It was a pleasant room as far as schoolrooms went, certainly more comfortable and friendly to the eye than the one at the FBI Academy. Instead of hard wooden chairs, there were seven club chairs set in a circle with a huge, round, wooden table in the center. The lighting was subdued but more than efficient, meaning there was no glare on the textbooks. A long table held a huge stainless-steel coffeepot with bright yellow cups arranged on a matching tray. Luscious green plants hung from the beams while tall, thick banana plants graced the corners. The floors were hardwood and shined to a high polish. Even their combat boots didn’t mark up the superb finish.

Team Three settled themselves. The coffee would have to wait for the ten-minute break on the hour.

The ethics instructor, who would also be their instructor on white-collar crime, introduced himself, shook hands all around. “Call me Don. We’re pretty informal around here,” he said.

Don Harmon was a prissy-looking little man with wire-rim glasses and a receding hairline. His rich, early-summer tan gave his thinness a healthy appearance. Behind the wire-rimmed glasses the instructor’s eyes were shrewd.

Team Three settled into their chairs to listen and learn.

At eleven o’clock, the academic portion of their training would end, and they would spend an hour at the firing range, followed by lunch, which lasted thirty minutes. Thirty minutes of free time for personal needs came on the heels of lunch, which was lean and full of protein.

A six-mile hike with a twenty-five-pound backpack was scheduled for one o’clock, after which there would be time in the pool. From four thirty until ten minutes to six a class on behavioral science was scheduled. Then came dinner and a ninety-minute class on operational skills that rounded out the day. Study time or homework followed showers, then it was lights out.

Kayla summed up the day by saying, “This sucks!” The others agreed, as they gingerly removed their boots to care for their raw, blistered feet.

Sam fought to keep her eyes open even though she was in bed. She waited, willing her eyes to stare at the ceiling. The moment she was certain the others were asleep, she crept from her bed, opened her footlocker, and removed the weights she needed to use to build up her upper-body strength. She was stunned to see Hawkins in the living room doing the same thing she planned on doing. She grinned tiredly. No words were necessary.

Hawkins, like her, was more than aware that at the end of the week they’d be given a physical-training test. The tests focused on handcuffing, control holds, searching subjects, weapon retention, disarming techniques, grappling, and boxing. The physical training tests would be given every seven weeks thereafter.