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was rebelling against the beige interior of the building, with a pink streak in her hair and a nose piercing.

She took Andi’s business card and asked her to sign in.

“Take a seat,” she said to Andi. “Captain Roberts will be with you in a moment.”

Confused, Andi checked the note that Jim had given her. Gerry Roberts, Jim had scrawled, plus the phone number.

Inwardly, Andi groaned. It had been a while since she’d interviewed a government bureaucrat. Some of them had been institutionalized for so long, insisting on the importance of rank and seniority, that they had completely lost touch with the real world. And they tended to talk a lot.

Andi tried again to make conversation, this time with the pink-haired secretary.

“Could you give me an idea about what you guys do in this department?” she asked.

Pink Hair looked up and pointed to the plaque on the door.

“Enforcement,” she said, and looked back down at her desk.

Another twenty minutes went by, and Andi got up and wandered around the reception area, looking at the pictures on the wall. They were mainly posed photographs of men in uniforms receiving awards or standing to attention on government vessels. Andi imagined that this government department would attract military types, used to a regimented environment.

“Miss Silvers?”

On first impressions, Captain Gerry Roberts met most of Andi’s expectations. He stood straight, towering over her. A pot belly that sank over the belt of his pants marred the military bearing and slightly puffed chest. He was about sixty, Andi guessed from his thinning white hair. He had a reddish face, and because he was standing close enough to Andi to invade her personal space, she got a whiff of coffee breath — maybe a hint of alcohol?

Overall, Captain Gerry Roberts was dishevelled. Andi noted a button missing on his white shirt and yellowing sweat stains seeping out from his underarms. His dark pants were creased, and his shoes were scuffed.

Interesting, Andi thought. Most military men and women she met, even if they were now civilian, still dressed impeccably, a habit that was drilled into them during their military career.

Captain Gerry Roberts, from his appearance, seemed to have abandoned those standards.

Andi shook Captain Roberts’ outstretched hand.

“Thank you so much for taking the time out of your busy schedule for me,” Andi gushed.

It worked. Captain Roberts’ previously unsmiling face relaxed a little. “Well, not sure what all this is about, but if I can help . . .” he said grudgingly and indicated a door behind his secretary’s desk. “Come into my office.”

Captain Roberts’ office was a small windowless box. Stark fluorescent lights exposed a worn, mud-coloured carpet and scuffed paintwork. The only decoration was a large nautical chart stuck to the wall by peeling tape. On the desk was a chipped coffee mug and papers scattered haphazardly.

Who had Captain Roberts pissed off to get shoved into a shitty office like this? There were no family pictures, she noticed, and none of the award-type photographs that hung on the reception walls.

“Sit.” Captain Roberts gestured to the one metal chair available, and he settled into the office chair behind his untidy desk.

“Coffee?” he asked, and before Andi could reply, he bellowed “Christina!”

The pink-haired secretary appeared at the door. “Yes?”

“Get us some coffee, would you?” Captain Roberts barked at her.

“Right . . .” She walked away without bothering to collect the dirty mug from the desk or asking how Andi took her coffee.

Andi felt sorry for Christina. Andi had only been in Captain Roberts’s company for a few minutes and already she knew that he was an arrogant, overbearing boss.

Retrieving her notebook and pen from her bag, she surreptitiously tapped the voice record app on her phone. The notebook was mainly for show.

“Thank you again for your time,” she said brightly. “I’m writing a piece for the Gazette on the important work that the department does, enforcing the rules and regulations that protect our oceans. I’m sure you know we had quite an upsetting incident in Coffin Cove recently. Two sea lions were shot.”

“Yes, of course, very upsetting,” Captain Roberts agreed, as Christina barged into the office, plonked down two mugs of black coffee on the desk and exited without a word.

“Shut the door!” Roberts shouted, flushing even redder with irritation.

The door banged shut and Andi carried on.

“Before we get to that, Captain,” she said with a winning smile, “I’d love to hear about your career and how you ended up being in charge of the Enforcement Division?”

Andi had no idea if he was in charge or not, but she figured a little ego-stroking on her part would eventually tease out the information she wanted.

Captain Roberts responded as Andi had expected. He droned on for about forty minutes, prompted occasionally by Andi, as she sat forward in the uncomfortable metal chair, interrupting every so often with an appreciative, “Oh, that’s interesting, could you expand a little on that?” and scribbling notes in her book.

Despite the act, Andi was listening attentively. The long, boring (and probably exaggerated) tale of Gerry Roberts’s rise through the coast guard ranks was interesting, not because of what he was telling Andi, but because of what he was leaving out.

Why was he stuck in this tiny office? How did he fall from grace? Andi wondered.

She steered his monologue to the dead sea lions.

“The fishermen think the sea lions are destroying the fish stocks,” she said. “What’s your opinion?”

“Well, let me think,” Captain Roberts said, clearly enjoying Andi’s attentiveness. He leaned back in his chair and sipped his coffee. “I have to say,” he said, leaning forward again, in a conspiratorial way, “I have to agree with them! But you can’t print that!” He wagged his finger at her.

“Wow,” Andi said, sitting bolt upright, as if Gerry Roberts had handed her the scoop

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