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 84
Approach
Jefferson Mastifson was sitting at his desk, contemplating going to lunch when his cell phone buzzed. Checking the number, he raised an eyebrow. Why would anyone in Jamaica…! He realized that it was one of his contacts. Putting on his fake Boston accent, he answered.
“Jefferson Mastifson, may I help you?”
“Colonel? It’s Freddie Hausfus down in Kingston. I just got notification that a Kentiger jet is coming in. About an hour out. Wanted to give you a call and let you know.”
Mastifson grinned evilly. At last, a chance to get at O’Whitt again!
“Thank you, Freddie. Who’s the crew?”
“Doesn’t say, sir,” the canid responded. “It’s a Gulfstream Four, so it could be him, it could not be.”
Mastifson thought a second before answering. “Freddie, do what you can, but keep it subtle. Make anything you do look unintentional or accidental.”
“Uh, yes sir. I have a couple ideas already,” the mixed-breed canid replied, his tail slowly waving.
“You make me proud I stood by you. Thank you, Freddie, bye.” Mastifson closed the call. With an evil grin still on his muzzle, the Rottweiler stood and went to find lunch.
On his end, Freddie began to calculate exactly how to do what he had in mind.
# # #
“Come left to one two zero, maintain eleven hundred, contact Manley Tower on one one eight point six five, good day.”
The Approach Controller gave them off to the tower smoothly. They were around six miles out coming into Norman Manley International Airport.
“Left to one two zero, maintain eleven hundred, contact tower, thank you. Kentiger One Two,” Roger replied. Joe was handling the landing, so Roger was handling the radio work.
“Manley Tower, Kentiger One Two is a Gulfstream Four headed for landing on Runway One Two. Five northwest at eleven hundred, we have the runway in sight.”
The response was quick, as there was no other traffic at that time. “Kentiger One Two, Tower has you in sight, continue normal approach, you are cleared to land. Winds one two zero at eight, altimeter one zero zero six.”
“Kentiger One Two,” Roger replied.
Things got hectic as they eased the large business jet down the approach. The landing was smooth but taxiing to the FBO for private aircraft was a bit bumpy. They had called ahead for boarding stairs and fuel, so they hoped their ground time would be minimal. They were to fly back after dropping their passengers off. This time around the Redline Productions furs had chosen to have Kentiger’s aircraft return to pick them up in five days.
They stopped the aircraft where the ramp crew fur indicated and shut everything down. Roger opened the cockpit door to greet Rebecca, the lioness who was doing flight attendant duties. They had been dating for nearly a year.
“All fit and fine, no airsick pax this time, Rog,” she stated. “Too bad this isn’t Montego Bay. We could have done some shopping before heading back.”
Roger just grinned. Hearing the boarding stairs bump the side of the aircraft, he stepped over to open the aircraft door while Rebecca did the charming flight attendant routine.
“Please make sure you have everything,” She began, saying goodbye to her passengers. “I hope you have enjoyed your flight and thank you for choosing Kentiger Exec—"
She was interrupted by a loud exclamation from Roger, followed by a yell of pain. She felt the aircraft jostle a couple of times. As she turned to the source of the yell. Joe had just stepped out of the cockpit and was a step ahead of her reaching the lion. He lay on the top landing of the boarding stairs, clutching his right leg. Joe stepped over the small gap that showed between the stairs and the side of the aircraft and knelt down beside his copilot.
“Roger, what happened?”
Through gritted teeth, the lion managed to say, “I think I just broke my leg!”
# # #
Belinda sat in a chair in the corner of one of the back rooms of the safe house, bored nearly to tears. It had been a week of waiting, and it appeared there was more to come. Presently, Alpha came in. She looked up hopefully. His expression was dour, but then it was always dour unless he was in character. After a second, his face settled into a smirk.
“Tired of my company already? Ah well, story of my life, as you said. There’s still four Cuban agents watching the airport. They’re staying clear of the Customs area and the security gates, so that tells me they don’t have permission to be here. There’s no way of getting you in the building and through the gates without them intercepting you, though.”
She nodded, relaxing back into the chair. “Persistent, aren’t they? How do they know to look for me? Did they intercept the fur who sold the documents?”
“No,” he replied emphatically. “MP’s picked him up shortly after he arrived back stateside. They know they’ve got the roads north from the RP covered, so they figure we went south. They’re watching for anyone boarding a flight who looks out of place. Even if we tried, we couldn’t make you look like you fit in with the Kingston crowd. You’re too tall, and your lioness features are too hard to hide. We’ll wait them out. They’ll give up and think they missed us soon.”
Belinda gave a sigh. “Okay, so I can’t pass as Jamaican. Why not take them down?”
“Wish it was that simple, but Langley says paws off. Some kind of delicate negotiations going on. They don’t want us to rock the boat.”
Alpha also blew out a breath of frustration. Ops like this one could easily blow his cover and his network, which had taken years to craft. Just then, the ferret who monitored communications walked over to them.
“Intercept for ya Alpha. The locals are all chattering about it now.”
“Thanks Piper,” the canid replied as he read the transcript. He then looked at Belinda.
“Charger, unless you can change into a mouse, we have to wait them out. Someone has a contact inside the Jamaican government. They put the word out and got a hit. Someone saw a big lioness or tigress, they’re not sure which, out at the RP. The Cubans monitor this traffic, too. They now know what to look for.”
Belinda shook her head. “When it rains it pours. I can’t even just destroy what we got. It’s against the law for handling classified materials, and they need it for evidence, so until I can get it back stateside and turned in, I have to safeguard it.”
Alpha just muttered something about stupid political games and went out the door.
# # #
Freddie Hausfus was still grinning to himself at his ingenuity. The big G-IV had landed and parked. He’d arranged to be the one driving the old mobile boarding stairs. It fit perfectly into what he ‘d had planned. Edging the old tow motor along, he bumped the lip up against the aircraft and put on the brakes. Leaving it in gear, he’d held down on the clutch and the brakes. The door had opened, and a tall male lion had started out. He’d timed the fur’s step and released the brakes, then the clutch. This made a separation open between the stairs and the aircraft, which the lion’s foot fell into. The stairs snapped back into contact with the aircraft again. Freddie heard the lion yell in surprise, and then in pain.
“Oh hey! Careful dere. De clutch on dis ting slips a bit!” he’d called out.
Now, an ambulance was taking said lion to the hospital with a broken leg. The passengers, a movie production team, had left the plane and met their guide and a stern-looking crew of security furs and left. The police had done a haphazard investigation and declared it “just an accident.”
Now the other pilot, a badger who looked like somefur Freddie would rather not mess with, and a lovely slim lioness flight attendant stood at the bottom of the stairs. The ramp was quiet for a moment, as the next commuter flight was still about a half hour out. Freddie pretended to be working on the old tow motor that provided locomotion for the stairs, leaving him close enough to overhear the conversation they were having. After a moment he realized they were talking by cell phone with someone. The badger was doing the talking.
“Yes sir, Colonel… Yes, I got from the paramedics that his leg is broken… Yes, they’re going to put it in a cast and bring him back here… No, I don’t think he’ll be able to fly as copilot… You sure that’s okay?... Okay yes, Bruce Rufus just got checked out as eff oh for the gee four… You’ll fly him down… Okay yes, I know Roger can’t fly back with you with a cast on his leg… Okay… Yes, I agree, we’ll remain with the aircraft… Okay Col. O’Whitt, we’ll see you early tomorrow… Safe flight, sir, bye.”
The badger looked at the lioness and shrugged.
“The Colonel thinks we be safer staying here with the aircraft than chancing one of the hotels nearby. I kind of agree. Glad I brought a ready bag.”
“Yeah, me too. I’m just worried about Roger. Will they be able to treat his leg alright?” she replied, her concern showing on her face.
“Simple fracture. They should be okay with it,” The badger said with a shrug.
The wind and Freddie’s need to move kept him from hearing any more. He took one last look, glad that it hadn’t been the lioness who got hurt and moved on to his next task. When he had a moment, he had to call Lt. Col. Mastifson.
O’Whitt was coming there!
# # #
Alex clicked off the call and buzzed Loni. She answered after a few seconds.
“Yes Alex?”
“Loni. Can you please call Bruce Rufus and have him come in tomorrow morning? Tell him it’ll be down and back to relieve Roger on the Kingston, Jamaica flight.”
He grinned, as he knew she had probably already started that call, at least.
“Yes sir, already got him coming in at 0600. Do you want me to call Allaistor and have him get Stripes One ready?”
With a laugh, he replied, “Yep. I’m so glad you listen in and are so proactive. I’m going to start my flight planning, so unless it’s urgent, I’m out.”
“Sure thing, Alex. I’ll buzz you if there’s a problem,” the lynx answered, her grin coming across the line.
Loni began her call to Bluegrass Aviation to get Alex’s T-38 prepared. Allaistor hadn’t found anything more wrong with the tiger’s Cessna, so there’d been nothing more on the sabotage case. Alex pulled up some information on his computer and began to plan his flight to Kingston.
Over across the airport, Jefferson Mastifson was still grinning to himself. Finally, a Kentiger aircraft had gone somewhere where one of his contacts could do some real disruption on it. He was startled when his cell phone buzzed again. Snatching it out and seeing the number, his evil grin widened. He took a breath and set his accent before answering.
“Yas Freddie, what was the result?”
“Hello Colonel. I managed to get the aircraft stuck here overnight. I also have the passengers wondering if the flight crew knows how to walk.” Freddie was grinning, too.
“Oh? Did you make one of them fall down the boarding stairs?” Mastifson asked merrily.
“Close, sir. Very close. The copilot, a tall lion, managed to get his foot down between the stairs and the plane. Fractured his right leg. He’ll be going home in a cast. They’re stuck because they can’t fly without a copilot. Now, now get this, Colonel. Your problem guy O’Whitt is flying a replacement copilot down here tomorrow.”
Mastifson sucked his breath in. Here, at last, was a chance to strike at O’Whitt himself!
“Freddie, short of outright sabotage or murder, you do something that’ll mess him up! Be as subtle as you can, I don’t want you to lose your position, but make it as big a muddle as possible for him.”
The scruffy canid grinned. “I’ll do my best, sir.”
“You make me proud. Call again after it’s done and tell me the results. Goodbye Freddie.”
“Bye sir,” Mastifson heard the canid say as he ended the call.
“This time,” the Rottweiler growled to himself, still grinning evilly. “This time O’Whitt, I get you!”
# # #
Roger sat in one of the mid-ship seats, his right leg firmly ensconced in a plaster boot cast. Said cast was propped up on the seat facing his. Rebecca had been fussing over him ever since the ambulance had dropped him back off. She sat next to him now, her paw on his shoulder to lend what comfort she could. They, along with Joe, had elected to stay on the aircraft rather than the grubby-looking pilot’s lounge inside the building. Joe sat nearby as they talked about what happened. Roger was explaining his take on it.
“I set my foot across the door threshold and the boarding platform like I always do to make sure it’s even and not a trip hazard. I swear I think that ramp agent bounced the stairs on purpose. It bumped back and opened a gap just as I put my weight on it. My heel slipped and the next thing I felt was the platform bumper smashing into my shin just above my ankle. The doc said it’s a hairline fracture and to keep the cast on for at least five weeks.”
Rebecca added, “I felt the platform bump solid like normal, and then suddenly it felt like it bumped twice when it caught your leg. That guy, what did he say his name was?”
Joe piped in. “He was trying to sound native, but everyone was calling him Freddie.”
“That’s right,” Rebecca said with a nod. “In any case, he gives me the creeps. He didn’t think I noticed, but he kept staring at us when we weren’t looking. Like he was watching for us to do or say something wrong.”
Joe thought a moment, and then spoke. “Remember a while back we had that rash of trouble with FBO’s and support? It ended up being, at least by what Billy has said, that Rottweiler FAA rep’s friends. You think this is one of them?”
Rebecca shrugged. “Don’t know. This is the first I’ve heard of it.”
Roger shook his head yes. “I’d almost bet on it. If so, this is a bit of an escalation. Everyone needs to, ah, watch their step.”
Both Joe and Rebecca rolled their eyes.
# # #
It was 0530 when Alex walked into Kentiger the next morning. Bruce Rufus was already there, dressed in an oversized flight suit.
“Morning Bruce,” Alex greeted the red fox todd. “Nice flight suit.”
Bruce gave him a smirk. “It’s one of yours. Billy said it’d be okay to use it for the flight down.”
“Yup, I did,” Billy called as he ambled out of the office hallway. He’d been back to work after his surgery for a couple of days. Alex was surprised to see him in this early.
“Okay, no problem. Why the early arrival?” Alex inquired.
“Just to keep an eye on things. This whole deal in Jamaica has my hackles up. It smells like a Mastifson plan, and I want to be here in case you need some help.” Billy looked determined.
Alex gave a tilt of his head. “Okay, but Duncan and Loni—"
“Are here, too!” the pair said in unison as they walked in the door.
Alex gave them a nod, grinning. “Okay, so everyone is here to mother me to Jamaica and back. Hope Allaistor remembered to put on the long-range tanks or we may be swimming the last few hundred miles.”
Bruce gave him a dubious look for all of one second before he realized Alex was teasing. He shook his head and grinned.
“And here I thought if that happened we’d just walk. Heh, Alex, I’m ready to go when you are.”
“Then let’s go. Billy, Loni, Duncan. I’ll see y’all this afternoon,” Alex replied as he turned to go.
He led the way out to the ramp in front of Bluegrass Aviation. Allaistor had indeed remembered to mount the long-range fuel tanks to the hardpoints under Stripes One’s wings. It gave the jet the range to get to Jamaica nonstop. He’d have to refuel once there to come home, but it shortened the time the whole trip would take.
Alex had thought to forego the g-suit for Bruce, but at the last second changed his mind and grabbed one of the spare ones he kept in his office. He helped the todd into it and adjusted it, added a parachute and harness, and settled his passenger in the back seat for the trip. Allaistor himself, along with a couple of his techs, had met them at the aircraft.
“Hallo Colonel, Mr. Rufus. She’s ready to go. Since yer going over water and outta country, we put the proper survival packs in your seats. Yer drop tanks are rigged, so don’t go getting’ antsy around th’ release switches. These’r the new un’s, that’s why they’re still silver grey instead o’ white an’ black.”
The bulldog fixed them both with a steely eye. “I expect Stripes One back here in one piece. Same with the Gee Four. Safe flight.”
Alex grinned. “You bet. Thank you for all the hard work.”
Allaistor waved him off and got the crew ready to assist them in connecting everything and then doing the control checks. Soon the white and black aircraft was taxiing out to Runway Two Two. The sun was barely over the horizon when Alex pushed into afterburner and they roared down the runway. They were almost on the proper heading as they lifted and climbed away. It was a beautiful Fall day, and soon they were winging southward. Bruce came up in the intercom as they passed twenty thousand.
“Wow Colonel, that was spectacular.”
Alex grinned in his mask. “Thank you. She’s a lot of fun to fly, either traveling or aerobatics. With the drop tanks, we’re too heavy or I’d show you what she can do.”
The todd laughed. “Ah, thanks, but no. Don’t want to lose breakfast.”
“Suit yourself,” Alex replied, also laughing. “It’s not for everybody. Sit back and enjoy the view, we’ve got a couple of hours before we get there.”
“You bet, sir.” The todd smiled. He’d enjoyed working for Duncan and Billy, but he hadn’t had much contact with Alex. What he’d seen so far, he liked. Fair, easygoing, competent. The kind of boss you always wanted.
# # #
Back at Bluegrass, a pair of cold eyes had watched the T-38’s departure with great interest. Jefferson Mastifson had known the striped jet would be making an early departure. He’d watched as it taxied out and took off with a smug expression on his face. His stub of a tail was almost wagging in anticipation. He didn’t know exactly what Freddie Hausfus had in mind, but from what the fur had done so far, he knew O’Whitt would not easily brush it aside.
“Today,” he said to himself, his evil grin firmly in place. “Today you know what it means to cross me, O’Whitt.”
End of Chapter 84