It smelled like smoke in his office. Not the faint aroma of cigarette smoke or the harsh stink of cigars, but more of a wildfire smell.

He was sitting there in a black three piece suit and crimson tie smiling a big toothy grin while I walked up to his desk.

“Please, Edward, have a seat,” he said, gesturing towards the chair next to me. There was a stack of papers in front of my seat, a bottle of whiskey, a tub of ice, and two tumblers. “And have a drink.”

“Thank you, sir.” I said, professionally as I poured a couple of fingers of fire water over the cubes.

“I brought you in here today because I want to give you a more permanent position with the company. After your work in Iraq, in Afghanistan, and the incident in Somalia, you’ve really shown yourself to be a capable and qualified operator.”

“Thank you,” I said signing the paperwork. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“I know you have,” he smiled extending his right hand with the big red birth mark across the back of it. “Shake on it, pal?”