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 2003-2007 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, 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 © Aslaug, from her stories Transitions and Transitions II. See them at her site, The Axe Shed, available from the links page.
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 48
Fly In The Ointment
It had been a week since Corrie and Alex’s first date, and they were going strong. They’d had a wonderful time on Saturday, talking and sharing some of the details of their lives and pasts. They’d spent Sunday afternoon together as well, just relaxing. Corrie had invited Alex over to her place for lunch, and they’d cuddled up on the couch together to watch some television. They laughed at their choice in entertainment, as they ended up watching a documentary on helicopters in search and rescue. Still, they enjoyed each other’s company, and the quiet time resting.
The week had been hectic, with Alex flying more and more solo time. Corrie had been a bit concerned on Monday morning that their relationship might cause Alex to lose respect for her as an instructor, but he handled himself so professionally that Ben asked her privately if things were still okay with them. Corrie had laughed and said that they were even better, because Alex not only liked her, but respected her as well. The wire-haired terrier had given her an inscrutable look, nodded his head once, and went back to work.
Now it was Friday again, and Alex was out on a cross-country flight. Corrie had taken the time to stay at home and do some cleanup around her apartment. With being out with Alex last weekend, and the busy week, she hadn’t had time to do a proper cleanup for the week. She and Alex were to go fishing the next day, so she knew that this coming weekend wasn’t going to be any better as far as housework time. Alex was to stop by after he got in to drop off his gear in her Jeep. She’d debated offering to let him just stay and sleep on her couch, but she doubted he’d do it. Corrie giggled to herself. She could just hear his clear baritone protesting that it would sully her reputation.
Corrie was still smiling to herself at that thought when the phone rang. She walked over and picked up the pawset.
“Hello, Patterson’s.” She always answered in a professional tone. Cranks and phone solicitors usually just hung up when they thought they’d reached a business.
“CORRIE!! How are you, gal?”
Corrie broke into a wide smile. “Patti! You’re home early. I didn’t expect you until next week. How was your trip?”
The Dalmatian femme leaned back in her chair, intent on an extended conversation. Patti DeLancey was Corrie’s best friend and constant source of amusement. The thirty-five year old divorcé always had a funny story or a ditzy line to share, mostly about her travels or the parade of males she dated. Having had no children before her divorce, she took full advantage of the freedom she had. She was always going off for a week or more on trips to different places. Whenever the local travel agency had a tour planned, she could usually be found on it.
“Oh, it was awesome! Sicily is nice this time of year, and we went to see a live volcano! You know, we could feel the heat and hear the rocks hitting the sides and rolling down, even though we were almost three miles away! I’ve got pictures on my digital, wanna come over tomorrow and see?”
“Hee, imagine that, Patti. Heat and rocks around a volcano. Sure, I’d love — Oh! I can’t! I’m going fishing tomorrow.” Corrie tried to keep the mischievous tone out of her voice.
Patti blinked silently for a moment, and then got a quizzical look on her face. Corrie would have laughed if she’d seen it. “Fishing? Hey, has Ben got you going on a run? Can’t you trade off with another pilot?”
Patti’s disappointed voice broke Corrie’s control, and she began laughing to the point of giggles. Patti was flabbergasted. She’d never heard Corrie like this. Then again, she’d been expecting the answering machine. Why was Corrie home at this time on a weekday?
“Okay you, out with it. Something’s up. You shouldn’t be home this time of day.”
“Nothing mysterious there, Patti. My current student is off on a cross-country, and things have been kind of hectic lately, so I took the time to stay home and clean up a bit. Been too busy since last week to do the housekeeping.”
The Dalmatian mulled that over for a few seconds. Her voice still sounded disappointed when she continued. “Okay, but then why can’t you go fishing next weekend? I really want to show you my pictures and tell you about the trip. I’m afraid I’ll forget something if I wait a week to tell you.”
Corrie decided to sit down. This conversation could take a while. With a very nonchalant tone in her voice, Corrie answered Patti’s question. “Oh, no pahticulah reason, I guess. My date might be a little miffed, but he’d probably understand. Perhaps I should call and cancel.”
“You bet you should. I’ll buy lunch, and after I tell you about my trip, we can go do some shop—”
Patti stopped dead in mid-plan. There was silence over the phone, but Corrie could almost hear the gears turning and the mainspring winding up in her friend’s head. She counted to five and then held the pawset away from her ear.
“AIIIEEE!!! Did you say date? Who is he? Have I met him? How’d you meet him? Where…”
Corrie held the phone away for a good two minutes, letting Patti wind down and run out of breath. When she could no longer hear the Dalmatian’s excited staccato yapping, she put the pawset back up to her ear and interrupted before the canid could catch her breath.
“His name is Alex. He’s my student at work, and no, you’ve never met him. Tell you what, call Terri and Joanne and see if they’d like to meet for lunch on Sunday. You can show and tell about your trip, and I’ll tell all of you about Alex.”
Patti was so excited she nearly tripped over her words. “That grounds, er, sounds great! Give me a hint, though. Is this just another guy-pal, or something more serious?”
Corrie was silent for a second. Confronted by the question, she had to admit it was much more serious. If she’d allowed herself, she’d have said “Love” instead of “Luv” the past few times she’d talked to Alex. She just wasn’t sure she was ready to say it, or if he was ready to hear it, but she had no doubt it would be said soon. Remembering that she was on the phone, she left her introspection and gave Patti an answer.
“Oh, I’d say more or less possibly maybe could be serious.”
“AUGH! Corrie, stop it, you tease. So, Sunday for lunch. I’ll call the others, and call you right back. Anywhere in particular?”
Corrie thought a second. “How about here? Bring pizza and I’ll have soda and tea ready.”
“You’re on. Around noon or so?” the Dalmatian’s tail was fanning the air so fast it threatened to push her into the wall.
“Sounds good, Patti. Talk to you in a bit, then.”
“Yep, bye!”
The line went dead with a *click*, and Corrie put down the pawset. Her other friends, Terri Moggy and Joanne Ritter, would be able to provide some balance to the hyper canid. Terri was a tawny-furred feline in her mid-thirties. Single and not looking, she exemplified the feline legend of aloof and mysterious. At least until she broke down in a giggling fit at the other’s banter and antics. Joanne was a maned wolf, also in her mid-thirties, with long dark hair and long slim legs that always garnered a lot of male attention. She let it all go past without interest, at least for now. She had divorced after a seven year marriage, a victim of her husband’s “seven-year-itch” with a femme who worked near where he docked his Downeaster fishing boat. After the divorce was final, her ex promptly went out on his boat and never came back. She had been devastated, even after the divorce, and was just now starting to entertain the idea of dating again.
The four of them made a formidable group when they were together, and their friendship and support had gotten each of them through several low spots and failed relationships the past few years.
With a sigh, Corrie went back to cleaning. It promised to be quite a weekend.
# # #
Carl Branson had tried every trick and idea he could think of to put off the visitation with his father over the weekend, but now it was Friday, and he was still scheduled to go with his father the next morning. He’d tried to convince himself that the older canid was just blowing hot air, and that he wouldn’t really go through with what he’d hinted. After the phone call last night, though, he knew he couldn’t rely on that being true. His father had called to confirm the visit, and then had asked to speak to him. The words still echoed in Carl’s head.
“Saturday’s th’ big day, pup. We’ll sort out that little pussycat, and her momma, too. Hell, make me proud an’ mebbe we’ll even switch off. Let ya get some seasoned meat.”
Carl shuddered. He’d thought what his father told him about femmes before was how sex was supposed to be. A little struggle, and then they were supposed to just get into it and want it all the more. After the lesson Tia O’Whitt had taught him, he’d been angry. He’d thought he was tough and bold, but she’d shown him otherwise. It was then, while nursing his wounds and being processed to be reassigned to Tonemaine, that he began to question what his father said. He was mad that his father’s way of dealing with a femme was being called an attack or attempted rape. Surely she had really wanted it. She must have, walking alone through the school, just like he’d heard his father say a femme does when they secretly wanted him. He was mad at the school for reassigning him, too. Then, as he thought, he began to realize that Tia had indeed not wanted his attentions. He was bewildered for a while.
Then later, when his father had found out, it came home even more. Instead of saying he’d help fight for his son, the old fur had cuffed him across the head and called him a weakling and a coward. He’d ducked and run to his room as soon as he could. His father left the house shortly after, even though it was his visitation weekend. He’d thought a long time about that reaction. And about the old fur’s plan for Carl to redeem himself. Only it sounded a lot more like a chance for Frank to get his jollies out on Tia’s mother.
When Carl had come to Tonemaine, part of his new schedule was time with a counselor. He hadn’t said much to the fur, which didn’t seem to matter. The guy just went ahead talking whether Carl responded or not, but some of the things he said about how males and femmes interact and are to treat each other flew in the face of Frank Branson’s way. The more he thought about that, the more it made sense. He hated it when his father pushed him around, and he remembered when his father and mother were still together, how his father would grab her arm and pull her off into the bedroom. She never looked happy or excited. She’d always looked…scared? No, more like resigned. Like it was something she just had to put up with.
After that, he was almost sick to his stomach at the thought of trying to force his attentions on anyone. He realized that when he thought he was being cool and strong, he was just clueless and weak. He’d tried to convince his father it wasn’t worth it. He knew he’d never convince him it was just sick and wrong. There was no changing the old fur’s mind, though. It was right then that Carl realized that his father wasn’t concerned with his feelings or “education” at all. It was all about the old fur’s pride and lust.
Carl shook his head as he waited in line for his class to start. His father might talk tough. He even carried a big belt knife, and even a gun sometimes, but Carl had seen first-paw the capabilities of Tia O’Whitt. In his mind, the outcome was not in doubt. He had no illusions as to what kind of femme the one who would be mother to one such as Tia would be, either. No defenseless dame there, that was certain. The result of his father’s plan would be a severe beating and jail time, if not permanent injury, for his father. Possibly for himself also, with juvy detention at the end. Out of desperation, he knew he had to try to tell someone again. Looking up, he saw a familiar figure coming down the hall. Squaring his shoulders, he stepped out of line.
“Mr. Platt!”
The badger stopped, looking down at the young canid. “Branson! Get back in line, I’ve—”
“No, sir! You have to listen to me!”
The badger started to snarl in return, but something caused him to pause. The weak-kneed whiner version of Carl Branson was not the one in front of him right now. The youth was boldly determined, almost desperate.
“Very well, follow me.”
Carl followed along, trying hard to look like he was in trouble. If anyone realized he was snitching on his father, it would get very rough for him. Even at this level, no one thought much of a snitch. Mr. Platt led the way into an office and closed the door behind them. He sat down behind a desk, while Carl remained standing. One did not sit at Tonemaine while addressing a teacher.
“Alright, Branson, what’s so important?”
Carl swallowed hard and plunged right in. “Sir, I have reason to believe that Tia O’Whitt, the femme I … attacked, and her family are in danger. My parents are divorced, and my father gets me for visitation every other weekend. Tomorrow starts his weekend. He’s made… threats that he’s going to take me to Tia’s house so I can, ah, well, as he said it, put her right. I believe he has it in mind to attack her mother, while I’m supposed to attack her. I don’t want no part of it, sir. I think if she didn’t outright kill both of us, she’d as good as do that. That femme can defend herself, no problem. I don’t want no more trouble.”
Mr. Platt was silent a moment, weighing what Carl had just said. He’d heard and seen a lot of things in his time teaching at Tonemaine. This wasn’t beyond being possible. He’d seen fathers do worse with their sons. He narrowed his eyes and cocked his head a little to the side.
“I believe you, Branson. What you’re doing takes guts. I’ll notify the police and Miss O’Whitt’s school. I will tell you right now that unless and until your father commits an illegal act, the police can’t do anything but watch. Will your father be armed?”
Carl’s mouth went dry. If his father brought his gun, things could end up in a shootout with the police. “Uh, y-yes, sir. I think he will be. He don’t keep it around his house. He’s been in prison before, and he says he don’t want to risk it being there and getting caught with it. I don’t know where he keeps it. Is there any way they could stop him before he heads out?”
“No, I’m afraid not. As I said he has to do something illegal before the police can act. If I know the Sheriff here in Clark County, she’ll probably have someone watching him from the time he picks you up. They’ll find a reason to stop him before he gets anywhere near the O’Whitt’s. What time is he to pick you up?”
“Ten o’clock, sir. He ain’t no early riser.”
“Good, I’ll pass that on to the Sheriff.”
Carl was silent for a while, but then nodded. “Thank you, sir. Thank you for listening.”
Mr. Platt actually smiled. It wasn’t as pleasant a sight as one would think. After all, Mr. Platt was a badger. “No, thank you for getting a backbone and being persistent. None of the faculty will expose or embarrass you by speaking of this in front of the other students, but if you keep the good attitude I’m seeing in this, you just might get out of Tonemaine a better fur than when you came in. Now, here’s a pass. Off to class with you, Carl.”
Carl took the pass and left, relieved a bit, but still worried. He hurried through the empty hallways, hoping that someone would stop his father before he got them both hurt or killed.
Mr. Platt took a second to compose himself. Seeing a student make such a turnaround in their attitude was rare. As he picked up the phone to call the Sheriff and Carl’s old school, he gave a sigh. With a bit of luck, they could prevent a terrible crime. With a bit more luck, the turnaround in Carl Branson would keep him heading back in the right direction.
# # #
Alex was at three thousand five hundred feet, heading back south-southeasterly from a cross-country flight up to Houlton. The weather was good, the winds light, and there was no traffic either outside the windscreen or on the radio. He was now comfortable enough in the Robinson to allow a small part of his mind to think on other things. All his conscious attention was on flying, but under that layer his mind was mulling over recent events and feelings. He had absolutely no doubt about the fact that he was in love with Corrie. The more he saw her, the more certain of it he was, as well as the deeper he fell.
The only sticking point was, when and how should he declare it to her? Was it too soon? They’d only known each other just under two weeks, but they’d been out together several times now, as well as spending most of that time in the air together. They were going fishing tomorrow. Without even realizing it, Alex determined right then and there to find a moment that was right and say it while they were alone.
That settled, the part of his mind that had contemplated this slipped back into the task he was doing. He noticed a slight drift in course starting to set up, which he immediately corrected. If anyone would ask later how he passed the time on his cross-country, he’d tell then that flying the helicopter took up all his attention. From that moment on, though, to him it was as if he’d always loved Corrie. Period.
# # #
Loni was already working up the flight schedule for next week. Jackie Tortelli, their scheduler and dispatcher, usually had a good paw on what was coming up, so all Loni had to do was finalize it with Duncan or one of the two tiger bosses. The day was actually rather quiet. Many times Fridays really bustled at Kentiger as the weekend charters began to depart, but so far it looked like a rare quiet weekend. The additional aircraft soon to be coming meant that Loni would have to help out with scheduling even more until a second scheduler could be hired.
Her thoughts drifted to local happenings there at Bluegrass field. Runway and taxiway renovation was supposed to start soon. That could make it tough to get the aircraft to and from the long runway. It would affect mostly the commercial operations across the field, though. Thinking of that reminded Loni of the news from that part of their little aviation world. The FAA representative who acted as a liaison to the airline operations out of Bluegrass had retired two weeks ago. Rumor had it the new one was due in any day. Details were sketchy, but it was said he was retired Air Force. That suited Loni. Both the owners of Kentiger were retired Air Force, and if they were any indication, the new guy would be good to work with. Not that she ever saw much of the rep. His duties and area of responsibility were with the airlines over at the commercial terminal.
Just then, the door from the parking lot opened, and a rotweiller in a suit walked in.
“No,” Loni thought to herself. “Not walked. Strode. Like he owned the place.”
Anticipating it might be a customer coming in to book a last-minute weekend flight, Loni put on her best professional smile and greeted the canid.
“Hello, welcome to Kentiger. May I help you?”
The rotweiller stopped and looked imperiously down his muzzle at her. His expression softened to a bit of a leer as he took in her appearance. Loni re-evaluated her assessment of the canid. She noted the suit and the bearing of the wearer. Both screamed government official. She reset her expression and bearing to professionally neutral as the canid began to speak.
“Hello yourself, Miss. Well, well, perhaps this will be an even better day that I expected. Business first, though. I’m here to see L—, ah, Mr. Alex O’Whitt.”
Loni maintained a cool feline stare. The rotweiller didn’t fidget, but he did begin to look a bit impatient after a moment. Finally she answered.
“Mr. O’Whitt is unavailable at the moment. May I give him a message?”
The rotweiller’s expression changed rapidly to a snarl. “Don’t give me that business double-speak, missy! Where is Alex O’Whitt?”
Loni’s expression never gave a flicker of a change. “I cannot give out that information without knowing who wants to know and why.”
She had surreptitiously keyed the intercom on when the canid had started to snarl, knowing it would bring Billy out of his office. This was looking more and more like trouble that was above her level of dealing with.
“Look here, Miss,” the rotweiller snarled, emphasizing the last word with a sneering, hissing tone. “Either tell O’Whitt to come out here, or send me to him. I’m with the government. Why I’m here is none of your affair. Unless you’d like to have this little operation put under a microscope, I’d better start seeing some cooperation.”
Loni was unperturbed. “As I said, sir, without seeing some identification, I can’t tell you anything.”
Seeing he was getting nowhere trying to intimidate the lynx, the rotweiller bit back his retort. He thrust a paw into his suit pocket and pulled out an ID wallet. He flipped it open and thrust it under Loni’s nose. Without batting an eye, she flicked her gaze down and looked at the card. A slight movement of one eyebrow was the only reaction she gave.
“So you’re the new FAA rep. Why are you over here? The office you hold deals with the airlines, Mr.—?”
“Jefferson Mastifson the damned Third,” a gruff voice growled out from the doorway that led back to the offices. Loni turned her head to see Billy looking like a localized thunderstorm. The rotweiller gave a nod and a humorless grin.
“I see you remember me. You were with O’Whitt at Shaw. Where is he?”
“Why?” Billy didn’t move, and his tone was anything but friendly. Mastifson sized him up a moment, and then quickly decided playing games with this fur was not a good idea at the moment.
“Very simple, actually. I have a summons here for him, and I intend to suspend his license when I deliver it to him.”
Loni’s eyes went wide with shock for a second, while Billy’s narrowed in anger. He took two long steps forward, causing the rotweiller to involuntarily take a half-step back from the counter by Loni’s desk. Billy managed to keep hold of his emotions, and stopped on his side of the counter. After a second, he fixed the canid with a much more neutral expression.
“On what grounds? What’re the charges?”
Mastifson straightened his back and looked smug. “I cannot discuss the particulars with anyone but Mister O’Whitt. Now, where is he?”
Billy drew himself up and stared the rotweiller directly in the eyes. After a moment, Mastifson’s eyes flicked away, unable to stare down the large tiger. Without a blink or a move, Billy answered.
“Mr. O’Whitt is out of town on business. It will be at least two weeks before he returns.”
Mastifson’s smug expression dissolved into an angry scowl. “Don’t try to stonewall me! I’ll shut this place down and go through every logbook and record until I’m satisfied that you are all out of business permanently!”
Billy’s reaction gave the rotweiller pause. He grinned. Not his usual fun, laughing grin, but a very, very nasty grin. Loni had known the tiger for a while, and she’d never seen that look. She did not ever want to see it again, either. She got the impression it was the same cold, predatory look Billy probably had when he made his kills in the skies of
“You may be an FAA rep,” the tiger growled through very sharp bared teeth. “But you don’t know your office yet. You are, if reports are correct, the new FAA liaison to commercial airline operations. We’re a charter operation, which puts us out of your jurisdiction unless the area manager requests you to investigate something specific. Our records are, of course, open for inspection anytime. The maintenance records are next door. Bluegrass Aviation holds the contract for that with us. I’m sure Allastor McCrory would be glad to show them all to you. You can’t miss him, he’s a retired Marine bulldog.”
Jefferson Mastifson the Third had his nose scrunched up like he smelled something extremely foul. He dug in and held his ground for a moment, and then shook his head as he tossed the summons on the counter.
“I know you’ll give this to O’Whitt. Tell him to report to the area manager’s office for a hearing on the charges. It’s all in the summons. Just so you know, you’ve crossed the wrong fur. I’ll be watching every move this outfit makes, and when you make a slip, I’ll shut you down for good!”
“Didn’t you have a Boston accent before?” Billy’s grim, toothy expression never changed, and his tone held no humor. Mastifson snarled one last time, turned, and stalked out. Loni let out a long breath.
“That was interesting,” she quipped. “I take it you know him?”
Billy relaxed his fearsome grin, also letting out a breath. “Yeah, sort of. He’s bad news, Loni. That cur is the reason Alex’s brother got killed, and why Alex retired instead of being at NASA by now. So he’s an FAA official. Just what we need, a vindictive, petty, incompetent government bureaucrat. If this wasn’t real, I’d think he was a bad stereotype played by a bad actor. Still, his type can be dangerous. I’d better look at the summons and give Barry Whitlock, the FAA Area Manager a call.”
Loni just nodded as Billy picked up the summons and headed for his office. A quick glance told him the hearing wasn’t scheduled until the week after Alex got back.
“Thank God for small miracles,” he mumbled as he went into his office.
# # #
Jenna was at her desk, putting the finishing touches on the presentation program for the layout the ad designers had sent her that morning. She saved the file and sent copies back to the designer and photographer for their final approval. The whole thing would go to the client for approval, and then be released for use.
She did a long stretch, taking a short break before starting her next task. She took a deep breath and relaxed, letting her mind wander a bit. She smiled to herself. Jack was due back in town tomorrow. Their wedding plans were still in the beginning stages, and there was a lot left to agree on before they could make the arrangements. Jenna was hoping to sit down with her fiancé Saturday evening and put some things down on paper.
Her thoughts were interrupted when her phone rang. She picked up the pawset. “IT support, Jenna speaking.”
“Jenna, call for you, line three. It’s a Mr. Grizwald. Says he’s from Tia’s school,” Stella the receptionist stated.
“Oh! Thanks, Stella,” Jenna responded. She switched lines and answered.
“Jenna O’Whitt.”
“Ms. O’Whitt, Bart Grizwald . I’m the Assistant Principal at George Rogers Clark High School. How are you today?”
Jenna took a moment to calm herself, wondering what could be wrong at her daughter’s school. “Fine, Mr. Grizwald. What can I do for you? Is Tia alright?”
“Oh, she’s fine. I’m calling because I received a call from a teacher at Tonemaine, the special school Carl Branson was sent to.”
“I see,” Jenna replied, an angry tone betraying her true feelings about the whole incident involving the young canid. “What now?”
“Well, it seems that Carl passed along a threat to that teacher involving Tia and you, so he called and advised me and the police about it. I’m calling to advise you of it.”
“WHAT! Didn’t that, that delinquent learn anything? How dare he make threats toward us! I—”
“Hold on, hold on!” Mr. Grizwald interjected, barely able to get the words out in time to stop what sounded to be a very intense tirade from Jenna. “Mrs. O’Whitt, you have it wrong. I’m sorry, I should have said what happened in a clearer way. Carl didn’t make the threat, he told the teacher about it. You probably don’t realize what a huge risk the young fur took in doing so. Furs who, ah, snitch is the term, who tell on someone, even in as extreme a case as this, are looked down on. A tattletale is frowned upon by their classmates in regular school, and ostracized. At a facility like Tonemaine, with its body of rough characters, it could be deadly.”
Jenna was taken aback. After a moment’s thoughtful silence, she replied a lot more calmly. “I’m sorry, Mr. Grizwald. Please go on, I hadn’t realized the young fur had taken that positive a turn.”
The grizzly sighed, a sound not unlike a steam locomotive venting pressure. “Same here. The threat he passed on is considered credible by the Sheriff’s office. It came from Carl’s father. Carl’s parents are divorced, and the father has visitation rights every other weekend. This weekend, in fact. Seems the male had his pride hurt that a femme tossed his son around like a sack of potatoes. According to Carl, the father is planning to bring Carl for a visit out your way so he can redeem himself on Tia. Carl also reported that his father had made a threat that he would attack you while his son was busy, too. The guy is a real piece of work. Has a record a mile long, including convictions for armed robbery, attempted rape, assault and terroristic threatening. He’s been out of prison about four years now. Been off probation for two. Carl says he’s probably armed. The police are going to be watching out for him to head your way. They’re hoping to catch him on a weapons charge, and not have to wait for too long before he makes a chargeable offense. Frankly, I’m not sure if staying home tomorrow is a good idea for you.”
Jenna considered this for a moment, and her anger returned. “Thank you Mr. Grizwald, but I’m not going to let some hoodlum run me and mine away from our home. We can defend ourselves.”
Mr. Grizwald didn’t miss a beat. “Mrs. O’Whitt, I’ve seen what Tia can do. I have no doubt about your abilities, but this isn’t some kid. Carl can still turn his life around. His father on the other paw, is a dead-ender from the sound of it, and he won’t hesitate to hurt or kill any of you. The police told me if he gets caught and convicted of a felony again, it’ll make him a three-time loser. He’ll get life and he knows it. I’d hate to see your statement of defiance end up being your epitaph.”
Jenna didn’t hesitate, either. “Thank you for your concern, but I’ve had enough. My daughter had to take matters into her own paws at school. If I have to here at home, so be it. I’ll send Tia and Andrew to a friend’s house for the day, but I’ll not abandon my home.”
The grizzly shook his head at the tigress’ stubborn tone. “Very well. Just realize the police can’t do anything until Branson actually commits a crime. Be very, very careful. Goodbye, Mrs. O’Whitt.”
“Goodbye Mr. Grizwald. Thank you for the warning and your concern.”
Jenna hung up the phone and paused to gather her thoughts. She’d send the cubs to visit the Panelli’s tomorrow. Billy would want to come stand vigil with her, probably armed, but she didn’t want to put him at risk. If the threat did materialize, she wanted him protecting her cubs, and her cubs as far away from the threat as possible. She then took stock of what she had available to protect herself with. Her face holding a grim expression, she picked up the phone to call Penny. Tomorrow might be a very rough day.
# # #
“That’s right, Barry. Waltzed in here bold as brass with a summons, threatening to suspend Alex’s license. Then, when he finally showed his ID and we told him Alex was out of town, he started threatening to shut us down, and or make life tough for us. Generally, he just tried to bully everyone into being scared of him. How long has he been with the FAA?”
Billy Panelli did not sound like a happy tiger. The Boston terrier FAA Area Manager winced and rolled his eyes. Jeff Mastifson had only been on the job since Monday, and he’d already garnered four complaints. Five, if you counted the one streaming from the irate tiger at Kentiger. What was the rotweiller doing over there? That was Prentice Wilkerson’s area of responsibility, and there had been no problems with Kentiger in the entire time either Barry or Prentice had been at Bluegrass. Jeff Mastifson was the airline liaison, and the several businesses that operated as charter, sales and leasing, air taxi, flight instruction, and maintenance facilities were outside of his responsibility.
Still, he was an FAA official. He wasn’t legally out of line. Procedurally, yes, but legally, no. The summons was a binding document, bringing specific charges that had to be answered. Barry sighed as Billy went on. There would be a copy of the summons on his desk Monday morning, along with copies of supporting statements, inspections, and any other evidence. He’d look it over then and see what all the fuss was about. For now, he had a very angry tiger to deal with.
“Billy, take it easy. I’ll look over the summons package when the file copy gets to me on Monday. Jeff’s only been on the job here since Monday, and this is his first assignment with the FAA. Granted, he’s a bit off-track, but he is within the legal limits to issue a summons or a citation, or suspend a license if he sees a serious violation anywhere.”
“That’s lame and you know it, Barry. I just read the summons. He’s charging Alex with reckless flying and performing aerobatics within the TCA. I don’t have a clue where he got an idea like that, and the dates listed are well before he came here, if he’s only been here since Monday.”
“Oh! It’s a personal citation summons, not one for your business? Well I can’t—” The canid was interrupted in mid-bureaucratese.
“Barry, if you say it’s confidential between Alex and the FAA, I’m going to jump right through this phone! It involves Kentiger too, okay? Alex was on company business on the dates listed.”
“Ah, okay then,” Barry replied, a bit shaken by the mental picture of a tall tiger erupting out of the phone at him. “The summons package will have copies of corroborating evidence and statements. I’ll see what this is all about, that’s all I can do. I will remind Jeff of where his job responsibilities lay when I see him Monday, too.”
“Thanks Barry. Sorry to sound so gruff, but Mastifson is bad, bad news. He has a personal vendetta against Alex. The fur was found as a causing factor in a crash that killed Alex’s brother. It was that crash down at Ft. Campbell a couple years back. Mastifson blamed Alex for his getting cited, and then basically booted out into retirement.”
Barry chewed his lip for a second. “Ah, okay, I’ll forget where and when I heard that, but I’ll keep it in mind when I’m looking at this. Call me Monday afternoon and I’ll tell you my thoughts as to the merit of the charges. Bye, Billy.”
“Okay. Bye Barry.”
Barry hung up the phone and rubbed his eyes. He was getting too old for these kinds of theatrics. He’d figured his new airline liaison was trouble, the way the higher-ups foisted the rotweiller off on him. Now he knew it for sure.
“Such fun,” the Boston terrier said to himself in a less-than-humorous tone. “Glad it’s the weekend.”
He began to get ready to go home; his mind troubled about the possibility his new FAA rep was going to be a royal thorn in his side.
“Ah well, another problem to add to the list.”
# # #
“Hi Billy.”
Alex answered his cell phone on the first ring, having seen the familiar number on the caller ID. The phone had still been on his belt, since he hadn’t been in his room more than two minutes.
“Hey Alex, how’re you doing? Enjoying Maine?”
“Yeah, I’m having a ball! Learning a lot. Somehow, I doubt you called just for the virtual tour and chit-chat. What’s up?” Alex was grinning. He purposely hadn’t told anyone in Kentucky about Corrie yet. He wanted to be sure that their relationship was going to be more than a couple of weeks long before he started telling everyone, and he didn’t want to be constantly badgered by Billy and Penny and Jenna. He’d told Zig Zag, of course. He’d had to call her back and thank her, and tell her the results of their plan. She’d sounded very happy for him, and he’d sworn her to secrecy where anyone from Lexington and Winchester was concerned.
“Bad news, I’m afraid,” Billy said in a disgusted voice. “A blast from the past showed up at the office today.”
Alex wasn’t sure how to take that statement. “Oookay, what or who?”
“Your old pal from Shaw. He’s the new FAA rep across the field in the airline liaison slot.”
“I don’t follow…wait. No! Not him!” Alex’s surprise was followed quickly by a flash of anger. “I told that lousy so-and-so what I’d do if he ever caused problems for me and mine again! Please tell me it was just a visit to glare at everyone and rub it in that he’s there.”
“Wish I could,” Billy replied. He wished he could say just that. Alex sounded angrier than Billy had heard him in a long time. The edge in the tiger’s voice spoke of danger for the one who had ignored his warning. Still, Billy knew the truth would be the best way to go. Alex would get a paw on his temper. He always did.
“I wish I could, but I can’t. Here’s the deal. He’s now got a federal government position, and he’s wasting no time trying to abuse it. That sonovacur waltzed in here today all smug, demanding to see you. He delivered a summons for a hearing, and threatened to both suspend your license and shut Kentiger down. I backed him down from us, but the summons is real. He’s charging you with reckless flying and doing aerobatics in a TCA. The dates and locations correspond to when you were out on sales trips in Stripes One. Were you doing anything fancy going in and out of Columbus or Knoxville?”
Alex thought a moment, dampening his anger with the effort to recall his actions at the two places.
“Let’s see. I did a high-speed flyby down the runway at Columbus the time I went to meet Zig. I did a roll to adjust attitude on climbout, but I was on an unlimited takeoff clearance, and I have the waiver to do that. The flyby was approved by the tower. I did a roll on climbout to adjust attitude after I assisted that C-130 and the Intermountain crew with gear problems at Knoxville.”
Billy was silent a moment. “Okay, so whoever Mastifson got to report the charges, probably isn’t anyone from ATC, since you had clearance from them. You have a waiver for the aircraft that allows rolls because of limited elevator travel in the 38’s, so that should cover the maneuvers, and I seriously doubt Barry will find a violation for you helping another aircraft in distress. I called him about this after Mastifson left, and he said he’d review the particulars when the summons paperwork arrives at his office on Monday. With any luck, he’ll drop the whole thing.”
Alex quickly considered that. “No Billy. I want that hearing. I don’t want there to be a chance this could crop back up and bite us when I need to fly a charter or something. Besides, if Barry dismisses this without a hearing, then Mastifson will be free to go around spreading rumors of favoritism and how he’s being persecuted by his boss for just doing his job. I want a finding of no violations. I want to look Mastifson in the eye as that finding is delivered. I tried the quiet, expedient way with him in the Air Force. It didn’t work very well, so I won’t be quiet or expedient now. I want to make sure everyone at Bluegrass and the FAA knows exactly what Mastifson is.”
Billy sat for a moment, silent. There was no anger in Alex’s statement, just a cold, chilling determination. “Okay Alex, that’s certainly your right. Good thing you were out of town, though. The cur wanted to suspend your license on sight. I have a feeling if he’d come in here and tried that with you present, well, let’s just say it wouldn’t have been pretty. Barry said he would put a hold on any actions like that until the hearing, so you’re still legal to fly.”
“Good. Dang, I thought we’d seen the last of that rotweiller. I’ve got to think a bit. As an FAA rep, he could cause no end of trouble.” Alex sat down in the chair beside the small table in his room. How to deal with Mastifson would require a lot of thought and no little amount of prayer.
“He can try,” Billy replied with a mirthless chuckle. “If he keeps on bringing trumped-up charges, I think our lawyers would have a field day suing him and the FAA for harassment. He’ll also have to do his job while he tries to find a way to get to you and us.”
“That’s true,” Alex conceded. He was already calming down and feeling better about the situation. “I’ll think on it, and you do the same. No need letting a loose end trip us up on this. I’ll call back Sunday evening, and we’ll start putting together what we’re going to do at the hearing. Ah, when is the hearing?”
Billy almost laughed. Leave it to Alex to find a subtle way of breaking the tension. “Monday of the week after you get back.”
“We’ll have plenty of time to get ready, then. I need to go, Billy, I’ve got an early date to go fishing in the morning. I’ll call you Sunday night.”
“Sure, have a good time. Do you good to relax and let things lay until you can chew on them properly. Talk to ya Sunday, then.”
“Bye, Billy.”
“Bye.”
Alex closed his phone and returned it to its belt clip. He then just sat, letting what Billy had said process. Jefferson Mastifson the Third was back, and he’d have to deal with him sooner rather than later.
“Rotten rotweiller,” he muttered as he settled in to think up a good plan of action.
Back in Kentucky, Billy was also thinking. Planning ways he could help his friend. At least Alex was going to relax a bit tomorrow. Fishing in Maine sounded to Billy like a very good way to do just that. Then Billy replayed Alex’s words. . . “An early date to go fishing,”
Date?
DATE!
“Naaah,” Billy said after a moment. “No way Alex would take a gal fishing on a date. That’d just be silly.”
Satisfied with his own answer, Billy went back to the more serious problem. Mastifson had said that they’d crossed the wrong fur. Billy began to think of all Alex could do, and the predatory grin he’d displayed earlier when confronting the rotweiller returned.
“Old dog, you have no idea. No idea at all!”
End of Chapter 48