The Solomon Scroll

CHAPTER 5

Nick lifted the lid from a pan simmering on the stove. He stirred, inhaling the spicy odor of the food. He looked out the kitchen window at the setting sun, dark red in the humid, smog filled air over the Potomac. Inside the loft it was cool, pleasant. Miles Davis played in the background.

"A few more minutes," he said.

Selena stood at a kitchen island nearby, putting the finishing touches on a salad.

"It smells good," she said. "Like that Indian restaurant on Dupont Circle."

"Chicken marsala. It's supposed to smell like that."

"I'm sorry I had to do that today," Selena said. "I didn't want to humiliate him. He was getting angry. When people get angry they make mistakes. I thought it was time to stop it before one of us got hurt."

"You did the right thing. He's young and he still has a lot to learn."

"He's twenty-seven."

"Like I said, he's young. He hasn't learned how to hold his anger in check when things are going against him. That's not a good trait."

"I like him though," Selena said. "He showed respect, once he could stand."

"I saw that. I think he heard what I said when I told him he could learn from you."

"He did well on the range."

"After years in the Rangers he ought to," Nick said. "He showed good judgment on the combat course. He only shot one civilian. That's better than I did the first time through."

The urban combat course was recent, installed in the large warehouse across from headquarters. It consisted of movable walls and props that looked like the streets and buildings of an urban environment anywhere in the world. It could be configured as a village street, a city block or a mockup of a mission target, depending on need. Three-dimensional automated targets popped out in unpredictable ways from doors and windows, inside rooms and from behind walls and vehicles. Some were enemies, with a variety of weapons and looks. Others were civilians, old men, office workers, children, women with babies. Ramirez had shot one of the old men, thinking his cane was a gun. Grading depended on hits, accurate identification of the target and speed of response.

Selena said, "He's getting into it. I can see him trying to figure it out. He still doesn't know what we do, not really."

"He won't, until he's in the field."

Nick checked the chicken. "It's done."

"You realize this is our first real dinner here?" Selena said.

"Won't be the last," Nick said.

"You're a real romantic, aren't you?"

Here was a remodeled loft looking out over the Potomac. They'd moved in a few days before. They'd bought it together even though they weren't married. Nick figured they would be. In the meantime, the loft was a way to commit to each other before getting to the altar. So far they hadn't set a date or made arrangements for the final step.

"What do you think about our rookie?" Selena asked. "Do you think he's going to fit?"

"He looks pretty good," Nick said. "I think the biggest problem is going to be whether or not he can let go of his self-image."

"His self image?"

"Macho Ranger, superhero."

"Oh, that image."

"Army Rangers are like that."

"Do I hear the Marine Corps Hymn playing in the background?" Selena said.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. That Marine thing about other units."

"The Rangers are a good unit."

"Are they as good as the Marines?"

"Marines are the best," Nick said, "but the Rangers are damn good."

"I rest my case," Selena said.