Arctic Fire (9 page)

Anger and indignation shot out of her eyes. Her
professional mantle was about to erupt with a 9.0 quake on the
Wrath scale. She had a verbal broadside locked and loaded and ready
to fire when Cain raised both hands, not in surrender but in
exclamation.

“That’s the fire I’m looking for. I haven’t seen
that passion in your eyes for a while...”

Mallory was caught completely off guard. First,
because she couldn’t believe the comment about the coffee,
degrading her skills and worth as if making coffee was all she
could do, but his follow-up remark was just as much a curve ball as
the first.

Cain continued, “…that drive and self-confidence
that used to be in your eyes that said that if I didn’t hire you as
my
executive
assistant, that I would be making the biggest
mistake of my career, not to mention my life. For the past two
months that flame of determination and excellence has been
smoldering instead of burning brightly. Why?”

“I’m sorry Nigel.” Mallory said slowly, her
shoulders slumping as if the emotional burdens she had been
carrying had suddenly turned real, gaining a physical weight that
pushed her down. “Tom is going through a difficult time right now.
He’s having trouble passing the bar exam and it still bothers him
that I make more money than he does, though he will never admit
that, and that in itself is a problem for me: his unwillingness to
share his thoughts. I feel that we’re drifting apart.”

“Tom’s a good guy, men are programmed to be the
provider in the family and it doesn’t sit well with him that he
can’t do that right now. Just give him a little time; as soon as he
passes the bar and becomes a junior partner somewhere and starts
raking in a six-figure income, he’ll be fine. But if it would help,
I can fire you so he’ll be the top bread winner.”

She hugged her day planner to her chest, giving
a sarcastic smile. “Very funny…and thanks.”

The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors
whooshed open again, flooding the car with light. The first five
floors of the front of the Cain Building were plate glass, allowing
light to fill the cavernous lobby. The lobby itself was teeming
with lush, exotic greenery that thrived on the sunlight. A
two-story waterfall provided a soothing background noise as people
hurried in and out of the building.

Cain nodded as they stepped out. “You’re
welcome, and where were we? Ah yes, the Talbot engineering firm.
Did they call and say why Mr. Pike was not at the press
conference?”

“No sir, but…”

“All right then, I think we’re going to have to
replace them. I know that things happen but in this day and age,
there is no reason they couldn’t have called. I did want to go with
the smaller firm, it gave more of a personal touch to the project,
a bit more authenticity that the public would accept over a big
city, high power firm, don’t you agree?”

“Yes sir, but…”

“When we get back to the office go through my
files and pick out the most pretentious firm we can find. You know,
that one that has twenty-seven names in the title and each one
sounds like they can walk on water.”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,
sir.”

Now it was Cain’s turn to stop in his
tracks.”

“Really? And can you tell me why not?”

Mallory looked around and spotted the security
office. “I’ll do better than that sir, follow me.” Cain was a
little surprised but dutifully followed Mallory as she led them
into the main security office. The man behind the reception desk
was in his late twenties, square jaw, a short haircut, wearing a
white shirt and tie with a black sports jacket, looking every bit
the part of a corporate security person. His automatic reaction
when someone came in the door was to stand and begin with the words
“May I help…” But no further words managed to escape his lips when
he saw who was walking through the door.

“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 thought 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.