Going for a very literal description here. Predator with a capital p. I’m sure the boys will enjoy.

Short, bespectacled and a few pounds overweight, Beckett Rigel was not a particularly imposing man. But what he lacked in appearance he made up for in skill. Beckett was a finance guy, but not just any finance guy. His job as he liked to painstakingly enunciate at parties (he was the guy you learnt not to ask) was the capital evaluation of military assets and operations. Everything had to be accounted for and Beckett prided himself on being able to do just that.

Take this particular military institution: Omaha base. Initial investment, thirty mill. Concrete, wood, steel, and a thousand other materials ordered, supplied and then slapped together by a who’s who of tradesmen: joiners, plumbers, electricians, bricklayers etc etc etc. Then there was the military personnel. One hundred grunts, a dozen corporals, six sergeants, then lieutenants, captains, majors and so on and so fourth. And all of them needed boots, uniforms, back packs, rifles, food to eat and, drum roll please, toilet roll with which to wipe their asses.

For many people it was one detail too many. An overwhelming array of logistical possibilities requirements. Not so for Beckett. He lived for that shit. And what’s more, he was good at it. Rank meant nothing to Beckett. Yes, he had a superior. Who didn’t. But Beckett was not about to let some asshole superior officer tell him his job. That, as irony would have it, is exactly what Major Sam Shill was attempting.

‘I’ve told you Beckett……..

To be continued