THE SERIES SO FAR:

The Walk (Rarest Man: Prologue)

Rarest Man: Test of Endurance

Rarest Man: Wet Dream

Rarest Man: Resolution

Rarest Man: Famine & Feast

Rarest Man: Duty Before Pleasure

Rarest Man: Body of Evidence

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"He is simply the rarest man i' th' world"

Shakespeare - Coriolanus 4,v,161

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I've just spent half the morning following my boss around the building - just to watch him walk.

It's been quite a strain keeping enough distance between us not to be spotted, yet staying close enough to see what I wanted to see.

He clearly has no idea how eyecatching he looks striding through the corridors, but I'm not the only one who's noticed: an amazing number of secretaries, researchers and clerks seemed to have to look out of their offices just as he passed (I think they have an early-warning phone network). You could see the appreciation, longing and lust written across their faces as they watched his tall, muscular figure go by.

The man is legendary, of course, for quite a few reasons: his strict by-the-book attitude, the extraordinary hours he works, his punishing fitness regime, the ability he has to make an agent feel about two inches tall without even raising his voice, his unfailing courtesy to janitors, cleaning staff and cafeteria personnel, the way he homes in on the one less than satisfactory aspect of your report... and also, apparently, his walk...

Actually, "walk" doesn't even begin to describe what he does. "Prowl" is the best I can come up with: there's a fluid grace, an effortless power that brings to mind nothing so much as a jungle cat - a tiger, or a panther. Something compelling, sensuous and faintly menacing.

He usually reads files as he walks (never an idle moment, I can hear him thinking), but some internal radar keeps him on a die-straight path. He never has to correct his course to avoid anything or anyone. This could have something to do with the alacrity with which everyone else moves out of his way, of course, especially if he's wearing the patented glare, but it's an impressive performance, nonetheless.

When he's not reading he's observing - that calm, neutral gaze takes in everything: who's closeted in Archives all day, who's loitering in the hallway gossiping too often, who's coming or going from somewhere they haven't a good reason to be... He knows his people well, despite having only brief and formal contact with most of them, and I think he does this regular "tour of inspection" with that in mind. He rarely sends Kimberly with messages or uses the phone when he can spare the time to go himself and most days he'll find a reason to walk the halls for half an hour or so. He knows about all the office romances, who's not speaking to whom, who's got health or family worries, who's not pulling their weight, has got too involved in a case, or is working too hard. I've seen time and time again when he's quietly stepped in to defuse a situation, to give a team a clearer perspective, to offer advice or support, or just to arrange time off for an agent who needs it. He would say it's just part of his job.

He's an instinctive leader - sure of his own strength and purpose, generous with his time and attention. When you're talking to him you feel the unwavering force of that sharp intellect and that intense gaze focussed entirely on you - it's quite an experience. He's genuinely concerned for the safety and success of his agents, but more than that: for them to feel supported and valued, to feel the pride in and dedication to the work that he feels.

I can't believe now that I misread him for so long - saw him as just an obstructive bureaucrat, saw his attention to detail as narrow-minded, his insistence on proper procedure as lack of imagination, his criticism as prejudice, his checking-up as a personal insult... When all the time he was steering me away from personal and professional self-destruction. Standing on the shifting line between my controversial work and his own truly bureaucratic colleagues and superiors. Trying to keep me within bounds that he could justify to them, while having to argue the validity of some pretty unconventional conclusions in my cases, just so that the work could continue at all.

In truth, I was as stubborn and graceless and petty as I thought he was and it's a wonder he put up with me. Since I opened my eyes and my mind and my heart to see just what an extraordinary man he is, we still don't agree a lot of the time, but I understand him far better and I think he understands me as very few others do.

So he probably spotted me trailing him this morning within the first minute. I don't think much gets past him and my technique did get sloppy when I had to lean against the wall and catch my breath after watching him devastate a clutch of typists with an unconscious flex of his shoulders.

He walks like an athlete - powerful, loose-limbed, relaxed yet controlled. He walks tall, with no hint of slouching or round shoulders. He strides out from the pivot of his lean hips, using the full length of his legs, creating a rhythmic tilt of that perfect ass that gives me such ideas...

I've watched him this morning doing his job in a way that most of the high-ups wouldn't recognize. Watched him shake Agent Marlowe's hand as he asked after his wife and new baby son. Watched him check with Agent Willis on the progress of her physiotherapy following the accident in Austin. Watched him remind Agent Burnett that there's more to life (and work) than the Dagwood case and that two all-nighters back-to-back is probably more than enough to prove his enthusiasm. Watched him break up Agents Bruce and Carlisle's little tete a tete before they completely disgraced themselves in the stationery store. Watched him wish Wilbur Dennis, the grouchy old janitor on the 4th floor, a happy birthday. It wasn't all appreciated, but you could see all those to whom he spoke look thoughtfully after him as he walked away...

Watching him, my morning wasn't wasted either.

THE END

HOME - RAREST MAN - SERIES - EMAIL