well.
Ignoring my bubbling emotions, I continued walking down the corridor. At the end, I turned to face the door on the left. A nameplate, mounted at eye level, read, “Dutch Graham – Chairman.”
As I slipped into the room, the stale aroma of musty books greeted my nose. It reminded me of a library. A very old library.
Two-hundred-year-old paintings, part of the Society’s Hudson River School collection, hung crooked on the walls. Antique pieces of furniture, drowning under a sea of papers and books, were strewn haphazardly across the floor.
On the far end of the room sat a large oak desk and a fancy office chair. A man sat in the chair, facing the other direction. His legs angled upward and his feet rested on the fifth shelf of a large bookcase. His right hand glimmered and I caught a glimpse of a magnifying glass clenched in his fingers.
I cleared my throat. “Here’s to us and those like us.”
The man whirled around in his chair. A wicked grin spread across his face. “Damn few of us left,” he replied in a harsh, gritty tone.
“You’re looking good, Dutch.”
“I look like hell and you know it.”
Slowly, Dutch Graham rose from his seat and hobbled around his desk. He was from an earlier generation of explorers, more adventurer than scientist. Ever since we’d met, he’d viewed me as a kindred spirit, a sentiment I shared.
A lifetime of adventure had taken its toll on his body and he carried a myriad of battle scars, including a patch over his right eye and a mechanical left leg. Yet, I sensed that his ageless soul remained full of deviousness, exemplified by his timeless love for women, wine, and poker. It was little wonder that the other members used to call him El Diablo behind his back.
I grabbed Graham and bear-hugged him. “How are you?”
He returned the hug with surprising strength. “Same as always. Thanks for drying off before you barged in here.”
“It’s not my fault. It’s raining outside.”
“Ever heard of an umbrella?”
“Is this how you greet all your old friends?”
“Old friend, my ass. You haven’t visited in years. And if you really were my friend, you wouldn’t have left me alone with these pompous windbags.”
“Someone has to keep them in their places.”
“I’ll say. So, when do I get to meet the wife?”
“I’m not married.”
“Why not? It’s not like you’re getting any younger.”
“I guess I just haven’t found the right girl yet.”
He nodded. “So, how long has it been since I last saw you? Two years?”
“More like three.”
“Where do you live?”
“A bunch of places,” I replied. “I haven’t really settled down.”
He studied me closely. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled to see you. But what are you doing here?”
“I’m back in town for a week or so. A guy by the name of Jack Chase hired me to do something for him.”
“That jerk? Why are you working for him?”
“You know him?”
“Not personally. But he runs an outfit called ShadowFire. Let’s just say they’re no stranger to controversy.”
“He told me it was a security consulting company.”
Graham snorted. “That’s just corporate speak for a PMC. You know, a private military corporation. They’re in the news every other week, fighting in one place, buying weapons in another. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of them.”
“I don’t read much news these days.”
“Well, watch your back. Chase is a snake, plain and simple.”
“I see you’re still judging people you haven’t met.”
He grinned and clapped me on the back. “Some things never change.”
I returned the grin. “I was hoping to treat you to a couple of slices, give us a chance to catch up for a bit. If you want, I can come back later, after the lecture.”
“Are you kidding? I hate those things. The other board members tell me I’m supposed to go but they don’t really care. Frankly, I think I’m an embarrassment to them. No big deal. They share a shot glass
Ignoring my bubbling emotions, I continued walking down the corridor. At the end, I turned to face the door on the left. A nameplate, mounted at eye level, read, “Dutch Graham – Chairman.”
As I slipped into the room, the stale aroma of musty books greeted my nose. It reminded me of a library. A very old library.
Two-hundred-year-old paintings, part of the Society’s Hudson River School collection, hung crooked on the walls. Antique pieces of furniture, drowning under a sea of papers and books, were strewn haphazardly across the floor.
On the far end of the room sat a large oak desk and a fancy office chair. A man sat in the chair, facing the other direction. His legs angled upward and his feet rested on the fifth shelf of a large bookcase. His right hand glimmered and I caught a glimpse of a magnifying glass clenched in his fingers.
I cleared my throat. “Here’s to us and those like us.”
The man whirled around in his chair. A wicked grin spread across his face. “Damn few of us left,” he replied in a harsh, gritty tone.
“You’re looking good, Dutch.”
“I look like hell and you know it.”
Slowly, Dutch Graham rose from his seat and hobbled around his desk. He was from an earlier generation of explorers, more adventurer than scientist. Ever since we’d met, he’d viewed me as a kindred spirit, a sentiment I shared.
A lifetime of adventure had taken its toll on his body and he carried a myriad of battle scars, including a patch over his right eye and a mechanical left leg. Yet, I sensed that his ageless soul remained full of deviousness, exemplified by his timeless love for women, wine, and poker. It was little wonder that the other members used to call him El Diablo behind his back.
I grabbed Graham and bear-hugged him. “How are you?”
He returned the hug with surprising strength. “Same as always. Thanks for drying off before you barged in here.”
“It’s not my fault. It’s raining outside.”
“Ever heard of an umbrella?”
“Is this how you greet all your old friends?”
“Old friend, my ass. You haven’t visited in years. And if you really were my friend, you wouldn’t have left me alone with these pompous windbags.”
“Someone has to keep them in their places.”
“I’ll say. So, when do I get to meet the wife?”
“I’m not married.”
“Why not? It’s not like you’re getting any younger.”
“I guess I just haven’t found the right girl yet.”
He nodded. “So, how long has it been since I last saw you? Two years?”
“More like three.”
“Where do you live?”
“A bunch of places,” I replied. “I haven’t really settled down.”
He studied me closely. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled to see you. But what are you doing here?”
“I’m back in town for a week or so. A guy by the name of Jack Chase hired me to do something for him.”
“That jerk? Why are you working for him?”
“You know him?”
“Not personally. But he runs an outfit called ShadowFire. Let’s just say they’re no stranger to controversy.”
“He told me it was a security consulting company.”
Graham snorted. “That’s just corporate speak for a PMC. You know, a private military corporation. They’re in the news every other week, fighting in one place, buying weapons in another. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of them.”
“I don’t read much news these days.”
“Well, watch your back. Chase is a snake, plain and simple.”
“I see you’re still judging people you haven’t met.”
He grinned and clapped me on the back. “Some things never change.”
I returned the grin. “I was hoping to treat you to a couple of slices, give us a chance to catch up for a bit. If you want, I can come back later, after the lecture.”
“Are you kidding? I hate those things. The other board members tell me I’m supposed to go but they don’t really care. Frankly, I think I’m an embarrassment to them. No big deal. They share a shot glass
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