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:
Chapter 79
Best Laid Plans
Aramis had just sat down at his desk. Typical for a Monday morning, several files and papers had appeared in his inbox over the weekend. Most were routine, just acknowledgements of reports sent in or requests for information for pending reports. One file caught his attention. It was the report on the latest surveillance of Jefferson Mastifson. He usually got those on Tuesday every two weeks, but it was there on a Monday morning, meaning something important was in it this time.
He flipped it open, again noting the classified Secret cover due to how it was obtained. First was the sheet showing time, date, and number for outgoing and incoming calls to his work number, followed by a transcript of each conversation. He speed-read through these, looking for key words or phrases that said the Rottweiler was up to no good. He nearly laughed out loud at the call from Mastifson’s supervisor stopping any action against Col. O’Whitt cold.
Moving on, the next was on the Rottweiler’s home phone. Again, nothing out of the way, as there were very few calls. The last list was on his cell phone. There were no transcripts, because their equipment authorized for this level of surveillance wasn’t sophisticated enough to monitor cell phone conversations. What it did show was time, date, where Mastifson was, and the number he talked to. Most looked like routine calls save one. The number was redacted, that is, blacked out. It had an asterisk beside it with a notation to see the addendum sheet.
Aramis frowned as he flipped to the last page, which was a message from his supervisor.
Aramis, made a call and found out the number was redacted due to it being on a CIA no-touch list. I checked with them and they said, off the record, that it was a number that belonged to a mechanic who did some work for them. Bit of a free-lancer, but they said strictly paws-off. I’ve got Barry pulling Mastifson’s bank activity. How much he paid out will tell us what he contracted for if he had the nerve to go through with it. I told them to send word that working for Mastifson isn’t healthy.
-Perez-
Aramis sat straight up. His musings about Mastifson taking a downhill path seemed to be becoming reality. How far down would be told by if and what he paid for the mechanic. Aramis smirked at the term commonly used for hired muscle or assassins. Mechanic because they made problems go away.
Just then Barry, one of their analysts, walked into Aramis’ cubicle and up to his desk.
“Hi Aramis,” the squirrel said in greeting. “Here’s the file Chief Agent Perez asked me to get for you. Hope it helps. Later!”
The felid only had a chance to nod as the energetic analyst walked away. He then did a quick scan of the records and hit on one item. Apparently, Mastifson was a real rookie at this. Any transfer over seven thousand dollars shot up a red flag at the FBI, DEA, Secret Service, and Treasury. The fact that it was an ongoing case of theirs was the only reason Mastifson hadn’t had several federal agents on his doorstep this morning.
Mastifson had transferred ten thousand dollars from his savings to an online bank account. The afternoon of that same day, the account had been emptied and closed. Referring to a listing the office maintained, Aramis saw that the amount for this level of mechanic probably only paid for the destruction of property, usually as a warning. Mastifson probably didn’t understand that part, as Col. O’Whitt wasn’t doing anything toward Mastifson to be warned about. Likely the Rottweiler was intent on throwing the tiger off his stride, making him do something that could be used to further strike at him.
Putting all that together, Aramis became alarmed. He’d seen from the general news about the crash in Milwaukee, and as more of the story came out, the heroic actions of Alex O’Whitt and Billy Panelli, called Team Stripes. They had gone above and beyond in trying to save the passenger. That meant that Col. O’Whitt had been away from home since Thursday of last week, leaving ample opportunity for the mechanic to do his work.
He consulted his phone list and dialed the number for the Lexington, Kentucky police department. When the operator answered, he told them who he was calling for. A few seconds later, the line began to ring. It only rang twice before it was answered.
“Detective Sergeant Roland, Street Crimes.”
“Roland, this is Andy Denver, AFOSI. Have you seen any reports of property damage from Alex O’Whitt?”
The Doberman only took a second to respond. “Well, hello to you too, Agent Denver. I haven’t seen anything, and if either Mastifson or O’Whitt’s name was on anything it’s supposed to come to me. Now, what’s up?”
Aramis carefully measured what and how to tell the detective what was going on.
“In our surveillance, we have reason to believe that some property of Col. O’Whitt’s either has or will be intentionally damaged or destroyed very soon. We don’t have anything prosecutable, evidence-wise, but I wanted to keep my end of the bargain and let you know.”
“I see,” Sheila replied. “So, do you think I need to warn Col. O’Whitt? Is there any chance of stopping this before it happens?”
Aramis sighed. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. As I said, we don’t have enough actionable evidence. Plus, if you warn the Colonel, he might get hurt trying to prevent whatever it is. I honestly don’t know who will be doing this, but . . . I’ve been assured they are a professional. They won’t hurt anyone as long as no one gets in their way. I also don’t honestly know what their target is, so I have no idea where to tell you to watch out for.”
Sheila was silent for a moment, and then asked, “Where does Col. O’Whitt live?”
Aramis typed a query into his computer, and then relayed the answer.
“Winchester is his mailing address, but his business address is there at the airport in Lexington. He’s co-owner of Kentiger Executive Air Service.”
“Okay, tell you what, I’ll call the sheriff over in Clarke County where Winchester is and ask them to increase patrols by his house. I’ll have the watch captain run a couple of extra patrols by Kentiger after hours. Otherwise that’s about all I can do,” she replied as she prepared to end the call.
“Sorry I don’t have more information, but you did say to tell you of anything we found.” Aramis truly did wish he had more info to tell her.
“Yeah, I know how that goes. Thanks anyway, Agent Denver.”
“Call me Andy, Roland, thanks.”
Aramis hung up the phone, ill at ease about being able to do so little.
# # #
Tuesday dawned like a typical mid-summer day in Central Kentucky. That is, already humid and promising only a minimal chance of any relief from afternoon thunderstorms.
Alex drove into work and checked in with Loni.
“Morning Loni.” The tiger tried to sound cheerful, even though the every-weekend airshow schedule was starting to be a grind. He and Billy were two weeks in, with three more to go.
“Good morning Alex. Are you still going to Nashville?” the lynx replied in her smooth office professional voice.
“Yep. Just wanted to check with you and Billy before I left to see if there are any more leads to check on.”
This was to be a sales trip, and Alex had five businesses lined up. Two of them were travel agencies for country music producers and studios. Stripes One could get him there in less than an hour. Now though, Allaistor had banned he and Billy from using the T-38’s while they were doing airshows. The bulldog claimed to need the time to make sure the aircraft stayed perfect. Billy avowed that Allaistor just didn’t want them to get any dirt on them.
Today, though, he’d be in his Skymaster. That would double his flight time, but he’d still be back home by late evening.
Loni double-checked her desk and computer. “No, nothing new from my end.”
Just then, Billy came out of the office hallway. “Hey Alex, ready to head out?”
Alex smiled at his partner’s eager expression, like a kid about to get a new toy.
“Yep. Just checking if there are any more leads in Nashville to check on.”
Billy thought a second and shrugged. “Nope, nothing I can think of. Have a safe flight and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Safe as I can. See you. Bye Loni.”
The lynx bade him a safe flight and went back to work. His partner headed down the hallway toward the restrooms. Alex turned and walked out to his truck. He fetched his briefcase and laptop and walked over to the hangar where his Skymaster was kept. He punched in the access code and went through the maze of aircraft. True to form, the attendant had already moved his aircraft out front. He thanked the young golden retriever as he passed him on the way out of the hangar.
He put his things in the seat behind the passenger side and retrieved the map and navigation items, as well as his headset, that he would need on the flight. He began his preflight, checking the aircraft for damage and function. He checked the fuel sumps for water or contamination, checked the oil level, and worked his way around the aircraft checking for anything loose or dented. He’d topped the tanks before last parking the aircraft, but he checked them again. Both were still full. Finding nothing amiss outside, he pulled the wheel chocks and settled in to do his cockpit preflight. Once everything there was set and checked, he got ready to start the front engine. Many started the rear and taxied on it, but he’d seen and heard of too many engine overheats while taxiing on the rear engine. He had a placard on the control panel to remind him to start the rear engine before takeoff. He donned his headset, called “Clear Prop!” and started the engine.
Now ready to taxi, the tiger called Ground Control for clearance. “Bluegrass Ground, November Three Seven Seven Four Delta is a Cessna Skymaster on the General Aviation ramp, requesting taxi for Runway Four.”
The winds were light, but out of the east. A rare thing in Summer.
“Seven Four Delta, Bluegrass Ground, proceed to Taxiway Delta, left on Bravo, hold at Alpha for further clearance,” the controller swiftly replied.
“Delta to Bravo, hold at Alpha, Seven Four Delta,” Alex confirmed. He advanced the throttle for the front engine and taxied out from the General Aviation ramp and up to Taxiway Delta. At Taxiway Bravo, he turned left and taxied on to the intersection of Bravo and Alpha. There he called the ground controller back, although he could see why he’d been told to hold. A small Bombardier commuter jet in the livery of Delta Express was coming off Alpha Ramp and past him down Taxiway Alpha.
“Bluegrass Ground, Seven Four Delta holding on Bravo for Alpha to Runway Four.”
“Seven Four Delta, hold for traffic. Delta Four Eight, proceed on Alpha for Runway Four,” came the reply from the controller. Alex answered first.
“Holding on Bravo for Alpha, Seven Four Delta.”
“Proceeding on Alpha, Delta Four Eight,” the crew of the Delta jet answered as they taxied past. Alex was glad they were the only two active aircraft at that time, as their similar call signs could cause confusion if things were very busy.
The Delta commuter was well down the taxiway before the controller called. “Seven Four Delta, proceed down Alpha, hold at Alpha Two.”
Alex nudged the throttle and turned left down the taxiway. “Down Alpha to Alpha Two, Seven Four Delta,”
The hold point was a turnoff to the runway, but they were holding him there, so he wouldn’t be too close behind the commuter jet. He saw the CRJ stop at the end of the taxiway, and it took a couple of minutes for them to do their pre-takeoff checklist. They then called for clearance.
“Delta Four Eight waiting on Alpha for takeoff on Runway Four.”
“Delta Four Eight, Ground, contact Bluegrass Tower on Two Five Seven Point Eight, good day.”
“Delta Four Eight.”
Alex watched the jet swing onto the runway. A moment later he saw and heard the jet go to takeoff power and begin its run. He could tell it was already getting light on its gear when it passed him. A few seconds later, Bluegrass Ground called him.
“Seven Four Delta, proceed to the end of Alpha and hold. Contact Bluegrass Tower on Two Five Seven Point Eight, good day.”
“Seven Four Delta proceeding on Alpha, hold at Runway Four and contact tower, thank you.” Alex moved on down the taxiway and made the right turn on Alpha to the hold line for the runway. He knew he’d have to hold a couple of minutes to make sure the wingtip vortices from the commuter jet had dissipated, so he took the time to do his pre-takeoff checklist and noticing the placard, start his rear engine. Once everything was checked and running, he called Bluegrass Tower.
“Bluegrass Tower, November Three Seven Seven Four Delta is a Cessna Skymaster, holding on Alpha for Takeoff on Runway Four.”
“Seven Four Delta, you are cleared to take the runway,” the tower quickly replied.
Alex eased the Skymaster out and lined up on the centerline.
“Bluegrass Tower, Seven Four Delta awaiting takeoff clearance.”
The response was immediate. “Seven Four Delta, you are cleared for takeoff on Runway Four. Contact Departure Control on One Two Zero Point Seven Five, good day.”
Alex advance the throttles as he answered, “Seven Four Delta, rolling, thank you.”
The Skymaster sped down the runway and into the air. Alex lifted the nose and tucked the gear up as soon as he’d achieved positive climb. He contacted Departure Control, got his transponder setting, and turned right to begin heading for Nashville. His climb would take about fifteen minutes, as he planned to stay down at eighteen thousand feet. With only him and fuel, the Skymaster climbed quicker than usual. Soon he was being given off from Departure Control to Indianapolis Center.
“Seven Four Delta, contact Indianapolis Center on One Two Six Point Five Seven, good day.”
“Seven Four Delta, thank you,” Alex replied, and then switched radios to the one set for Indianapolis. He reset the one he’d just been on for Memphis Center, which he’d be given off to soon. He now called the new ATC contact.
“Indianapolis Center, November Three Seven Seven Four Delta is a Cessna Skymaster, thirty west of Lexington climbing through one seven thousand bound for Nashville.”
“Seven Four Delta, radar contact, continue climb to one eight zero, maintain heading two four five. Ah, can we Take you up to two zero zero?”
Alex mentally shrugged. “Center, yes, two zero zero is fine, heading two four five, Seven Four Delta.”
The additional climb time was only another four minutes and wouldn’t use up that much additional fuel. Many times, controllers didn’t like keeping aircraft right at the edge of their airspace.
Shortly he was given off to Memphis Center. “Seven Four Delta, contact Memphis Center on one three three point six five, good day.”
Alex thanked them, contacted Memphis and was identified and told to continue on. It was a beautiful day. The mid-day traffic hadn’t picked up too much yet, and he was looking forward to making some sales and giving all the newer pilots plenty of work. He looked out ahead and saw nothing but blue sky and some wispy cirrus above. After the hectic schedule of the weekend, and the hectic schedule coming up, it was nice to have a chance just to fly.
Something was prickling the back of his neck. He looked all around carefully outside, then began his instrument scan. He saw the number two engine oil pressure begin dropping at almost the same time he felt it begin to run a slight bit rough. Without hesitation he quickly shut it down. He couldn’t maintain his current altitude on one engine, so he called Center.
“Memphis Center, Seven Four Delta, I just had to shut down my number two engine. Request lower altitude and diversion into, ah, Bowling Green.”
“Seven Four Delta, copy you lost and engine? Do you want to declare an emergency?” the controller answered with concern.
“Negative, but I do need to get down quickly.”
“Seven Four Delta, lower approved. Contact Memphis Approach for landing at Bowling Green on one three three point eight five, good luck.”
“Seven Four Delta.”
Alex quickly dialed in the new frequency, while carefully checking all his engine instruments. So far, his front engine was running all green, but he’d feel a lot better once he got on the ground and could check the rear engine.
“Memphis Approach, November Three Seven Seven Four Delta is a Cessna Skymaster coming out of one eight thousand for Bowling Green with an engine out.”
Memphis Approach was right with him. “Seven Four Delta, Memphis Approach has you thirty northeast of BWG. Come right to heading two one zero, can you maintain one five thousand?”
“Negative Approach, max on one is one zero thousand, Seven Four Delta.”
“Seven Four Delta, Approach, cleared to one zero thousand, you are lined up for a straight-in approach to BWG.” The controller was smooth and professional.
“Seven Four Delta,” Alex replied. So far, everything else was working well. He set the autopilot to hold heading and set his speed for one forty. He set the altitude for ten thousand, and then retrieved his cell phone to call Loni. She answered on the second ring.
“Kentiger Executive Air, may I help you?”
“Loni, Alex. Can you call and reschedule my appointments in Nashville? I’m not going to make it there today.”
The lynx sounded very puzzled. “Sure Alex, what’s up?”
“Lost an engine. I’m putting in to Bowling Green. I’m fine and so far, everything else is okay. I’ll call back when I’m down.”
“Ah! Okay, I’ll start calling them now. Are you sure everything is okay? Is there anything I can do?” Loni didn’t sound too convinced.
Alex thought a second, checking his instruments and scanning the sky around him again. “See if you can get me a hotel in Bowling Green. I might have to stay the night.”
“Sure thing, Alex. Be careful, and call when you’re down,” the lynx answered, already pulling up numbers to call.
“Yep. Bye Loni.”
Alex closed the connection and continued monitoring the descent. He grumbled to himself at the inconvenience and lost sales trip. He was also wondering what could have gone wrong with his engine, as Allaistor McCrory’s shop did all his maintenance work.
Back in Lexington, Loni looked up from her phone calls to see a concerned Billy Panelli standing there. She paused dialing and spoke to him.
“Billy, Alex called in and said to reschedule all his sales calls. He lost an engine and is landing in Bowling Green.”
Billy’s eyebrows shot up. “What! Is he okay?”
Loni gave a sigh. “He says he is. He’s still in the air. You know how he is. He could be in the midst of crashing in flames and still sound like he was ordering lunch.”
Billy nodded. “Uh huh. Think I’ll hang around out here. I won’t get any work done until I know he’s down okay.”
Loni nodded in return as Billy took a seat over in the pilot’s lounge. There was nothing to do now but wait.
End of Chapter 79