Unnatural Acts

18

Herbie Fisher was sitting in his new office, letting the past two days wash over him, luxuriating in his new status, his new clients, and a new kind of self-regard that had always been out of his reach until this moment. His phone buzzed.

“Mr. Joshua Hook to see you,” Cookie said.

“Send him right in,” Herbie replied. He got to his feet as his new client entered his office. The man was six-two or — three, two-twenty, thick salt-and-pepper hair, tanned, and very fit-looking. He looked around Herbie’s office. “Holy shit!” he muttered, half to himself.

“Josh, I’m Herb Fisher. Please have a seat.”

The man gave Herbie a bone-crushing handshake, settled into a big chair, and set his briefcase and a cardboard tube on the coffee table. “This is the first lawyer’s office I’ve ever felt comfortable in,” Josh said.

“Would you like some coffee?”

“If it’s very strong,” he replied.

Herbie poured him a mug. “Try this.”

Josh sipped it. “A man after my own heart,” he said. “This stuff would eat its way through the stomach wall of an ordinary human being.”

Herbie thought the statement said as much about the man himself as about the coffee. “I’m glad you like it. And congratulations on your new job at Strategic Services.”

“I work at Strategic Defense,” Josh said. “Strategic Services just owns me.”

“I understand you had a career at the CIA,” Herbie said.

“I did.”

“What did you do there?”

“None of your fucking business,” Josh replied, coolly.

Herbie laughed. “No, I guess not. I take it you were on the operational side, though-that’s according to Mike Freeman.”

“I would have made a poor support man,” Josh said, “and an even worse analyst.”

Herbie produced a legal pad. “Mike has told me you’ll need to set up a corporate structure. I take it you’ll be CEO?”

“That’s right. Mike will be chairman of the board. If you do decent work I might ask you to join the board.”

Herbie jotted all this down. “I take it there’s a piece of property upstate somewhere.”

Josh popped the end out of the cardboard tube and shook out a thick sheaf of papers. “There is,” he said, “and this is what we’re going to put on it.” He unrolled the papers and tucked one side under Herbie’s T’ang dynasty terra-cotta horse, and Herbie set his marble pencil box on the other end.

“As you can see,” Josh said, “we’ve got a dozen buildings, six of which have just been completed, four outdoor firing ranges, each with a high earthen berm to stop the lead, and two indoor ranges, as well. We’ve already got a five-thousand-foot runway in place, with two large hangars and a fuel farm. Mike bought a private field intact, along with another six hundred acres.”

“You’re expecting a lot of executive aircraft, then?”

“It’s more secure to fly your students in. We don’t want to arouse attention at a commercial airport-Stewart International is the nearest-and a lot of them will be bringing in personal weapons.”

“I see.”

“You ever fired a weapon, Herb?”

“Yes,” Herbie replied, “but in a coffeehouse, not a firing range.”

“Did that get you arrested?”

“It did, but I was released after a short time. I had a good lawyer who made a good case to the DA for self-defense.”

“Did you hit anybody?”

“Only the man I was aiming at.”

“That’s the idea, isn’t it?”

“I suppose it is,” Herbie said.

“I’d like you to come up to our place and do a course with us.”

“That would be interesting,” Herbie said.

“It will be more than that,” Josh said. “It will be educational, in the best sense of the word.”

“Then I’ll do it,” Herbie replied, smiling. “I could use some more education, especially since it’s something of a practical nature.”

“It’s a dangerous world,” Josh said. “It’s practical to stay alive and unharmed.”

“I’m in favor of both of those,” Herbie said. “Did you come directly to Mike from the Agency?”

“No, in between I started my own consultancy. That’s how Mike found me-we were competitors. It was smart of him to buy me out.”

“When do you start getting your first students?”

“Next week, as soon as construction is complete on the barracks and the indoor ranges.”

“Can I be in your first class?”

“What sort of shape are you in?” Josh asked.

“Pretty good. I work out five days a week at the gym in my building.”

“How far can you run without passing out?”

“I have no idea,” Herbie said. “I’m a city boy-we don’t do a lot of running, except in Central Park.”

“We’ll see how you do.”

Herbie was beginning to regret volunteering for Josh’s first class. “Running until I pass out would be an unnatural act for me.”

“We’ll see,” Josh said.

“Josh, forgive my asking, but what is the point of your boot camp approach? Are your students, in their professional lives, going to be required to run two miles without fainting?”

“Probably not,” Josh admitted.

“Do you think you might be requiring all this exertion because you can do it yourself?”

“Maybe.”

“My advice is to treat them like professionals, not Marine recruits. You’ll use their time better, and they’ll leave better equipped to do their work.”

“That makes a lot of sense,” Josh said.

“Good. Now let me make myself clear. I’m not running anywhere for any distance while I’m at your facility. I’m there to learn, not faint.”

“Okay, Herb, okay,” Josh said. “You won’t have to run.”

“Thanks.” Herbie felt that he had drawn a line in his relationship with this guy and that, in the future, he’d get more respect.

“Now,” Herbie said, “let’s go through the list of what I need to set up for you.” He began checking off items, and he got Josh’s full attention.