Life as a New Hire Ch. 44

"I need to help my team ferret them out. It is dangerous work and I would be a hypocrite if I sent someone less skilled to take my place. Do we understand one another?"

Translation, Tabitha was the 'woman of the house' since her mother had died in that medical malpractice incident. It was going to be up to her to answer her siblings' questions.

"Alright," Tabitha relented. "I'll leave you to it." No, she was not 'alright' with this. She was preparing for the next round of convincing her father that this wasn't safe for a man in his condition. It was a standard girl thing. Been there – done that. I was perfectly sure I'd be going through that again ... when I was married.

Tabitha left, and Pamela swept the room, looking for any listening devices, or other surveillance access points to the room. She even pulled the battery out of Vincent's phone. Then came the briefing. Mostly I went over the most recent activities in Thailand. He nodded, mulled over what I was giving him.

"This would be a good time to make some solid law enforcement contacts there. Thailand has a corruption problem. We could gather some reliable types to create a secret anti-corruption task force with the Black Lotus helping out. It would operate as a public information source ~ unnamed officials tipping off local news outlets to a scandal with a sheaf of evidence to back it up."

Wow. No one on the team had thought of that ... and we should have. Sure, we were giving the Black Lotus an unsolicited helping hand, but it would be worth it. By the look on Vincent's face, a quick recovery was in the offing. He had renewed his faith in himself as an active participant in the Secret War.

This wasn't a pity visit. It was the real thing. Now he had to get back to New York City as quickly as possible. We needed him. He had hoped we did – he loved his job. In the back of his mind was the worry that he was getting too old. He had 'gotten' Charlotte dead, despite the fact that she was doing her job, and we were fighting some of the toughest killers on the planet.

He carried that guilt. With our visit, he could begin to forgive himself for Charlotte's sacrifice. Her death wouldn't be in vain. There was work to do – important work and he was the right man for the job. In a few years, Virginia could take over and he could spend the twilight of his career working with Javiera in the office. Getting into shootouts was a young person's game and right now, he was still young enough to do it.

"Thanks Cáel," he nodded as we made ready to leave.

"We work with what he have," I reminded him. "Some bright guy told me that once. We carry on because we have to."

"I couldn't agree more. So, is my bodyguard any good?" He hadn't forgotten I had told him he was getting a bodyguard.

"You might remember Wilma Draper from your first visit to Havenstone. She is with House Ishara now and will be handling your security for three, or four days, until Buffy can bring up to speed someone tailor made for the job."

"Good. I'll find a way to explain this to my daughters. Oh, and behave yourself."

"Yes sir," Pamela answered for me. "I'm on it."

"Thank you too, Pamela. It is good to see you, Sergeant Tomorrow. It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Nyilas. I think I've had enough excitement for one night." Vincent was weary. His body still needed time to recover. He would get better and I would definitely be seeing more of him.

Down stairs we went ... right into Wilma.

"What is that?" I motioned to her choice of handgun.

"A Taurus Raging Judge Magnum."

"What does it shoot?" Chaz mused.

".454 Casull."

"Holy Hell! What do you ..." I was at a loss for words.

"If I hit someone, I want to make sure they go down," Wilma sounded somewhat embarrassed.

"That will definitely do the job." Chaz.

"What do you think is going to attack you?" Juanita inquired.

"A water buffalo ..." Chaz.

"Or a 747." Pamela was less than helpful.

"Cut it out guys," I declared. "It could be worse. She could be packing .480 Ruger."

Wilma looked self-conscious.

"Wilma, what is your back-up piece?"

"An H&KP30."

"And?" Pamela smirked.

"A Ruger Bowen .500 Maximum."

"I didn't know they made handgun bullets that big." I gulped.

"If we are ever attacked by a Stryker ..." Chaz grinned.

"Or a BMP ..." Pamela added.

"... we know who to turn to," Chaz finished. They were joking, though I didn't know that at the time.

"Cut her some slack," Odette protested, "at least she comes prepared."

"You are right, Odette," Pamela nodded. "The .50 is a bullet with a long and storied history. In World War II, they used them as anti-tank rounds."

"But only at the start of the war," Chaz corrected her.

"Wilma, thank you for your preparedness. You are accurate, right?" If she wasn't ... OH God, I thought. The collateral damage she could cause.

"Very."

"It also makes the garden variety 'taking cover' rather ineffectual," Pamela conceded.

"I'm now curious how far through an earthen berm it can penetrate," Chaz looked to Pamela.

"You two – stop it," I put my foot down, verbally speaking.

At that point, I was so happy that I had never given into my baser impulses and given Wilma a hard time at the security desk. I would have felt really bad about her killing that person across the street ... sitting safely in their armored car ... after it punched through me and the 50 mm of bullet-resistant glass that passed for transparent walls at Havenstone.

"Mr. Nyilas," Tabitha closed in. She wasn't happy with me one bit. Her sisters mirrored her displeasure.

"Why don't we step outside into your backyard?" I suggested. Juanita shot me a nasty look. Pamela took Wilma on a tour of the house. Chaz went to feed his late night case of the munchies. Odette stuck with him, undoubtedly still avoided Juanita.

"This is not why I brought you here," Tabitha got feisty once Mariyah closed the sliding glass door. The late summer crickets were doing their mating thing.

"You were supposed to help us understand Da, not drag him off to get shot up again," Gretchen added. Ah, girls and lying to themselves.

"Really?" I took them all in. "You called Pamela, Tabitha. She probably consulted the rest of you. What did you think I was going to do?"

"Tell us what happened to him and how we could help him heal and get over his funk," Mariyah tagged in.

"Bullshit," I cut off the next comment – by Gretchen. "You called Pamela, thus me, to make your father feel better and I did. Mariyah, you are leaving home for the Navy in a few months. Gretchen, you were where, when you got the call? Tabitha, do you even live here anymore, of do you live somewhere closer to campus?"

I had lucked out with Tabitha. She did live close to Georgetown University campus. Picking off the other two was easier.

"What do you think your father is going to do when the last of you are gone, carrying on with your own lives? From the short time I have known Vincent, I know he would never stop any of you from pursuing whatever careers you desire."

"You barely know him at all," Tabitha declared.

"Think what you will," I countered. "I came here because you wanted my help and the only thing that would help your father is for him to know, with certainty, that he had a job to do, a place where he was needed and people counting on him to come back and carry on."

"Lie to yourselves if it makes you feel better. I am not lying. I – my team – needs Vincent back. This was the preliminary round of a struggle that is playing out on six continents. People are dying. With your father's insight, fewer of the right people will be paying the ultimate price. As a downside for your father, bad people will be dying free of a court of justice and with no appeal."

"It is the nature of your father's new job with JIKIT. He is our senior lawman in a group of professional killers, spooks and diplomats. His expertise is critical. He knows that now. I wouldn't bullshit him because lives are on the line. He is the best person for the job."

"And you three know that. You know how good your father is at his job – his chosen vocation. Not one of you has shown me different. I know you love him. I know because very recently my Father was murdered by the same group that Vincent is now helping us hunt down."

"Until two months ago, I thought my mother died when I was seven. I have to deal with the crazy crap of her not being dead and the reason she had to go into hiding and leave me and my father behind. Now, if you honestly believe that your father is not the best man for the job, let's go upstairs and tell him – together. If you admit that he is the best lawman you know ... then you did the right thing by calling Pamela."

"But he's going to die," Mariyah choked up.

"Take a look at the crowd I run with," I put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Who on that crew isn't a stone-cold killer?"

"Odette," Gretchen undercut my argument.

"You've got me there. Who, besides Odette, isn't a stone-cold killer? You are only seeing the tip of our security umbrella. Your father got banged up because only one of the two FBI agents with me in Romania could go against those terrorists. The other had to guard witnesses critical to our ongoing investigation ('pants on fire' lie). Did you expect him to send the rookie in because she was a woman and younger, or go himself because he knew he could do a better job?"

"Listen ladies, your father was in the midst of battalion-sized battle with over two hundred dead by sunset. Vincent wasn't taking stupid risks. When he fell, there were over two dozen soldiers and teammates with him. That is the risk we all face in confronting this kind of criminal conspiracy."

"I'm not going to lie to you. This team will keep going into dangerous places. In time, Vincent will be going in at my side."

"You were in the fight too?" Tabitha furrowed her brow.

"Yes. I wounded one guy, got grazed and was beaten into unconsciousness. When I came to, one of my bodyguards was dead. Her name was Charlotte and she died defending your wounded father."

"Do you really think your father is going to let that go? Do you think he is going to sit back while the people who sent that band into central Romania to kill me are still out there?"

"Kill you?" Tabitha again.

"Yes. This current mess is part of an old feud that started way before any of us were born. I picked at the scab and now various forces around the globe are trying to either help me, or kill me ... along with a truckload of other people. 'Me' going into hiding won't solve anything, so I fight back as best I can. With men like Vincent at my side, teaching me what to do, I think we can win this fight.

"Selfishly, I need your father. I also think he needs me. He needs me because ... I guess because with me he sees the hope I can't fathom. In his own way, he is a lighthouse for me on dark seas."

They didn't say anything. They weren't fans of me and my plans for their father. I was the answer to their phone call though ... and Vincent had raised his daughters to make those kinds of tough choices.

For me, it felt like yet another hollow victory. I was endangering Vincent and his family. I had also told them the truth. I needed Vincent to show me the way. I was going to some really dark fucking places and there would be times when Pamela wouldn't be around to put a hand on my shoulder and tell me that we could win ... to give me hope. Yeah. I felt selfish. I also felt I was doing the right thing.

{3:30 am, Wednesday, September 3rd ~ 5 Days to go}

At the back of the jet heading for New York, Mom and I finally had some alone time. No crisis was looming on the horizon and my people were giving us enough space to give the illusion of privacy.

"I don't know where to begin," I muttered. I was fatigued, with the added bonus of knowing I wouldn't be going to sleep anytime soon.

"I didn't mean to fall in love with your father," she said after a minute of introspection. "Considering my upper crust upbringing and twisted paternal relationship ... his love blindsided me."

"What was his pickup line? I need to add it to my repertoire."

"Ma'am, may I help you? were his first words to me. In the process of getting my car's engine to crawl back to life, he found out I was new to the area and took me to a crappy little 24-hour diner. I found myself lying to him about my imagined life ... and when I finished, I realized I hadn't fooled him in the slightest.

"Your Father knew I was lying and he didn't care. He figured I was someone running away from my former life and he saw no reason to confront me about it. He offered me the addresses of various agencies that could help me in case I was: a survivor of domestic abuse, a drug addict, or just a woman in need of a second chance."

"We parted ways. Two weeks later, he called one of the Catholic groups I had latched on to. I suddenly wanted to see him again, so I invited him out to dinner – at the closest McDonalds. At the time, I was afraid to access any of the accounts that had Illuminati ties."

"Five weeks later, I had enough of your Father's honest, open and respectful ways. I physically attacked him in his pick-up. He was gentle and empathic. Five days later, I moved into the house and two years later, I had you."

"The pick-up that I learned to drive in?"

"No," she chuckled. "I invested well and was able to buy him a new one for our third anniversary."

"Why 'Cáel'? I mean, couldn't you have chosen a nice name like Doug, or Richard. Hell, I would have preferred Oliver Cromwell Nyilas as opposed to Cabbage-Head." Mom chuckled.

"An O'Shea would never name her child that (Oliver Cromwell)," she patted my arm. "I don't know why I chose 'Cáel'. When we talked about baby names, 'Cáel' spilled out and your Father liked it."

{The next morning, back at Havenstone: 7:10 am, Wednesday, September 3rd ~ 5 Days to go}

"Have fun overthrowing a government?" Buffy surprised me as I stepped into the elevator. I was finished with firearms training for the day. The plan was for me to briefly touch base with Katrina and answer any of St. Marie's questions that might need to be relayed to me. After that, it was back to 'work' – JIKIT.

If anyone is surprised that Buffy was angry with me, they clearly haven't read about the last 79 days of my life.

"Hey my 'First'," I grinned like a fool. I had an out for this crisis – Wiesława Živa of the SD. I hugged Buffy. I also felt her nifty Amazon blade running up my inner thigh on a direct course to threaten the hope of future little Isharans everywhere. "I've been so happy with what you've been doing to build up the strength of our house. I do appreciate it," I stroked her cheek. My jewels were endangered, but I knew Buffy's hot spots too.

"I really want to hit you right now – hit you several times ... then drag you to the closest conference room and make you relive our weekend together," she relayed with a charming mixture of ferocious rage and pleasurable memories.

"Why? He's been doing his job," Wiesława rallied to my side.

Wiesława also hit the elevator button. We were heading upstairs for a workout then a bit of sparring.

"This discussion doesn't involve you," was Buffy's blistering retort. More softly to me, "You need to spend more time with your new sisters so they can get to know you. A few of us are worried about a possible challenge."

"I figured that might come up," I nodded. It is Amazon law after all. "Screw it. Let everyone know I'm not accepting a single challenge until I get back from the Great Hunt. If I lose, I will entertain offers of challenge. My sisters need to be reminded that I am also Chief Diplomat of the Host."

"You can remain Chief Diplomat of the Host and not be a Head of House," Buffy reminded me.

"No. You are wrong. This is Dot Ishara's mandate – to bring the advantageous peace through strong alliances against confirmed foes. If the challenger can't pursue that agenda with the same zeal I put forth, I will not accept her challenge."

Buffy stared at me silently for several seconds. The door opened. Brielle and her friend stepped on, smiled and came my way.

"Going shirtless again," Brielle touched my chin. The other girl rubbed her fingers over my right nipple. Buffy was growling.

"Oh, this reminds me of something. Sister Buffy, my 'First', I understand there has been a list compiled of women I have had relationships with in the past, or appear willing to have sexual adventures with in the future. That stops now."

"What of our sisters who feel you need to spend more time with them," Buffy grumbled. "Have you forgotten about us?"

"Buffy, I was stuck at work non-stop since the whole Thailand situation blew up. I have had my attention focused there, where it was needed. Good job with Wilma and Vincent, by the way. He is really chomping at the bit to get back in on the information loop. I already have Addison working on one of his suggestions."

"Cáel, you need to think about what happens in 12 days. The Great Hunt will be over. You need to think how Ishara can use the victory to push for a more aggressive Runner agenda. We need to seriously ratchet up the recruitment in both the First Directive and the New one."

"I would like to see another 500 Runners brought into Havenstone by the end of the year and a new crop of men for the next round of candidates ~ 20?"

No one on the elevator: (A) had given that last bit much thought, (B) thought it was a good idea, or (C) thought I was joking.

From the first round, only two of us were left ... and Felix (see Chapter 44 Appendix –The Enigma that Isn't) was still 'iffy'. At this rate, only eight more could qualify by the end of December. Felix (hopefully) and I would mentor the twenty candidates in the second round, establishing a precedent concerning male hires. Eight (assuming a 20% acceptance rate) plus two would allow a third class of one hundred and so on. By the end of next year ... that would mean 1,250.

They wouldn't be 'Felix' or me. Given only five initial slots, Katrina and Tessa had chosen the very best of the best – and me. From here on out, we would be looking for things like spirit, courage, loyalty and martial talent. IQ's of 120 would do nicely and some sort of college would be beneficial, but not a deal-killer.

In two, or three years, those men would be doing more than replenishing the Amazon gene pool. They would be going with their sisters into battle. Everyone in Havenstone wore multiple hats. Our small numbers required it and there wouldn't be enough men to alter that principle. Getting into a House would be even harder for them than it was for post-Isharan Runners.

They would be okay with that. Men could form their own little social clubs and anyway, it wasn't like they wouldn't be getting plenty of trim when they wanted it. I was far more worried about an Amazon raping a man than I was about any Ash Man raping an Amazon.

But 'Men' needed to become part of the equation, instead the answer to a problem. This would be our war too – our history we were creating. Moreover, we – the Amazon Host – needed Ash Men to heal that ancient wound and nearly forgotten shame. Men would never dominate the Host and the Amazons would come to understand that. A thousand Ash Men would do nicely. That was my plan anyway.

{Meeting Rayen}

I met with Katrina and an Amazon I was to become familiar with. She was old. Not as old as Pamela, but definitely up there in age. The whole right side of her face was a mass of scar tissue. She was also missing her right eye and two fingers from her left hand. I was willing to bet she could still pull a bow. She was meeting me and Katrina because she was both a fierce warrior and a highly-accomplished strategist.

"I am Rayen Artio," she introduced herself. I racked my brain trying to figure out who ...