Arctic Fire (8 page)

“I don’t know; George hasn’t said anything. It’s
probably a fifty-fifty bet either way. Big corporations don’t like
to be stood up and I’m sure there are a dozen firms lined up just
pounding on the door ready to take our place.”

“Thanks for cheering me up, old buddy.”

A woman, about thirty with short blonde hair,
wearing a two piece pant suit, looking like she just stepped out of
a business meeting sat down on the other side of Pike. She looked
at Pike, gave him a smile that you would greet any stranger with
then, ordered a drink. Then slowly she turned back to him and her
eyes lit up as she recognized him; suddenly the smile became a lot
friendlier. “Aren’t you the pilot who saved all those kids
today?”

“Yes, yes he is.” Grant said, slapping Pike on
the back. “Listen, I’ve got to get back to the party.” Then he
leaned next to his friend and whispered. “Remember, it’s good to be
King.” Grant smiled at the woman and then walked back to the
table.

“Hi, I’m Linda, a pleasure to meet you.” She
said as she held out her hand. “Gabriel

Pike.” He shook her hand and he noticed she held
on just a little too long. They had been talking for a few minutes
when Pike suddenly felt a hand run across his shoulder, then felt
the warmth of someone’s cheek brush up against his face and heard
his name whispered in his ear. Startled, Pike jumped and turned to
see who it was.

“Gees Marilyn, you scared me.” Pike shook his
head as he turned back around. What he didn’t see was the look that
Marilyn had given to Linda. It was the universal stare that one
woman gives another, warning her to stay away or face the
unpleasant consequences.

“It was nice talking to you Gabriel but I really
have to run.” Linda said abruptly.

“Okay; it was nice meeting you too,” Pike
replied, not knowing what he had said to upset her and have her
leave so suddenly. He watched her leave then turned back to
Marilyn. “I’ll never understand you women. One second you’re having
a nice conversation and the next you’ll suddenly get up and
leave.”

“Some women are just like that.” Marilyn said
shrugging her shoulders, and smiling to herself.

“Your quite the hot commodity right now Gabe;
every girl’s dream. You know, the knight in shining armor,” she
said, placing her hand on his.

“Aircraft aluminum to be exact,” he replied,
trying to move his hand but unable to as Marilyn held it down,
gently but firmly.

“You know Gabe…” Marilyn started to say but was
interrupted when K.D. walked up.

“Hey Gabe,” she said as she sat down next to
Pike on the other barstool. She leaned in front of Pike and looked
at Marilyn. “Marilyn, your husband wants to talk to you back at the
table.”

“He does, does he?” Marilyn said coldly.

“Uh huh.” K.D. replied nonchalantly, taking a
drink and chewing on the ice.

Marilyn slid her hand off Pike’s and turned
slowly back toward the table, holding a steady glare on K.D. until
the last possible moment.

Pike let out a long sigh. “Thanks K.D., I owe
you one.”

“No problem.” She replied, still chewing on her
ice.

“I appreciate the help, but you had better watch
your step. Marilyn doesn’t take well to challenges.”

“Well then I guess it’s a good thing that I’m
such a darn good engineer so you and George just
have
to
keep me around or else you’d go out of business. But we all know
why Marilyn won’t let George fire you, and it’s certainly not
because of your engineering skills.” K.D. smiled.

“Thanks a lot; what’s the old saying, ‘with
friends like you, who need enemies’?”

“What can I say. We all have our talents.”

Pike just smiled and shook his head. “Listen,
can you do me one more favor?”

“Sure.”

“Cover my retreat for me. I’m going to slip out,
grab something to eat, and hide out in my room. I’m not quite ready
for all this attention.”

“Sure thing, Hot Shot.”

“Thanks.” He smiled at K.D. then got up and
quietly slipped in with a group of businessmen leaving the bar.
Once he got out into the lobby, he saw a little sandwich shop and
tried to order a sandwich to go. But when the waiter recognized
him, he asked him to stay right there and that he’d be right back.
Wondering what was going on, Pike watched as the man scurried away
and disappeared into the kitchen. A moment later, the manager, a
short, round man of about fifty came out and said that his money
was no good there, they he would take care of everything and not to
worry and that his dinner would be delivered to his room in fifteen
minutes. Pike tried to speak but the manager shooed him out of the
restaurant like a grandmother chasing her grandkids out of the
kitchen after she had just taken cookies out of the oven.

Slightly bewildered, Pike returned to his room
and had just stepped out of the shower when he heard a knock on the
door. At the door were two catering carts pushed by three waiters.
With the trained skill of a professional sports team, the waiters
set about transforming the hotel room into five-star restaurant
with a table for one.

Two of the waiters took a fine, white linen
cloth from under one of the carts, spread it over the table, then
began setting the table using the shiniest sterling silver utensils
Pike had ever seen. The other waiter began laying out a centerpiece
for the table with brilliantly colored and exotic looking flowers
that Pike thought only existed in magazines.

While the other two were setting the table, the
third waiter worked on the food. As soon as the waiter removed the
first of the round-topped silver platters, Pike’s knees began to
buckle. The smell of perfectly roasted prime rib escaped in a plume
of steam when the lid was lifted and it filled the room like a low
lying summer fog—light, barely viable but unmistakably there.

The waiter lovingly placed the beef on the table
then surrounded it with three small cups of horseradish sauce,
mild, medium and “bring out the fire hose hot.” He placed a baked
potato that was flanked by an army of condiments next to the prime
rib. Pike could feel his mouth starting to water and just when he
thought it couldn’t get any better, it did.

With the flair of a showman, the waiter took a
smaller covered platter, whirled it around, then gently placed it
on the table, and flipped off the cover to reveal a petite lobster
tail worshiped by a congregation of bacon wrapped scallops.

Next, the waiter placed another small covered
platter to the back of the table. He lifted the lid just enough to
reveal a chocolate cake drizzled with mint sauce. And just as
quickly he put the lid back down, teasing him with its decadence,
like a fan dancer teases, then strategically covers again.

Pike didn’t know how long he had been staring at
the food, when he suddenly realized he must look the fool. He
started to say something but the headwaiter held up his hand.

“It is all taken care of Mr. Pike, compliments
of the house, served with our thanks.”

“Well thank you very much; hang on a second.” He
ducked into the bathroom to grab his wallet, hoping he had enough
cash on hand to give these guys the tip they deserved. When he came
back out, the door was just closing. He looked at the table and all
the food. Maybe it
was
good to be King.

He took his time, wanting to savor and enjoy
every bite and yes, enjoy a little of his fifteen minutes of fame
as he knew the clock was ticking away. Satisfied, he stood and
gazed out his window. He lived near Seattle, so the lights of the
big city were nothing new to him, but the lights of Vegas were
different from any other city on the planet. Here, not only were
there more colors than a Sherwin-Williams paint store, they also
moved.

They glittered, flashed, ran in lines, blinked
on and off, popped with the sound of music; they were alive and
gave life to the city. From space, he imagined that Vegas would
look like some giant, undiscovered sea creature probing in the inky
depths with its brightly colored tentacles scouring the dark ocean
floor for food.

He enjoyed the pulsing lights for a few more
minutes then closed the curtains and told the city good night. It
had been a long day and he knew he would sleep well after the meal
he had just devoured. He laid his clothes out for the next day and
had just stripped down to his shorts and was preparing to climb
into bed when he heard a knock on the door.

“What now?” he grumbled as he grabbed his robe
and answered the door.

Marilyn Talbot stood at the door, eyeing Pike up
and down.

“Looks like I’m just in time.” She smiled
seductively.

‘”What do you want, Marilyn,” Pike said flatly,
“I’m really tired and want to go to bed.”

“Well don’t let me stop you, why don’t you open
the door so I can come tuck you in?”

Pike sighed. “Marilyn, we’ve been through this
before, I can’t, we can’t, you’re my boss’s wife for Pete’s sake;
besides, who says I’m alone in here?” He threw in as an
afterthought.

Marilyn laughed. “That’s a good one, Mr. Boy
Scout. If you won’t sleep with me, then why would you sleep with
anyone else?”

“Marilyn?”

“Fine.” She replied with a bit of frustration
and anger in her voice. “George finally checked his voice mail and
Nigel Cain’s office called. They want you and the
Clipper
in
New York by noon tomorrow.”

“NOON?”

“Yup. George doesn’t care how you do it or what
time you have to get up and leave, he just wants you there. You
know how important this contract is to him, to us?”

“Okay, okay. I’ve got a million things to do,
not to mention trying to get a little sleep…alone.”

“Alright.” Marilyn ran her finger up and down
Pike’s cheek and around his lips then off his chin. “I’ll leave you
alone…for now.” And in an instant, her mood changed from temptress
to business executive. “Remember, Twelve O’clock noon!” she said
and walked away.

Chapter
Eight

Nigel Cain walked with long purposeful strides,
his Lucchese boots clicked on the polished marble hallway floor,
pounding out a steady, strong beat. He didn’t usually wear boots
with his business suits but they had become a passion since
visiting the factory in El Paso. Beside him, his personal
assistant, Elizabeth Mallory, was matching him stride for stride
even though she was a good eight inches shorter than he was.

Her brunette hair was pulled up into a business
power bun held neatly in place by two ivory chopsticks crowned with
gold caps. Her pantsuit didn’t match, but rather complimented
Cain’s suit as they strode down the hallway from the conference
room to the executive elevators. They both carried themselves as
CEOs.

The walls of the hallway were lined with plaques
and photographs of the company’s history and achievements. There
was the traditional first dollar bill earned, framed in gold and
silver, set below a picture of a younger Cain standing under a sign
of his first company, smiling at the camera. There were more
photographs of him at numerous groundbreaking ceremonies from his
factories throughout the world. Interspersed amongst these were
various pictures of Cain with a variety of famous people.

In the center of the hall, in a section all to
itself, was a series of black and white photographs. They showed
the life of a young man in the early 1920’s and ‘30’s. Mallory knew
they were pictures of Cain’s grandfather but she knew very little
of his early family history. There was one photograph that seemed
extra special to Cain and he always slowed a step to look at it as
he walked by. Today was different though.

Cain paused and took the photograph off the wall
and held it almost reverently. It was a small, tattered picture of
a young man in a uniform sitting on the deck of ship with a blanket
wrapped around him.

“Do you know who this is?” Cain asked.

“I assume it’s your grandfather.” Mallory
replied.

Cain nodded his head. “Yes, it’s my grandfather
from my mother’s side.”

Mallory had never paid that much attention to
the photograph before but now she stared at it intently. “You have
his eyes.” She said.

Cain smiled at the thought. “He’s the reason for
everything.”

“I know, he laid the groundwork for the company
in the early ‘20’s.”

Cain shook his head. “No, it’s much more than
that.” He studied the picture for a moment longer, then gently hung
it back on the wall. “I’ve never told the whole story about him
have I?”

Mallory tipped her head to one side. “The whole
story, Nigel?”

“Yes, well soon…” Cain’s voice tapered off as
his mind began switching gears, exiting from memory lane and
quickly moving into the express lane as he started walking again.
“I noticed that seat number thirty-seven was empty.”

“Yes sir,” Mallory replied as she began to open
her leather binder. But before she could reply, he continued.

“Gabriel Pike, I believe.”

“Yes sir,” she confirmed, looking at the guest
roster. “He’s from...”

“…from the Talbot engineering firm, out of
Seattle. They were the firm contracted for the final safety
inspection. Frosty mug of root beer for his beverage of choice if
memory serves.”

They reached the end of the corridor and Cain
pushed the elevator button.

Mallory looked up at him, waiting for the door
to open. “Nigel, if you already know all this information why do
you pay me to be your assistant?”

Cain smiled. “That’s Executive Assistant…” The
elevator chimed as it reached their floor and the door opened with
a swift whoosh. Cain sidestepped and motioned with his hand for her
to go first and then he followed. He pushed the lobby button and
continued, … “and besides, you’re kind of cute and make a good cup
of coffee.”