Chapter 8—Give Me Enough Rope
The difference between try and triumph is a little umph.
Stephanie's POV
My plan was to get up early and arrive at RangeMan a few minutes ahead of my scheduled 8:00 start time. Of course, the rest of the RangeMan team was up for their workouts at 0500. I made it onto the premises by 8:00, but I was late arriving on the fifth floor by five minutes. It didn't go unnoticed by my new boss.
"I'll overlook your tardiness today, but from now on out you'll be docked an hour's pay for every minute you're late," he informed me. My mouth dropped open with that bit of shocking news. One look at Tank's forbidding expression and my jaw snapped shut. Tank was no Ranger.
I settled into my cubicle and Tank gave me a refresher on the search programs RangeMan used. He also walked me through two new types of searches they now conducted on all fugitives. He was all business. Not a smile cracked his face nor a personal question escaped his lips.
The day went as I expected. Fairly boring, sitting on my ass all day running computer searches. The bright spot was when Ella, the housekeeper for RangeMan, brought in lunch. Turkey on whole wheat with sprouts and tomatoes. And mustard. YUM! (That's sarcasm, in case you didn't hear the snarky tone in my voice.) No white bread or fattening mayo at RangeMan. I think Ranger was prejudiced against white foods. Ella had also sliced carrots to resemble ruffled potato chips, but it just wasn't the same. I couldn't complain. Until I got my first paycheck, I was broke. Any free food was welcome.
The guys seemed to be uneasy around me and instead of eating in the break room, they took their lunches back to their stations. None of the guys were big talkers, but I had been hoping for a little more social interaction.
I guess I couldn't blame them for being standoffish. I hadn't been around any of them for months out of deference to Joe, and Ranger had kept his distance from me, too. My choices were coming back to bite me on the butt. I spent the rest of my first day working alone in my cubicle.
Before I left for the day, Tank called me into his office. He handed me a piece of paper. It was a calendar with my training schedule. Sheesh! No wonder the guys weren't happy with me. Tank had assigned each of them 'Steph-duty,' training me in the various skills I'd need before Tank would certify me competent to apprehend fugitives for RangeMan. I could look forward to months of target practice, treadmill and weights, and even hand to hand combat. Oh joy!
I consoled myself that at least I had a job and one that had the promise of future fieldwork. Maybe with all this training I could even avoid smelling like garbage at the end of the day.
One month later…
A scream ripped from my throat as I lost my grip on the rope. My body plummeted toward the ground. Then it felt like my left leg was jerked out of its socket and I was dangling in midair. Hanging upside down, I watched Lester, Hal and Bobby standing there with their mouths open.
"Well, don't just stand there. Get me down!" I yelled, pain shooting through my left thigh and hip. I thought these were supposed to be men of action, who could spring into motion in a split second. But these three yokels stood riveted in place watching me swing to and fro.
With a big grin on his face, Lester finally came out of his daze and walked over to me. "I have never seen anyone do that during a rope climb. How did you get your leg tangled in the rope?" he asked, twisting his head to get a better look at my body.
My left leg was stretched tight by the rope wrapped around it and my right leg was hanging loose parallel to the gym floor. Blood was rushing to my head and I was getting dizzy.
"What does it matter how it happened. Just get me down from here," I griped.
Hal joined Lester in staring up at me. I only hoped everything that should be covered, was.
I thought Hal and I were friends, but even he had to get in a dig. "Steph, I've seen you get yourself into a lot of messes over the years, but a simple rope climb? I guess what they say is true: 'Give you enough rope, and you'll hang yourself'."
That got a raucous laugh from all three men and a hardee-har-har from me. All the newbies at RangeMan got razzed. At least they hadn't hazed me—yet.
Being the tallest, Hal put his massive hands on my dangling shoulders and lifted me up. That took the tension off the rope and it immediately unraveled from my leg.
Again, I felt like I was plummeting, but Lester and Hal caught me before I hit the ground. Hal had me by the shoulders and Lester had a hold of my butt. My butt—not my legs. Jeez!
I shrugged them off as they righted me and set me on my feet. Glaring at all three guys, I declared, "No more rope climbing. I'll do treadmill, weight training and hand to hand, but I won't leave the ground anymore, unless you plan on teaching me how to fly. Is that clear?"
They dutifully nodded, trying to hide their grins behind hands pretending to scratch noses and chins. Bobby asked if my leg was alright. I stomped on it and bent my knee a couple of times and while sore, my leg seemed to work fine. But I declared my exercise session was over for the day.
This last month, I'd been covered head to toe with bruises, swollen lips and even a black eye or two. I'd finally learned how to fall and how to tuck and roll, so the black and blue marks were lessening. I knew the guys were pulling most of their punches, but it still hurt like heck when I hit the ground, mat or no mat.
I headed for the locker room and wrapped my hair scrunchie on the door handle. It was my signal to the guys I was in there.
This system had worked after the first disastrous day when Hal had walked in on me taking a shower. Most guys would immediately turn respectfully around or do a quick ogle, make a snide comment and then turn around. But Hal, innocent Hal, was so shocked, he just stood there and stared, mouth in a big O.
I guess he'd never seen a naked woman before. Even after I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around me, he still stared as if he were in a trance. Now, I think I have a decent body, but it would never send men in a trance. Except for Hal.
Tank had made a point of telling me that Hal was useless the rest of the day. Hence, the scrunchie.
For the past month, I'd been training in the mornings and doing computer searches on fugitives in the afternoon. I put everything I had into each day, so that if Ranger was here he would be proud of me.
There'd been no word from him, but Tank had told me not to expect anything. I got the distinct impression that Ranger wasn't on any normal 'business' trip. Which meant what I'd always suspected was probably true. Ranger was off saving the world somewhere, putting himself in harm's way.
My earlier premonition came flooding back, filling me with dread. I couldn't function under such fear so I took a deep breath and then another, and drew myself up throwing my shoulders back. Then I made my way up the stairs to the fifth floor.
A month of hardcore exercising had definitely got me into shape. I felt stronger now and running up the stairs no longer left me wheezing my lungs out. And while I still hated guns, I could at least load them and hit the paper target nine times out of ten. Not that a leg wound and a shot-off finger could be called a kill shot, but hey, I hit the paper.
My martial arts skills still sucked. I cringed whenever I knew I was going to hit the mat. And I couldn't bring myself to hit or kick the guys with any force. I had to be mad or scared before I could do that. Also, I had to promise not to resort to my signature 'knee to the groin' maneuver during training sessions.
This afternoon was my first evaluation meeting with Tank. I would learn if I had improved enough to be permitted to do fieldwork. I wore my standard RangeMan uniform of black t-shirt, black slacks and black lace up sneakers. If I was in the field, the slacks could be changed out for black jeans or cargo pants and the sneakers were to be replaced with black work boots.
Luckily, there was no standard for what anyone wore underneath the uniform. I was wearing a pink lace push-up bra and bikini set. Since I suspected Ranger frequently went commando, I tried not to think about what the rest of my co-workers wore underneath their uniforms.
Standing outside Tank's office, I rapped once on the door.
"Enter," was the curt reply. As I walked in, he motioned me to the chair in front of his immaculate desk. Tank looked even more massive behind a desk, towering over me as I sat on the indicated slipper chair. A single piece of paper was the only item marring the mahogany desk's gleaming expanse. I waited silently for him to say something.
He studied the paper, his head down and a blank expression on his face. Since I started working here, I'd only seen two expressions from Tank — blank and exasperated. I didn't like either of them. I was determined to get him to smile one day.
"I have your evaluations and recommendations from each of your instructors. They're a mixed bag." Tank looked at me over his reading glasses, which I didn't know he wore. They seemed out of place on him. He reminded me of my college business systems professor.
"What that means is that it comes down to a judgment call on my part whether to allow you to do fugitive apprehensions for RangeMan." He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, still looking at me.
"I know you have prior experience as a bond enforcement agent, but now you are working for RangeMan and we have a reputation to maintain. RangeMan employees don't get covered in garbage nor do they let skips slip out upstairs windows," he said meaningfully.
I could feel my blood pressure rising and wanted to defend myself, but bit my tongue instead. I could rattle off a long litany of less than perfect examples of RangeMan employee gaffes, like a certain someone breaking his leg when a skip jumped on him from the porch roof or letting an elderly woman drop him with a kick to his groin, but I wisely chose to zip my lip.
Tank continued, "RangeMan currently has a backlog of FTAs to find and bring in. Many are from Chambersburg. I've decided to let you do fieldwork, but only with a partner. Consider yourself a field agent in training. You will follow your partner's instructions and commands to the letter. Do I make myself clear?"
I nodded.
"Who's my partner?" I asked, hoping against hope it wasn't one of the guys who scared me to death.
"Zero," was the reply. My heart sank. Zero wasn't the largest man at RangeMan, but he never talked, never looked me in the eye and I'd never seen even the hint of any expression on his face. He was one very large… zero. And what was it with all those weird nicknames?
"I still want you to continue your training, but we'll cut it down to two hours in the morning and you will still run searches when you aren't in the field. You are also to sit in on the Wednesday morning brainstorming sessions."
My eyes widened at that last assignment. Only the core team was invited to the Wednesday sessions. They discussed the tough cases, not just FTAs, but any company problem that came up and couldn't be easily resolved.
"M-m-me?" I stammered.
Tank leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk's surface. He looked me over as if sizing me up.
"Most of the core team are military men, with similar training and work experiences. I think it's time we broaden our team. You would bring a fresh perspective because of your, uh, different background and, to be frank, because you're a… uh, well, you're not a man."
I wasn't sure, but I think he may have suppressed the beginning of a smile. Omigosh, so there was something that could tickle Tank's funny bone. I didn't know whether he thought it was funny because a woman could offer insights a man couldn't, or if it was funny simply because I was a woman. I bit the inside of my cheek in an effort not to grin.
He continued, "You may not have had the physical skills needed to be a good bounty hunter, but you had an excellent capture record. To me, that means you have something else going for you. I want you to apply whatever it is that made you a successful apprehension agent to the cases we've been unable to solve. Every Monday, you'll find a set of files in your inbox. The files will contain the information for the cases we'll be discussing Wednesday. Study each one and come prepared to discuss them at the meeting."
I was floored. Tank actually acknowledged I was a good bounty hunter, sort of. And he thought I had something to offer on their tough cases. I tried very hard not to let my relief, joy and well, pride show in my face.
Tank stood, so I did too. He stuck out his hand and we shook. "Congratulations, Stephanie. You worked hard and it shows and as long as you keep it up, you won't run afoul with me." Great. Praise and threat in one sentence. That should keep me on my toes. I walked out of his office, my back a little straighter and maybe a slight swagger in my step.
