by Paul Byers
“Is Chief Anderson in?” Mallory asked as they walked in.
“Ah...no ma’am.” the young guard said, trying to regain his composer. He had never met Cain or Mallory before but everyone in the company knew who they were. When he was shaving this morning, he wasn’t expecting to have a face to face meeting with God himself and his archangel. Suddenly he wished he had shaved a little closer; did he put deodorant on before he left home?
“Thank you.” Mallory said. “We’ll be in his office then.” Mallory couldn’t help the little smile that crossed her lips at the guard’s reaction as they walked passed him and entered the office.
“What are we doing in here, Elizabeth?”
“I copied this earlier.” Mallory sat down behind the desk and took out a DVD from her binder and inserted it into the computer. “This was all over the news earlier today, happened down in Vegas, but it’s being picked up nationally.” She pushed the button and played the news story about Pike stopping the bandits. “And look at this.” Mallory said pointing at the title on the screen. “They’re calling it the ‘Blast from the Past saves the day.’ She sat back looking smug. “What do you think? Still want to fire this guy?”
“That,” Cain said almost shouting. “is why you are my assistant!” The glow of his enthusiasm and excitement filled the small office as much as the light from the five story windows filled the lobby. “This is perfect; the media will eat this stuff up. I can see the headlines now. ‘Blast from the past helps save the future.’ We can have our picture taken in front of his plane, it’ll be great. By this time tomorrow we’ll be on the cover of every major newspaper in the country. This kind of PR just can’t be bought.” Cain reached down and popped the disk out of the computer.
“Come on, we’ve got to get back upstairs to the office and incorporate this guy into our final presentation.”
Mallory took the disk from Cain and put it back into her binder. “We can’t, we’ve got to get to the airport, you’ve got one more meeting with the Senate Transportation Committee to get the official green light for this project.”
“But…”
“But I’ve got everything we need right here in my laptop. As soon as we get in the car I’ll make the calls. And by the way, that’s executive assistant, sir,” she beamed.
Cain just smiled as he followed her out of the security office.
“Welcome back Elizabeth, that’s the girl I’ve missed.”
Mallory smiled to herself as they left the office and headed toward the front door, it felt good to be back in her groove. They passed through the large revolving doors and Cain stopped as soon as he saw the black stretch limousine parked at the curb waiting for them.
“I thought we were taking the town car?”
“You’re flying out to meet with members of Congress, sir. With the public you need to be humble. With Congress you need to be intimidating.”
“I guess you’re right,” he shrugged as they started walking down the steps toward the car, then he paused. “But, why can’t we do both?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Look there, over by the curb.” Cain pointed. “Isn’t that number seventeen, Mr. Taylor, and number thirty one, Ms. Jasper from the conference?”
Mallory just looked up at her boss. “I’m not even going to bother to look them up, I’ll just take your word for it since that was a rhetorical question anyway.”
Cain chuckled. “Let’s give them something to write about on their plane trip home. Let’s see if they need a lift to the airport. They can tell all their readers back home how they rubbed elbows with this big wig in New York City and rode in a car that is more expensive than most of their homes.
“This should be interesting. Mr. Taylor and Ms Jasper’s lives have been rolling along, suddenly they hit a bump in the road and their paths cross here at the press conference and now, their paths will be changed even more by putting them with us in the limo. They will meet people they otherwise never would have. They will do things they haven’t done before. How will this simple chance meeting change their lives? Or will it? Cause and effect Elizabeth, cause and effect.” Cain smiled.
“Mr. Taylor, Ms. Jasper!” Cain shouted and waved his hand at them. “Need a lift to the airport?” Cain then turned and whispered to Mallory. “Make sure our sources at AP pick up their stories from their local papers. Every little bit helps.” He turned back to the two reporters and smiled as he held out his hand. “Might as well car pool it, don’t you think?”
Chapter Nine
As the wheels of the Yankee Clipper touched down on the runway of JFK International, Gabriel Pike let out a long sigh of relief; it was good to be back on the ground again. He’d gotten up and left Las Vegas at O-dark thirty and had the throttle all the way to the stops for the entire trip in order to arrive by noon as Marilyn had ordered. Though he’d stopped twice to refuel and to stretch his legs, they were still stiff and a little sore from the confines of his cockpit. Fortunately, there were no juice box stains to worry about.
The tower ordered him to taxi the entire length of the runway, then exit to the private hangars to his left at the end of the field. He felt a little self-conscious with his little plane taxing along this huge runway. He felt like he was being watched or was in a parade; but after what had just happened in Vegas, he was not about to question anyone or anything associated with the FAA.
Finally off the main runway and out from underneath the microscope, he moved down the taxiway toward the hangars. As he approached, he saw three mobile television trucks lined up in a row. All three had their telescoping antennas fully extended, looking like a giant claw of Wolverine of the X-men, ready to swat down any plane that came close.
Surrounding the trucks was an army of reporters, he guessed somewhere between 35-40 strong. Some were just standing around talking to their cameraman, a few were still putting on makeup but the majority were talking on their cell phones. Off to one side, sitting by itself, was a large, black limousine. It wasn’t the biggest he’d ever seen; after all, he had just come from Vegas where everything was big and gaudy, but this car was different. Pike could tell it was a Rolls-Royce. It still had the recognizable classic square grill, but it, along with the rest of the timeless lines of the car had been brushed-stroked with a modern design. It was still as stately and elegant as its predecessors and it still projected power and importance. The car was so polished that the finish seemed to swallow the light instead of reflecting it, making the car look even bigger and more powerful.
The car and the flock of reporters must be waiting for some kind of big shot or movie star to land in their private jet, Pike thought. He pulled his canopy back as he approached. Maybe he could catch a glimpse of whoever it was and tell the guys back at the office about it. As he got closer, one of the reporters turned, noticed him, and sounded the alarm like the British were coming. Suddenly the crowd, as if chained together, moved in one massive block of humanity and charged his plane.
Stunned with more fear than a junior high boy asking a girl out on his first date, Pike suddenly realized that he was the big shot they were waiting for. For a brief moment he thought about slamming his canopy shut and shoving the throttle to full military power and getting the hell out of Dodge.
Instead, he knew he had better shut the engine down, if these people were foolish enough to be waiting to see him, then they were foolish enough to stand behind a jet aircraft with its engine on. Leading the charge was an older man, perhaps in his late fifties to early sixties, running as fast as he could and still maintain his dignity. Next to him was a younger woman from a competitor station gaining ground quickly. Pike couldn’t hear what was being said, but by the man’s red face, it wasn’t a compliment on her hairstyle he was shouting. Either out of respect or intimidation she fell back a step. Pike could also see that in the sprint, his toupee was starting to peel back like the lid on a sardine can.
For a moment, another thought flashed across his mind; he though
t about kicking over the rudder and dousing the man with his jet wash. He could just imagine the pompous man bouncing down the tarmac in one direction and his toupee flying in another. He held the thought for just for a moment, then killed the engine, tapped the brakes and brought the Yankee Clipper to a stop just as the mob surrounded the plane.
He sat there for a moment, almost in a daze, overwhelmed by the crowd. Was this what it was like to be a rock star? Suddenly Pike was awakened from his stupor as one of the more ambitious reporters—or stupid ones in his book tried to climb onto the wing.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” Pike yelled as he tore off his helmet and jumped up on his seat. As soon as he stood up and left the sanctuary of the cockpit, the questions starting flying, hitting him like an artillery barrage. Leading the charge with a microphone in his right hand and using his practiced TV baritone voice, the toupee man was bellowing out questions like a polite drill sergeant. Behind him and slightly to his left was the woman reporter who had followed him earlier. She too, was trying to shout out her questions but every time she tried to speak, toupee man would ever so slightly elbow her in the ribs. To anyone in the crowd it would seem like normal jostling, but from his vantage point he could tell it was deliberate.
Cameras or no cameras, Pike was about to regret what he was going to say to the toupee man. But before he could make front-page news for all the wrong reasons, Pike noticed the crowd began to quiet. He looked up and recognized Nigel Cain. As he approached, his strides were casual yet confidant, leaving no mistake in anyone’s mind who was in charge. Cain was wearing a navy-blue suit with dark gray pinstripes and he was accompanied by an attractive brunette, equally well dressed. The closer he got, the more the crowd began to move, as if Moses himself were parting the Red Sea.
By the time Cain had reached the Clipper, silence, as well as a nice twenty-foot reporter-free buffer zone surrounded the plane. Cain stood on the ground slightly in front of the cockpit with Pike above him and to his left. Cain turned and faced the crowd and raised his left hand pointing up to Pike.
“Ladies and Gentleman.” Cain spoke in his polished corporate-pitch voice. “May I present to you, the Blast from the Past, Mr. Gabriel Pike.”
Pike didn’t realize it at the time, though he would be teased mercilessly for it later, saying he was posing, but he was standing with one leg on the edge of the canopy with his helmet tucked under his arm, wearing his flight suit and leather jacket. It was the perfect publicity picture and just in time to make the cover of every evening edition of every major newspaper in the country.
Pike stood on his high perch and watched as Cain worked the crowd. Slowly Cain moved away from the plane, drawing the flock of reports, which followed him like a gaggle of baby geese.
“Mr. Pike?”
Pike turned around and look down and saw the pretty brunette was the one calling his name.
“Elisabeth Mallory, Mr. Cain’s Executive Assistant. A pleasure to meet you.” She waited for him to climb down then she extended her hand.
“Hi. Gabriel Pike. Nice to meet you.” He reached out and shook her hand. He noticed that her grip was firm, yet not overpowering or overcompensating. He liked that.
“If you’ll just follow me Mr. Pike, we’ll get you out of this zoo.”
“Please.” He smiled and nodded, following her to a white Escalade with dark tinted windows that appeared out of nowhere.
Pike was a little surprised when she climbed into the driver’s side door instead of the back. Seeming to read his mind, she said, “I prefer driving myself,” as she put on her seat belt. “Besides, I hate press conferences; they are a necessary evil, but I still hate them. Some of the reporters are very good, but a lot of them are just vultures circling and waiting to pounce on their latest victims.”
“Mr. Cain doesn’t seem to mind.” Pike replied as they drove past the crowd.
Mallory laughed. “Nigel loves it; he says he doesn’t, but don’t let that fool you. He’s the ultimate lion tamer.”
“Yeah, well thanks for saving me from the lions.”
“I could tell you were a little out of your element back there.”
“Just a little,” Pike laughed. “So I assume we’ll be leaving for the iceberg right away then?”
Mallory pulled onto an access road that skirted the airport and floored it.
“I can see why you like to drive.” Pike said.
Mallory just smiled as they swerved around a lumbering fuel truck. “No, Mr. Pike, we’ll be staying here in New York for two days before we leave.”
“Gabe, please.”
“Beth.”
“Okay Beth, if you don’t mind my asking, a little over seven hours ago I was in Las Vegas. If we’re not leaving for two days, then why the rush to get me here?”
“Image is everything Mr. Pi… Gabe,” Mallory corrected herself. “As you saw, Nigel knows how to work the press; he knows how important they can be. This project is controversial and the more positive press he can get out of it the more support he can glean from Congress and other corporations.
“Your quick thinking in Nevada was the best thing that could have happened to this project. Right now you’re the fair-haired wonder boy and the public loves you and Nigel is going to take full advantage of that. Like it or not Gabe, you’re a star.”
Pike let out a sigh, still not comfortable being the flavor of the month.
“Don’t worry Gabe,” Mallory smiled, “we’ll try our best to keep the really hungry lions at bay. Oh, by the way, do you have one of these?” She reached into a bag beside her seat and pulled out a white scarf.
Pike got another pained look on his face as he held it up. “You want me to wear this? Don’t you think this is a bit much?”
Mallory smiled again. “Like I said, image is everything. In today’s world the guys who fly the fighter jets are pilots. You however are different. You fly a vintage jet fighter and have been dubbed, ‘The Blast from the Past.’ The public likes to romanticize things, so in their minds, you are not a pilot; you are an aviator, and Nigel is going to use that. Today’s pilots are all business that wears dull flight suits and bulky helmets with dark visors that cover their faces. On the other hand, in the public’s mind, the dashing aviator wears snappy leather jackets, like the one you have on, and white scarves.
“People eat up nostalgia and that’s what Nigel is going to do here. He’s marrying the simpler, easier times of the past with the new technology of today to get the public to buy into it. Whether this works or not, and it will, the public will demand it, allowing Nigel to continue with his projects to help humanity. You should be grateful; Nigel wanted you to wear a leather helmet complete with goggles, but I talked him out of it.”
“Thank you!”
“Don’t mention it.” She reached into her laptop case on the seat bag and pulled out a piece of paper. “Here’s your itinerary for the day. We’ll meet up with Nigel in twenty minutes or so and go from there.”
Pike took the piece of paper and gave it a quick glance. “This is for the two days right?”
Mallory shook her head. “That’s just for today, I have tomorrow’s schedule on my laptop.”
“But I don’t even see anytime here for lunch. I’m starved.”
“Check under your seat.”
Pike gave her a funny look then reached under his seat and pulled out a Styrofoam to-go box. He opened it to find a Reuben sandwich. It was still fresh as evidenced by a cloud of steam rolling out of the box. “It smells wonderful,” Pike said, inhaling the steam.
“It’s from Wolf’s Delicatessen in Manhattan.”
“No way.” Pike relied, sounding like a schoolboy. “I’ve always wanted to go there.”
“There’s a cooler on the floor in the back with a bottle of root beer or water, your choice.” Mallory replied, enjoying Pike’s enthusiasm over a sandwich.
“But how did you….never mind.” He took a bite and paused, it was the best Reuben he had ever had.
“You didn’t happen to…”
“Yes I did,” Mallory interrupted. “There’s a container of potato salad along with a slice of cheese cake. I gained three pounds just looking at it.” She kidded.
Pike’s smile grew bigger than the Brooklyn Bridge. He savored several more bits then reluctantly stopped, used the second of his three napkins to wipe off his hands then picked up the itinerary. The joy of the moment began to fade as a scowl formed on his face and hardened the closer he examined the list.
“You’re kidding right? This is just for this afternoon? You don’t even have time to think… What if I have to go to the bathroom? I don’t see that scheduled here.” He said with mild sarcasm.
“You’re a pilot, there’s a relief tube just to your right.” Mallory looked at him and smirked. “Welcome to my world.”
Chapter Ten
After a day that Pike could only describe as a blur, he was looking forward to getting some rest. As the limousine coasted to a stop, he looked out and saw that they certainly weren’t in front of a Motel 6. His first clue was the set of red carpets cascading down from three sets of stairs that flowed out of the front of the building, with the center set flanked by highly polished gold railings. Four massive columns supported a regal balcony and grand canopy that covered the hotel entrance. There were five huge flagpoles jutted out from the balcony like bowsprits from square-riggers of old.
The entrance was bathed in a soft glowing, almost golden light. Nestled between the canopy and the balcony were three stained glass panels, all glowing with the same soft lights as the entrance. The center panel was embedded with a crest that shows two large “Ps” back to back, symbolizing the regal aurora of The Plaza Hotel.