The Equalisers: A Soldier's Oath

Inside the brownstone, the lobby area was deserted. A desk and a couple of chairs. No receptionist or waiting clients. The decorating reminded him of most military offices, unremarkable and rather drab. Not a problem. After graduating college he’d spent ten years in the army he’d loved. Drab was a preferred color.

Tension rippled through him and Spencer drew in a deep breath before ordering himself to stay calm. He already knew Colby wanted him on his team. The rest would be nothing more than technicalities. This wasn’t an interview, it was a negotiation.

The smell of fresh-brewed coffee wafted from somewhere down the hall. Spencer had about decided to head that way when Jim Colby appeared.

“Right on time.” He raised his steaming cup. “Coffee?”

“Coffee would be good.” Spencer had already downed three cups but he could definitely use another. The caffeine helped him battle the need for additional fortification. What he now had to consider forbidden fortification.

“Follow me.”

Colby led the way to a small kitchen that Spencer presumed would serve as an employee lounge. Refrigerator, microwave, sink and a couple of cabinets. His would-be employer passed him a brimming mug.

“Thanks.” The coffee tasted as good as it smelled.

“My office is upstairs.”

Spencer nodded and followed Colby to the second floor. Though the brownstone’s decor hadn’t been updated in a couple of decades, the architecture made it comfortable and interesting in a classic sort of way. The location wasn’t one of the most desired in the city, but the neighborhood appeared in the early stages of revitalization. A year or two from now and the streets would be teeming with thriving businesses and highly sought-after lofts. Colby’s selection of the location was probably a strategic one.

A sleek wooden desk and leather chair, along with a couple of upholstered chairs for clients, were already stationed in Colby’s office. Unpacked boxes of office equipment as well as supplies were scattered about, along with the necessary filing cabinets. Looked as if the boss was well on his way to settling in.

“I’m still getting organized,” Colby said as he took the chair behind his desk. “I’ll be interviewing receptionists this morning. I hope we’ll have someone to answer the phone by lunchtime.”

We. Anticipation spiked before Spencer could stop the possibly premature reaction. “What’s your current body count?” Might as well get a handle on the personnel arrangement and chain of command before he made any kind of commitment beyond this impulsive appearance.

“So far, two. Me,” Colby said with a pointed look at him, “and you.”

His answer surprised Spencer. So he really was getting in on the ground floor of a new venture. “What’s your operational plan?” Learning the exact nature of what he was getting into here was the first order of business. He wasn’t about to be caught off guard again in this lifetime.

“I hope to hire at least three associates.”

Associates. Not investigators. This nudged Spencer’s curiosity.

“What types of cases do you plan to take on?” The answer to this question was key in many ways. The clientele at any firm was the primary factor in how the firm was judged by others. Though he seriously doubted that Lucas Camp would recommend him for a position within a firm that wasn’t on the up and up, Spencer hadn’t missed the look in Jim Colby’s eyes when he’d talked about helping those whose troubles went beyond the law’s boundaries.

“Pretty much whatever walks through the door.” Colby set his coffee aside. “In the beginning it may be necessary to take cases we’ll choose not to take later on. Right now our primary objective is to get our name out there. To let people know we’ve set up shop. This business thrives on word of mouth more so than any other means.”

Made sense. “What’s the plan on case authority? Will you expect to be kept in the loop on all decisions relative to a case once it’s assigned?”

“When we take on a client, I’ll make a decision as to who is the best man for the job. If it’s your case, I’ll expect you to lay out a plan of action and then keep me up to speed on how it’s coming along. Otherwise, the ultimate moment-to-moment decisions are yours to make.”

Spencer nodded. Sounded fair to him. “What about salary?” Since Colby’s business was just getting off the ground he wondered how lucrative a proposition this could possibly be.

“We’ll all be working for the same base salary, including me,” Jim explained. “Whatever profits we net, we’ll split evenly among the associates.”

Now there was an answer he hadn’t expected. “Like a partnership?” Surely that wasn’t what he meant. No firm allowed the new hires to start out as equal partners.

“Exactly. We’ll all share the burden of cost and we’ll all share the bounty.”

Once he’d absorbed that surprising response, Spencer moved on to his next question. “Do you have other associates in mind already?”

“I’ll be interviewing a candidate this afternoon. If I’m lucky, she’ll be coming on board also.”

A woman. Spencer had wondered about that as well.

“Renee Vaughn,” Jim went on. “She’s a former assistant district attorney from Atlanta.”

At one time Spencer had considered a law degree. He’d gotten his bachelor’s degree in political science, but he’d opted for the military instead of law school. Maybe that had been his first mistake.

“I have an office set up for you,” Jim said, dragging Spencer from his unproductive thoughts. “If you’re prepared to get started this morning, I’d like you to work up a history for me. Cover your basic skills, any specialized training and the locations where you’ve worked or been assigned. I’ll keep a file like this on all associates for use in determining what cases each is best suited for.”

Made sense.

Spencer stood. “Show me the way and I’ll get right on it.”

Accepting his statement as a yes, Jim nodded. “All right then.”

The associates’ offices were located on the first floor along the corridor just past the lounge. There were four small offices and a room Jim indicated would be a supply room. At the end of the corridor was the building’s rear exit that led into an alley that would serve as a personnel parking area.

As the first associate hired, Spencer got his pick of the offices. He opted for the one on the left side of the hall next to the lounge since it had a window with a view of the neighborhood park across the street.

When the first receptionist candidate arrived for her interview Jim left him to get started on a detailed work history. Typically, that came first, in the form of a résumé, but this situation appeared to be hardly typical.

Maybe that was the reason Spencer felt at home for the first time in more than two years. He’d learned that he couldn’t count on anything typical or run-of-the-mill. The everyday was no longer reliable.

Do not go down that road.

All he had to do was keep his eyes forward. No looking back. There was no undoing the past, no matter how wrong. His military career was over. Period. He had an opportunity for something new here. He had to keep that goal in mind if he was to have a future. At the rate he’d been going that prospect had grown pretty dim of late. But that was behind him now.

No looking back.

1:00 p.m.

WILLOW HARRIS sat in her rental car for over half an hour. Most of that time was spent attempting to work up the nerve to make the first move. It wasn’t that she was afraid for her safety. The neighborhood wasn’t that great, but it wasn’t any worse than the one in East St. Louis where her former P.I.’s office was located.

Waiting… working up her courage, she did a lot of that lately. In the beginning sheer adrenaline had driven her, overriding any second thoughts or hesitancy. She’d pushed and pushed and searched and searched without the first consideration for her safety or anything else.

But it was different now.

Another anxiety stalked her like a ruthless killer in the dark.

Fear.

The fear of dashed hope. Each time she moved on to a new investigator her anticipation of finally getting her son back renewed… only to be sucked completely out of her when failure crashed down upon her shoulders all over again.

She’d spent all weekend attempting to locate someone who might be able to help her. Her gaze focused on the street in front of her car. The story had been basically the same with each agency she’d called.

I’m very sorry, Ms. Harris, but that’s a case we don’t feel comfortable taking on.