to the group.
“I am,” Vil replied.
“Gimme a minute,” the man said with a sigh.
Jason sat up and tried to look busy as the regional supervisor walked in the room.
“Sir, it’s good to see you!”
“No, it’s not,” the RS said. “Pack up your personal stuff and go home. You’re on unpaid administrative leave pending termination.”
“What?” Jason said, his face going gray. He felt like he was going to faint. He was going to faint.
“You are too fucking stupid for words, do you know that?” the RS said, angrily. “Did you look up that guy’s security classification? I won’t even get into the authorization.”
“Yes, sir,” O’Connor said, suddenly realizing how truly he had screwed up. “But it was listed as Need-To-Know.”
“Well, keep in mind that if you whisper this in your next job, you’ve got a one way ticket to Marion, Illinois,” the RS said angrily. “But an Ultra Blue security classification can only be issued by the National Security Council. And since you’re too stupid to probably know what that is, let me make it clear. They were authorized to draw on your equipment by either the President, the Vice President, the national security advisor or the secretary of Defense. The good news is that it only got up to the level of the commandant who called me. So the President has not heard about our little fuckup. But I’ve now got to explain to the commandant why I had a shit for brains like you working this desk.”