“Loathes?” Weston latched on to the word as though it were an impossibility for a product of The Academy. He shot Ranger a dark look before twisting his head back my way. “How could the girl possibly loath someone she’s barely met?”
“It’s just another thing in which Officer Nealson seems to excel at exceedingly well,” I answered, not even trying to keep a straight face. Reese bit back her smile, and even Commander Davies looked amused. Weston looked the opposite of amused.
Ranger’s complexion darkened further. When he spoke, it was through clenched teeth. “In my opinion, we’ve been too easy on this family already. If that girl won’t turn, and the father won’t sign, then maybe it’s time we make them see the light. Resistance has never stopped us from claiming a Potentially Gifted Civilian before.”
“Strong arming and scare tactics would only succeed in the Connellys digging their heels in further,” I interjected. “These are not weak-willed individuals we’re dealing with. And it would shed the public spotlight on our very private organization. The whole town is well aware of the prestigious honor being offered to the Connelly boy . . . and is paying attention to the outcome.”
Weston pursed his lips, contemplating. “Davenport’s right—”
Ranger sulked immediately.
“—claiming a PGC without parental consent is a sticky situation, even when we’re dealing with a different country, much less in our own back yard. We don’t want to end up on the evening news.”
“We have enough sources in high places to squash a story before it gets out,” Ranger countered.
“Calling in favors results in a redistribution of power and a deterioration of our funds,” Weston fired back. “Not to mention a story can survive on social media alone these days. Even with our best tech guys on it, a story can snowball out of control in a matter of hours.”
Commander Davies spoke up again: “If we’re unable to get Connelly to willingly sign the paperwork, Plan B is to get him denounced as an unfit father, giving us the opportunity to swoop in and save the young man from his neglectful, alcoholic father,” he reminded Weston. “How is our contingency plan going?”
“Plan B is underway and Mr. Connelly is playing right along. . . . . He just happens to be neglectful at best and abusive at worse,” I said with obvious disdain.
“You are, of course, documenting everything?” Weston confirmed.
“Yes, sir.”
“From my understanding, we have the school administration’s support, the Connelly boy is chomping at the bit, the father is almost on board, and the Connelly girl is contained. Would that be an accurate assessment of the current condition of your mission, Cadet Davenport?” Commander Davies summed.
“Yes, sir.”
Davies fixed his steady brown gaze on me. “Do you think another check at this point would grease the skids further?”
I breathed in, deliberating. “I’m not sure.”
Ranger snorted and shook his head. “You’re not sure of anything, rookie. I’ve never seen a civilian balk at free money. They all have ‘big principals’,” he air-quoted, “until you offer them a fat check. That’s what always tips them over the edge and actually gets the pen on paper. They’re all whores at the end of the day—just variations between streetwalkers and high-class call girls.” Nobody stopped him to argue. “We paid them like a dime-store hooker, maybe they think they’re worth more? It’s probably worth it to us to save time and just cut the guy a check for fifty-thou and be done with it . . . once we know the Connelly boy is gifted.”
I thought over what Ranger said; it actually made a lot of sense. I’d wondered for a while why The Academy was trying so hard to sign Andrew. Didn’t even appear he was gifted. I felt there was something more—some vital piece of information I was missing or wasn’t privy to.
“Another check could help at this point, or hinder, because this particular family has some pride about accepting charity,” I ventured. “The father cashed the check, but only because we framed it in just the right manner and just the right amount so as not to be considered either a bribe or charity.”
“I agree with Cadet Davenport,” Reese said.
“Surprise, surprise,” Ranger addressed the ceiling, then me: “If only you had this much influence over Miss Connelly.”
Like a public fart, I continued to ignore Ranger. Reese shot him a withering look before continuing: “She is already suspicious of our organization to begin with and is now aware of the check and already considers it to be a bribe. She will most likely cite this as evidence to her father and brother that The Academy has ulterior motives and is trying to bribe them.”
I inwardly winced. So Kate had already mentioned that in one of her little emails to Reese. I was surprised she was so forthcoming—she was usually very self-contained for a civilian. She must be feeling pretty desperate, and now the target on her back was even bigger.
Weston whipped his head back to me. “Were you aware that the Connelly girl knew about the check and considered it a bribe?”
I stuck with the truth. No telling how closely they were monitoring my performance. “Yes, sir. She just confronted me with that fact yesterday.”
“I can’t believe you let that crazy bitch give you another black eye!” Ranger jeered.
“This came compliments of one of her suitors, who needed an excuse to vent his petty jealousies.”
“Even worse—I suppose you can’t hit a civilian girl, but I can’t believe you let some high school punk get his shot in!”
Weston and Davies looked like they agreed with Ranger, so I decided to paint the right mental picture for them before they considered me weak. “Actually, it was half the football team. And this I got by being jumped from behind when I was . . . preoccupied with other matters.” I recalled Kate’s horrified face and felt a tightening in my chest.
Ranger grunted. “Still. A shiner from a civilian twice in three weeks is a very poor showing. I’ve had plenty of jealous civilians try and jump me . . . and not one was left standing.”
“Beating her high school friends to a pulp seemed counter productive to our goal,” I put in mildly.
“He’s right again, Nealson,” Weston agreed, somewhat reluctantly. “I can see you are indeed the right man for the job after all, Davenport. Sometimes a lighter hand is what’s called for in these situations . . . instead of a sledgehammer.” He spared a glance at Ranger. “You get the chicken by hatching the egg, not by smashing it.”
Weston turned back to me in the hotseat. “You mentioned in your first report the Connelly girl is uncommonly astute. I’ve seen her scores and they are altogether average—above average to be sure, for civilians—but nowhere near Academy standards. However, now I’m suddenly more curious about her . . .”
My pulse spiked like I had sudden onset fever.
“. . . The girl seems to have good instincts. Do you feel there’s something more to her astuteness than meets the eye?” Weston’s eyes bored into mine to get a good, solid read.
I straightened my shoulders and commandeered my face (and sweat glands) into stillness. “I’ve considered that already, knowing siblings often have similar abilities. However, I do not believe that to be the case here. The Connelly girl is only above average in intelligence and there is nothing to her that even hints at giftedness, unless one considers the art of surviving to be a gift. I now attribute her good instincts to her morals and unwillingness to break up her family . . . and nothing more, unfortunately,” I answered dispassionately.