“There’s a line of work we’re well trained for that offers excellent pay.”
“What’s that?”
“Being a mercenary.”
“A paid soldier?”
“Yes, a paid soldier for a private company that contracts with a third world country or a revolutionary army trying to overthrow a government.”
“Oh, yeah, there’s a well-known company that does that.”
“Blackwater is the most famous, but there are hundreds of companies like that. They hire guys like me and pay very well.We’re dispatched to some country in Africa and get paid to kill people. Sharp shooters are in high demand. Exceptional pay.”
“I hope you’re not considering that.”
“I’m not, but a lot of the guys are convinced that the generous disability is designed to discourage us from taking those private jobs. The Army doesn’t want its former heroes hiring out as professional killers. And, in some of those situations, mercenary forces are fighting against US or UN forces. Bad policy for the US, fighting its own elite soldiers.”
“Yikes.”
“And some of my buddies are now private security for underworld organizations. Pay is good. Work is not hard. They’re living good lives but occasionally have to do some dirty work.”
“The more you talk about it, the more I like you living in the wild.”
“Basically, the US has decided it’s better to give a generous disability to keep us from doing what they’ve trained us to do. My guess is I’m right where the army wants me to be. Living off the grid, causing no harm, and posing no risk to anyone.”
“Generous disability?”
“Mine is $60,000 a year, and disability checks are tax free. It’s not income.”
“Okay, then. That’s pretty good. Getting tax-free money to not work.”
“I’ve never spent a dime of it.”
“What’s it doing?”
“For eight years, it’s been electronically depositing into an investment account indexed to the stock market.”
“You’re not broke.”
“It’s my nest egg.”
“What are you living on?”
“I have another source of income.”
“Your private internet business.”
“Something like that.”
Molly pulled the Jeep in front of the federal building in Omak and parked. They walked with the dogs to a nearby park with shade. Having arrived early, they sat on a park bench and let Bear and Shadow run around before tying them to a tree on long lines, setting out a water bowl, and giving them some love.
“Shadow going to be okay?”
“She knows I won’t leave her for long and that occasionally being tied to a tree is part of a dog’s life. At least she gets to hang with her hunky boyfriend.”
They walked into the small federal building. Bart led the way down a marble hall, opening a wood door that said, “US Army Recruiting.”
“Hi Bart.”
