“How about we roll into the back, the Heritage Room?” Ford asked, but his tone was an unofficial order. It was time for some beer and camaraderie to welcome the new aircrew and remember those who recently paid the final price with their lives.
Being the squadron commander through two mishaps like this, especially still under investigation, was taking a toll on Ford. Still not sleeping and irritable, he was deeply concerned about what the investigators would turn up. Especially if Charlie was involved.
Ford saw Charlie from afar now, smiling and joking with the guys in the squadron bar. The stone wall behind the bar had all the aircrew mugs lined up on shelves, and his was ready to become part of the lineup. Ford reflected quickly on Zeke’s note from earlier, and his acid reflux was maxed out just thinking about what it could be about.
Charlie, I sure hope you’re not lying.
Chapter 21
Keuka Lake, New York
“Yo, Bruce. Welcome to the house,” Ray said, standing on the pier.
“Yup, sounded like an invite I couldn’t refuse,” Bruce replied sarcastically.
Ray told him to come alone this afternoon, and he did. He also told him to leave his phone in the boat, which he also followed. Ray was sure to have a couple of guys both out front, as well as the rear, keeping an eye out for things. There was always a possibility the congressman would report them to law enforcement. Too much at stake for him when he considered the potential of the pics getting into the news via a cop leak.
Overlooking the beautiful Finger Lake, Ray and the Niagara Red Kings’ leadership sat in Adirondack chairs around the large oak table. Located down the hill at the lower lake house and near the infinity swimming pool, it was a superb location for their meeting this afternoon.
Ray knew that his dad was silently curious how Bruce was able to afford his Lund Barron boat, a low-key, but new, vessel. It added to the mystique of how an elected leader on a government salary could afford so much.
The congressman walked in first and was greeted by the other tribal leaders of the Niagara Red Kings at the meeting table like he was attending any other professional business meeting. Bruce looked around at the high-end interior, outside at the slate deck and infinity pool, and then at the men.
“What’s this, an Apalachin meeting? You guys are throwing me off. Wasn’t expecting anything like this,” Bruce said, making an attempt to lighten the mood.
The Apalachin meeting was a famous 1957 summit of American Mafia at the home of a western New York mobster. The meeting was held to discuss Mafia topics in private, such as loansharking, gambling, and drug trafficking. Over 100 Mafia members attended from across the United States, Italy, and Cuba, before it was raided by the New York State Police.
Daniel, Ray’s father, remained standing to talk. “Congressman, you are our partner on this. It was, say, unconventional, how we arrived in partnership. But we have much to plan for. Ray says you have been coming along on your end of the deal, yes?”
“Yeah, well, you forced me into this. Anyway. I got a guy that owes me a favor on the BRAC Commission, and he’s able to begin asking questions to the right folks. The commission will analyze the data at Niagara, get them on the list.”
“I see, I see,” Daniel said, nodding.
“The commission will make a case, based upon information about their military capability and location, plus the geographic area. Only way to do it. The commission may recommend they transfer their military responsibilities to other locations, like Pittsburgh. Maybe Pease Air Guard, New Hampshire?”
Some of the others at the table nodded in agreement, the plan was coming together. The conversation continued some more with the congressman providing additional details on what he knew to date. Ray observed from the side, waiting for his turn to present.
Daniel turned to Ray. “We don’t care what they do with the military, you see, congressman. It was once our land, right, so in some eyes, you’re helping to return it back to its original owners. I would encourage you to see it through our eyes.”
The congressman shrugged. “We make some dough for all of us, and we’re good.”
Daniel nodded sluggishly at him without smiling, staring Bruce down. “Ray, bring out your project.”
With some assistance, Ray and another member carried out a physical model of the resort and slid it onto the table. About three feet by three feet and supported on top of a piece of plywood, the model showed two hotel towers rising into the air, with two roof-top swimming pools. The golf course was surrounding the hotels. There was a runway with a toy airliner on it, in addition to a helicopter pad. A large two-story building was connected to the two towers, depicting small signs displaying “Casino” and a second sign that said “Theater.” Ray heard the crowd in small, hushed tones and talked them through each part of the property.
“…and finally, congressman, this part of the project is the Theater. You continue to work with us like you are, and just maybe we name this after you. Name it The Anderson Theater.”
Ray was no dummy and played on Bruce’s ego. But the congressman did like it. Ray was making an emotional connection with Bruce and the project, and Bruce was impressed they thought that much of him.
“That sounds like a great offer, gentlemen. Thank you for the gesture.” Bruce was turning into a true business partner. “I’m all in on this project. It will take time.”
The Niagara Red Knights shook hands with Bruce as he left the pool house, boarded his boat, and departed.
“You get all that, Ray?” Daniel asked Ray, nodding to his pants pocket.
Ray pulled out his mobile phone, hit the stop button, and rewound a few seconds of the recording. Playing it back, the two men listened to their good-byes being played back from the phone.
“Yeah, Pop, I got it. Good insurance.”
Chapter 22
Niagara Maintenance Squadron Hangar, Colonel Zeke Ziehmann’s Temporary Office
Ford left the squadron bar, along with Charlie, and made his way down to see Zeke. Rather than just giving him a call, Ford thought it would be appropriate to see his old friend in person.
Zeke and Ford embraced, two friends that picked up from where they left off years ago.
“Thanks for coming up, Zeke. Sure do appreciate you helping us. I know you have been doing interviews, working with Wing Headquarters and down in maintenance over the past few weeks. How can I help?”
The last time they saw each other was Bangalore, India, and it was good to catch up and see each other. The two men made some small talk before Zeke jumped into an update for Ford. Zeke was there for business and had plenty of work to do, and wanted to be sure Ford was kept in the know on the mishap investigation.
“Yeah, awesome to see you, too, Ford. Plenty of help from Sarah and the 914th Wing Headquarters. But, let me bring you up to speed on these interviews. Couple more interviews to go, too. So, we already did the usual checklist. Reaching out to others now. Hit Lansing up twice, more to go, I’m sure.”
“Okay, got it. Standard stuff. What are you finding? Any threads or repeat items? Evidence?” Ford asked.
“The team pulled all the FAA radar tapes for the western New York area, the audio transmissions between the aircraft and air traffic controllers, and both maintenance logs for BISON 81 and 82. Much more to do in piecing the puzzle together.”
Ford threw him a look after just catching the name. “Lansing. Twice? He’s a weird dude, huh?”
“I’d say. Already had a run-in with him. Weirdo. Talked to him a couple times. He doesn’t like you, or your brother, I’ll tell you that. Had plenty to say ’bout him. Said Charlie was poking around the aircraft hangar beforehand. Any truth to that?”
Story coming back, Ford thought.
“There may be, Zeke. But nothing evil… or intentional I don’t think. He’s our newest pilot. Just as you probably do, we send all
the new pilots down the flight line to learn, look around, talk to maintenance crew about the jets. Normal ops to do that,” Ford said.
“Okay, Ford. Okay. I’d like to interview Charlie some more, see what he was to say. Maybe he did or saw something? Don’t take offense to it, but we both know it’s a bit odd that this has happened.” He lit one up, the cigarette now hanging on the tip of his lip so he could talk. “Checking into bad fuel, engine maintenance, going through the last two years of records.”
For just a quick moment, Ford was triggered. Charlie’s behavior may have been coming back to haunt him, and they had dead aircrew. Ford felt Charlie would have said something if it was a mistake, though. Charlie might have screwed up, but he didn’t kill any pilots on purpose. Or did he? The only defense Charlie had was that he was flying the aircraft with the fire. If Charlie had burned up in a jet that he caused the fire on, he would have been committing suicide.
“Zeke, I know you’re just doing your job. No offense taken. He’ll support you and all… but, I don’t see it. I don’t see Charlie involved. I guess just get him on your schedule, and he’ll cooperate.”
They talked for a few more minutes before Ford had to head back to work. They said their good-byes, and Ford walked out of Zeke’s office feeling good about the investigation’s progress. The minute Ford left, in came Grape wearing a look of concern on his face.
“Step on in, Grape,” Zeke said, smiling. “What’s on your plate?”
“Boss, we’ve poured through the airframe log books and haven’t found anything substantial. Records show the birds were up to snuff. Radar tapes from FAA were normal. Comms normal. Niagara training runs a tight ship.”
“Then what ya got?”
“You need to see something. We’ve been double-checking the ramp videos from the night before and have something you’re going to be interested in seeing.”
“Okay. Cut it out with the detective crap, Grape. Just tell me.”
Grape smirked. “ID’d the guy walking out to both jets the night prior. Looks to be in a flight suit. The guys in the back looked at the timelines for badge entries through the fence line and matched it up to the video footage. Matched that up to the hangar footage… and only one person came through on foot that matches.”
“Need Ford back down to identify one of their guys? He’s probably right down in the hangar. He was just in here.”
Grape was shaking his head, “No, sir. Not a good idea.”
Zeke turned his head. “For Pete’s sake, Grape. What’s the name of the guy?”
Grape stepped closer to Zeke, so he didn’t have to yell it. He whispered the name.
“Who?”
He repeated the name.
“You millennials,” Zeke blurted out. “Go over there and close the rotten door and just tell me the name of the guy on the grainy, nasty, military-grade, lowest-bid, surveillance video.” As he spoke, Zeke waved his hands around in an animated fashion.
Grape did as Zeke asked, chuckled, and closed the door. Zeke’s eyebrows were raised, waiting for Grape to answer.
In a hushed tone, Grape replied. “Charlie Stevens.”
“You gotta be kidding me.”
Chapter 23
Dirksen Senate Office Building, Washington, D.C.
The Honorable Scott Matthews, BRAC Commissioner, stood in front of the podium, standard blue suit and red tie, adjusted the microphone, and glanced down at the staff’s prepared remarks. The large hearing room could fit hundreds of people, yet today’s small press briefing was nowhere near capacity. Usually reserved for large hearings, the House Caucus Room would have to do.
Catching sight of the press all facing him, he swallowed and waited for the cue from his staff. After all, this was D.C., and had more theater than Broadway. He waited until he was given the nod and started his prepared statement, followed by questions.
“Good morning. I have some opening statements, then I’ll take most of the questions this morning. As you are aware, the Defense Base Realignment and Closure Act provides the basic framework for the transfer and disposal of military installations closed during the base realignment and closure, or BRAC, process. We pronounce the acronym as ‘brack.’ Nine of us will act as independent panel members appointed by the president. This panel will evaluate the base list by taking testimony from interested parties and paying visits to the affected bases. The BRAC Commission has added bases to the list, and we will address specifics in an upcoming hearing. The commission met its deadline and provided the list earlier for evaluation to the president. You can expect a series of public hearings, DoD supplied data, and comments from the public.”
Click. Click. Click. Click. The shutters from the cameras were dominating the room, nearly overwhelming. Between this and the bright lights, it could be a tough go for anyone standing up there. Luckily, Scott was a former congressman and was used to the cameras.
Chairman Matthews turned to one of the panel members and asked something, then turned back to the podium. A pro, he never skipped a beat. It was a wonder how he wasn’t reelected, but thanks to friends in high places, he was able to get this great two-year paid gig running BRAC.
“Just confirmed C-SPAN will cover the live hearings. Okay, I’ll take questions.”
Click. Click. Click. Click. More photos from the press were heard.
The reporters were all shouting questions at him, and the commissioner pointed to a woman in the front row.
“Mr. Matthews, Alice from the News. Can you share the latest additions to the list of bases for consideration to be closed?”
Niagara Falls Air Force Base, New York
The flat-panel televisions in each office were tuned to the live press conference, watching and listening to see if additional base names were on the list. No flying was being conducted, no wrench turning, and no typing. The pilots were all ears, concerned about what it would mean to them if they were on the closure list.
From the speaker on the television, they watched. “Yes, Alice, thanks for the question. The other members of the panel and I received the following list of additional bases for consideration: Pittsburgh, Orlando, Westhampton, Niagara, and Vance. We’ll follow the same procedures that we mentioned earlier on evaluating locations.”
The uproar from the decision was felt all over the geographic area, resulting in yelling and disappointment. People had dedicated their lives to the mission at this base, and right away felt betrayed. The possibility of closing the Niagara Air Base, established in 1942, was just unfathomable. Others sat in silence, wondering if they had to move to find other work. Some aircrew thought it was the ultimate disrespect since their squadron had been deploying non-stop around the world since just after World War II.
One of the boom operators was especially angry already, and the BRAC had not even started. “Do you have any idea how many Christmases and birthdays we’ve missed? We’ve accomplished all the missions you’ve ever asked.”
Ford was saddened, too, especially after hearing the boom operator in the hallway, but knew that just being on the list didn’t mean it was an absolute decision and closing. Have to say something.
“Team, listen up. This is about politics. This isn’t about if we are good, or any of us as individuals, or the base. BRAC is about power and politics and members that vote to assist each other out with favors on Capitol Hill… things like that. This is a political decision, and with the help of Congressman Anderson, we’ll get off the list.”
Chapter 24
Congressman Bruce Anderson’s Office, Buffalo, New York
Richard, thin in stature, was a peculiar eater. Ever since his days as a child, he was picky. Certain kinds of food, sometimes on certain days of the week, with specific colors. He was a bit odd in that manner. Confident on the outside, anxious on the inside, and what type of mood he was in determined what he ate.
When Bruce showed up
from Washington at the local office in Buffalo that afternoon, Richard’s anxiety and worry were maxed out. Richard paced around the office in his blue sport coat and gray pants, waiting to get a few minutes of private face time with the congressman. He sat, clicking his pen, staring.
Click-clock. Click-clock. Click-clock.
“Hello, congressman. Welcome back. Don’t know if you heard of the news while you were traveling back today, but the BRAC Commission held their press conference. Niagara was on the list.”
It was just the two of them alone.
“Well, no kidding. Good. Good. Okay, things are coming together,” he nodded his head. “Gets them off my back.”
Richard stood holding his pad and pen. “Yes, sir, yes, it does. You should know that the mishap-free flight hours for the base will be looked at by BRAC, so knowing what we know, that number won’t help. You should do something else.”
“Go ahead,” Bruce sat at his desk, rubbing his chin. “I want this base closed. What else?”
Richard knew him well enough that he was bothered by the aircraft fireballs and smoke, but skipping the more important question of the aircrew members’ statuses was something new for Richard. Bruce went from previously being somewhat sympathetic to downright selfish and cold.
Richard moved his pen around on the pad. “I recommend you release a statement that says you are doing all you can to keep the base open. Something like, ‘You have backed the great western New York’s contributions to the defense of this nation. Our men and women of the military have been serving our area since World War II, like their grandparents before them. We want them to continue serving in western New York.’”
Bruce thought about it. “Good. That’s good. Yeah. A play on history, current organizations. Family connections. I like it. Maybe a press conference?”
“Perhaps, but the less questions at the moment, the better. Give the appearance you are all out to save them. Big. Save the base. Our citizen airmen. Put it in writing – then we can do a presser later.”
The Buffalo Pilot: A Ford Stevens Military-Aviation Thriller (Book 3) Page 14