Vision in Silver(201)

            Giving the visitor his typical fierce-friendly smile, Burke wagged a finger at Monty—a silent command to come in. “Appreciate the sentiment. As for seeing you, well, you caught a train and came to talk to us. The least we can do is listen to what you have to say. Lieutenant Montgomery, this is Greg O’Sullivan, an agent in the governor’s newly formed Investigative Task Force. O’Sullivan, this is Crispin James Montgomery.”

            “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” O’Sullivan said, extending a hand toward Monty.

            Monty shook the offered hand while he assessed the man. O’Sullivan looked to be in his early thirties. He had green eyes, dark hair that was cut short and starting to thin at the top. The lean build could be the luck of heritage or a deliberate result of diet and exercise. However, the skin on O’Sullivan’s face was so tightly stretched over bone and muscle it lent the man a kind of burning intensity and made Monty think of a warrior who chose an austere life in order to be constantly ready for the next battle.

            Am I the next battle? Something about the way O’Sullivan looked at him gave Monty the feeling the man already knew too much about him.

            Monty and O’Sullivan sat in the visitors’ chairs. Burke sat behind his desk—and waited.

            Looking at the two men, Monty wondered if Burke was seeing a version of his younger self. O’Sullivan certainly came across as having the same kind of fierceness under a veneer of manners.

            “It’s your meeting,” Burke finally said.

            “Is this room secure?” O’Sullivan countered.

            “Nothing you say here will go any further without your consent.”

            O’Sullivan sat back in the chair and crossed his legs at the ankles. “There is a file on you in the governor’s office.”

            “Every police officer has a file,” Burke replied easily. “For that matter, every government employee has a file. Standard procedure.”

            “Yes, it is. Until you joined the force in Lakeside and began rising through the ranks, your file . . . Well, no one’s file is that clean, so when Governor Hannigan called a few of your former commanding officers, they filled in a little of what wasn’t on the page.”

            “And why would the governor be interested in a patrol captain in Lakeside?”

            O’Sullivan smiled. “He was trying to decide if he should recruit you for the ITF.”

            “Why?”

            O’Sullivan’s smile faded. “Because you were assigned to small human villages near or within the boundaries of the wild country in your early years on the force. Because you had direct experience with the terra indigene at least once during those years, and that experience has informed the choices you’ve made ever since when it comes to dealing with the Others. Because two of your former commanders hinted that you saw something or know something too dangerous to put in a report or pass along to anyone else, and whatever happened in those early years makes you a dangerous man because you actually know what’s at stake when humans tangle with the Others. Because you’re someone Governor Hannigan wants as an ally.”

            “You’re here to offer me a job?”

            “No. After careful review, the governor decided you’re ideally situated right where you are.”

            “How kind of him to think so.”

            “I’m not here to start trouble, Captain Burke. I’m here because I need help.” He looked at Monty. “From both of you.”

            Burke leaned forward and put his folded hands on his desk. “I like to know who I’m working with. Don’t you, Lieutenant?”