by R. D. Kardon
Ross thought about what would make sense to say next. “She was fine. It was her first trip to Europe. She did everything she was supposed to do.” He could have gone on to say that she handled the gear thing just fine, but that would invite more discussion.
“And Deter? The girl and Deter? How’d that go over ten days in Europe? You come to her rescue?” Zorn smiled lasciviously.
Zorn was trying to goad him. But instead, he provided an opening for Ross to shine the spotlight on someone else. He didn’t owe Deter anything, not really.
“You know how Deter can be. He let some pretty salty language fly during the whole gear thing. It was tense, as you can imagine.”
“Oh yeah?” Zorn laughed. “No kidding? What did he say this time?”
Ross paused to create the impression that he was thinking about his response. But he’d hoped all along the conversation would take this turn.
“He called her a cunt.” An involuntary wave of guilt swept over Ross as the words came out of his mouth. Well, if I don’t say it, she probably will. And just like that, Zorn focused his full attention on Deter and away from Ross. Deter can handle it.
“Holy crap. Oh, goddamn him. Well, what did she do?”
Ross bent forward in his chair, then pushed himself back and crossed his legs. “Well, you know, we were dealing with the emergency…” His voice stepped carefully around the truth.
Zorn made a note and started to rise from his chair. “Anything else I should know?” Zorn asked before standing up. “Are you sure she didn’t yell back at him? What did she do?”
Ross had to get out of this. “She did her job, man, all right? Her job,” he said and walked out of the room. Zorn was busy making notes and didn’t look up.
Ross walked directly to the men’s room, locked the door behind him, and leaned face-first against the cold, tile wall. How easy it was to manipulate people. Zorn, Deter, Tris, everyone. How easy it was to put Deter under the hot lights.
He wanted to rinse the shame off of his face but couldn’t look at himself in the mirror.
Forty-Three
ZORN PARKED HIS BMW next to Willett’s Mercedes in the private garage. Willett always arrived early when he called a meeting, when he thought he had control of a situation. Zorn figured that Willett would bombard him the moment he walked in.
Sure enough, Willett loitered by Zorn’s office door. His posture was stiff and exaggerated his brows cinched close together, his eyes like slashes. This attempt to look serious didn’t jibe with his short, round body. Zorn stifled a grin.
“Meet me in the smoking lounge in ten.” He flung the words at Zorn and walked away.
Willett clearly had a bug up his ass. Zorn grabbed a Diet Coke from the fridge and headed toward the stock room. He lingered by the small packages of M&M’s and engaged in his usual internal struggle. To eat or not to eat the M&M’s? Crap, I’m putting way too much energy into this decision.
He grabbed a couple of packages. Soon, he settled into his favorite chair in the tiny room. He reclined and pressed the bottom of his foot against the edge of the table. Willett was already there, with a stack of papers and his laptop in front of him.
“Smells like someone was just in here.” Willett sniffed the scent of cigarettes and squeezed his eyes closed while his nostrils flared. He shook his head.
“Brian, I…uh, well, I just got off the phone with Robert Christianson,” Willett said.
“Right, yes, the budget,” Zorn interrupted him and motioned with his hand trying to move the conversation along.
“Yes, the budget. But something else. About Luxembourg. We might have a problem.”
Zorn straightened in his seat, put both feet on the floor. “Yes? What about it?” Willett had his attention, although he was sure he knew what was coming.
“Robert, who sat directly behind the cockpit on the flight, heard quite a bit. He mentioned something that went on between Patricia and Ed during the leg. Do you know anything about it?”
Yep. Deter. “Well, I know they were under stress. Who wouldn’t be?” He elegantly skirted the question. Zorn wanted to be smart here, make the best political play. He’d let Willett go through the motions and think he could best Zorn by dropping a bomb. But once again, Zorn’s sources would prove superior; his buddy Ross gave him the heads up.
Willett searched through his pile of papers, found the one he wanted, and reviewed it. Then he held it up as if he were going to read it to Zorn.
“Robert complimented Patricia on her handling of the crisis.” He paused. “And he wondered why Deter was yelling at her.” Willett checked his notes closely, squinting like he couldn’t read his own writing. “Apparently, he yelled something, uh, completely in-appropriate. Robert swears he heard Deter call Patricia a ‘cunt,’ believe it or not. Robert almost couldn’t say the word. I had to drag it out of him. Then Ross yelled at Deter.” He looked over his notes again. “They don’t know what Patricia did.” He placed the piece of paper on the table and locked eyes with Zorn.
“Of course they couldn’t see Patricia since she was in the right seat.”
Zorn had so much experience keeping his expression unreadable, he couldn’t look surprised if he wanted to. But this was unexpected. Where was Ross?
“That’s bad,” he said, nodding at Willett. “That’s really bad.” Willett got him after all! Tris was flying? How did Ross leave out that salient detail? And why?
“Did you know about this?”
“No, of course not.” Zorn lied. Well, only half a lie. He knew about Deter. But he had no idea that Tris was in the right seat.
Ross. Zorn needed a few minutes alone with Ross. But he had to finish with Willett first. One fire at a time.
“I haven’t heard a word about it from Tris,” Zorn said. “I’m talking to her this afternoon when she gets back, but, seriously, if that happened, don’t you think she’d have said something right away?”
Willett looked perplexed. “Well, maybe. I don’t know. I’ve never had to deal with anything like this before. We’ve never had a girl here before.”
Willett said nothing, but gave him a look Zorn read as, “And whose idea was that?”
Zorn was on the verge of something unfamiliar, that rare chance for Willett to one-up him. He continued slowly. “Well, at the very least, Deter’s gotta do a pass through charm school.” Their slang for Tetrix diversity training. “I’ll tell him about it. I’m meeting with him today, as you know.”
“And what was she doing in the right seat? Weren’t Ross and Deter supposed to do the flying? She was an observer, right?” Willett kept pushing.
Zorn needed to think of something. He had to get Willett to hone in on the Deter thing. That was the true management nightmare.
Willett graciously obliged. “So, how was it working out with them? Deter and the girl? Surely you kept up with that, as chief pilot.”
Zorn ignored Willett’s dig. He leaned over the conference table, his arms crossed. “I thought it was going ok. Ross said Deter was hard on her, but not unfair. And we both know Deter didn’t want her. But even he’s said she really works hard. I had no idea it might be this bad.”
“Now that we know, what are we going to do about it? What if she’s afraid to tell us? I had to call HR, alert them. They said if she’s intimidated by Deter now, afraid to tell us, that creates a whole new set of problems. Already we have a red flag on sexual harassment.” And then a thought energized Willett and his words rushed out. “What if she’s just lying in the weeds, talking to a lawyer before she says anything to us?”
That was possible, sure. Zorn had to admit to himself that he never saw this coming. She was quiet around him, but he figured she was just doing her job and trying to work her way up the chain like he’d expect her to. Now, Zorn wished he’d paid more attention to her.
He relied on Ross to keep him informed. Ross liked her. But that could be about something other than her piloting skills.
Willett looked at his notes aga
in. “Well, Robert was pretty clear about what he heard.” He sat upright in his best bird colonel pose. “What the hell is going on with your crews?”
Willett intended to toss this steaming turd into his lap because he didn’t have either the guile or nerve to resolve this situation. But Zorn already had the seed of an idea.
“So, what do you think?” Zorn wisely asked his boss before disclosing his own plan.
“Truthfully, I think one of them has to go. If Deter said, uh, cunt, well, it probably has to be him.” Willett licked his lips as if he’d just tasted something bitter.
Zorn agreed but could tell by the look on Willett’s face that he didn’t want to fire Deter. And neither did Zorn. But maybe they didn’t have to.
“So, if we can only keep one, it should be a captain, right?”
“Ideally,” Willett said, not catching on.
“But she’s not a captain. Well, of course, we could consider her for upgrade.” He paused for effect. “If she passes her training.”
A knowing look finally settled on Willett’s face. Zorn had to admit, from time to time, Willett showed flashes of actual comprehension.
Willett exhaled slowly. “Ok. You’re in charge of training. Let’s see how it goes and then make the call. Unless she approaches us first, but I don’t see her doing that. Starting a sexual harassment scandal right before she goes to training? She’s a smart girl. No way she does that. If she passes, she may come back and demand to be a captain. And, you know, hold that whole Deter thing over our head.”
“I’ve heard that some women have done that. Forced a company to move them up before they were ready. Certainly, we wouldn’t want to do that.” Zorn wasn’t concerned. He was way ahead of Willett, and already had his next move planned.
“Yeah, I say let’s see how training goes. The decision may be made for us. I’ll make sure to set her up for her ride with, what’s his name? That guy in Dallas who is always trying to take us out for drinks?”
“Jensen,” Willett offered. “Jim Jensen. He’s, uh, approachable.” Willett wrinkled his nose and looked away. “And he won’t rock the boat.” Willett paused. “Stinkin’ business, eh?”
Zorn wasn’t exactly sure what part Willett referred to. Far from foul, it seemed like the perfect solution. If it worked, it would avoid problems now, and in the future.
“Yep,” he said to placate Willett. But it was utter brilliance.
Both men went about their mornings without further discussion. Zorn grabbed another bag of M&M’s. For energy, he told himself as he crunched the small, round candies. Deter was next on his schedule. He’d better not bitch about charm school, especially after what Zorn was planning to save his ass.
And when the Astral landed, he’d talk to Tris. He was curious about what she’d say. Not about Deter so much, but about flying the Luxembourg leg.
He also needed to talk to the person who made the decision to let her fly. Zorn added a conversation with Ross to his mental itinerary. Oh, they would talk all right.
But not yet.
Forty-Four
THE MINUTE HER blackout period ended, Ann-Marie called Tris to give her a trip. She could have waited since the flight didn’t leave for a few more days. But she wanted the scoop on the Ball Buster. Everyone in the office was whispering about it.
“What the heck happened on the way to Luxembourg? Nobody’s saying anything, but there’s a ton of whispering going on and I can make out the word ‘Luxembourg.’” This time Ann-Marie needed information from Tris. They had returned from Europe too late for anyone besides maintenance to meet the Astral, and the blackout prevented anyone at Tetrix from talking to the crew.
“Well, you probably know about the gear emergency. It was pretty tense in the cockpit while that was going on. And I’m not sure how much of the story Zorn knows. Do you have any idea?”
“Nope. But there was a call between Willett and one of your passengers. They probably talked about it. Did anyone get hurt?”
“No, not at all, thank goodness. I know they were freaked out. But Deter and Ross and I were all working the gear issue. So I can’t say for sure.” Not clear who knew what, Tris hesitated as her brain spun various information scenarios. She was unsure of her footing, and even though she trusted Ann-Marie, she needed to form her own plan of action before confiding in her. “We’ll find out soon I guess.”
“Yeah. So, sorry about this trip. Hate to send you out again right before your training. Deter’s on vacation, and Basson is going out with Zorn on the Gulfstream the next day. So you’ll be with Ross.”
“Ok. Got it.”
“One more thing,” Ann-Marie hesitated. “Zorn told me that he’s gonna want to talk to you when your trip gets back. About Lux. So be ready for that.”
“Ok. I will be.”
Questions clicked around her like the tongues of snakes. Once they were aloft, she’d get some answers from Ross.
Ross stood at the bottom of the Astral’s airstairs talking to the mechanics when Tris walked into the hangar. He had on his leather bomber jacket, the one all the Tetrix pilots had. His name was embossed in gold on a patch over his heart, mimicking the ones that military pilots wore. Tris thought they were pretentious. But she was an outsider in so many other ways, no sense making it worse by refusing to buy a jacket. She passed on getting a name patch, and left it at Tetrix where it hung over her desk chair.
Ross cleared his throat. “Ok, Tris, we’re ready for pre-flight.” He spoke quickly and then dashed off to handle his PIC duties. The few times their eyes met before flight, he’d look down and pretend to study a flight plan, or walk away from her mumbling about some-thing he had to do.
The flight came together in routine fashion. With the Astral level at thirty-seven-thousand feet, and a solid hour to go until they had to descend, Tris glanced in the back to make sure their passengers were settled. Ross sat quietly in the captain’s seat.
“Astral Nine Tango X-ray, Center,” ATC’s call broke the silence.
“Astral Nine TX go,” Tris responded.
“Astral Nine Tango X-ray, light to moderate turbulence reported, all altitudes, for the next ten minutes.” Tris looked over at Ross, who shook his head. They’d stay where they were instead of climbing or descending in search of smooth air. “Thanks, Center, Astral Nine TX, we’ll stay at Three-Seven-Zero.”
“Roger, Nine TX.”
Tris watched Ross burrow his left hand through his dark brown hair. It started at the crown and worked its way to the collar of his shirt, back and forth, over and over. The last time she saw him do that was in the conference room in Luxembourg. He coupled the movement with a melodic sound she vaguely recognized. Ross was humming.
He seemed haggard and frail like he was being crushed under the weight of his life. His shoulders, which appeared broad in his best, most confident moments, looked bony and close together. As she watched him rhythmically stroke his hair and hum along with the motion, she felt a flash of sadness for his family predicament, which quickly faded into wariness.
Ross turned to her and smiled broadly—but it wasn’t his real smile, the grin that belonged in a toothpaste commercial. It was that cheek-stretching, plastic one he used for the passengers.
He glanced back toward the passengers who were both still seated. She could barely hear Ross’s voice over the buzz of the instruments.
“Tris, I talked to Zorn. About Europe.” His eyes were steady and fixed.
Ross continued in the same calm, professional voice he’d use to tick off the details of a takeoff briefing in the most dangerous imaginable weather.
“Well, Tris, you know, you did a really good job up there. It was rough, I know it.” He shot her a knowing glance, but it didn’t reveal where his conversation headed.
“So, the airport guys wanted to talk to the PIC about it after the flight. You know, the PIC,” he said.
“Yeah. Well, Deter was there, right?” Tris flipped her left shoulder up in a questioning shrug.
/> The airplane suddenly twisted ten degrees to the left. Ross instinctively moved his hands toward the yoke but stopped short of grabbing it. They watched the autopilot bring the Astral back to level flight. Ross inhaled deeply.
“Tris, they wanted to talk to the pilot-in-command.” His left hand once again began smoothing his hair. “They wanted to talk to me.”
Tris could hear the whoosh of the environmental system in the cabin. Just inches away, right outside the window, came the sound of sub-sonic flight: the constant complaint of air being disturbed at over four hundred miles an hour by this seventy-five-thousand-pound fiberglass bird. She thought she heard one of their passengers turn the page of a newspaper.
“You guys changed the name of the PIC on the flight plan before we took off, right?” But she knew the answer as soon as she asked the question, knew it that day. After the gear deal, she’d just forgotten about it.
They looked at each other like strangers, each taking their measure. Ross cocked his head to the side and leaned forward just short of the yoke. He grabbed his water bottle, took a drink, and twisted his plastic smile back on along with the bottle cap.
The plane hit a series of bumps. Tris could see the culprit—the pulsing red center of a thunderstorm crept into view on the outer edge of her radar screen.
“Well, uh…you know, the passengers arrived early…” Ross continued after a long pause. “But, you see…” He shot a quick glance behind him to make sure the passengers weren’t listening. One executive read, the other was asleep—as if they would have the faintest idea what the two pilots were talking about.
“Look, this isn’t a big deal, Tris. Nothing happened. There was no accident. There’s no formal investigation by Luxembourg or U.S. authorities. Or so Zorn says. He called them, you know.” He rolled his eyes as he spoke about Zorn, the man who called Ross his best friend. “Well, it’s really about Deter. He was pretty agitated during the whole thing.” Ross lifted his water bottle to his mouth and finished drinking just seconds before the plane hit a pocket of turbulence that would have sent water dripping into his lap. Always the lucky one.