Thin Blood Thick Water (Clueless Resolutions Book 2) Page 3

On this Monday morning in September, having flown the Cessna Skylane back from East Wayford the previous evening, Max entered the headquarters in Lakeside as he did customarily through the main office entrance. He was relaxed after spending Saturday night and Sunday with Maggie, lolling around the apartment, watching some late season golf on TV. He also got some feedback from her on the non-confidential financial details in a recommendation which he was about to present to the USAP Partners.

  “Good morning Max,” greeted Heather as he stopped at her desk for messages. “You’re looking well rested, did you have a good weekend?” she asked.

  “Yes I did, Heather, thanks for asking. And might I say you look pert and pretty yourself this morning, as usual,” Max replied with an animated, salesman-type smile. “Is the gang all here?” he asked regarding the scheduled Partnership meeting.

  “Oh, you’re a real smoothie, you must want something,” she snapped back playfully while looking pleased about his compliment. “Some are here, some aren’t,” she said with a shrug and a smile. Max gave her a knowing nod at her reference to the usual uncertainty regarding the Partners’ arrivals and departures. He proceeded with his attaché case up the stairs to his office. Max was prepared to present his quarterly ‘State of the Books’ report, a slang term for the financial briefing, to whichever Partners showed up at the company meeting scheduled for 10:00 AM in the briefing room. Max had never seen more than three Partners together at one meeting up to this point in time.

  Max hung his suit jacket on the clothes rack and was about to sit at his desk when he heard a click behind and to his right. He pivoted abruptly and was startled as the bathroom door opened. A tall, attractive blonde woman dressed in an aviation jumpsuit stepped into his so-called private environment!

  “Hello Mr. Hargrove, I’m Dannie. We haven’t met, but Chip raved about you so I thought it was time,” she said putting out her hand for a shake.

  Max was stunned. This beautiful woman had just stepped out of his office bathroom like a fashion model ready to walk down the runway!

  “Uhhh…, I...., How do you do?” he stammered, taking her outstretched hand. It dawned on him that this must be a Partner he hadn’t met. It hadn’t occurred to him that all of the Partners weren't necessarily men. Chip had referred to a Partner he called ‘Danny’ but Max thought that it was a nickname for Danyel Uhlman. He recalled the name from the Partner profiles but had assumed it was a masculine, Scandinavian type of name.

  “Did I forget to lock the back door?” asked Max rhetorically. He knew it locked automatically but wondered about her clandestine style of entry.

  “No, it was locked, but Chip opened it for me so I wouldn’t have to go through the office area. I’m not supposed to be here today and I’ll have to miss the meeting, so I thought I’d say hello before I leave,” Dannie explained. “My office is over there,” she added, pointing through the conventional office door to the opposite wall of the main office area.

  “Ahh, I understand. Please call me Max, everybody does except my mother, she calls me Maxie,” he quipped with a wry smile. “If you have a few minutes I’ll give you an abbreviated version of the fiscal update that I’ll be boring the others with for about a half hour,” he offered. Danyel agreed and looked at the briefing notes. She had a few quick questions about one of the under-performing commercial properties, and then thanked Max for the update.

  “Investing in these commercial properties seems awfully complex, I never really could follow the logic,” she said, in a dismissive-sounding tone. “But that’s your job, right Max?”

  Danyel relaxed somewhat and, after they went through the usual ‘glad to have met you’ small talk, she went back through the bathroom. After checking both ways, she stepped out onto the rear walkway, closing the door behind her.

  “Never a dull moment at USAP!” Max murmured quietly to his empty office.

  Within ten minutes Max had gathered the prepared notes for the fiscal update to the Partners and put them into a folder. He closed the office door as he stepped out to the front walkway and strode the eight steps to the briefing room front entrance. He opened the door and entered the large, five-sided room.

  Rather surprised that no one else was there, Max checked his watch, which read 9:58 AM. He double-checked his notes and noted the Monday, 10:00 AM meeting time. He was about to go up the auxiliary stairway to Chip’s office when he heard the clatter of helicopter blades above and he noticed that Chip’s office door was open. The helicopter sound was louder through the stairwell opening. It was accompanied by the sound of sand and grit being windswept over the roof of the building, apparently caused by the prop-wash from the helicopter rotor blades upon take off. Almost immediately the elevator doors opened and Chip, Brad Charles, Ezra Carrol, and two men whom Max had never met, stepped out.

  “Sorry if we’re late,” Chip said, “we were seeing Dannie off upstairs.”

  “No apologies needed, it’s only 10:03,” Max responded. “I heard the chopper. When I met her a few minutes ago she told me that she had to leave, so I gave her a recap of the status quo. I think she picked up on it.”

  “Now that’s what I call efficiency!” Chip exclaimed, turning to the other men. “Now, didn’t I tell you that our new Partner was a spark plug?” he said, joking. The men chuckled and the two Partners that Max hadn’t met introduced themselves.

  First, Lamar Brooks, an African American who stood around 6ft. 4inches extended a large hand. He was a physically fit middle-aged former professional athlete. He was followed by Mario Ianozzi, a youngish looking man of Italian lineage, who spoke with a slight European accent. Max noticed that, like Ezra they were armed with holstered automatic pistols under their jackets.

  The group sat around the meeting table while Chip explained that arrangements had been finalized with Ernest Bickford’s estate. The settlement had been negotiated over thirteen months with the attorneys representing his wife. His retired share of the Partnership would allow her to maintain a good life for many years.

  Next on the agenda was Max’s report on the real estate holdings, both in the US and outside the country. Max recommended a wait and see stance regarding the falling market values since an economic correction phase was underway around the globe. He indicated that most economy-savvy financial experts were indicating that it would take some time to play-out, after years of over-heated appreciation.

  Brad Charles updated the group on his most recent work with drones. This fascinated the listeners. It was understandable, given the anticipated benefits which would help them in investigations. On the other hand, awareness of the invasive perception of eavesdropping drones would be an extremely sensitive factor, from a security perspective, as development of drones expanded. Brad also indicated that he had been experimenting with remote-controlled full sized airplanes using auto pilot functions controlled by his flight simulator. Cockpit cameras served as the ‘eyes’ while radar served as visual sensors and radio served as the ‘ears’. Further refinement of Satellite GPS would open the doors to this possibility and he wanted USAP to be ready to invest in the technology when the time was right.

  Max made a note to himself to check back on the progress. He was amazed at the seriousness displayed by his fellow Partners toward these high-tech ideas. Sitting in this hybrid industrial building with all the secret features and mysterious comings and goings, he was beginning to feel like he was in a spy movie, with Brad playing the part of the eccentric professor/inventor in his laboratory, explaining to the spies how to use the latest gizmo. This bizarre scenario drifted even further out in space when Ezra Carrol gave his presentation on how he was working with Brad to install hidden grenade launchers in the pontoons of both float planes in the USAP fleet. This included the Cessna Caravan Amphibian which Ezra flew-in with on Saturday and the De Havilland ‘Beaver’ DHC2, which was moored in the boathouse on the lake at the end of runway. Brad had purchased four of the surplus military anti-tank weapons through the black market in Canada. They
were lightweight, hand-held, shoulder-mounted bazooka-type weapons that launched rocket-propelled explosive missiles. Ezra and Brad were going to mount them inside the pontoon floats so that, when the trigger mechanism was activated electronically by the pilot, they would fire through specially-fabricated nose covers of the floats, or on activated mounts above the pontoons. A portable aiming apparatus would be mounted on the sunshades inside the cockpits.

  The floatplanes could be ‘armed’ and capable of fire power, if and when needed, but would have no outward signs of the potentially destructive apparatus. For normal use, the mounting mechanisms would be completely removed and the standard pontoon exterior would be replaced.

  Linguistic specialist Mario Ianozzi raised his hand requesting to be the first at testing the system. Ezra glanced over, with curiosity, at the senior Partner, and Chip nodded his approval.

  A meeting was scheduled between Brad, Ezra and Max for setting up the budget outline for the retrofitting project.

  The meeting was adjourned and the Partners went to their respective offices to catch up on business while awaiting the last item on the meeting agenda, which was lunch. Back in his office, Max called Maggie on his cell phone.

  “Hey, Mr. Mystery Man,” she answered, “how goes the old grind?”

  “I’ll call you after work to fill you in. You probably won’t believe it, though,” he said.

  Chapter 6

  On Thursday following the meeting in the briefing room Chip sent an office memo and asked Max by to stop by his office. Chip didn’t mention a reason for the meeting and Max complied with an open mind.

  Chip welcomed Max when he arrived at 3:30 PM and offered him a chair, a cigar and a snifter of imported Hungarian brandy. Max accepted the offer of the seat, passed on the cigar and took him up on the imported brandy. Chip got right to the point of his request.

  “I need you to look into a potential acquisition for the Partnership. It’s a commercial marine laboratory in Nova Scotia. Your predecessor, Ernie, inherited it from family just prior to the accident. It meant a lot to Ernie but his widow wants to divest herself of any connection with the operation. We need to find out what the property and business is worth to make an informed decision on making her a fair offer.”

  “Is this an immediate matter?” Max queried.

  “I heard from Mahlah Bickford last night and she seemed anxious, for some reason, to move on it now. Are you tied down with anything serious, or can you go this weekend?” Chip wanted to know. “You can take your lady friend on a nice autumn holiday if you’d like. It’s located on an island so you can take the DHC Beaver and get there in an hour and a half.”

  “I can do it right away,” Max replied. “I’ll have to check with Maggie, but if she can’t manage it I’ll go solo. Time is important.” This was the first time he had been made aware of the first name of Ernest Bickford’s widow. He made a note.

  “Good, I’ll have Brad set up the Beaver. Have you checked out in it yet? Chip asked.

  “Not yet, but I can do a run-through with him tomorrow morning to pick up on any quirks it may have,” Max said.

  With the agreement, Chip and Max went over the checklist of factors needed to make decisions on an acquisition. Chip filled Max in on whatever he knew regarding transactions in Nova Scotia and bid him good luck on the journey. They parted ways after Brad had agreed to meet with Max the following morning at the boat house.

  Once Max got back to his apartment and checked his wardrobe a quick trip into Ithaca to buy a couple of wool shirts was on his agenda. First he needed to reach Maggie to determine if he would be picking her up or flying straight to his destination from Black Bottom Lake. After 3 beeps Maggie answered.

  “Can I call you right back, Max?” she asked. Max agreed and said he would be on his way into Ithaca. He suggested that if the satellite didn’t connect right away he would try her again when he got back.

  On the way back to his apartment Max was ‘airing –out’ his Audi Quatro A6, (his term for pedal-to-the-metal driving) on a straight stretch of the narrow two lane road when Maggie called him back. After slowing down to 55mph he answered the call.

  “Hey good-lookin’, what’s cookin?’ he said using a hackneyed old quip.

  “What am I doing? You called me. Are you over-doing the martinis out there in wonderland?” she shot back with a slight edge to her tone.

  “Not yet, but get a couple of martinis ready for lunch tomorrow, if your boss will let you break away from the rat race for the afternoon,” Max retorted.

  “I am the boss, you goof-ball, and don’t you forget it!” Maggie mocked. “Why, what’s up?” she queried. Max filled Maggie in on the extent of Chip’s latest request and he was glad to hear that she had no un-breakable appointments or plans. She told Max that she could get away for 3-4 days if needed.

  With the plans made, the two chatted until the cell connection faded. While Max completed his trek back to his apartment, Maggie made arrangements with Jessie, her secretary, to take calls and ‘watch the store’ for her while she was out of town from Friday afternoon until the following Tuesday.

  At 7:15 Friday morning Max arrived at the USAP boathouse on Black Bottom Lake to meet with Brad for a run-through on the DHC2 floatplane. He left the runabout at the hangar entrance and had walked with his backpack and overnight bag to the lakefront.

  As he entered the boathouse he could see that the boathouse lake doors had been opened and Brad was inside the cockpit of the plane with the pilot side door open. He waved Max over onto the pontoon step to watch him go through the pre-start sequence. They each hopped around, stepping on the pontoons, to inspect the aircraft surfaces and controls and Brad handed over the kneeboard checklist for Max to follow as he set the controls and adjustments in the cockpit. Once ready to start he instructed Max to throw off the mooring lines and he moved over to the co-pilot’s seat. Max stepped up into the pilot’s seat.

  Once having strapped himself in, Max nodded his readiness to Brad and activated the start switch. The whine sounds echoed through the boathouse as the propeller ground around for a few full rotations and the powerful nine-cylinder radial engine roared into life spewing a cloud of blue- gray smoke to the rear. They taxied out on the lake and, after noting the wind direction as indicated by the weather vane atop the boathouse, Max turned the airplane into the wind, lowered the wing flaps and pushed the throttle to full. With the roar of the engine and the battering of the water against the hollow metal pontoons rattling in his ears, Max could feel the heavy six-passenger aircraft lift and vibrate as the floats began to plane across the water surface. Three seconds later as the speed increased, the wings took over and they lifted off into the relative smoothness of the air.

  After a loop around the Lakeside neighborhood, Max maneuvered the float plane into the wind and descended in a slow glide onto the lake surface. He taxied the Beaver DCH2 over to the boat house and, with the engine at idle, drifted up to the inside dock.

  “I think you’ve got a handle on her Max,” Brad said. “If you have any problems or questions, call in. I’ll be around here until next Wednesday. Your flight plan is logged in round trip to Saint John’s, Nova Scotia, via Tweed Airport in New Haven. She’s gassed up and ready to go. Bon voyage.” Max nodded his thanks and Brad exited through the rear passenger door and stepped up onto the boathouse dock. He pushed the floatplane backwards along the dock by hand, and then using a 12 ft. docking pole, until Max turned the plane with the rudder controls. Once clear, Max throttled–up and took off in the same direction as before. The Beaver rose into the morning sky and Max turned it to a 120 degree heading, climbing up to altitude on the way to Old Lyme, on the Connecticut coast.

  Chapter 7

  Maggie had gotten up early on this Friday morning of her Nova Scotia trip with Max. As Max had suggested, she packed some cool weather attire along with the usual travel accessories in a carry-on bag. She was having breakfast when her cell phone jangled to the tune of “Me and Maggie McGee
”, signaling a call from Max.

  Max told her that there was a slight change of plans after having filed his flight plan. He had gotten a revision notice regarding the flight after Brad returned to his flight office. Brad had radioed Max just after the takeoff from Lakeside. He informed Max that, since the Tweed Airport in New Haven didn’t have the floatplane facilities in service, the stopover was set for a seaplane facility in Lyme, CT, along the coast some 28 miles north of New Haven.

  “Well, that’s just great!” Maggie fumed. “What kind of an airline are you guys running up there?” she quizzed, with feigned seriousness.

  “As an air service, this one is as normal as everything else with USAP,” Max answered with a come-back laced with comic irony. “The motto is, ‘Be ready for anything, any time’.” They both had a chuckle over the circumstances, and Maggie told Max that she would leave the East Wayford apartment and drive to Lyme right away.

  “As soon as I find the seaplane facility on the river in Lyme,” Maggie announced, in her best stewardess voice. “I’ll locate a good place for lunch. Then I’ll reserve a table for two, complete with two vodka Martinis, and hope there is a decent menu. How’s that for service Captain?” she asked.

  “If you keep up the good work, my dear, I might promote you to co-pilot,” Max quipped.

  As Maggie was leaving she called Jessie, first to make sure the office had opened, and secondly to assure that there were no business emergencies. She told Jessie that she was leaving directly from the apartment rather than stopping by as planned.

  “Everything is fine here,” Jessie said. “I’m just a little jealous. I’d love to fly up north for a weekend. I guess I’ll have to wait until I have my own company,” she said with a slight laugh.

  “All in good time my child,” Maggie answered, with a motherly tone.

  “I guess, but have a real good time and tell Max I said hi,” Jessie responded in a serious mode.