FIRE ON HIGH
“Fire On High” is a work of fiction, and
any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. All
characters and settings © Tigermark 2003-2018 unless
otherwise noted. Request permission before using them, please.
The characters
of Anatol Altaisokova and Melinda Altaisokova
are my names for characters © Max Blackrabbit. They
appear in this story with his permission. The characters of Brandy, Maxwell,
Tonya and Zig Zag are also © Max Blackrabbit and
appear here with his permission. Events and information relating to Tonya,
Anatol, and their family are presented here, but are not to be considered canon
to those characters or any other story but this one. ZZ Studios, and all
characters associated with ZZ Studios, James Sheppard, and Marvin Badger © James
Bruner and appear here with his permission.
Although characters from and events referring to Zig Zag the Story
appear here, this story is not canon to that one, and the author will disavow
any knowledge of this story. Wanda Vixen © Chris Yost and appears here with his
permission. Sabrina Mustidalae © Eric W. Schwartz and
appears here with his permission. This story is not canon to Sabrina Online the
comic, or Sabrina Online the Story, either. Matt Barstock,
Angie Rockwell, Intermountain Charter, The Bitch, and her crew, and Jerry Kitt
© Silver Coyote. See their story HERE. Gail Rutherford © me and is not canon to any
other story involving ZZ Studios. Gabrielle Ryder and Jean LeBrun
© Aslaug, from her Transitions stories. See them at her site, The Axe Shed,
available from the links page. Aramis Dagaz is© his
player and appears here with his permission.
Author’s Note:
Lewiston, Maine’s airport, identifier KLEW, is actually
uncontrolled. That is, it has no control tower. Poetic license was used
for this story, so Alex and company talk with a control tower whilst aviating
there.
Chapter
107
Ghost
Tiger
Alex had walked
back to his desk and sat down. He checked his schedule to see what the day had
in store. Nothing of great interest, just a few notes to talk to Billy about.
He had a couple of checkrides coming up, flying along
with a crew to evaluate how their flying skills were and correct any bad habits
he saw developing. Those were on tap for Wednesday and Thursday. He was
planning to sit in with Billy and Corrie when they met with Fred Bostick the
broker tomorrow. He also planned to talk to Jack Lazarus about his idea for a
helipad and hangar for a small chopper there at home. That looked to be sooner
than later. Corrie needed hours to stay current, and helicopter rental places
were at other airports she’d have to travel to.
He heard a
commotion out front, which he expected to be Billy and Corrie returning from
the building site for Helipro. He stood and walked
out front to see. He was greeted by the four returning furs.
“Hey Alex,” Billy
called.
“G’morning, Luv,” Corrie said as she stepped around to give
him a hug and a brief kiss.
“Good morning,
Colonel,” Rich and Kathleen said, nearly in unison. Alex smiled. In a very few
days, the pair of Rich and Kathleen had become nearly inseparable. If things
kept going at their current pace, the two might likely be married before he and
Corrie were.
Billy now spoke
up. “Alex, did you take those papers down to the FAA?”
“Yep, gave ‘em to Debra, the receptionist. Oh, here’s the receipt, Loni.”
Alex gave the
paper to the lynx, who made a note in the computer and then took the slip to a
filing cabinet, placing it in a file for FAA items. As she returned to her
desk, Corrie picked up the conversation.
“You didn’t do
that Rottweilah bloke in, did you?”
“Nooo, why?” Alex inquired.
“Theah’s an ambulance and a police car down theah. At least there was when we came in?” The lioness
stated. Alex gave a shrug.
“Everything was
fine when I was there. The only one I saw was the receptionist. Never saw hide
nor hair of Mastifson. He’s up on the second floor,
if I recall.”
“Yep, all the furs
dealing with commercial operations are on the second. The first has all the
general aviation, charter ops, and support folks,” Billy stated. He’d spent a
lot of time over there as Kentiger expanded, and he and
Corrie would likely spend quite a bit of time there as they got Helipro going.
Alex was about to
step out and see what he could from there when the door opened and an Irish
Setter in a jacket and dockers stepped in. Seeing all the furs there, he reached
into his jacket and pulled out a badge, which he held up high enough for
everyone to see.
“Excuse me, hate
to bother everyone, but…Ah, I see. Are you Alex O’Whitt?”
Alex looked taken
aback. “Yes, what can I do for you, Detective?”
The detective put
his badge away. “Charles Benson. Detective Sergeant Sheila Roland wants you to
call her. One of the federal guys down the way was found unconscious in his
office. The receptionist said he was acting odd right after you were there.
They’re taking him to the hospital. Relax, she just said to tell you to call
her.”
Alex still looked
uncertain. “Ookay, can you give me her number?”
The detective
pulled out a business card and jotted down a number on the back. “Here you go.”
Alex took the card
and went to get his cell phone. The detective showed no sign of leaving, so
Rich and Kath departed to their respective work areas. Billy and Corrie waited,
mostly out of curiosity, for Alex to come back. Loni,
ever the gracious receptionist, inquired of the detective.
“Detective, can we
get you anything? Coffee? Water?”
The Setter smiled.
“No Ma’am, thank you. I have a big cup out in the car.”
Alex returned with his cell phone up to his face. He mouthed, “It’s ringing.” Shortly, they could tell the line connected.
“Detective Roland, Alex O’Whitt. What can I do for you? …Yes Ma’am…Yes Ma’am I was…No, I was only in the receptionist’s office…No, I never saw him…Really? …Yes, that’s been ongoing for quite a while…No, I don’t wish him any ill…No, we rarely cross paths directly. It might have been two or three weeks since he’s seen me anywhere…I see…Really? Thank you…Alright Dete…Alright, Roland…Let me know, and I will…Okay thank you, bye.”
Alex clicked off the call and looked between Detective Benson, Billy, and Corrie.
“Mastifson has had some kind of mental breakdown. He’s in and out of consciousness, screaming about ghost tigers. They just got him sedated in the ER, and they’re moving him to the psych ward, so he can be evaluated. She thinks he may have seen me at the FAA office and it caused the break. Seems she’s been working with AFOSI in watching him. He’d been doing well, pretty quiet since he thought I was gone.”
He then took a deep breath.
“Will you join me? I need to pray for him.”
Billy nodded, not liking it but understanding. Corrie was wide-eyed, but she stepped into the small circle with the two tigers and they joined paws. As Alex prayed for the Rottweiler, Detective Benson was amazed. He’d seen lots of things, but this was the first time he’d actually seen someone pray for an adversary.
# # #
Sheila had tracked down the paramedics who’d brought Mastifson in.
“Yeah, I’ve seen furs scared, even disturbed before, but this was one of the oddest. He’d rouse up, scream ‘Ghost Tiger!’ and then pass back out. We checked him coming in for signs of drugs, but we couldn’t find any needle tracks or anything in his mouth or nose. He ralphed once but it was all coffee and mostly-digested breakfast, so the doc sedated him.”
All this was from the rather chatty and husky ursine femme. Her partner, a tall, muscular felid of mixed heritage, didn’t talk much, mostly because it was hard to get a word in. He did add one thing.
“Yep. Ghost tiger and truck. He kept mumbling something about, ‘His truck is there.”
“Okay, thanks guys,” Sheila said, preparing to move on. “I’ll sign the order for a forty-eight-hour hold for psychiatric evaluation. You did a good job getting him here.”
The bear femme waved a paw. “Ah, it’s what we do. Have a good day, Detective.”
The felid just nodded and the two left. Sheila walked over to the nurse’s desk and was signing the paperwork when her cell phone rang.
“Detective Sergeant Roland, Street Crimes,” she answered. A strong baritone voice on the line identified himself and asked what he could do for her. She smiled. Finally, she was talking to the tiger she’d heard so much about through Agent Dagaz.
“Mr. O’Whitt, thank you for calling me. You know Jefferson Mastifson? …Were you at the FAA office today? …Did you go up on the second floor? …Did you see Mr. Mastifson? …We think he saw you…You and he have been at odds? …Did you have anything against him? …Did he know you were around? …He’s had some sort of psychological breakdown. He’s in and out, screaming about ghost tigers. He’s here in the ER, sedated right now. As soon as we can we’re moving him to the psych ward. We’re at UK Good Samaritan, so they have a good staff for that…I’ve been keeping tabs on him, and I’m the liaison with AFOSI, who’ve also been watching him…You’re welcome. It’s hard to get stuff to stick to this guy, but this seems to have put him down…Call me Roland, please…They might have you come in to help break the delusion that you’re a ghost, but this is a last resort. Would you be willing to do that? …Good. That’s all I have right now, I’ll be in touch…Bye.”
She clicked off the call. O’Whitt had sounded earnest and upright, even a little concerned for the Rottweiler. The file she’d been sent detailed some of the history between the two. For her part, if someone had done to her what Mastifson had done to O’Whitt, she might likely have shot them. In any case, the papers were signed. Now it was up to the psychiatric staff to see if they could make heads or tails of the Rottweiler’s mental state.
# # #
Mastifson was drifting. Floating in and out of a fog-bound landscape. Through the fog, he kept seeing the truck, back in its parking spot. He kept hearing the name, over and over, growing louder and then softer again. Then the ghostly apparition, coming closer in the fog until it became a huge, leering, ghostly tiger face.
“You did it! You killed Jason! You killed ME! And now I’m back, and I’ll NEVER LEAVE YOU ALOOOooone!”
The apparition would pop like a soap bubble, and the voice trail off. He’d startle awake, only to pass back out again. This repeated over and over, until he knew he must be mad from it.
Then, a tiny prick of pain in his arm. The fog, the truck, the face, the voice, all began to dim. Just before blessed oblivion took him, he heard a voice in himself say, “I’ll get you, O’Whitt! I’ll find a way to kill even…the…dead…”
# # #
Aramis hung up the phone, a pensive look on his face. Sheila Roland had called him back to report on Mastifson’s status. What she described sounded to him like a nearly textbook psychotic break brought on by the shock of finding out Col. O’Whitt wasn’t dead. The Rottweiler was being moved to the mental health ward of the hospital for evaluation.
Deciding he needed some advice, Aramis stood and walked to his supervisor’s office. He gave a knock and stuck his head in when he heard the traditional “come.”
“Sir, may I speak with you a few minutes on the Rotten Rotty case?”
Chief Agent Perez had looked up from his desk. Now he gave as paternal a look as a Great Dane could muster. “Sure Aramis have a seat. What’s going on?”
Aramis sat down and detailed the recent happenings and the current situation. The canid steepled his fingers for a moment, then fixed the felid with a steady gaze.
“So, what are your concerns?”
Aramis laid out his thoughts. “This sounds to me like a classic psychotic break. He may wake up from being sedated and seem perfectly fine, but then something will trigger him and he’ll either collapse again of go full feral. He may not even recollect what he’s done while in the feral state. My concern is, he is not under any criminal suspicion there. The laws in Kentucky only allow them to hold him for forty eight hours, and not even that if they evaluate him and determine he’s not a threat to himself or others. If they determine he isn’t, or he convinces them it was due to some transient medical issue, he’ll be back out on the street, and be a ticking time bomb.”
Perez continued his steady gaze. Finally, he gave a nod.
“This is what I was talking about. How things will get quiet and then suddenly explode. Keep up the close surveillance, have the marshals on speed dial, and tell your contact there in the PD to be very, very careful how they handle this.”
Aramis stood to leave. “Yes sir. Wish there was more we could do.”
Perez nodded again. “Me too, always, but that way lies the police state. If anything happens, you go on down there.”
Aramis gave a nod of his own as he shut the door behind him.
# # #
Evening had come, and Alex had received no further word on Mastifson. After getting home, he’d gone down to Jenna and Jack’s. He and Jack walked back up the hill to the spot he was considering for the helipad. Jack did a walkaround with a digital range finder to estimate distances, scheduled a team to do a sounding and core sample, and looked at how power for lights might be run to the spot.
“The place is naturally slightly sloped, so if we’re careful with the dirt work, there will be no drainage issues. As long as there isn’t a sink hole under this, you should be fine,” Jack stated after a few calculations.
“When I had this place built, I had a geological survey done. They said no sink holes on the entire property. Never hurts to double check, though,” Alex replied.
Jack cocked his head and looked at the area again. “Y’know, we could combine the helicopter hangar with a two-car garage and tie it in to the driveway right there. It would only make the building a little wider and longer.”
Alex thought a moment, then nodded. “Sounds good. With Corrie moving in come Spring, we might need the extra storage. When can you start?”
Jack was carrying a laptop, which he’d been using to schedule his teams. He now began to work on the schedule.
“Looks like we can fit the survey work in next week. This is a lot smaller project than what Billy was shopping around. We should be able to fit it in and have it done before Thanksgiving, depending on weather.”
“Excellent. I’ll cut you a check for initial costs, and we’ll go from there,” Alex stated as he offered his paw.
Jack shook it and smiled. “Wish all my clients were so accommodating. You going to join us for supper?”
Alex nodded. “I need to have a talk with y’all anyway, so I’ll see you in a few.”
Jack nodded and headed for his house. Alex walked up to his and decided to call Corrie before he went back down. He picked up his landline and punched her speed dial number. After three rings she answered.
“Hah, Patterson’s, huff!”
Alex arched an eyebrow and almost snickered to himself. “Hey Chopper Gal, did I, ah, catch you in the middle of something?”
“Huh, Very funny, Huff! No, I was doing some practice. I didn’t feel like driving over to Izzy’s, so I was working out heah.”
She gave a last huff as she caught her breath. “So, how are you? That was really something today about the Rottweilah.”
“I’m okay. Hope he is, too. Something’s telling me to be wary, though. Sometimes furs who go off like that come out completely insane, even when they don’t show it,” Alex said, sounding pensive.
“Coo, says the guy who could break most anyone I know in half, but still prays for the fur who did so much to him. Yeah, I’ll keep an eye out for him until you say he’s done,” the lioness replied, sitting down for a moment.
“Good, I’m going to tell Jack and Jenna and the cubs the same. Hey, how did the building look? I didn’t get to ask with all the excitement.”
Corrie smiled, toweling her neck and counting her workout done. “Oh bonzah! I love the setup. At the pace things are going, we’ll be flying chahters before January.”
“Wow, that’s a couple of months ahead of schedule! That’s great!” Alex enthused.
“Yeah, I think so too. Welp, it’s about suppah time, you said you were going to talk to Jenna’s family? If so I’ll talk to you latah.” Corrie realized her stomach was growling.
“I was, and of course I’ll talk to you later. Love you, Chopper Gal,” Alex replied.
“Love you too, Jet Jockey. Latah.”
They ended the call, and Alex headed down the driveway to Jenna’s. Between martial arts classes, study groups, and friend’s itineraries, Monday was about the only night everyone was home anymore. Alex walked up and knocked on the patio door. Presently, Andrew came up and opened it. Alex greeted him.
“Hi Andrew, how’s it going?”
To his surprise, Andrew looked him in the eye, did a proper bow, and greeted him as well.
“Sensei O’Whitt.”
Alex returned the bow, and as Andrew stood up, he was impressed by the calm steady gaze that met his. Then a quirk of merriment danced through and a boyish grin crossed his face as he ushered Alex in.
“Mom said to have a seat at the dining room table after you wash up.”
As Alex followed his nephew in, he noted that a lot of the soft pudginess had given way to stocky muscle. It reminded him so much of Jason it almost hurt. Andrew turned to go into the kitchen as Alex went on to wash his paws. Then he came back and stood by the table. In a couple of minutes, Jenna, Jack, Tia, and Andrew all came in carrying various things for the meal. Jenna and Tia stopped on their way back to the kitchen to hug Alex and then go on. He noted that Tia was actually taller than her mother now.
One more trip and everything was arranged. They all took their places and Jack said grace. They then sat and began to pass things around for all to fill their plates. As everyone began to eat, Alex led off the conversation.
“Mastifson collapsed at his work today. They’ve taken him to the hospital. It sounds like a psychological breakdown. They think he thought I was dead after the Cuban MiGs thing, and that today he either saw me or was confronted with the fact I’m still around. They think the shock caused him to collapse. I don’t know how all that will pan out. Please pray for him. There is a chance he could be insane enough to try to come after me to hurt me, or those close to me. Don’t go all paranoid but do watch your back for a while.”
They all looked at him a moment, and then Jenna spoke.
“With what we’ve all been through, I think we can handle him if it comes to that.”
Alex nodded. “Normally I’d say so too, but if it happens, he won’t be normal. He’ll look and sound fine, and then suddenly go full feral. I don’t know that this will happen. He may be just fine, but in case he isn’t, stay clear of him.”
That said, they moved on to brighter subjects and everyone enjoyed the meal and the visit.
# # #
Mastifson awoke the next morning, feeling weak and uncertain where he was. Upon being told what had happened, he looked properly aghast. After a somewhat tentative breakfast, he’d had his evaluation with the psychiatrist. A rather gaunt meerkat named Mujdeeri, the doctor put Mastifson through a battery of tests to assure his cognitive presence and state of mind. In the end, the doctor asked him a series of questions.
“Now, Mr. Mastifson, do you know what happened to you?”
Mastifson shrugged. “I would assume I got hold of some bad sausage yesterday for breakfast. I think I had food poisoning. I certainly had some vividly weird dreams.”
“Ah? And what dreams were those.”
“Oh, silly things. I had watched a television show the night before on monster trucks. I dreamed of one I’d seen there painted like a white tiger, called the Ghost. Why that showed up in a dream I have no idea.” Mastifson looked at the doctor calmly.
The doctor jotted a note. “I see. Do you know a white tiger named Alex O’Whitt?”
Mastifson was startled but covered it by expressing his distaste for the name. “Humpf! Yes, I know him, why?”
“Have you seen him lately?” the meerkat inquired.
“No, it’s been several weeks since I’ve seen him. Why, has something happened to him?”
The doctor played the gambit the detective had told him about, seeing if it had any effect.
“No, he is quite all right. I was wondering if seeing him might have triggered your dreams.”
To his credit, Mastifson didn’t react outwardly. Inwardly, part of him screamed out in rage and frustration, but to the doctor he gave a quizzical look.
“I don’t see how. I didn’t see him. As I said, it’s been several weeks since I’ve seen him. Are we about done here? I have work to do after I go home and get cleaned up.”
Dr. Mudjeeri sighed. Mastifson showed no sign of any injury, illness, distress, or psychosis. All he could do was sign off and let him go.
“Yes, we are. Here, take this to the nurse at the desk and she’ll release you. We can find nothing else, so have her put it on the record as food poisoning. Be careful what you eat.”
Mastifson stood, gave the doctor a dismissive look, retrieved his clothing and personal effects, and after getting dressed, went to the nurse’s station. She signed him out, giving him a cheerful goodbye. He simply nodded and used his cell phone to call a cab. No one saw the evil grin that passed across his muzzle on the way out.
End of Chapter 107