"We're not interrupting your day, are we? Because if we are we could just do this tomorrow."
"Sorry, Director. Traffic."
Selena sat on a couch in front of Harker's desk, next to Ronnie Peete. She'd left the loft before him. Nick sat down next to her.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey."
"Yah t'a hey, Nick," Ronnie said.
Ronnie was Navajo, raised on the big reservation. He looked as though he could have stepped out of a Frederick Remington painting, although Remington probably wouldn't have painted his subject in a bright Hawaiian shirt. He and Nick went back a long way, to Iraq and Afghanistan and the jungles of Colombia. Both had been Marine Recon before they'd come to the Project.
Selena had never been in the military. She'd had found herself recruited into the Project almost by accident. What she lacked in military experience she made up for with plenty of skills that filled out the team. An expert in ancient languages, she was athletic, smart and independent. She was also rich, a legacy from her uncle. His death had brought her to Nick, Elizabeth and the others.
She was two inches shorter than Nick's muscular six feet and sixty pounds shy of his two hundred. Her eyes were an unusual color, mostly violet, sometimes blue. There was a dark mole above her lip. Her hair was feathered back on the sides, longer in back, a natural reddish blonde. One of her cheekbones was a little higher than the other, giving her face an attractive, asymmetric appeal. Selena moved with unconscious ease that hinted at her athletic ability. Like Nick, there was a hint of something feral about her, something held in check. She looked as if she could explode into motion in an instant.
Elizabeth said, "I have a candidate to replace Lamont," Elizabeth said.
"Big shoes," Ronnie said. "Feels weird not to have him sitting here."
"No one fills Lamont's shoes. If this man works out he'll bring his own."
Lamont Cameron had been badly wounded on the last mission, enough to convince him it was time to quit. It was the first time a core member of the team had decided to hang it up, a reminder that they were all getting older. It was becoming harder to stay in shape for what they had to do. Harder to survive people trying to kill them, which happened with unpleasant frequency.
"What's his name, this candidate?" Nick asked.
"Diego Ramirez." Elizabeth pushed a folder across her desk. "Here's his jacket."
"What's the short version?"
"Rangers, Special Ops. Two tours in Afghanistan, one in Iraq. Purple Heart, Bronze Star with V."
"What outfit?"
"75th Ranger Regiment."
"Those guys are good," Ronnie said.
"When does he get here?" Nick asked.
"This afternoon at 1300. I want you to begin with him right away. Get him oriented. Test him out. I want a full evaluation in three days. If you want him, we'll make it official. He's not happy about coming here. I know he has the skills but I don't know if he's got the attitude we need to be a good fit."
"Sounds like a challenge," Ronnie said. "How old is this guy?"
"Twenty-seven."
"A kid," Ronnie said.
"Rank?"
"Staff Sergeant."
"That says a lot at his age," Nick said. "Is there anything else, Director? If not, we'll go get things ready for him."
"No, that's it for now."
Outside the house, the three of them looked at each other.
"A new guy," Selena said.
"Army," Ronnie said.
"This is going to be interesting," Nick said.
CHAPTER 3
"Here he comes," Ronnie said.
Ronnie, Selena and Nick stood outside Project headquarters waiting for their new recruit. A shiny red Dodge Challenger R/T came toward them down the drive. Dust rose behind it.
"Moving right along. You can tell something about people from the kind of car they drive," Nick said.
"What does his car tell you?" Selena asked.
"He thinks he's a hotshot. That car has almost 500 horses."
"My old Mercedes had more than that," Selena said, "before the Chinese trashed it. Does that make me a hotshot?"
"No, just hot."
Selena punched him in the arm.
"Smartass."
"Hey, that was a compliment."
The car parked facing the house. The man who got out was about the same height as Ronnie, with the kind of wide shoulders and muscled arms that showed he spent a lot of time working out. He had black hair cropped short to his skull. A few acne scars marked his face. His ears were small and close to his head. His nose looked like it might have been broken sometime in the past. Ramirez wore aviator style sunglasses that concealed his eyes.
His walk was confident as he came toward them but Nick could see wariness in the way that he moved. It was a familiar look in Special Forces. Ramirez wasn't going to give anything away.
"Diego Ramirez," he said. "Am I in the right place? I expected something a little more impressive, like CIA or something."
He held out his hand. Nick took it. Ramirez exerted a little too much pressure.
Let the games begin, Nick thought.
"Nick Carter. You're in the right place, Sergeant. What you see isn't necessarily what you get. This is Ronnie Peete and Selena Connor."
"Where's the rest of your team?"
"You're looking at it."
Ramirez started to say something, thought better of it.
"You look familiar. Aren't you the guy that was in Jerusalem with the president a few years back?"
"That's me. Let's go inside."
The events in Jerusalem had brought Nick his fifteen minutes of fame. Saving the president's ass on world TV would do that for you, but he could have done without it.
Elizabeth was waiting for them with Stephanie Willits. Steph was Elizabeth's deputy, in charge of keeping the big Crays on the lower level happy. She had broken into the Pentagon servers at the ripe age of eighteen. When the FBI showed up at the door of her parents' suburban home she'd chosen to work for NSA rather than go to prison. Elizabeth had lured her away a few years later.
Steph was in her late twenties. A casual glance saw an average looking woman with a pleasant face. A more careful look told a deeper story. Her brown eyes were alive and vibrant, her hair a lustrous dark brown color that reached to her shoulders. She wore large gold earrings. A half dozen gold bracelets circled her left wrist. Stephanie wasn't slim but she wasn't a large woman either. Today she wore a loosely belted blue dress that fell easily to her knees.
Nick liked Stephanie. They all did. Lately she'd seemed happier than usual. She was engaged to Lucas Monroe, a rising star at Langley. Nick had a high regard for Lucas, something he reserved for few people.
"Sergeant Ramirez, welcome to the Project," Elizabeth said. "I'm Director Harker. You've met Nick, Ronnie and Selena. This is my deputy, Stephanie Willits."
"Hello sergeant," Steph said.
"Ma'am."
"Take a seat." Elizabeth gestured at the couch and chairs in front of her desk. Ramirez sat down.
Elizabeth looked at her new potential team member. Ramirez was sitting uncomfortably on one end of the couch, his back straight.
"You can relax, sergeant. I'm not going to bite."
"No, ma'am."
His shoulders loosened, just a little.
"Don't call me ma'am, Sergeant. I'm not a schoolteacher. Call me Director." She paused. "I understand that you did not want this assignment. Is that correct?"
"With all due respect, Director, no I didn't. I'm not a spook."
"We're not spooks, as you put it," Harker said. "I prefer to think of us as problem solvers. Our unit serves at the pleasure of the president. We can do things that others can't. Tell me, why did you volunteer for the Rangers?"
Nick watched Ramirez. Harker's question caught him by surprise but his answer was immediate.
"Because it's a damn good outfit, the best."