"Listen, I haven't got my badge. Hell I didn't know I needed a badge to get in here. All I've got is this letter says to come down here and 'announce myself' whatever that means."
The security guard looked the man over. He was a sandy-brown-haired son-of-a-bitch steaming and puffing away on a cig that was disappearing as the argument went on. He stood firm and addressed the stranger calmly and politely.
"Sir, I understand your frustration, but all new employees are issued a security pass to enter this area. You should have received yours with the invitation."
"That's all ass-backwards," yelled the man in a huff. "I hadn't even had a chance to accept the invite when I got it. That's why I'm here to accept the job at least I think I'll be accepting it if I can even show up on the first day. Doesn't make sense, I tell you."
The security guard sighed heavily and lifted up a phone and put his ear to the receiver. "Hi, this is the front gate. I've got a gentlemen here who says he has an appointment. A new employee?"
Lynx, as he was known, paced restlessly in front of the guard station. He was nervous, sure. He'd been playing the role of a private eye for a year now and he had just started to get used to being his own boss. Now there was this new prospect, a job offer with Homeland Security no less. But it was some backwater division he had never heard of, Geosciences or something. He didn't know what to expect or how he'd come to be referred to them but it promised more than he was making presently and it meant holding a badge again, a symbol of authority that he longed for again. He waited on the response from the security guard.
Lynx hesitated for a moment before flicking the butt of his cigarette away and answering. "Leonard Jaeger," he stated matter-of-factly and stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets wondering if this were all some practical joke or tolerance test new employees have to go through. With a name like Geosciences they must have been bored stiff thinking of ways to pass the time.
"So what's the verdict, buddy? Or are they paying you hourly?"
The guard stared at Jaeger, and folded his arms across his barrel chest.
"Y'know what buddy? Either you can learn some manners or you can go right to Hell," he said sharply. "This ain't a kindergarten, and you ain't gonna get anywhere by beating your chest and bellowing."
Lynx laughed, coughing a bit from the smoke still in his lungs which made the effect less than mocking as he intended it. Obviously he had gotten under this guy's skin which had the same affect of getting under his own skin. He wasn't trying to be a dick, he just was a dick sometimes and too bitter about his own situation to worry about some minimum wage security guard's personal problems. And he was nervous, which made his hand naturally start feeling the carton of cigarettes in his pocket anxiously. He had tried to quit chain-smoking every time he paid his bills or found he couldn't look in a mirror that day. Too much of a crutch, he told himself.
He muttered under his breath about having already been there and bought the t-shirt before sighing and taking a breath to steady himself. "Sorry, sorry, I'm just a bit antsy about this job and nothing seems to be going right today. Shouldn't take it out on you, I'm sure," he made his apology somewhat half-heartedly, knowing in his head it was true and feeling like he shouldn't have to. All the same he made it over the hurdle of his frustration and managed to act relatively calm now.
"SAC Johnson wants to see you. Top floor. Elevator's on your left. Go straight there, don't deviate," the guard said sharply, and stepped aside from the battered glass doors.
Inside, the lobby looks quiet, but dishrevelled, as if people pass through frequently but it never gets mopped. The lift is old, and squeaks as it comes down to the ground floor.
Jesus, what a piece of work, thought Lynx to himself, his nervousness returning in a flourish as he stepped past the stern guard and pushed open the doors to the lobby. The facility did nothing to encourage him as he admired the dilapidated condition. Perhaps the guard had meant not to deviate in case one steps through a weak place in the floor or because some portion of the ceiling may inadvertently crash down on an unsuspecting visitor. Actually it wasn't as bad as all that but it could do with a bit of spit and polish.
As he pressed the button to the lift he took out the letter he had brought with him while he was serenaded by machinery in drastic need of an oiling. "SAC Johnson...that's the signature at the bottom of this," he muttered to himself dryly. Beneath his printed name was a title that addressed him as Division Head. So he was to see the big boss was he? As he stepped into the shifting elevator Lynx wondered what kind of work he would be asked to do. Shake down uncooperative scientists? Investigate global warming? Interrogate geothermal engineers to find where they're keeping all the really hot lava?
He sighed once more to make the point and realized he hadn't pressed the button yet to take him to the top floor. He pressed it once and resisted the temptation to press any others with the excuse that his finger slipped. The lift jolted and began taking him to the top.
SAC Johnson's door has a tarnished brass plaque with his name on it, and is slightly ajar. The Head of the Geosciences division is drinking a cup of coffee, and apparently arguing with someone on the phone.
"I know he's unstable. That's why we recruited him to begin with. You know? He went three rounds against one of 'em and won. There's not a lot of agents that could say that," A pause. "Yeah, I know. I'm just saying, he's worth assessment. They both are."
A cold ripple rode up Lynx's spine as he heard the man's voice in the next room which carried just barely to the lift as he exited. He followed it unsurprised to see it belonged to the Division Head of Homeland Security, even if it was only the Geoscience Department. It was a voice that commanded authority as if every boss he had ever worked under had collaborated on its making, and thus reminded him of each of them. The effect was humbling, manifesting butterflies in his digestive track. It also vaguely reminded him of his father's voice, an elder, controlled and smooth. That thought put him more on edge than he knew he could be.
And now he was caught at an impasse, should he knock and announce himself or wait for the man to be finished with his conversation. While he deliberated he only just started to make sense of what was being said. Three rounds? What sort of cases would Geoscience agents need to go three rounds against anyone? It got his heart thumping and inexplicably made him excited. With all the edginess, butterflies, excitement and impatience building up in him, Lynx couldn't keep waiting outside the door.
He knocked once tentatively. And then rapped his knuckle slightly louder as he pushed open the door. He cleared his throat as much to speak as to draw attention to himself. "Err...Mr. Johnson?" being unable to mask his uneasiness.
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