Free From Filth & Mud by J. Manuel Page B

amongst the surrounding oaks and pines, a humble three stories. Its few windows provided no natural lighting for its inhabitants. Its concrete walls absorbed the dim sunlight of the brisk October morning. The sole source of light that emanated from the edifice shone through the lobby’s sliding glass double-doors. XPS had recently purchased the building for a song when a certain infamous private security firm had decided that government work was no longer as hospitable as they were accustomed and high-tailed it out of the country, or so he’d heard from John. XPS corporate leadership was smart. Clients never saw this building, which unlike the K-street office, revealed how frugally XPS was run. XPS catered to its clients in its regional offices, mostly short-term, leased suites in high-rise buildings in Boston, New York, D.C., L.A., and they were about to open up another one in Chicago. There was even talk about an expansion to London and possibly Hong Kong.
     
    Jacob checked in with Mary, the receptionist. He had a meeting with Jack Stanton, the Director of the Special Services Division. John had informed him that Stanton was a hard-ass who ran the division as a military unit. He was told to play the part. Jacob sat rigidly against the low-backed, modern, office-style, black leather couch. He was a perfect picture of what a few months at Parris Island could do to a person’s posture even years removed.
     
    Another receptionist emerged from behind a doorway, carrying a serving tray with coffee. She smiled politely and handed him a steaming mug.
     
    “Black, just how you like it.”
     
    Jacob paused, his eyes betrayed his surprise.
     
    “Oh, Mr. Baez informed us that you were coming.”
     
    Jacob smirked back, “Is there any string that man can’t pull?”
     
    “I take it he’s a good friend, an old Marine Corps friend?”
     
    “Yes we go back quite a while.”
     
    Jacob introduced himself extending his hand. The receptionist’s grip was unexpectedly firm.
     
    “Hello Mr. Harrington. I’m Jacqueline Stanton. You can call me Jak.”
     
    Jacob’s eyes again betrayed his surprise.
     
    “It’s okay, Mr. Harrington; I get that all the time. Follow me and bring your coffee too! We have plenty to discuss.”
     
    Jak extended her right arm showing Jacob the way, her left arm almost imperceptibly secured the small of his back. There was nothing about Jak that did not exude steady, steely power. Jacob had noticed how her neck was only slightly smaller than her rather squared-off, powerful lower jaw. Her neck based out onto broad, thick, muscular, bronzed shoulders that were framed by a demi-cut black dress that V’d down to an undoubtedly, equally rock-hard midsection. Her torso flared out to a powerful set of glutes, built by thousands of deep, heavy-weighted squats. Jak’s thighs and calves would have given Serena Williams a fit of jealousy. Her powerful body, however imposing, and beautiful as it was, paled in comparison to her bottomless, midnight-shaded eyes that held his gaze long after it was appropriate.
     
    The pair marched down the hallway from where she had emerged and continued down a long, unadorned corridor. Jak stopped in front of a bank of elevators and waved her palm in front of a scanner. The doors of the elevator in front of them swooshed open, and Jak invited Jacob aboard.
     
    “My office is a couple of floors up.”
     
    “Cool Jedi trick.” Jacob probed.
                 
    “You won’t believe how cool it actually is! It’s an extremely sensitive camera that tracks all of the biometric features in my palm, from my fingerprints on down to my palm print, and the unique blood flow pattern in the capillaries at the surface of my skin.” Jak raised her palm to demonstrate.
     
    “Seems like overkill, no?”
     
    “We take our security incredibly seriously in my division.” Her stern face left no doubts about her veracity.
     
    “You missed the other part, Mr.