Free The Perfect Candidate: A Lance Priest / Preacher Thriller (No. 1) by Christopher Metcalf Page B

element at work here.
    “And that is time ladies and gentlemen,” Mr. Exam Monitor made his way back over to the podium. “Please close your exams if you haven’t already done so. I invite you to stand up for a few moments. Take a deep breath and maybe stretch your legs. Please do not talk to each other though. The third and final portion of the test will begin in five minutes and will last one hour and ten minutes.”
    His fellow exam takers did various forms of stretching, exhaling, yawning. Lance did the same. He stood up and raised his arms over his head to release a little pressure in his back. He waited for another student to approach the exam monitor and then casually made his way over near Marsco’s desk. He quickly reached out and opened Marsco’s test to see the first few pages and what he found surprised him indeed. The faker had not answered any of the questions in the test.
    Lance turned ever so slowly and walked back to his desk. It was all one fluid motion. From above, Lance thought it was pretty slick work.
     
    Lance’s replay of the scene didn’t include Braden being impressed with the move. The psychologist was also watching from above. Two floors up, he stood next to contract electronic surveillance expert Frank Wyrick who sat in a chair in front of a video monitor. They both smiled at what they had just seen.
    “Pretty good.” Wyrick whispered.
    “Pretty good is right,” Braden replied.
    The video cameras for this particular surveillance opportunity just happened to be inside the two 21-inch televisions hanging from the ceiling in the corners of the classroom. Whichever side candidate Priest had chosen to sit, the cameras concealed behind see-through opaque glass, could zoom in on him.
    “Did you get enough?” Wyrick asked while still watching the screen.
    “More than.”
    “You sure he made you?”
    “Positive.” Braden confirmed
    “How long?”
    “Tell you the truth,” Braden rubbed his forehead. “I think the little shit made me within minutes. I think he knew I was there from the git-go and was trying to figure me out.”
    “Think he took you for a friendly kind of guy?” Wyrick smiled and winked.
    “That’s the vibe I was giving, but I’ll tell you what, I think that I was the one being evaluated here. I don’t know if I recall anyone this aware with his surroundings.”
    “What, you mean ever? In all your years digging through people’s minds?” Wyrick asked.
    “Ever.” Braden replied.
    They both watched the monitor as Wyrick zoomed the camera in on Lance. His eyes gave nothing away, just like a professional. “The word I kept coming back to is comfortable. He is like a throw blanket on a couch or maybe a robe.” Braden added.
    “Or like a friend you can open up to. Almost like a shrink you can trust.”
    “That really hurts man.” The psychologist shook his head. The two of them had worked together dozens of times.
    Wyrick laughed. “I’m just wondering if you are going to write the word ‘blanket’ or ‘robe’ in your TER?”
    “I might.” They laughed a moment. “It fits though doesn’t it?”
    “Yep. This one is a natural,” Wyrick added. “You can see it inside of a minute. Like we did the first time. The moves, the recognition, the assessing going on; it is like a computer program running in his head. And then there’s the lying. Man that’s artwork.”
    “From everything I've seen, he’s a liar on par with the greatest.” Braden added.
    “You got it,” Wyrick leaned back in his chair for a moment and put his hands behind his head. He had spent a good part of the last two weeks reacquainting himself with Lance Priest and had become an expert of sorts. “This kid’s entire life is a lie. You interview five different people and you get five different stories. Very subtle differences. Totally believable, totally detailed; amazing. I’ve been with more than a dozen so far and I can tell you this kid, Preacher, is the real