Chapter 17

THE VALLEY

STAR – Day 11 part #2 - Thursday

Last night, Georgie and her friend, Jenny, disappeared after we all left the airpark, and never showed up for supper.

They came in halfway through breakfast.

"Do we have news for you," Georgie giggled, and nudged her friend. "Go on, you've got the most to tell."

"Well," Jenny paused, as if collecting her thoughts. "Georgie knows this bar out near Oakland Airport, and a lot of the pilots use it. In fact, a lot of the part-timers, and there's far too many of them these days, rely on contacts made there to find jobs. She's had these cards printed with my name and CS&S on them, and we went in to hand as many out as we could.

"It was really interesting, because many of the men were talking about CS&S. It seems that we've really stirred things up. There apparently is a lot of competition for charter work between the outfits in Oakland and those who operate out of SF International. We seem to be undercutting most people's rates and all the bosses are checking their figures to see what additional savings they can make; however, the word is that most of them have already cut their costs as far as they can. Georgie introduced me to a young man who works for a charter company in Oakland. He'd had more than a couple of beers, and had no trouble telling me that most of the inquiries they're getting are from customers who tried us first.

"The other important news is that they were all talking about Trelawney's, over across the Bay. They are the outfit that specializes in operating G-5s on long distance charters. Since I started offering our new G-550s, we've cut so far into his business that he's told half of his part-timers not to bother calling in for work. I talked to other pilots and they confirmed that this is true.

"One man told me that Gordon Trelawney spends his evenings in a certain hotel bar, picking up visiting business women; but he has been complaining that he's been so depressed that he's not having any luck these days."

This was really interesting. Bill had told me that Trelawney's would be one of our main competitors, and to keep a close eye on what they did.

Back at the airpark, I managed to catch Johnny to tell him about our deal with Willie, and that CS&S now owned the whole of Lacy Field. He just shook his head at the news and agreed to call my cell if he had any problems.

He immediately called me when he arrived at Lacy Field to tell me that Willie had called the office earlier, and said that he'd been taken ill and was at Memorial Hospital undergoing tests. I hope it's not serious.

Before he left with Bob for The Junction, Tiny said that Bart and Roy had told him that there was nothing wrong with our current pricing, and he had told Roy to work closely with Jennie to make sure things stayed that way. He confirmed that Roy would stay with us in the Valley for as long as he was needed.

As he climbed into the aircraft, Tiny gave me a hug and a "Well done." This really made me feel good, because for all his joviality, Tiny is one of the sharpest guys around.

I'd only had time to glance through the mail when a man called my cell. His voice sounded familiar, and I knew as soon as he identified himself as Jack McCrum, in a broad Scottish accent, that he was Willie's attorney.

"You have probably heard that Wullie Carstairs was admitted to Memorial Hospital last night? Well, what you don't know is that Willie has suffered from a rare form of cancer for years. He generally was always careful to hide it from people, but I believe all his close friends knew.

"It's now caught up with him, I'm sorry to tell yee – he collapsed last night and I've just spoken to his doctor - he suspects that they now have to deal with his health care proxies. Wullie wants you to meet with us both at Memorial. He says that he especially needs to talk to you.

"Can you come in this morning? I'll meet you there as I've got documents for you to sign."

He hung up when I agreed.

Oh, dear; that is NOT the news I wanted to hear this morning.

I went in to tell Georgie, and she said she'd drive me there since a stranger would never find the hospital.

It took well over an hour to get there, and I was immediately taken to a private room.

Willie looked very gray and drawn, but he claimed to be feeling better and said the medics had managed to stabilize his condition.

Jack was with him and shook my hand.

"You're going to have to run things for me until I can get out of this place," Willie told me. "It should be straightforward now that you've gotten rid of Dermott. Good riddance, as our British chums would say.

"There's one other thing you should know about," he paused to drink some water. "At my industrial park over in Concord, there's a trucking company I own that's losing money. They had a large and profitable long-term contract, but the customer folded. I asked Pete Harris, a cousin of my late wife's, to take a look at the problem, but he'll need your support."

A nurse came in, checked some instrument settings, and tilted her head to Jack, who promptly told Willie he'd see him tomorrow, and shepherded me out of the room.

"Not good," he remarked. "I've borrowed this meeting room; come on in. If you're going to take over, you need to sign some documents."

There were piles of papers all along the near side of a table. Jack explained each one to me before showing me where to sign my name. There were so many different things to remember that I'll need to go through the pile of copies that he gave me. What had all of this to do with me, I wondered?

In the car going back to Spring Field, Georgie chattered away, completely oblivious to the fact that I only answered her remarks in monosyllables.

She told me that although she'd asked four different security companies to bid for the contract, in the end she'd hired a small outfit from Concord that was the only one that not only met her requirements, but could start right away.

Fran had told her about the startlingly clean white hangars and workshops at Lutz with their large CS&S logos and "Is it Perfect?" signs posted everywhere. Could she spend some money and get ours painted up the same way?

As she hardly drew any breath, she continued and said that she found a small agency in Danville that was making vinyl logos to go on the aircraft's tails, and another in Piedmont that would make our uniforms. They had both been recommended by a lady called Ruth in Tampa.

I told her that Ruth was Tiny's wife, but Georgie hardly paused to acknowledge this.

Next, she told me that Jenny had interviewed five women for her assistant's post, but she had a problem; there were two that she liked best who were equally well qualified. Georgie laughed, saying that this wasn't surprising, as the two women were twins.

I told her to tell Jenny to hire them both. Georgie had no problem hearing that one.

When we arrived back at Spring Field, I found Bill talking to a lady who had driven in and was standing next to a Rolls-Royce.

"This is Cynthia Jeffries or 'Star' as we call her," Bill introduced me. "Star meet Mrs. Hamersley. I believe you've met her son, Hugo."

He had a wicked glint in is eye; he knew very well that I'd met Hugo.

"I believe Willie mentioned that Mrs. H wanted to meet with you today," Bill said, "It's unfortunate that he's not here to do the honors himself. Why don't we go up to Lacy Mansion? It's more comfortable than anywhere here."

We both climbed into the back of the Rolls, and the owner drove us up to the terrace that looked out over the lake.

Senor Vasquez came out of one of the glass doors as we walked around to where some comfortable chairs had been set out. I asked for coffee and iced tea. Our guest refused any beverages.

Bill kept silent, so Mrs. Hamersley looked over at me.

"Well, young lady," she began; "I understand you're the General Manager here now. You look very young for all that responsibility, but Willie clearly trusted you, and he was a good judge of people, so I will do the same.

"My son, Hugo, says you are very quick and have already done some neat deals, as he calls them. Does that mean profitable ones, William?"

Bill winced, but the old lady continued, oblivious to the effect her words were having.

"As I'm sure you have been told, my family owns what is very commonly called SallyAir. The corporation was founded by my late husband, but the way things are going, my children will not have a viable business much longer. Hugo tries hard to keep things going, with my help of course, but his brothers and sister block most of our efforts. They have even managed to screw the schedules up so bad, that we are likely to have three of our Dorniers in the hangar having 1,000 hour checks at the same time, and we'll have nothing to replace them with, even temporarily.

"My first question is; can CS&S arrange cover for us when this happens?"

Bill made a note and nodded to me. I just politely smiled, and waited for the lady to continue.

"My second question does not directly concern SallyAir; however, my children would cause real trouble if they found out about it.

"Not all of my late husband's aviation interests were put into the airline company. I myself own the licenses to run four daily flights between San Francisco and Denver. They are currently operated by a company that has become careless about being on time, and I do not intend to renew their contract when it expires next month. Maybe I should add that I hold similar licenses for the route between Denver and LA, but we have a few weeks more grace with these.

"Willie suggested that you are the person to organize a replacement operation. What do you say?"

"Denver to here," I paused, thinking aloud in order to get my thoughts together after this startling revelation. "The total distance is what, Bill, 900 to 950 miles? I think one could run a round trip service four times a day with only two aircraft. I'm assuming there are four flights each way?"

The lady nodded. Bill looked very thoughtful and slipped into the house, pulling his cell out as he went.

"I suppose we would have a choice of aircraft between ATRs, Bombardiers, and Embraers," I continued. "Can you tell me what aircraft are currently being used?"

"Embraer 145s," Mrs. Hamersley replied. "The passenger numbers are rising and people are regularly being turned away each weekend because they're too small."

Bill came back out.

"I think I may have something," he told us. "A couple of months ago, I heard a rumor that Air Canada's Jazz subsidiary was "resting" two of their unique CRJ 705s. These are CRJ 900s fitted with only 75 club-type seats.

"I've just called a very old friend in Montreal, and he's confirmed that it is true. The Jazz chief exec would like to dispose of those, along with two more of their fifteen aircraft fleet, but the leasing company won't hear of it because they can't see any other prospective users.

"There might be a way if getting all four fairly cheaply, and use them to operate both the SF and LA routes."

"Do you mean that we maybe could share some of the savings with Mrs. Hamersley?" I finished for him.

Bill looked embarrassed as if he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Mrs. Hamersley looked amused.

"So, when could you let me have your proposals?" She asked.

"Will early next be too late?" I replied. "I think we can work something out that will work to both our advantages. We would need to set a rate that protected our breakeven point, of course, but maybe some type of sliding scale rates can be established."

The lady actually grinned.

"I like you," she announced, to Bill's obvious surprise. "I have an idea. I was a stewardess when my husband first met me; they call them flight attendants now. Bill's daughter, that nice girl Georgie, who I'm told now works for you; I imagine she has a lot of married school friends who would like to earn some pin money. I will train them for you, if you like. It would be nice for me to have something else to do."

Bill looked utterly dumfounded, and I remembered being told that this lady was supposed to be a difficult person to deal with.

"I may have something else that I could put CS&Ss way," she continued, "But I'll have to talk to someone about that first.

"Now, you will let me know your decision quickly, won't you? I've only got a short time to decide."

She got up to go, and shook hands with me. Bill held his hand up, indicating that he wanted to escort her to her car on his own.

He returned shortly after, actually rubbing his hands together.

"We've got her," he crowed, "She waited too late to do anything other than extend the existing contracts.