Chapters 16 - 18

CHAPTER 16

Later in the day, Rico sat in his office thinking how to rationalize away what Michelle had told him. Pretty well convinced that he had overreacted, he told himself that a call to Prince Michael was long over due anyway. Just in case, he would subtly broach the topic. What if they were in danger for real? He made a mental note to do an internet search for European organized crime syndicates. He quickly chastised himself when his earlier thought came to mind; that Michelle’s existence could be of use for what he was planning to carry out very soon. He felt dirty; evil.

Online shopping proved a way to get his mind off the matter. Rico was reading the specs on a product when Jennifer hollered at him from her lobby desk.

“Jacob, you have a Mr. Joshua Cohen. Says he has an interview at ten today,” Jennifer, now at the doorway, informed Rico.

It was Rico’s office and nit-picky protocol that the front desk person communicated with him face-to-face. He disliked the impersonal feeling of the intercom; or so he said.

Jennifer was sure that it was really so he could see her pretty, and usually chirpy, face. She leaned against the outside wall and peered in with a smile.

He was thankful the smile was back. His lack of enthusiasm, or confidence, about her taking over the finances had stung her more then he knew.

“But, but it’s only nine,” he answered, disbelief on his face. 

He motioned to her to look at his PC monitor screen. She leaned over him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and chest, chin resting on the crown of his head.

“What? Looks like a juiced up Chevy Suburban to me,” she whispered, exaggerating her Dakotan country accent, if there was such a thing. As much as she played the accent up, she played dumb about the vehicle; she knew exactly what the vehicle was. She thought he was just window shopping.

“Jenny, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were trying to get fresh with me, wearing that very nice perfume! Won’t it make Joey a tad bit unhappy?” he said.

She smelled herself and agreed with a nod. “I’ll save this one for a future honey,” she said coyly, kissing him on the forehead. “… and that’s not you!

“Now, what about this vehicle?” she said. It was only because a professional didn’t engage in chit chat, even with the boss, while on duty—the body contact notwithstanding. Only during a short period in her life had she deviated from consummate professionalism—and that was in a distant past the two in the room relegated to the Sea of Forgetfulness.

The sergeant and the airman, with the apparent fondness for each other, had caused misunderstandings and heated arguments among the detachment commandos at times. Not one of the other team members believed the truth that the pair hadn’t slept together. Though the He-Men on the team would have considered her conquest a badge of honor, Rico vehemently denied it … sometimes shutting them up with choice words.

One unfortunate time, Jennifer overheard the whispering back and forth and internalized what she thought was disgust on Rico’s part about them being a couple. And where she stood with him only got blurrier. When another commando had said that since Jennifer was free, he was going to ….

What the man almost finished saying caused a free-for-all between him and Rico, which landed them in the brig’s medical unit. Needless to say, confusion prevailed in her heart.

Thankfully, things weren’t so fuzzy any more. The lack of sexual tension between the two since a talk they had had was proving to be very liberating for both of them. The ever present reservations of being the real them were gone. Now they were like family and totally open with each other. It created a great working environment for everyone, especially between Joey and Jennifer. 

“Here, take this printout, go to this web site and order me one with the color changing option. I need it in no more than four weeks,” he insisted.

Jennifer gave him a look of disapproval. Rico figured Joey had been sharing about his fiscal practices, again. “Irresponsible,” was the word she, he was sure, tossed around plenty.

“All righty … about your visitor?” She smartly resisted any comment about the money topic.

 “Let him stew about fifteen and watch what he does with his time,” he said in a hush. She nodded to Rico with a look of understanding. 

“Mr. Cohen, it’ll be about fifteen minutes. Please, make yourself comfortable,” she said.

Jennifer stepped back in Rico’s office minutes later and informed him that the man had been reading Scientific American and that another magazine she noticed in his open brief case was Voice of the Martyrs.

“Don’t ask me!” Jennifer answered his non verbal question about the strange sounding magazine. Every once in a while Rico also read Scientific American, so he knew what that was about. The other magazine, a Jewish, Evangelical religious publication, stumped him.

Jennifer informed him before leaving that the Smart Truck he was looking at was over two hundred and seventy-five thousand big ones.

“I must’ve gone to the wrong site, boss; especially, since it says that it is available only to government entities, authorized foreign governments and domestic security agencies authorized by the Department of Homeland Security.” 

He told her he knew about the price. She was to get to ordering it from the equipment testing budget. He handed her a paper with his user name and password to the Homeland Security Directorate technology clearance office. He pulled an odd looking contraption out of his safe. “Here, plug this retina and bio scanner into your computer after you’ve entered the site. Once you’ve filled out the on-line forms I listed on that paper, I’ll go over and scan my eye and thumb when it prompts you. Got it girl?”

Jennifer’s head was spinning, but nodded anyway.

Four minutes later she called him over and he scanned his eye and thumb. Cohen watched Rico raise the handheld cup-looking device up to his left eye. The screen said the scan and match was complete and flashed that the application would be processed. Rico just nodded politely to Cohen as he passed on the way back to his office.

Cohen observed closely, though he appeared disinterested.  

Some minutes later Rico asked for Mr. Cohen. Jennifer directed him in, then mulled over the instructions she had just been given about the truck. Now she had to fill out the on-line order form at the manufacturer’s web site. They would only fulfill the order if final approval was received from the appropriate Homeland Security section.

Mr. Cohen and Rico exchanged pleasantries about being from here and there.

“So, why would a Jew straight out of Israel want to move to New Mexico to work for a small company,” Rico asked bluntly. He wasn’t sure he liked the answer. 

“Actually, New York is currently my home. I’m really only looking to moonlight and do contract work out of there,” Cohen replied. “I’ve lived there for ten years and already have guaranteed executive security work, but I’m looking to branch out on my own. Since I usually have weeks off at a time, I figured I could fill in that time offering my quality work to a small company that normally wouldn’t be able to afford my fee scale.”

Weeks off at a time, huh? “Can you give me the names of some of your current clientele that I can call for a reference?”

“Sorry, that’s privileged information.”

Rico didn’t like that answer either, appropriate as it was. 

“I have done some checking about your former company, though,” Cohen continued.  “And I’ve heard nothing but good things about some of your now successful former employees.” 

“Coming from a man with your dossier, that really means something to me Mr. Cohen,” Rico said, paying a rare and sincere compliment to the man. “I would like you to return for a full interview if my staff agrees that we could use your services. If not, where can I contact you to inform you of that?”

What about the Mossad? Rico thought. He couldn’t ask the man why a former Mossad operative would be interested in his little company because he didn’t want to reveal to the stranger how deep his own intel was. Rico considered off-hand sending Cohen down the road, but then thought about the possibilities.

“Two things before you leave, Mr. Cohen. One is, whether you do come back for a full panel interview or not, I want to extend an invitation for dinner here at five-thirty or so. Seems like everyone in this company can cook … except for me and that woman out there … and they love to compete and show off. RIGHT, Jennifer?” Rico said toward the open door without changing volume. He knew she was eavesdropping and hanging on every word.

“Yes, it’s true, you can’t even boil water!” She did an admirable job of concealing the surprise at being called on.

“She exaggerates. I do instant oatmeal, and she can’t do  that.” Rico couldn’t help grinning.

“Anyway, the second thing is that the questions you would be asked would not be standard questions. It is important that you take them seriously, and not think they’re intended to insult you. If you don’t like them, obviously, you would be free to walk away.”

I wish I could do that already, Cohen thought. But, I have my instructions.

No hard feelings either way. You have your interests, we have ours.” With that Rico extended his hand and stood.

“Jennifer, call a staff meeting, we have something to discuss,” he instructed casually, escorting Cohen to the door.

Jennifer was aching to rib Rico back about him suddenly being so formal, but she said nothing.

“Remember, Sarge is in the field,” she said instead.

“Have him come in … or we’ll do a teleconference.”

Mr. Cohen waited for a taxi under the shade of the splendid cottonwood trees in the building’s manicured front lawn. The cab Jennifer called arrived in about five minutes.

***

 Two hours later the staff was assembled in the conference room. Fruit and finger food platters crowded the serving table, a fringe benefit for the staff and family. Rico had a nontraditional practice of having open meetings, though planning and operational sessions took place behind closed doors.

It was rare that a child whined about hunger pains, and that’s how Rico liked it. He planned for the young children (of staff and various friends of Joey’s) to play in the upper level, supervised by a parent or Rosangelica and Tina, while the back yard was being dug out. Older children shot hoops or roller bladed in the neighboring apartment complex parking lot. The corner of the lot was rarely used and so far from the apartments that Rico negotiated with the owners, paying a small fee for its use.

The goal of this particular meeting was to match the company’s tasks—the ones he would divulge, at least—to the skills the Israeli brought to the table. Rico asked everyone to brainstorm some reasons to hire the man. If they could find no substantial match with the man’s skills and character traits, then no contract offer would be considered.

After an hour of munching and talking, the group identified some tasks that someone working out of New York could do for the company. They spent another half hour matching tasks from the applicant’s dossier and the standard personal file Rico managed to assemble from who knew where. The man’s claims corresponded with Rico’s file records—minus facts the man excluded, since they were likely restricted by his former organization.        

Finally, they considered man’s overall character and suitability to work with others, especially children, pre-adolescents and teenagers, as well as battered women. Some questions obviously would have to wait to be answered in person. Rico gathered everyone’s input and would make a decision, after privately consulting with Joey.

Rico realized he would have to rely more and more on Joey to make crucial decisions about people’s characters. Even though his instincts were as sharp as ever, the headaches frequently impeded clear thinking. Detecting deviancy was even more essential now that his business directly involved vulnerable women and children, and not combat. He wisely deferred to Joey’s take on the man.

Rico wondered when her motherly attributes had first surfaced. Only now was he noticing that she had somehow reconciled her past, seeming to possess a peaceful spirit and purposeful direction. He at times thought he was finally getting a grip, only to digress in a whirlwind of self-loathing and overwhelming guilt, often without an external trigger. He dwelt at the edge of hell quite often; permanent relief always seemed just around the corner.

After conferring with Rico, Joey decided that she would need a follow-up meeting in person. He got on the phone and informed the Israeli that further informal discussions over dinner would be necessary, if he was still interested.

And Cohen was definitely interested, especially in home-cooked Mexican cuisine. It was a go.

Later, just past 4 p.m., the ladies, and even Sarge, contributed to a monster buffet dinner. The contrasts between Mexican and Irish music made for delightful dancing and conversation. Cohen seemed to fit right into the festivities, joining unabashedly with the dancing children. The conference room served well as a combination dining room and dance floor.

After almost two hours of socializing, everyone had a chance to get a sense of what Mr. Cohen was all about. Then Rico casually solicited a final yea or nay from everyone on the staff and the adult family members. As had already been established, he would get the one that really counted last—Joey’s.

Thankfully, they unanimously chose to offer him a contract. Rico couldn’t have been more relieved. He had taken a quite a liking to the man, and would’ve had to argue vehemently with the boss.

Even though the question of the Mossad lingered, the two men quickly sensed the other’s penchant for joking around. Rico tested the waters by ribbing him about Jewish culture. Cohen’s quick wit pleasantly surprised him. Rico wasn’t about to hire somebody with anal-retentive tendencies and no sense of humor.

Cohen indicated he was very interested. Rico directed him to the office and, with a look, directed Jennifer to follow.

A smidgen of jealousy bit into Joey as she observed the three leaving the room without her. She quickly snapped out of it. There’s no need for me to be there. They’re just setting up an agreement. I’ve done my part. But still, he could’ve … She took that thought captive and chastised herself. Forgive me, Lord. She picked up one of the children and hugged herself back to the important world.

***

“After seeing all these wild people, who I must tell you didn’t drink a drop of alcohol, you’re still interested?” Rico asked.

“I don’t know if it’s company policy  not to drink, but it sure is refreshing not dealing with drunken fools,” he said  bluntly.

His reaction caught Rico and Jennifer off guard. He was definitely spirited.

Cohen alluded to the culture of overindulgence that agents in the business frequently witnessed. They then had to keep their mouths shut about their clients’ indiscretions because they were sworn to protect their privacy, along with their lives. Never mind the notorious tendency for excessive drinking and machismo by the disillusioned, mostly male agents.

“It is not company policy, but because I don’t hire people that drink more than a beer a day, I don’t have to make it one,” Rico clarified.

The man nodded. He eyed Jennifer and seemed puzzled at her presence instead of Joey’s, introduced earlier as Rico’s wife and company vice president. Rico noted his expression. He liked the man’s apparent transparency—a refreshing change. Overly closed-faced, secretive people populated the protection business, as far as he was concerned. His company would move away from that mold as much as possible.

But … was the man naturally that way; or was it a calculated move intended to ingratiate Rico and then burn him? Either way, the once wary Rico chose to trust him—to a point. 

“Before we negotiate a contract, there is one last thing we must agree on. And that is regarding who you would answer to. This young lady here is my right hand regarding security operations. She executes the plan we all agree on. If she’s not happy, I’m not happy. Do you have qualms about taking orders from a seemingly less experienced troop than yourself?”

“With all due respect,” Cohen said  after some thought. “This woman’s reputation precedes her. I would be honored to serve under her direction.”

Rico’s and Jennifer’s eyebrows rose. Jennifer’s posture, already contest perfect, improved a bit more.

I can’t believe she needed a positive stroke, Rico thought. “No, Jennifer, you can’t have a raise because you’re famous. He must be talking about that sexy, bikini pose of you that I posted on the web,” Rico said, dodging Jennifer’s backhand. Even as he pretended playfulness, Rico was sure Cohen’s surprised look had been more a look of recognition. But where could they have met? Jennifer gave no indication of recognizing him in return.

“I guess I’ll take that as a yes,” Rico said to Cohen, shaking off his thoughts. “If I ask you to elaborate on your source, Jennifer’s head won’t fit through that door!”

Rico considered for a fleeting second mentioning what other part of her wouldn’t fit. He left well enough alone. They had a quick laugh and moved on to discuss the at-will contract Rico had in mind. The man’s skills were so much in demand that he could have commanded many times what Rico was predisposed to pay for each contract job.

Rico caved in to the impulse to ask Cohen about the sources that knew about his company and Jennifer in particular. Of the names Cohen cited, Oscar Villas kept ringing in his head. He recalled all the others, but the fact that Villas was now, according to Cohen, in the top ranks of the US Secret Service, gave him pause. He had been real close to the top-notch airman and wasn’t surprised at his success. But he was a little concerned about running into him again. Rico thought that Cohen seemed awfully well connected with the very tight-knit world of U.S. Secret Service agents.

In fact, Cohen was an outsider and less than embraced by most. But much to their ire, he possessed unusual access to the oval office, the nature of the visits a mystery to all of them.  

Once again, doubts about hiring the man crept in, but only for a second. It really troubled Rico that the man seemed to know many of his own government contacts—too many. Any slip on his part, and though his friends, they would pounce if they found him out as quickly as any other threat to national security. Nevertheless, Rico decided to follow through hiring him. Maybe later he would broach that topic. How and when he had no idea. The bothersome thought lingered in his mind for several days until other pressing matters moved it to the background. 

Cohen left the get-together with an at-will contract; he left a discounted fee list for various contract services he offered.

Rico already had plans bouncing around in his head.

CHAPTER 17

Later that evening Rico sat in his quiet office, his mind racing, planning—or conniving, depending on one’s perspective—his next moves, and then recanting, doubting, chastising and other things. To add to the mix, thoughts of Cohen intruded. Why had the man not mentioned his Mossad background? Was it possible he was still an active agent? Could someone have overheard his drunken tirade in a San Diego bar? But what had he said about the President? That’s why he didn’t drink often any more.

Then the dilemma about Michelle’s apparent memories came to mind. Rico postponed the unsavory call to London this time until midnight. But, a long nap and three hours spent watching a rare late movie with Jennifer and the girls didn’t help him forget this time.

I can’t believe I’m wasting Z time on this. Even if there is anything to Michelle’s story, she did say not to be nosing around. I’ve got enough problems of my own making without … Boy, the girl has an imagination. The girls would be in danger? What’s that about? Too much TV, maybe? Probably American reruns running in England, Ireland … wherever.

“Hi, it’s Jacob. Is the Prince available, please?”

“Hello Mr. Rico … Jacob, just a second please. Yes, he is available. God bless you sir, have a great day.”

Rico thought she did fine for being new, till the last part. He made a mental note to let Michael know that his new help was likely to offend someone’s sensibilities.

The Prince would know quite well who in particular would be offended, thanks to Joey. He couldn’t exactly tell his friend Jacob that he highly encouraged his help’s salutation; nor could he offer, on Joey’s admonition, that he had had an encounter with God more than a year before. Fortunately, by the end of their conversation Rico’s mind would be too confused to bring the topic up.

“Hello, Jacob. Top of the morning to you … I mean … midnight.”

“Hey.”

“Don’t tell me you need more cash?”

“Naw, just had some questions. They might make you think I’m … strange … or something.”

“A  tad late for that,” the Prince said, being quite honest. “Would I no longer be your friend if you couldn’t pay me? Would I be furious for a while? Would I eventually get over it? Yes cubed.”

“I lost all your money,” Jacob said, stalling figuring he could still bail out of the questions he intended to ask, and keep lots of cash. But two traits Rico valued were integrity and honesty … mostly.

Michael surprised himself with his reaction to the news he thought was for real. Without a pause he answered, “Oh well, I’m sure you have your reasons.”

“I’m kidding … but, do you think England has a problem with organized crime … the slave-trade kind?” There, he got it off his chest.

The pronounced silence at the other end said volumes, or was the Prince just caught off guard by the seeming nonsense?

“I … I … where in the world did that come from?”

“I have this nagging feeling that your M4 or M5, whichever applies, is keeping things under wraps. Of course, I could just as well be mental or something.” The silence this time was deafening. “What would Lords, or high … something, or whatever, have to do with something like this?” Rico continued, sensing something was up.

It couldn’t possibly be his questions that were causing the silence. Maybe he was in a meeting again and was multitasking at the moment.

“Did I interrupt something?” Rico asked wishfully.

“No.” That answered that. “But listen, I do have to run. You were right. Those were strange things to ask. I’ll … I’ll look into it though. Give me a couple of months on that.”

“Listen, it might just be gibberish sh… stuff, I conjured up. So don’t put much into it, you being busy and all.”

“OK, Jacob, good day.”

Rico mused that that was one strange exchange. He was sure he had touched a raw nerve, or something. It made him shudder for a second to think Michelle had even half her mind straight. And there he was; turning rocks she told him not to.

But across the Atlantic, Prince Michael was experiencing more than a shudder—it was more like an outright panic attack. He wondered why God had used an unsaved person, according to Joey of course, to confirm what God had told him during a meeting with important members of parliament—lords. “Evil is in your midst,” the Spirit had spoken softly, though not audibly through his natural ears. “Many suffer in shackles in the Lion’s land. One of my sheep is with the Young Lion now. What will you do? Count the cost and act to save the Lion from utter destruction. When will the Lion arise from its slumber? The Young Lion shames you praising the Most High God more than you.”

Michael had been totally confused about the biblical term for his country at the time. And the rest of the Words of Exhortation had gone over his head, until Rico called. Then a classified report he had read, mistakenly—he believed—placed in his possession three years before, came to mind. Unknown to him at the time was that this was exactly what had happened to Rico ten years before. It hit home now what the phrase “numerous cases of involuntary servitude” was supposed to mean. The report had mysteriously disappeared, and follow-ups never came. But the thought of acting, even on the matter of the missing report, made him tremble.

CHAPTER 18

Slowly rising to consciousness at about 2:00 p.m. the next day, Rico felt quite lonesome, and alone, in the large building he called home. Joey’s normal rising at five-thirty for morning-prayer hadn’t even stirred him. Normally, he would turn and mumble and grumble why anyone would rise at such an ungodly hour. A pat on the head like a puppy always worked to settle him down so Joey could scoot to her private place.

Waking up to this quiet house—every day everyone was long gone before he rose—had particularly roused his ire this particular morning. He could barely tolerate himself.

The conversation with Michael fourteen hours earlier ran through his mind while he showered and brushed his teeth. Finally, he managed to will it out of his mind. Skilled mental gymnastics made the memory a permanently distant thing after just a few more days.

But this day, overcome with boredom by three o’ clock, he headed to Joey’s dojo; for the first time actually intending to walk in during classes. He walked over and held the door knob. Things always sounded lively from outside.

Today, Jennifer was there too. She forwarded the office phone since she was on duty. Students sat on the floor, leaning against the mirrored walls. The weekly advanced student session was about to begin. Around twenty people in their gees chatted away as mats were laid out.

Joey finished the opening prayer, a practice she did over anyone’s objection. In Jesus’ name she would conclude each time. That day would be the first time in a long time that there was anyone who would complain. A former Los Angeles police officer, six-months-new to the LCPD, sneered, but didn’t say anything. He figured he’d show the small town hicks a thing or two instead … about something better than prayer.

Rico edged through the front door. Sneaking in unnoticed wasn’t going to be as easy as he expected.

At seeing Rico, Joey shot a look at Jennifer and shook her head. Joey mouthed, “You brat!” I have a feeling this is not a good day for him to come, she thought. She had seen the LA cop’s sneer.

Rico wondered what the facial exchange between the two women was about.

Jennifer, sitting on the floor near Rosangelica, covered a grin with her knees. She had chastised Rico about not having shown any interest in how Joey made her living, or about her life in general for that matter.

He took it hard, so there he was.

She was glad to still have some influence on him.

Rosangelica elbowed Jennifer, also wondering what the exchange with Joey was about. Before Jennifer could respond, Rosangelica quickly turned to Rico and excitedly waved him over to her.

Rico turned bright red under his beard and tried with all his might to become invisible. If that wasn’t enough, Joey announced that her husband was in the house and pointed him out. He stiffened, but managed waving sheepishly as a few of the students applauded.

Great, get all these people to stare at me, Joey, he thought, then sat quickly.

After a few opening remarks, Joey demonstrated some defensive moves on a volunteer. Everyone seemed impressed. She made it look easy.

Rico took out a super-size candy bar. Rosangelica ribbed him and pointed to the No Food or Drink sign taped above them.

He took a bite and mumbled through caramel, “Its okay, I know the owner,” and grinned.

“Do you really?” Rosangelica said, wearing an undecipherable expression.

Then the “I’ve-seen-everything” former East L.A. beat cop spoke up. “Nothing personal, but I don’t think those moves would work where I come from.”

Joey liked a lighted-hearted atmosphere, but the room suddenly became dead silent. The officer’s supervisor shook his head, slowly slumping further down the wall.

“Where are you from?” Joey asked, arms crossed, lips pursed, a toe tracing meaningless circles on the mat.

“East LA, six years LAPD,” the officer said with a smirk, adding a puffed-out chest to the statement.

Rico didn’t notice the subtle shift in Joey’s expression. Maybe he was too busy seething at the man’s rudeness.

Instead of addressing the man again, Joey turned to his boss. “Captain … do you mind?”

The man shook his head and gestured with his hands to go ahead.

Captain? Do you mind, what? Rico thought. He didn’t know that half of the students were police officers, most from in town, some from El Paso and some from Albuquerque.

“This is your lucky day,” Joey said, speaking to the officer. “You’ll get to show us here in little ‘ole Las Cruces how the big bad wolves do their thing in East LA. We just happen to be a little ahead of schedule today.”

All who knew Joey, except Rico, thought, Oh no, the other Joey is in the house … again!

“Rosangelica, full contact gear please.”

Even though she had spoken only to Rosangelica, and without even facing her, others rose and moved about like busy bees, grabbing large pads to put between them and the sparring partners. They formed a complete circle with the rectangular shaped pads touching edge to edge. The officer stood there, head cocked, and arms crossed.

Joey stood in a relaxed, carefree manner; she closed her eyes and seemed to be praying. Then she let out a strange question. “Captain, did he sign the waiver and does he have any days off?”

“Yes and yes, sensei,” the captain whined, his fingers interlocked over his head. “But … only two short days.”

The whispering in the room stopped again. The arrogant subordinate still didn’t get it. He was busy stretching and putting on the gear Rosangelica offered.

Joey slipped on her last piece of gear and held her mouthpiece in her hand.

Rosangelica unwrapped a new mouthpiece for the officer. She was very helpful, and a different kind of quiet, Rico observed; his curiosity was fully piqued.

This is odd. These people sure act serious, he observed.

“The officer here will choose a scenario and play the part of either the officer or perpetrator. Here are the contact rules—full contact, no holds barred. ‘Alibi’ means surrender.”

The officer nodded in agreement. The man’s supervisor sunk even lower against the wall.

“We’ll do three scenarios where there are no stun guns, weapons or sprays. If you win two of the three, I’ll buy you and your wife, or girlfriend … are you attached?”

The man shook his head.

“Can’t imagine why,” she said through pursed lips.

Joey had just taught the officer his first lesson and he hadn’t even seen it coming. But he felt it, which was the point. The others in the room watched the officer’s countenance change from bored to agitated.

Joey asked for the scenario. The officer suggested a real life example in which he had subdued a large aggressive suspect in an alley after the man had knocked his weapon away. He had received a commendation for it and much acclaim for collaring the violent offender, a dangerous, skilled jail bird.

Joey played the suspect. The officer got her in the same hold his suspect had not been able to escape from, according to him, and asked her to say, “alibi.” Instead, Joey spun and kicked, propelling the officer toward the waiting pads. She followed through delivering another blow as the man turned to get back in the fight.

Rico gawked at the man now laying flat on his back. Ricodetermined never to anger his wife again.

Joey, one; officer, zero.

To add injury to insult, she decided to find out how the officer had lost his weapon and rescinded the no gun rule. This time, she played the role of officer and used a dummy hand gun another officer handed her from his bag. The suspect, the officer in this case, was to disarm her the way the felon had disarmed him. They reenacted the surprise attack from around a blind corner. The split second the suspect’s hand touched the weapon she jammed her head into his nose, then delivered a knee high into his abdomen. Rico could only identify the Crav Maga move as some kind of martial arts move.

Though wearing pads, the officer winced in pain.

Joey, two; officer, nil.

“OK, for the last scenario, choose a partner and the two of you are to apprehend an unarmed suspect in a domestic abuse situation,” Joey said. “You can use a simulated stun gun; the kind that gets placed against the body.”

Sweating and breathing more heavily than before, the officer looked around.

The others in the room tried to shrink and avoided direct eye contact. Instinctively, the officer picked the huskiest of his fellow officers, who then glared at him.

Rosangelica rose and quickly got him suited up. She fought the urge to giggle as she looked at the man’s disgusted face. This was the third time it had happened to him. Being tall and husky just wasn’t paying dividends.

Joey thought otherwise; he made for memorable object lessons.

They began the scenario with Joey boxed in and the two assailants ready to team wrestle her down and stun her. The former LAPD officer grabbed her from behind and the other officer moved in. But Joey twisted around, used the man behind her as leverage for a winding kick, and knocked the weapon into the air. Before it hit the ground, Joey forced the officer, who had her in a bear hug, face down on the ground in an elbow lock, and then caught the stun gun and put it to his neck. When the other officer threw a roundhouse at her face, she flew up, did a back flip and landed on her feet. She grabbed the man’s follow-through punch and pretended to break his arm, then followed with a blow to the back of his neck.

Rico grimaced. It reminded him of a time something similar happened to him, for real. Fortunately for him and his partner at the time, the rear cover man took the hostile out with a shot to the chest.

Joey, three; opponents, still zero.

“In the end, the best offense is being right … with God,” Joey said, murmuring the last part too low to be heard. She casually walked away from the two moaning heaps on the floor.

Rico was speechless and Jennifer’s eyes were as big as half dollars. Jennifer expected her friend to be good, obviously, running a dojo and all, but what she saw seemed like something out of Hollywood. Even choreographed, the blows would have hurt plenty. The two gawked at each other.

Rico resolved … again … never ever to make Joey mad … face-to-face at least. He gave Rosangelica a dorky grin as he slowly rewrapped the last half of his candy bar and secretively stuffed it back into his small tote bag.

She nodded and whispered, partially shielding her lips, “?Ahora si verdad?” (Now you do it, huh?), she said, referring to the illegal candy bar.