MARIEL

29~ Friends ~

Tira straightened her crisp, white collar and waited in an upright position. She sat in her new red BMW SUV, in the driver's seat, as Michael had wanted her to drive the streets of Chicago to get a feel for it. She had almost gotten lost, which is why she had departed at 6:30am that Monday, even though her meeting was at 8:00am. Michael had followed her to ensure no issues arose, and once she found the parking lot to the warehouse where she was to meet the Chicago Chief of Police, he left her to fend for herself.

It was almost 7:30am, and she waited. She adjusted the rearview mirror downwards to ensure her hair was still in place. The black, fitted suit was already uncomfortable, as were the heeled boots she wore underneath the pants. Her white, button-down opened at the neck, and her hair was clipped to the back center of her head. Squinting a little, Tira adjusted the studs in her ears and then lifted the mirror back up to its original location.

She turned up the heater and continued to wait. Her mind traveled back to the other day, when she saw the old man. Tira and Michael had come to the end of the Chicago tour, and Michael had offered to buy her coffee. As they stood in line, she had turned her head, something she did out of instinct to make sure she remained on guard. Instantly, her eyes had met the man's, and she remembered liking how kind they looked. Then, the look had turned into something akin to recognition, and he had screamed. Tira had wanted to help him. She pitied him. Thinking about it today, she hoped he was alright.

Tira glanced at the clock. Time to go.

Her heels clicked against the freshly shoveled cement. The building she approached was very large, its steel roof white with snow. It stretched across the parking lot, and behind it sat open land. She approached the first red, windowless door she saw closest to her, and she turned the cold handle. It stuck.

"Still locked, sorry." A deep voice from the parking lot called to her.

Tira turned, facing the voice that spoke. A stocky man with a black haired buzz cut and a mustache stepped out of a four-door truck and walked towards her. He was dressed in business khakis and a black winter coat, and his strides were quick as he approached.

"Tira Arcelin?" He extended a hand.

The name sounded odd to her, her original last name that had been assigned to her for her duties in the United States. She had been accustomed to Aleksey's last name, and she realized it would take time to adapt herself to it.

"Chief Wilder. It is my pleasure." She grasped his hand and appreciated the sturdy grip. Even men who knew who she truly was rarely grasped her hand with a firm grasp, as if they believed she was, as a female, fragile. "Thank you for this opportunity."

He nodded and withdrew keys from his coat pocket. "I need to thank you. It sounds like you are a very special individual." The chief opened the door and stepped inside the dark warehouse. "Trust me, Americans don't usually commit to bringing over foreigners to train their people. We have this thing called pride."

Tira followed him as he switched on the lights. The industrial lights snapped on, exposing a floor of turf, stadium steps, and construction equipment. Further back along the walls, there were other, smaller rooms in the building, but most were still under construction.

"The main area is done here, as you can see," he said, pointing to the turf field. "We're going to add some standard exercise equipment next to the field. Meanwhile, here, you can get some physical fitness done on the turf with our people."

Tira scanned the building, remembering the warehouse in Russia where she nearly drowned. "And what's behind the building?"

Wilder shoved his hands into his coat pockets. "We're putting an obstacle course there. And a gun range further back." He chuckled. "I'm too old and fat for that shit, but you'll enjoy working with our cops and agents."