by M. Alan Marr
“Well, then, let’s go somewhere else.”
“Hmm . . . ” Chaz thinks a moment. “Ever had poutine?”
“What is it?”
“French Canadian dish. French fries smothered in gravy with cheese curds. It’s like a heart attack on a plate, but it’s absolutely delicious.”
“Where do we find this culinary murder?”
“Quebec.” Chaz picks up the nearby interphone. “Steve? Chaz. Can we change destinations to Quebec City?”
Annette refills their hot chocolate and brings some warm nuts.
“Thanks, Annette,” Chaz says quietly, still on the phone. “Thanks, Steve. We’ll all spend the night there.”
Dev nods but is thinking about the problem at hand. “If the East Coast is out, what about the West Coast?”
“Pretty much the same issue. Southern California is just as busy as New York. Same with the Bay Area.”
***
The entire crew spends the night at the grand and elegant Hotel Frontenac. Chaz and Dev head out straightaway for a plate of poutine, then sightsee around Quebec after a quick diversion to a clothing store, where Chaz buys a heavier shearling coat to shield himself from the cold.
A dinner meeting that evening is held with Steve at a small French restaurant. The three sit at a table near the fireplace so Chaz can stay warm.
“Matt’s ready to get started,” Steve says, taking a sip of wine. “He’s put in a lot of study time already.”
“Did you speak to Boeing about getting him scheduled?” Chaz says.
“I did. He can start any time.”
“Then let’s not waste any,” Dev says. “We’ll fly to Seattle tomorrow and drop him off.”
Steve smiles. “I had a feeling you’d say that. Flight plan is already filed. Wheels up at 0600.”
“That’s so early,” Dev complains.
“I know. But if we leave then, Matt will be in position to get a full day of training in.”
“Brilliant, 0600 it is.”
“How are we set for provisions?” Chaz says.
“We’re good for a solid two weeks.”
“You guys are on top of things.”
chapter 11
STARBURST
☆ ☆
The flight to Seattle the next day is flown by Jen. Matt is in the crew deck and ordered to relax and get plenty of rest, since he won’t be getting much over the next two weeks. Dev and Chaz sleep most of the flight themselves, having stayed up late in Quebec City.
Jen’s landing at Boeing Field is much improved. So much so, it prompts Chaz to actually ask Steve whose landing it was.
The turnaround time at Boeing Field is quick. The aircraft is refueled, Matt’s luggage is taken down by Steve and Jen, while Harrison preps for the next flight. Chaz looks out one of the aircraft windows and sees Steve and Jen giving Matt some last words of advice before he boards a Boeing van sent to transport him to the Renton training campus.
In no time at all, the cabin door is closed, and the crew prepares to depart. And despite having just met their newest colleague, Matt’s absence is already felt by everyone. He makes a lasting impression.
Matt catches a glimpse of the Oasis 767 climbing out as the Boeing van drives down the highway toward the Renton training facility. He is sad to see them leave without him, but he knows he’s got a very big job ahead of him here.
The freezing cold visits to Montana and Quebec had to be countered by something warm, so Oasis heads to St. Maarten for some much-needed sun before continuing on the search. Steve flies the unique approach, right over Maho Beach, where brazen St. Maarten sunbathers and adventure seekers gather to experience landing jets passing directly, and perilously close, overhead.
***
During the two weeks Matt trained in Seattle, the rest of the Oasis crew flew south to Peru, then back to Atlanta, where Chaz flew a quick work trip that ended in Madrid, so naturally, Oasis and crew were on hand to pick him up. Next stop: the Lone Star State of Texas, where Chaz and Dev visit an immense but failing cattle ranch. Dev shakes his head in the negative to that property as well, to the surprise, and mild delight, of Chaz. Outwardly, the property seems to have potential. Lots of space, lots of privacy, and far away from everything, including running water, by the smell of it.
Another place on the list is the United Kingdom, where Dev had researched some enormous estates for sale in the English countryside. Since he has yet to see London, Oasis departs Texas, bound for Heathrow. As soon as the wheels are in the wells, Chaz and Dev head back to the owner’s suite, to shower and get all the dust and cattle smell off of them. Annette and Milo vacuum and spray the seats the boys occupied for takeoff to get the smell out of the cabin. The boys even bag up the clothes they were wearing and isolate them in the aft-most storage area behind the closet.
Chaz had showered first and now stands at the sink shaving. Dev is currently in the shower. “Not that I’m all that disappointed, Dev, but what was wrong with the ranch?” Chaz says, loud enough for Dev to hear in the shower. “I mean, it was five thousand acres of dirt. No one around for miles.”
Dev responds loudly, “Detection showed a large aliphatic reservoir below the substrate.”
Chaz frowns as he shaves. “What kind of reservoir?”
“Aliphatic,” Dev repeats, then adds, “Hydrocarbons.”
Chaz stops in mid-shave stroke. “What kind of hydrocarbons?”
“Petrochemical.”
Chaz shifts his eyes toward the shower. “Do you mean oil?”
“I guess.”
Chaz thinks a moment and then replies, “I don’t remember seeing any wellheads on that property.” He rinses and dries his face and then looks at his reflection in the mirror and is suddenly hit with a realization. “Holy shit!”
“Huh?” Dev says.
The door to the shower flies open, and Chaz is holding out a towel. “Get dressed.”
Wearing fresh clothes now, Dev and Chaz enter the aircraft boardroom. Dev accesses the orbiting relay buoy with his laptop and connects to both his Ti-Phone and the analytical systems in the Recon ship, hidden in his Alabama lake. Dev sits at the back side of the table. A graphic of the Texas property is displayed on the boardroom screen.
Chaz paces around. “Okay, can you have the computer plot all the oil wells in the area?”
“Sure, hang on.” Dev types in a series of commands. The graphic on the screen reduces in scale, plotting active wellheads and pumping stations. “Nothing nearby.”
“Do any of the oil or gas companies own any of the adjacent properties?”
Dev checks the data. “Uh, doesn’t look like it. Mostly just other livestock properties.”
“Okay . . . okay . . . ” Chaz thinks. “Okay, did your scan pick up the internal dimensions of the reservoir? Can you plot it on the screen?”
“Yeah, one sec.” Dev takes out his Ti-Phone and enters some keystrokes. On the main screen a three-dimensional graphic of the underground reservoir appears, deep below the surface.
“Whoa,” Chaz says. “Dev, can that thing tell us what kind of hydrocarbons are down there?”
Dev types commands into the computer. “Running analytics . . . petrol-based . . . viscous liquid . . . it’s oil.”
“You’re telling me that smelly cow patch is sitting on top of an untapped crude oil reservoir?”
“Yeah, a big one.”
“We need to buy it.”
Dev shakes his head. “It’s no good. Commander Tan will never agree to put the base there. One seismic event could threaten the integrity of the entire station.”
“Dev, it’s a freakin’ oil well!”
“Yeah . . . ”
“Let me put it another way: it’s a gold mine.” Chaz adds, “If the lawyers can secure the mineral rights to the property, we need to grab it.”
“We don’t have enough money?”
“Dev, look, it’s one thing to use your secret bank account for quiet observation missions to Earth. It�
��s quite another to burst onto the scene with the penthouse and the cars, not to mention flying all over the world in a 767 shopping for very expensive properties. Whether you think so or not, we’ve kind of gone public. We now have a company on paper that does nothing except shelter our assets. We have seven employees who earn high salaries. There are insurance policies, cash flows, and tax implications. We’re also paying a stable of lawyers, and everything we do is subject to scrutiny. I’m telling you, someone, somewhere, is eventually going to figure out that the Constellation Cooperative is . . . well, bullshit. We need this oilfield to legitimize our operation. Or at least, legitimize our bank accounts.”
“I’d be very surprised if anyone figured it out.”
“Yes, and what a nasty surprise it would be if they did. Listen, we are, one, a billion-dollar trust fund baby—which is pretty much unheard of—and two, a lottery winner; two courses that would never, ever, intersect in nature. To say nothing of whether or not anyone figures out you rigged the lottery. If our cover is blown, the entire operation would be in jeopardy.”
“You really think it’s possible?”
“Quiet money is one thing, Dev. A 767 carrying two single rich guys around is begging for scandal.”
“The 767 was your idea.”
“I know.” Chaz adds, “And now we’ve involved a lot of other people in our business. We don’t have a business. This oil property can keep us safe.” He adds, “At least it would make sense. Oil money makes sense. Shady money doesn’t.”
“All right,” Dev says. “If you think this is what we should do, then I’m with you.”
Chaz paces again. “The only thing I don’t understand, is why hasn’t anyone found this oil yet?”
“Look at the scan. That reservoir is deeper than what you guys can detect.”
“How much deeper?”
Dev looks at the survey results. “Not very. They’d probably find it in the next year or so. Their methods are pretty sophisticated and getting better every day.”
“Then I say we grab it. I’ll even pay for it.”
“Let’s call the lawyers.”
The airborne teleconference with the lawyers is quick. Attorney Neil Bloom is immediately tasked to handle the land deal in Texas. Mineral rights should take no time to research, and the law firm is given the green light to buy the property pursuant on securing those rights.
After the call, Dev looks at Chaz. “Whatever we do with that property, it will have to wait until after we’re operational.”
“Of course.”
Chaz and Dev enter the lounge. Annette has placed a vase of red roses on the table between the two chairs the boys occupied for takeoff.
Chaz sniffs the air. “It still smells like cow in here.”
Annette quickly grabs the spray and adds a few squirts. “I’m sorry, Mr. Chaz.”
“That’s okay, Annette.” He smiles. “What’s Franz making for dinner?”
“Prime rib.”
“More cow,” Chaz jokes.
Chaz and Dev abandon the smelly lounge and take seats at the bar, where Milo is shaking two martinis. He pours his green speckled concoction into two glasses. “Alora, due martini di basilico.”
“Basil martini?” Chaz says. He and Dev touch glasses and take a sip. Delicious.
“Bravo, Milo,” Dev says. “Magnifico.”
“Grazie, Signore Dev.”
Chaz pulls out his Ti-Phone and checks the weather in London. “Ah, rats, the weather in London is gross. Heavy rain in the forecast for the next few days.”
“Rain tends to obscure the ground survey.”
“Oh . . . ” They are speaking in front of the crew, so they need to be careful. “Would you . . . rather go somewhere else?” Chaz asks. “Until the weather improves?”
Dev thinks a moment. “Matt should be completing his flight training in the next day or two. Why don’t we put the search on hold until he can join us?”
“Okay. Where do you want to go, then?”
“Let’s go for sushi.”
Chaz smiles. “I know a great little spot.”
The cockpit interphone chimes only once. If any of the crew calls, they press the button twice. One chime means it’s Dev or Chaz. Steve picks up the receiver. “Yes, sir?” He listens. “No problem at all . . . Yes, sir.”
Jen waits for Steve to hang the phone up. “Well?”
“The boys feel like sushi.”
“What does that mean?”
“Means we’re going to Tokyo.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Steve says, while reprogramming his iPad for a present position change to Japan. Since Steve always plans his flights with full fuel tanks, this slight change of plan is fairly innocuous. They were little less than an hour into the flight from Texas when Chaz called with the change in destination. The fuel numbers are all good with the new flight plan, so Steve makes the call to ATC. Fort Worth Center is in slight disbelief.
“Boeing zero charlie charlie, say again?”
Steve repeats, “Boeing zero charlie charlie requesting destination change to November Romeo Tango, Tokyo Narita airport.”
“Standby, zero charlie charlie . . . uh, state the reason for the change?”
Steve smiles and shakes his head. “The aircraft owners feel like sushi, over.”
Jen is sitting there shaking her head. “Now I’ve seen everything.”
“Oh no, you haven’t,” Steve says deviously.
***
Training Day 14
Renton, Washington
Matt exits the 767 simulator exhausted but very satisfied. He completed the entire Boeing curriculum expertly. He took no personal time, no days off, and didn’t leave the flight training campus even once, opting to stay at the onsite dorm rather than a downtown hotel. Two weeks after he arrived in Renton, he is now officially certified to fly the 767. Now, with four fully qualified pilots, plus Chaz, the Oasis 767 can fly anywhere in the world with a complete, properly rested, and fully trained flight crew.
Oasis arrived in Tokyo the day before. Matt texts his successful outcome to Steve very early in the morning Tokyo time. Steve, woken up by the text, rolls over in his bed, checks his message, and manages a sleepy smile. “Way to go, Matt.” Steve turns on the light and lets his eyes adjust a moment before replying: Congrats! We’re in Tokyo. I’ll set up a ticket for you to NRT today. Get to work, lazy bum.
Steve will wait until a more reasonable hour to tell Chaz and Dev the news. Instead, he calls Amex and books Matt on the next commercial flight to Tokyo to catch up with the Oasis crew.
Matt had no idea he had a first-class seat on the 787 Dreamliner until he checked in at SeaTac Airport, after initially standing in the long coach line. That’s thirty minutes he’ll never get back. The first-class departure lounge makes up for his loss. The flight itself is a much-needed respite for Matt, who hasn’t stopped to relax once since arriving in Seattle.
***
A very enthusiastic Oasis crew greets Matt as he walks out of customs at Narita Airport a little after 4:30 pm local time. The now-complete Oasis crew takes the train back into Tokyo proper. Matt’s room is already set up for him. A quick shower and change of clothes later, Matt yields to his new friends and embarks for a most-deserved congratulatory night out.
Chaz and Dev just happen to run into the crew at a crowded and smokey little Yakitori bar in Rappongi, thanks to Dev homing in on Steve’s Ti-Phone. Plenty of beer and sake have already been consumed by the crew on their Tokyo bender. Once spotted, their employees greet them with a loud and enthusiastic Chaz-san! Dev-san! and they are invited to sit with them for drinks and grilled meats on sticks. The crew is in high spirits and very social. Dev congratulates Matt straightaway, and they begin chatting about the whole training experience. Matt is smoking a long, dainty cigarette. Chaz takes a seat next to Steve, who leans toward him and asks discreetly how they knew they were here.
Chaz’s reply is
a quiet and covert: “Ti-Phone.” Then he directs his normal voice toward Matt. “Matt, congratulations. I understand you passed with flying colors.”
“All the colors of the rainbow, sir.”
“That’s . . . pretty gay,” Jen says slowly. “But it works.” She hands a small plate of yakitori to Chaz, who eats one and registers an odd look on his face mid-chew.
“What is this? It tastes like cartilage.”
“Chicken necks.” Jen smiles.
“Why would you give me this?” Chaz laughs, but doesn’t spit it out, knowing it would be very disrespectful to the Japanese chef, who is watching pridefully from his grill. Chaz smiles and raises a glass to the chef. He speaks to Jen through his fake smile. “You are so fired.”
Steve fesses up. “Can’t fire her, Skipper. I ordered those.”
“Then you’re fired.”
“I’m under contract, Skipper.”
“Oh, well, guess we’re stuck with you both.” Chaz laughs again. The mood around the table is light and welcoming. Dev tries the chicken neck, despite having seen Chaz’s reaction. Although he doesn’t exactly care for it, he did want to know what it tasted like.
“The flavor isn’t bad. The texture is a bit . . . different.”
An alarm on Matt’s iPhone goes off. He quickly cancels it. And while the rest of the table banters on, Matt discreetly pulls a small pill box from his pocket and pops a single tablet in his mouth and washes it down with beer. Harrison notices. So does Jen. So does Chaz.
“What’s that?” Harrison says.
“Vitamin—”
Jen suspects it’s not exactly a vitamin and runs interference for him. “So, Matt, are you ready to do some real flying?”
“Girlfriend, I had to endure the hardship of common first-class to get here. I’m so ready to go to work on a civilized aircraft.”
“Good,” Steve says. “Because you have the first leg tomorrow night.”
“Where to, Captain?”
“Chaz-san? Dev-san?” Steve says. “Where can young Mattsy fly you gentlemen?”
Chaz looks at Dev, who shrugs his shoulders. “How about Sydney?”