Although as rugged looking as the others, his bearing and grooming
indicate he's been away from the business of soldiering for sometime.
His quick intelligent eyes reveal his current profession.
Last time we danced, it was Lieutenant, Schaefer.
A grin breaks out across Schaefer's face.
Dillon, you son of a bitch.
The two men step forward and simultaneous swing from the hip as it to
land a punch... but their hands SLAP together in a gesture of
friendship, their forearms bulging, testing each other's strength.
How you been, Dutch?
They continue the contest, Schaefer has the edge, forcing Dillon's arm
You've been pushing too many Pencils, Dillon. Had enough?
No way, old buddy.
You never did know when to quit.
They look into each other's faces, each remembering something from the
past. A moment's hesitation and they quit the contest. They laugh,
Dillon slapping Schaefer on the shoulder.
That piece of work you guys pulled off at the Berlin embassy last week
was really something. Blew the entry points on three floors and
neutralized the opposition in eight seconds flat. Beautiful.
Like the old days, Dillon.
Also heard that you passed on that little job in Libya.
Schaefer looks at Dillon, quietly considering him.
Wasn't my style. We're a rescue unit, not assassins.
This must be good. Big shot from the CIA, leaves his desk to come back
to the bush. What's so important?
Those cabinet members are very important to our scope of operations in
this part of the world. They're about to get squeezed. We can't let
that happen. I needed someone who could get the job done, quick and
quiet... no screw-ups. I needed the best. The best. So, I pulled a few
strings at the State Department... and here we are.