Chapter 3

Virgil approached the building he considered his home away from home. The small private company was more of a community than a business. Employees were close knit, a result of depending on each other to stay alive. He glanced at the modest company logo as he took the front walk steps, two at a time. On a simple sign barely three feet high, a slightly raised globe sat embossed against a white background where the company's full name Global Rescue Network, Incorporated encircled it starting and ending at the bottom.

GRNI had been in existence for only six years and he belonged to it for five. Very few employees here were off-the-street hires; most being invited to join this privately funded organization. One day a certified letter would show up in the mail requesting a meeting with the hiring manager. No need to fill out applications, no job search, no headhunters. Nothing. Just the letter. Sometimes during a rescue, someone would approach a team member and ask about joining. Although not probable it was not impossible to be hired that way. A common thread wove throughout all recruits; they all stood out in the field of Search and Rescue (SAR).

Virgil and his brother had been recruited from the PJs, the parajumper rescue unit of the Air Force Special Forces' cream of the crop SAR team. After only one year, GRNI had already developed their elitist reputation: the best-of-the-best, invitation only. When the invitations had arrived on the same day, both men received the annoying busy signal buzzing in their ears; the result of calling each other at the same time. Sonny got through first, ready to rag on his younger brother until Virgil broke the same news. A smile came to Virgil's face as he recalled how shit-faced they had ended up during their celebration. He spent the night on the floor in the den of his brother's house. Sonny in a heap next to him. When he awoke, Virgil had found he was sporting a henna tattoo of a blowfish on his lower right leg and the number 12 on his left, both of absolutely no significance. Sonny had one on his upper arm with the name KARNE displayed on a ribbon inside a heart. He couldn't remember getting it, however he hoped it was supposed to have been KAREN, his wife. He was stuck with it for two and a half weeks.

During their stint with the PJs, both men had discussed the possibility of getting invited to GRNI since they had been ranked one and two throughout the two-year training. When they started The Pipeline, the name given to the arduous, degrading, soul-devouring course, the recruits in the class numbered 87. Eight weeks later, at the team training graduation, the ranks had dwindled to 15. By the end of the two year paramedic training, only five received the prestigious maroon beret and now three from that class were working for GRNI.

Hurrying into the building, Virgil waved to Sarah, Walt's wife. "Boss in yet?"

She nodded as he whisked by her security desk. At the door between the atrium and hallway, he pressed his thumb against the electronic reader. He grew impatient as he waited for the telltale click of the door unlocking. Running late for the regular staff meeting, he barreled through the locker room door, almost bowling over his exiting brother.

"Hey, sorry, Sonny. Wait while I stow my stuff."

A year apart in age, they both shopped at the Big and Tall Store, having similar expensive tastes. Although they acted like brothers, the similarities ended there. Virgil, 38, the spitting image of his dad, had medium brown hair, an average complexion and non-descript blue eyes. While sporting a good-looking, boy-next-door quality, he fell short of the chiseled model appearance of his brother. Sonny inherited that from his mother, including a darker complexion, striking hazel eyes and mahogany locks. Cameras loved his sharp facial features earning a few extra bucks in college as a model for a disposable razor manufacturer. He would have made the perfect Marlboro Man had he smoked.

Outside the locker room, Sonny held up the corridor wall waiting for his brother. He stood a door and a half width away from the entrance ... waiting. Without disappointment, the door exploded open, recoiled against the wall and slammed shut. Once closed, the dark haired man pushed off the wall and stared at the back of his sibling, who was looking up and down the hallway.

"You trying to get all of the inheritance yourself?"

Virgil swung around. "C'mon, we're late." The joke of death by a murderous door, slid completely over the team leader's head.

"Here come the Earp brothers." Dave ribbed the brothers as they entered the conference room.

Walt, without raising his head from the paperwork, glanced over his reading glasses at the newest recruit. His eyes then skimmed to the inrushing brothers. He saw a hint of a smirk flash across Sonny's face before he turned away to hide it. Both he and Sonny knew Virgil didn't like to be reminded Mrs. Keller named her sons after the infamous outlaw lawmen. Although looking at the agenda in front of him, Walt's attention was focused on the conversation. His wait for a retort was short.

"That joke's old."

Sonny kept his face turned away from the young man, knowing Virgil wasn't finished with his rebuttal.

"But at least it's better than being named after a protruding part of your body, and I don't mean your nose."

Sonny snorted as several others in the meeting room exploded into laughter. Virgil kept a straight face, showing no malice and sat down as if he had held a conversation about the weather.

The young blond clamped his mouth. Dave was aware Virgil knew he used his middle name. Growing up Richard David Touste, the nickname Dick was fine. Many well-known popular men had that name; the suave Dick Cavett, the forever young Dick Clark, the powerful Dick Butkus and popular Dick Van Dyke. However, when the name took on a more explicit connotation, he preferred Ricky D throughout his high school and college years. But then a large hamburger chain became popularly known as Micky D's, and he gave up, switching to his middle name of David.

In between hitches of laughter, Sonny nudged Virgil. "Touché."

Although later proven false, both had endured years of teasing because their mother believed the family to be related to the Earps. Thus the names: Virgil and Wyatt. The middle names were taken from their grandfathers and Grandpa Emerson christened Wyatt 'Sonny'. The grandfather, using the young boy's middle name, tired of trying to tell which person his wife was calling, him or his grandson, so he lopped off the Emer and just called him Son. It naturally morphed into Sonny and it stuck with him all his life.

Arranging the papers in front of him, Walt periodically raised his steel grey eyes checking to see if everyone was present. Muffled chatter continued like the distant sound of the ocean muted through many blocks of houses. He waited another 5 minutes before starting the meeting. "This should be short. First off, nice rescue yesterday, Team B. Fast, clean, no injuries, other than a minor mishap. Well done." A round of applause and attaboys followed. "Not so clean," was uttered from somewhere in the back. An explosion of laughter filled the room after the barely audible remark.

Walt turned to his team lead. "Oh, that's right, Virg. You wanted a reminder why you liked your job so much."

Virgil set his mouth and nodded.

Walt changed his tone. "Settle down. Let's get back to business. We're building two new bases in South America. Anyone want to go down and help start it up? You need to know or learn either Spanish or Portuguese." Walt paused, waiting for any volunteers. "Alright, we might get enough people from other bases. If not, you could be volunteered. More on that later.

"On to training." Walt waited for the groans to settle down. "The big boss, the head honcho, the eye in the sky, the moneybags for this organization, is very serious about maintaining our high standards. He means it when he says if you can't maintain a certain skill level, you'll be put behind a desk or worse, let go. You know why he insists with the training. We're the ones called in when other rescue groups can't handle the situation. Check your emails today for your training and testing schedules for this month and next. Please note SCUBA certification dives will be changing from annually to semiannually.

"One more item on the list today. It seems a rescue we did a couple of months back was not well received by the victim. Turns out he did not want to be rescued. He's suing GRNI for three million dollars."

Nancy straightened "Can he get away with that?"

"Probably not. Our lawyers think it'll get thrown out. But stranger things have gone to court and been won. I'll keep you posted."

After sharing a few more boring administrative points, Walt turned to the brothers. "Virgil, the first of the new fleet of choppers has arrived. The control panel's laid out differently with several added accessories. Take her up, try her out, get comfortable with her..."

"But not too comfortable," came a shout from the back.

"Funny." Walt talked over the ensuing chuckle to Virgil. "I don't want you looking for the windshield wiper button in the middle of a rescue. We'll be getting in one a week until the order's complete. After you know her inside and out, introduce the other pilots. Oh, and you'll be doing some traveling in the near future training flyboys at the other bases."

Virgil nodded.

Walt looked at Dave, "You ground crew today."

Sonny objected, "Walt, I prefer to crew for Virg."

"I know you would. But you get a little too involved. Virgil'll be worrying more about upsetting you than testing the craft. Dave goes."

Sonny set his jaw. He knew further protest was futile.

Walt turned to Nancy. "Stop by my office in about 30 minutes."

He looked up at the rest of the people in the meeting. "Any questions?"

Silence filled the room.