Extraordinary
|
Character Interview: Hunter from Under Fire and Under Fire: The AdmiralMy name is Celia Carbano. I work as a private contractor for the US government in Washington DC. I’m commissioned by select committees to interview people who’ve played a part in sensitive events. I have no particular skills in military or government procedure. I do have an ability to gauge the veracity of what has already been put in a subjects reports. Today is the last of three interviews with persons involved in an event that took place in Ecuador. The man I’m speaking with is a Navy SEAL. This is a first for me and I have to admit I’m nervous. For this interview, I was directed to a Navy facility. I arrive slightly early and am led down a long corridor and ushered into a room with no windows and subdued lighting. The door closes and the man sitting in one of the large chairs stands causing me to take a step back. He is huge. I’m only 5’ 2” but I’m sure he qualifies as huge to anyone. “Ms. Carbano,” he thrusts out a hand about the size a ten inch iron skillet. “I’m Hunter.” He finishes in a deep baritone voice as I slip my hand into his. His hand also feels like a skillet. “Nice to meet you.” I say. He says nothing. There is something about this man, a presence, a power that fills the room. He waits for me to sit and then drops back into his chair. The leather chair groans as he shifts and brings an ankle to a knee. I take a moment to note his appearance. Long hair protrudes around the edges of a knit cap pulled low on his forehead. Sunglasses and a long un-kept beard make sure I would never be able to ID him. A non-descript polo shirt is stretched over his chest and arms. Jeans cover his legs. I have the distinct feeling he is giving me the same going over. “Is Hunter your first or last name?” “Yes.” he says. “Is it your real name?” “It is today.” Alrighty then. “How do you feel about this interview?” Might as well get right to it. “Feel? Ma’am I was told to come here and answer your questions. I wasn’t told to feel anything.” An evasive answer. “Do you always do what you are told?” “No.” “Did you do what you were told on this mission?” “I was inserted into a situation and told to achieve a certain outcome. How I do that is up to me, the team. If you are asking did I achieve the outcome, that is a yes.” “Admiral Hendrickson said she diverted from the original flight plan because Dr Walsh asked her to fly back the coast. Do you believe her?” “Yes.” “Dr. Walsh said the reason he asked to fly that route was to enjoy the coastline scenery. Do you believe him?” “No ma’am.” The hair around his mouth twitched. “What do you believe the reason was?” “He wanted some alone time with the admiral.” “What makes you think that?” It was difficult keeping the surprise out of my voice. He puts both feet on the floor and leans forward. “You haven’t seen them together.” I can’t decide if it’s a question or a statement. I do know when I interviewed the doctor he displayed a great deal of concern for the admiral. I shake my head. “You in a serious relationship?” His voice is so deep I swear it reverberates around the small room. I’m glad the light is low so he can’t see the color creep over my face. “Mr. Hunter I’m not going to answer that. I’m here to ask you questions and then you can be on your way.” He makes a sound and leans back. “Thought so.” My not answering confirms to him I’m not. “Tell me why you think Dr. Walsh wanted to be alone with the admiral.” “I’ve been in this job nine years. An important part is reading people.” He pauses. “It isn’t all body language. It’s what you say and when you say it. How you look or don’t look at a person. I’m good at what I do and I can tell you without a doubt the doc has it bad for the admiral. ” There is some amusement in his voice. “He’s one of the good guys. The only thing I could fault him with is thinking with his little head.” “I see.” Heat rushes over my face. “What is you impression of the admiral?” I try to get the interview under control “She is upfront. Honest. She gives and asks for a hundred percent.” “She gave an account of killing two men. Can you corroborate what she said?” “Lady,” he says harshly, “you’ve already read my take on the show. You know I saw nothing of what went on with Admiral Hendrickson and Dr. Walsh. I have nothing to add. I can guarantee the admiral answered your questions with the straight up truth.” He starts to rise. “Are we done here?” “No. Please sit.” I was amazed at how calm my voice remained even though I am thoroughly intimidated and completely sure this man is telling the absolute truth. He leans back in the chair. I begin recounting the details of the action. Hunter agrees and when he doesn’t, he clarifies. Half way through he says, “You aren’t writing any of this down.” “I have an excellent memory.” He said nothing. “Would you say the job ended successfully?” “No.” “Why not?” I am surprised. The operation netted a billion in counterfeit money, and almost that much in drugs. “I don’t consider coming back short a team member successful.” I understand and give him a nod. “I have what I need. Is there anything you want to add?” Hunter is silent for a long while. “No ma’am.” “Then we’re done.” Strangely, I feel letdown the interview is ending. Two seconds later the door opens and my escort appears. “This way Ms. Carbano.” What the hell? “Was this interview being recorded?” I say angrily. I look at both men who remain silent. “It was.” How dare they? “This is not..” “This way Ms. Carbano.” The escort says in a voice that lets me know saying anymore is useless. I retrieve my purse, shoot Hunter a vicious look and storm out. And, it doesn’t get any better. The afternoon sky has opened up depositing torrents of rain that are pooling in the parking lot. I look back at the door but decide I will stand here and wait it out. Five minutes pass then ten and it’s still raining. A black truck, one of those with two rows of seats, rolls to a stop close to the portico cover. The driver’s door opens and a large man dashes around the hood and stops a few feet in front of me. “Can I give you a ride or help you to your car, ma’am?” he says in a deep voice I recognize as Hunter’s. But this man is not Hunter. He has short neatly cut hair and his handsome face is clean shaven. “Hunter?” I say tentatively. He gives me a broad smile. “My name’s Aloysius Damatto.” This is most definitely Hunter sans the disguise and he revealing himself to me. But why? He leans to me. “I like you.” He says as if reading my mind. “I’m offering a ride. Nothing else.” A smile slides across his face. I struggle not to reach up and touch his cheek. “Nothing that is, until after you turn in your report. After that maybe you’ll want to give me a call.” I know my mouth is moving but no sound is coming out. He opens the door and helps me climb into the monster truck. His touch producing what every romance novel I’d read describes when the handsome guy touches the woman in the story. Sheer sexual energy. He closes the door and as he runs around the front of the truck I calculate how many hours it would take to write my reports and turn them in. |