Chapter 1

Come fly with me, let’s fly, let’s fly away

If you can use some exotic booze, there’s a bar in far Bombay

Come fly with me, let’s fly, let’s fly away

- Jimmy Van Heusen and Sammy Cahn

December 2018

Case Reynolds eased the single-engine turboprop Socata TBM 900 onto the runway at the Orange County Airport. The tires gave just the slightest chirp as he touched down. He looked at the digital clock on the dash. It read 1800.

Right on time, but dark already.

He prided himself on his punctuality – 2800 miles, five stops and right on the money – of course in the air delivery business time was indeed money. Ground control instructed him to hold on the taxiway while a couple of 737s headed out.

Glorified bus drivers. Although those 737 guys do get paid a heck of a lot more and they certainly fly less. Nope, wouldn’t change a thing - just me in the cockpit and no surly passengers to placate and babysit.

After he’d been discharged from the Air Force he hadn’t even considered applying with one of the airlines. Of course, he had very little jet time and almost no multiengine time. No, right after primary flight training, the Air Force had diverted him from jet fighter training into a startup program where he was trained on the single-engine turboprop counter-insurgency plane, the Super Tucano. After he gained proficiency he was sent to train Afghani pilots in Florida. He was assured after his assignment he’d get a slot at jet fighter school. Of course they neglected to mention he would be deployed for a year with the Afghani pilots he had trained, doing close air support.

Jet fighter school – yeah no problem - but by the way kid, just don’t get your ass shot off rolling in on heavily fortified Taliban positions at low altitude!

The tandem two-seater A-29B Super Tucano was a joy to fly, rugged and carried a heck of a payload.

Too bad it isn’t 37 mm cannon proof, although it did bring me back – barely. My Afghani pilot wasn’t as fortunate. It was just luck of the draw that day that had him sitting up front instead of me.

A few months after being pulled from his shot-up Tucano, the Air Force decided Case was no longer physically fit to fly, so his dream of an Air Force career and jet fighter school went out the window. Then he met Jeff Paulson while in rehab at Walter Reed. He was convinced that but for that fortuitous meeting he’d probably be washing airplanes at Augusta Regional or Columbia Metropolitan like he did in high school just to get rides, and living with Mom and Dad on the farm outside the metropolis of Barnwell, South Carolina.

He winced at the thought - definitely not living with Mom and Dad. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had a good life growing up; he’d just never wanted to be a farmer. As a kid he remembered riding the tractor or being in one of the peach trees in their orchard and he would look up and see the planes making their approach into Augusta or Columbia, fifty or so miles away. He’d never wanted to be anything but a pilot.

When Case met Jeff Paulson, Jeff was getting ready to leave the Navy and he and his wife Rachel were starting an air delivery service, Air-Bytes, which specialized in getting critical parts and sensitive items delivered to and from various high tech centers across the western US. Case scraped enough money together to become a partner and was the third pilot along with them.

Air-Bytes had three leased TBM 900s, with two of the three aircraft in the air seven days a week. Each morning one of their planes started in Austin Texas and one started at Orange County California. With three pilots it worked out that you flew two days in a row – Austin to Orange County, via Salt Lake, Boise, Seattle, Portland and San Jose, then Orange County to Austin, touching down in the same cities in reverse order. Then you had a day off. They had maintenance facilities and hangers in Austin and Orange County and offices in secure hangers in the others. Air-Bytes main office – such as it was – was located in the Austin hanger.

Finally released by ground control, Case moved his aircraft along the lighted taxiway to their hangar. It wasn’t just a hangar; it was home when he and the other pilots overnighted at Orange County. Air-Bytes had constructed a fully furnished three-bedroom apartment which ran along the back of the inside of the big hangar. To most it just appeared to be the wall at the back and for security purposes it could only be accessed through their office. Technically an apartment wasn’t permitted but the landlord had never visited and most likely didn’t care what they did with the space as long as the rent was paid. Rose McGlinn, their Orange County office manager, and her daughter Josie, their west coast mechanic, lived there. One bedroom was reserved for the pilots staying overnight. This practice saved on expenses and was very convenient for everyone.

Case shut down the engine and from the cockpit watched the tall, slim, flame-haired Josie position the tug to grab the front gear. She expertly pulled the plane from the dark apron into the brightly lit hangar and then stowed the tug before disappearing toward the hangar doors. He knew she was securing the doors. He waited until the young woman in her spotless gray coveralls - How does she do that? - reappeared near the nose and gave him the thumbs up. Because of the sensitive and often priceless high-tech hardware, pilots were not allowed to open either of the plane’s doors until the hangar doors were secure. He knew Josie was armed. Like him, she carried a pistol when she was handling their cargo. All of their office managers across the seven-city system they served were similarly trained and armed. They’d never had any trouble but as they say, you don’t need a gun until you need a gun.

“Hi Josie.” He walked down the short boarding stairs from the large hatch located on the left side of the aircraft, glad to be wearing his leather USAF flight jacket. Even southern California could get nippy in December, especially on these short winter days, and the hangar was only marginally heated.

“Hi Case, any problems with Charlie?” She asked in her distinct southwest Texas drawl.

He smiled as he shook his head. Josie had named the three planes, Alpha, Bravo and Charlie. She didn’t even have to see their registration numbers to tell them apart and claimed that each Pratt and Whitney engine just sounded different even though they were identical airplanes. Case knew according to their serial numbers the planes had come off the Tarbes, France assembly line one right after the other.

“How was your flight?”

“Uneventful.”

“Case, you say that every time. I swear you’d tell me it was uneventful even if you had to fly through a Category Five hurricane.”

She’s right, I do say it each time, and ninety nine point nine percent of the time it’s true. These planes are rock solid and they’re expertly maintained and I’m an experienced pilot going into airfields I know. But I am a bit jaundiced since I consider any flight where someone’s not trying to shoot my ass off as uneventful.

“But it’s true Josie. For the most part the weather was good – a short stretch of IFR between Salt Lake and Boise, but this time of year that’s the norm - nothing to worry about. And that was simply because for that short distance I couldn’t climb over the weather. Charlie did just fine. These are amazing airplanes and you’re an amazing mechanic.”

Josie flushed a bit at the compliment and mumbled something about ‘Just doing my job.’

Just then Rose McGlinn appeared from the office pushing a large two-level metal cart. She was an older, slightly softer-looking version of her daughter, although she wore her red hair much longer and kept it in a youthful ponytail. She was wearing the uniform of Air-Bytes, white oxford button down long-sleeve shirt, navy blue slacks and dark shoes. Each shirt, like his own, had the employee’s name embroidered above the left breast pocket along with the logo, a computer chip with feathered wings.

Not for the first time Case wondered how old she was when she gave birth to Josie. Pretty young he’d guessed, and there was no indication that there was any husband past or present. Rachel Paulson had simply said that they’d hired Josie away from a failing flying school in Austin, and having Rose come along was a bonus. Apparently they’d been living hand to mouth in a decrepit trailer on the outskirts of the city

“Okay you two, a little less jawing and a lot more unloading. The guys at ABS are already here and ITR and Comcen are en route.”

Case gave her a crisp salute. “Yes Ma’am.”

She grinned. “Josie, that’s what I like to see. No grumbling - Captain Reynolds is a real southern gentleman.” Case didn’t know if she was referring to his former Air Force rank or the fact he was in command of an aircraft. She tended to call all three pilots ‘Captain.’

Josie rolled her eyes and started handing down the locked metal tubs from the inside of the aircraft. Each of the tech companies had their own shielded tub or tubs. For security reasons no one at Air-Bytes knew what they contained. Each company got a selection of sizes to make it easier to ship larger or small items. It didn’t matter what they shipped, as each paid a flat fee per month whether they used the service or not. Rose used a hand scanner on each tub before it was loaded on the cart.

The plane was pretty full. Case suspected that the customers were pushing things forward because after Jeff Paulson arrived tomorrow then left the next day for Austin, the whole operation would be closed down for ten days for the Christmas-New Year holidays.

Today had been Case’s last flight for the year. He had volunteered to fly over the Christmas break like last year, but Cassandra Cavanaugh, the CEO, had been adamant that he and Jeff and Rachel take vacation. She also pointed out that most of their customers would be shut down or be operating with limited staff during the holidays, so they might as well take some much needed time off. He, like they, had been flying two out of every three days for the sixteen months since Air-Bytes had made its first flight. He also knew that Josie was going to perform some scheduled maintenance on Charlie while it was in her capable hands – Alpha and Bravo would get the same treatment in Austin.

Over the break Case was going to stay with his sister Juliet, who was with the police force in Lodi. He had considered traveling home to Barnwell but it would eat up a lot of time. Juliet, as a fairly junior cop, just couldn’t get the time off, so he opted to stay on the West Coast, and spend Christmas with her.

Their younger sister Chloe, a junior at Georgia Tech, would spend the Christmas holiday with their parents at home on the farm. Chloe was the real brain of the three children but she was only interested in one thing – farming - and was working on a double major in agronomy and computer science. Case knew the technical aspects of farming – he could grow crops and drive a tractor and a harvester and pretty much fix anything that went wrong, but he figured that made him a farm hand not a farmer, unlike his parents and his sister who loved the land. He was convinced they could simply glance at the soil or at a crop or a peach tree and know what was needed to make it prosper.

What the heck am I going to do in Lodi with my sister during this downtime anyway? Guess that’s why it’s called downtime, since we don’t have anything planned and it really doesn’t matter as long as we get to spend some time together. Haven’t seen her in two years, when the family visited while I was in rehab at Walter Reed. That was a wonderful surprise. Just wish we could spend more time together. Maybe someday...

He hadn’t spent much time with his family since he left for the Air Force Academy ten years before – mostly it was distance and assignments which had conspired to keep them apart, but now Juliet was counting on him joining her for Christmas. He and his family had kept up mostly through email while he was on his far-flung assignments. It wasn’t the same as getting together but it was contact with home. His mother, Grace, had come from the big city of Charleston (compared to Barnwell population 4,500) and was a wry observer of small town life. Her missives were never petty or condescending of her fellow citizens. They were mainly humorous anecdotes that oftentimes skewered local, state, or federal bureaucracies and politicians who seemed to do their best to prevent famers from making a living.

They got the cargo onto the cart and then he helped Rose and Josie push it into the secure area in the hanger – a chain-link enclosure that had a steel door to the outside where their customers were waiting. Rose got situated behind the counter, and after cranking up the space heater and consulting the high definition security cameras she nodded to Josie to open the door.

As Case headed for the office to close out his log, Rose called after him, “Case, beef stew in the Crockpot and warm jalapeno cornbread in the oven. Oh, Ms. Cavanaugh is waiting to talk to you.”

Cassandra? What’s the CEO want to talk about?

Cassandra’s mother, Pamela Hawthorn, had been the original backer of Air-Bytes, and in early 2017 had quickly put together the consortium that funded the startup. Well, mostly. He and Jeff and Rachel put up every cent they had. Cassandra had volunteered to help in any way she could and the partners decided with her degree in business she might gain some valuable experience as CEO. She had admitted the other investors probably gave her the nod because she agreed she’d do it without pay. Of course none of the pilots drew any pay either – they, like Cassandra and the other officers of the corporation, had all taken stock in lieu of compensation.

Cassandra’s selection as CEO had been a wise decision. Even though she was just twenty-two and fresh out of Stanford when Air-Bytes was incorporated, she rose to the challenge. She had a number of tech companies under contract weeks before they even took delivery of their airplanes. She’d also set up satellite offices. From the beginning she spent her time traveling between the cities they served, keeping those offices on track, and keeping them and the customers happy while drumming up new business. Air-Bytes was now in the black and it was largely due to the hard work and the determination of one Cassandra Cavanaugh. She had flown with Case a number of times when visiting clients and their offices, allowed solely on the basis that she was an employee as they were prohibited from carrying passengers.

Cassandra based herself in southern California, because her husband, Marine Lieutenant Noah Matthews, was an instructor at the School of Infantry at Camp Pendleton. Orange County Airport was less than fifty miles from the main gate at Camp Pendleton and only about thirty miles from the town of San Clemente, where Cassandra and Noah had their home.

His own small VA pension kept him afloat, although it hardly mattered since he had few expenses – no home, no car – only a ten year old Harley Sportster - and little time to spend money on anything or anyone.

Anyone? There had been someone.

He shook his head trying to dislodge the memory. He’d fallen in love, but contrary to appearances, she hadn’t. It ended badly not long ago and the ache was still there.

On my days off in Austin I ride away and hide, especially from her. Sometimes I can’t avoid her, but on those occasions I wear my anger as armor – anger that manifests as cold formality.

Now I’m very cautious around women and I use that breakup and my schedule as an excuse to avoid getting involved – once bitten ... It’s not that I don’t have women friends – I’m fortunate to count Cassandra as one of them. Rose and Josie are definitely in the friends column, as are the ladies in the Austin office.

Another face came to mind - Vika Vishnevsky – Cassandra’s stunning blonde assistant and Air-Bytes backup pilot, who he also considered a friend. Of late, Vika was a friend who wanted more.

Vika had soloed at seventeen and, like Case, she lived to fly. Unlike Case, she had wealthy parents who paid for her instruction. There was no washing airplanes and begging rides for Vika. Case didn’t hold that against her. Flying was flying and the path that got you there hardly mattered.

Last summer, shortly after Vika graduated from the business program at the University of San Diego, she’d convinced Cassandra that on top of her duties as assistant she should be hired on a contract basis to fill in when one of the three pilots was sick or needed a break. As assistant she’d flown with Case and Jeff and Rachel several times visiting offices and customers, especially the last few months. During those times it was only natural that he let her fly the TBM. She was already rated in anything up to multiengine and she even had a license to fly helicopters, something Case had never aspired to. He was convinced nothing without wings could actually fly. Of course Jeff Paulson, former Navy helicopter pilot, disagreed.

Vika was a natural pilot. When Case had done her pre-hiring check ride on the TBM she had done everything by the book, but more importantly she showed her natural feel for the aircraft. Case told Cassandra that he’d fly with Vika anytime.

Yes, she’s a friend, but she wants a whole lot more and since I became ‘unattached’ she’s upped her game – often hanging out with Josie and Rose at the Orange County hangar when I arrive, and then accepting Rose’s invitation to join us for dinner where the four of us sit around the kitchen table chatting about our day like some 50’s sitcom family. A few times she’s managed to get me to dinner at her parents’ home which is just a short drive away.

Lately she’d taken to giving him a brief kiss when he’d walk her to her car after dinner at the hangar or when she dropped him off after dinner with her parents.

I’m still being cautious but it’s becoming harder to resist. I’m a male of the species and being pursued by a beautiful young woman is flattering and a balm to my bruised ego, but she is awfully young, being just past her twenty-second birthday. Next to her at almost twenty-nine I feel like an old man.

It’s a good thing I can’t drink on those evenings since I have to fly the next morning, or I might just be tempted ... well, let’s not go there.

He almost laughed as he envisioned the look of surprise on Rose and Josie’s faces if he and Vika came out of the pilot’s bedroom together some morning and joined them for breakfast.

Would they be surprised? Perhaps not.

Case finally put away those pleasant thoughts and turned back to the question at hand. What did Cassandra want? It was rare that she was at the hangar when he arrived since she usually worked out of her home office.

He walked into the office at the back of the hangar, noticing how beautifully decorated it was. It appeared Rose and Josie had gone all out and the Christmas tree in the corner had a number of foil-wrapped presents underneath. Case smiled when he noticed that other than lights, it only had craft paper cutouts of their aircraft as ornaments. Each was colored to match the red, white and blue livery of the originals. He stopped, took two gift cards from his flight bag, and left them under the tree, and then took a few minutes at Rose’s desk to close out his log. After securing his pistol in the office safe, he headed to the kitchen.

Whatever Cassandra wants can wait until I get my dinner.

Case walked by the door to the conference room on his way to the kitchen.

At a glance he saw Cassandra sitting at the battered wooden table engrossed in her tablet, typing on her portable keypad. Next to Cassandra, Vika was doing the same thing. He was pleased to see her, but since she was with Cassandra this was not a social call.

If nothing else I’ll ask her to drive me over to the passenger terminal and we can at least have a little time together. Maybe a little longer farewell kiss might be in order. Case smiled at the thought. She doesn’t seem to mind that I’m on the rebound, and how could I not appreciate the attention? Still too young? Yeah, there is that...

Neither of the striking blondes looked up as he walked by.

Noah is a lucky guy. Cassandra’s beautiful, smart and successful. Vika is stunning too. She was awfully disappointed when I had to turn down her invitation to spend Christmas with her family. Too bad I don’t have my own airplane. With something like a Cessna 172 I could easily spend Christmas morning with Juliet and then fly the 400 miles down here in about three hours. Yeah and where would I find $75,000 for a good used one, to say nothing of all the other expenses associated with owning an airplane? Dream on!

Case walked into the brightly lighted kitchen, the smell of the stew making his mouth water. As he filled his bowl he thought of the wonderful meals at Vika’s parents’ large, Pacific-view home. Each time he’d been there he’d felt welcome. They were nice people, and it didn’t seem to bother them that their daughter had a crush on a delivery pilot who lived in a hangar and was several years older.

Vika and I have never even been on a real date. My ten pm curfew and no alcohol because I have to fly the next morning pretty much limits our time together and what we do. She does fly with me from Orange County, more often than not taking Cassandra’s place in visiting our far-flung offices, but during those times we’re all business. Then I drop her off in San Jose, or Seattle or Boise, where she spends the night and waits for Jeff or Rachel to come through going the other direction the next day. What kind of relationship is that? I have every third day off, but I’m in Austin while she’s 1200 miles away.

The woman I loved, or maybe still love, lives in Austin, and probably in Dallas too by now, but that relationship started before the first Air-Bytes plane took to the air. We were thrown together each day and many long evenings and sometimes on overnight trips, as the principals struggled to make Rachel’s dream of Air-Bytes come to fruition. Once I started flying it was harder because I was gone most weekends, and with only one day off, that left no time for romantic get-aways, but we made it work. Well I thought it worked. We were in love – at least I was and I thought she was too – more the fool I.

With some effort he pushed those thoughts aside to concentrate again on the reason for Cassandra’s visit.

Now we’re in the black maybe Cassandra’s decided we can hire that fourth pilot. Vika could easily step in as our first salaried pilot – whenever that happens. Under contract she’s already proven she can handle the flying and the routes. Cassandra’s right, we all need some more time off, and an additional pilot would allow each of us to take more than a few days off now and again.

A few minutes later Case returned to the conference room with a bamboo tray carrying a large bowl of beef stew, a plate of cornbread squares, and a small salad along with a cup of black coffee. He usually eschewed coffee in the evenings, but he had a commercial flight to Sacramento this evening and then the hour drive from there to Lodi. Fortunately Juliet was picking him up. He’d volunteered to get a rental, but she had explained that her car just sat at the police station most days while she was in a patrol car so there was no need.

He paused in the doorway and examined the two women. Cassandra was elegantly casual, hair pulled back in a ponytail fastened by a gold clip and wearing a red cashmere sweater which sported a red and green sunburst brooch near her left shoulder. Vika, of Belorussian descent, her collar-length blonde hair framing her face, was wearing a white turtleneck, bearing an embroidered Air-Bytes logo.

That’s a new look.

Her leather flight jacket was draped over the back of her chair. An embossed Air-Bytes logo adorned the left breast where flight wings would normally be pinned.

Cassandra looked up and gave him a tenuous smile.

What’s going on?

Case stepped into the room and froze. The cheerful greeting he’d planned for Cassandra and Vika caught in his throat. There was a third person who’d been out of his line of sight when he’d walked by the door minutes before.

Anastasia! What’s she doing here?

She was holding a bright red ceramic coffee mug and leaning back against the counter which ran the length of the side of the room.

No wonder I didn’t see her.

As much as he wanted to, Case couldn’t just ignore her so he simply acknowledged her presence with a nod and said, “Anastasia.” He was surprised how neutral he sounded. Her slight smile disappeared, replaced by her tough lawyer facade, but not before he saw a flash of uncertainty in her eyes.

Or maybe it’s just annoyance because I’m no longer enthralled.

Her greeting mirrored his. “Case.”

She broke eye contact first, half turning and examining a platter of home-baked Christmas cookies before selecting one and putting it on a plate.

She’s still as beautiful as ever – fashion model tall and willowy. She’s cut her auburn hair – now more of a pageboy - since the last time I saw her at the Air-Bytes Board meeting in October. Jeff and Rachel were both flying that day so I got to represent the pilots. Looks good on her, but I still prefer it longer.

Case turned and set his tray on the table, trying to rid himself of the vision of being spooned against her, her long hair splayed across the pillow, engulfing him in its scent and feel.

Maybe William Davis the Third likes it short.

Enough! Why can’t I get over her? Seeing her even occasionally dredges it up – all those memories – all the happiness until she destroyed it. King Lear had it right, ‘That way madness lies; let me shun that.’

As he turned from Anastasia he caught Vika staring daggers at her.

She did the same thing at the Board meeting in October. Case had an uneasy feeling that Vika knew the details of the breakup.

Cassandra kept a neutral expression as she watched the interaction.

It’s not like Anastasia and I hid our relationship. It had to be pretty obvious, at least to the Austin staff, that we had ceased to be a couple when she was no longer waiting for me in her office at the hangar when I arrived. Air-Bytes is a small organization and the news certainly traveled fast. Vika probably heard the rumors at first, but she was only one of two people who’d asked.

Case remembered the day clearly. Vika had flown with him to meet with a potential customer in Boise the day after the Board meeting. Not long after they left Austin, when they had reached cruising altitude and the plane was trimmed to his liking, she had turned to him and asked, ‘You’re not seeing Anastasia any longer, are you?’ He kept his attention to the front and just replied, ‘No, I’m not.’ Vika, wisely, did not press for details.

Case draped his battered leather flight jacket over the back of the chair before sitting.

“So, Cassandra, what’s so important that it brings the CEO and the CFO to visit, especially this close to Christmas?”

With just a hint of a smile she said, “Case, it’s nice to see you too.”

Cassandra wasn’t just the CEO but also a friend, so he tamped his impatience and responded in the same vein.

“Always nice to see you Cassandra, and you, too, Anastasia, and of course Vika. You’re all looking well, and I’m fine. Now that we’ve caught up...” He looked at his chronometer. “I have a flight to catch in ninety minutes. What’s up?”

Cassandra smiled. His comment even elicited a slight smile from Vika. He didn’t look at Anastasia. She was still standing off to his right.

“Okay, so much for small talk. Case, as you know, over the last couple of months we’ve had some interest from various places about a buyout.”

Seeing Anastasia had dampened his appetite, but he knew he needed to eat. Spooning stew into his mouth, he nodded.

“This morning Anastasia met with the Duncan Group in Dallas and received a serious offer. Actually it’s the third we’ve received from them. Management rejected the first two, knowing they were just testing the waters, and if they were really interested they’d up the ante. That’s why we haven’t brought it to the investors and Board until now.”

“And?”

“Angus Duncan is a shrewd investor and very successful. He usually stays in the background, but in this case he’s taking the lead.”

Vika turned her tablet and showed him a photo. He looked like a tough old bird.

Case buttered some of the warm cornbread and waited for Cassandra to continue.

“His weak spot is his son Jack. Jack is a forty-six-year-old professional failure, who collects exotic cars and Playmates of the month, and has been in and out of several businesses and costly marriages. Daddy continues to bankroll him though, maybe just to keep him busy and out of his hair. Regardless, Jack now wants to own an airline.”