Free Point of No Return by Rita Henuber Page A

don’t have any government agencies operating here. We have no access to any of their facilities. They don’t train with us or tell us what to do. The three-letter agencies hire us to go in where they don’t want to go. Makes things simple. Reviews like you’re doing are all we have to put up with.” He paused and gave her an up-and-down look. “If you checked our information you’d know that.” He chuckled.
    She’d read it but was glad to get his interpretation of the contract. Honey returned the laugh. “I see we have a lot of area to cover. Let’s get started.”
    While Bristol shut down the mini technical center Honey went around and boosted herself into the passenger side. He fired up the gas guzzler and they passed through an automated gate to another lot with rows of parked cars. “Trainee and staff parking. That door”—he pointed to a double steel door similar to the one they’d come out—“is where you’ll go tomorrow. Right before our front entry, take the road on the right. Park in here. The gate will be open.”
    “The preponderance of electronic technology is wonderful. What happens if you lose power?”
    He braked. “See that mound over there?”
    She looked where he pointed.
    “We call it the elephant burial ground. It houses backup generators for the whole property. Ten to fifteen seconds tops before it kicks in.” He glanced back to the entrance. “While we’re stopped, take a look at the security. Our complete perimeter is surrounded with eight-foot chain link topped with razor wire. We have video surveillance and random guard checks.”
    “Impressive and expensive.”
    He smirked, said nothing and drove on to the firing range and weapons training center, where they met the center’s director, a buff retired Army Special Forces Master Sergeant, “Mac” McKenzie.
    “Give her the speech, Mac,” Bristol said.
    Mac glanced at her ribbons. “Major, I won’t give you the ordinary citizen talk. How much do you want to hear?”
    “Hit the high points today. I’ll be here a few days observing and I’ll get more details then.”
    Mac led them to the center of the training room. “We have a research team to examine changes in policy and doctrine within the international market. We’re aware of current regional and world issues and developments. We consider those issues and train accordingly. We have contacts in weapons manufacturing, allowing us access to new weapons for training.”
    And resale. She smiled and nodded.
    “We train with every kind of firearm we have. Hand-to-hand, with and without a blade. Medic training, rescue. Pretty much Special Ops stuff.” He made a sweeping gesture. “This building houses our section offices, Dojo, gym, and what we call a launch area. The company accepts a job, a team is selected, housed, and trained for two days before we go boots-on-the-ground. There’s a covered walkway through those doors”—he tipped his head—“to an Olympic-sized pool.” He opened a door, revealing a room with desks and computers. “Training classroom.”
    Honey looked around. “Why so many cameras?”
    “We video everything and replay it for instruction purposes.”
    Honey nodded, determined not to say she was impressed again. “Visual makes it easier to learn from your mistakes.” And an easy way for Cooper to get into their system.
    “Exactly. It also gives us a record if we need to let a man go.”
    “How are instructors chosen?”
    “We select and train instructors first.” He went on to give Honey a laundry list of instructor qualifications. She noticed Bristol was not only being left out of the conversation but had little interest in it. “All our people are ex-military or police so we begin training at a higher level.”
    “All? Did they leave because they were disgruntled in their jobs?”
    “Not at all,” Bristol finally contributed. “We aim to get the best men. We seek them out and pay three to five times what the military and cops