Authors: Bianca D' Arc
Dead Alert (2 page)
Sam liked the way his new lady boss handled herself as she subtly watched him during the usual preflight rituals. She’d let him take the lead on the walk around, asking questions and pointing out a few things peculiar to this particular jet. She definitely knew her aircraft. Sam was impressed with her knowledge and obvious intelligence, even as he chafed at the bit to get down to the business of his assignment. There were bad guys to catch and a possible conspiracy to uncover, not to mention a potential zombie horde to stop in its tracks.
Emily Parkington was not only a means to that end, but until he could clear her for certain, she was also a suspect. A very charming suspect, but a suspect nonetheless. She wasn’t hard on the eyes either. Pretty in a girl next door way, her bouncy brunette hair and soft hazel green eyes were gorgeous. She was short, compared to him, but he guessed she was about average for women. Somewhere around five foot five or thereabouts. She had a trim figure with curves in all the right places. Sam had noticed how pretty she was right off the bat but he couldn’t let that influence his investigation. She was still under suspicion. Just like everybody else at Praxis Air.
She’d let him take the stick on takeoff and he’d enjoyed the roar of the little jet under his command. She’d also watched him like a hawk as he went through each of the checklists necessary to complete before they could begin taxiing down the runway.
Sam was used to scrutiny. He hadn’t become a Special Forces officer without lots and lots of training and testing throughout his career. But being evaluated by a female superior officer was somewhat rare in his experience and this particular woman had the unnerving ability to get under his skin.
Her insistence on using exact terms for everything made him want to joke around with her, just to see if he could bust through her slightly officious exterior. The little crease between her eyebrows and slight pucker of her lips made him want to kiss her annoyance away.
Damn. That was a disturbingly strong thought. Sure, she was pretty, but Sam had a job to do here. He couldn’t afford to have his head turned by a pretty face, no matter how appealing. Focus. That’s what he had to do. Focus on the mission. The team was depending on him to follow this lead. It was the best one they had at the moment and it needed to be investigated as deeply and as quickly as possible.
Before another outbreak happened. Each time the creatures appeared, loss of innocent life followed. Each instance had been worse than the last and the biggest danger of all was if the creators of the deadly contagion managed to sell it. Hostile governments or terrorists, those unethical scientists and profiteers didn’t care who they sold the technology to. It would go to the highest bidder if Sam and the rest of the team didn’t stop them in time. The longer they remained free, the more dangerous it was. Given enough time, the transaction would be completed and the genie forever let out of its bottle. Sam had to work fast to prevent that and his first step was already underway.
Emily Parkington was a means to an end. She was either part of the conspiracy that was most likely brewing in the company or innocent of it. He needed to uncover which side she was on, but until he figured that out, she remained suspect. As did everyone in this place. He couldn’t afford to get too close to any of them.
“Takeoff checklist is complete. Moving on to the cruise checklist.” Sam clipped his words efficiently as he mentally refocused on his mission.
“Roger,” she replied crisply, flipping to the next checklist in the book.
She read through the items as he complied with each instruction. Some were as simple as checking a gauge, others required action such as setting a dial or flipping a switch. Old hat for someone who’d been flying as long as he had.
Emily Parkington put him through his paces in the air over the next hour and a half. She went through various scenarios to test his reflexes and skill with the jet. He enjoyed the challenges she set him and aced the test. He could tell how well he’d done by her silence as he worked through the various checklists prior to landing.
A few minutes later they were on the ground, taxiing back toward the hangar. Emily didn’t say much until they rolled to a stop outside the massive door to the hangar in the space she indicated. He powered down and completed the paperwork before turning to her.
“How’d I do?” He couldn’t help the grin he knew had to be on his face. He loved flying.
“You passed,” she said after a moment. A hint of a smile lifted one corner of her mouth. Damn, she was pretty. Sam suppressed the thought as the silly grin faded from his face. He had a job to do. He had to get to it.
“So when do I fly for real?” The sooner he got on the schedule, the sooner he could begin checking out the cargo, clients, and routes. He was serving two masters in this endeavor and by far, the more important one was his commanding officer back on base.
“That wasn’t real enough for you?” She climbed from her seat and headed out of the cockpit.
“It was plenty real,” he clarified as he followed her out. “I meant, when do I get on the roster to fly charters?”
She opened the cabin door and headed down the stairs, turning to wait for him at the bottom. He clambered down the stairs and met her on the tarmac while another jet powered up nearby, making conversation difficult over the engine noise.
Emily pointed toward the hangar and he followed her inside and right into the office area. She reached behind the main reception desk and grabbed a clipboard, flipping through pages while he watched. She didn’t babble. He liked that about her. Too many women seemed to think they had to fill every moment of silence with ceaseless chatter. Not Emily Parkington. She talked, but not incessantly.
She put pen to paper and flipped the clipboard to him. He caught it with one hand.
“You’re on the schedule for a flight to Boise tomorrow at 9
A.M.
That work for you?”
A.M.
That work for you?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Sam felt that smile curve his lips again as he looked at his name marked in next to hers. They’d be flying together tomorrow. He liked the sound of that.
“You’re first officer until you get a little more seniority with the company. Any problem with that?”
The slight lift of one eyebrow told him she was waiting to see how he’d react. The test wasn’t quite over yet. She was feeling him out to see how he’d fit with her team.
“Fine with me, captain. As long as I get some stick time, I’m happy.”
And as long as he was working for the company, he’d have a chance to poke around and try to learn exactly how they were involved in the forbidden zombie technology. He hoped, for Emily’s sake, that she wasn’t mixed up in it.
Being low man on the totem pole suited his purpose. He was there to gather intel on the company and its shipments and charters. If they were shipping top secret technology or ferrying rogue scientists and potential buyers, he would uncover it—with or without Emily’s help. The clock was ticking.
“I’m setting something up and we’ll need your jets.”
The voice on the other end of the phone annoyed the snot out of Scott, the new head honcho at Praxis Air. His father’s untimely death had paved the way for Scott to take over and he wasn’t asking too many questions about how that had all come about. He was in charge now and he was going to enjoy it. RHIP, the old man had always said: Rank Has Its Privileges.
The old man had been an Air Force officer and had run the small airline like it was his own personal air wing. Scott had never served, but he knew how to run a business. Cash was his goal—fast and lots of it.
The deal he’d worked with the professor guaranteed both and he was going to take the geek for all he was worth and then some. Too bad a few pilots had to die along the way, but it couldn’t be avoided. Now, losing the jets—that had hurt. As had the National Transportation Safety Board investigations. Both problems adversely affected the bottom line but things were leveling out now. He didn’t want any more
accidents
.
accidents
.
“What kind and how far?” Scott asked, wanting the facts before he committed to anything.
“Cargo at first. I need some equipment transported to the Pacific Northwest. If all goes as planned, I’ll also need some luxury service for potential buyers from major hubs to a small airport along the Oregon-Idaho border. I’ll tell you exactly where when the time comes. Think you can handle that?”
Scott thought about the logistics and personnel. Emily Parkington had asked one too many questions at the last shareholder meeting. He’d scared her off but she was as annoying as her mother had been—always watching him with disapproval in her judgmental eyes. He’d have to keep tabs on her. She had been flying most of the Pacific Northwest routes but that could be changed. He’d have to be subtle about it, but he thought he could do it.
“No problem. When do you want to start?”
“I’ve already started. The first of the new cargo shipments should be arriving in Wichita in a couple of hours. More will follow. Be sure they encounter no difficulties getting to their destination.”
“Will do.” Scott didn’t like the man’s superior tone of voice but for a cut of the deal he was willing to put up with it.
“Good.” There was a slight hesitation. “And Scott, my boy . . .” The smug bastard made Scott feel about two inches tall. “See that your pilots keep their noses out of my cargo boxes this time. Do it personally. I’d hate to have to arrange another explosive decompression.”
A bomb. That’s what he meant. He’d already blown up two of Scott’s toys. Those Lear jets didn’t come cheap.
“Sure thing, Dr. Jennings.” Scott used the man’s surname purely to annoy him.
“Idiot! I’ve told you never to use my name over a phone line even if it is supposed to be secure. They have eyes and ears everywhere!”
Bingo. Scott had hit the bastard’s paranoia button right on the nose.
“My apologies, sir.” That little, subservient
sir
had always helped defuse his father’s anger and it apparently worked on this science geek too. After a moment of silence, he seemed to calm down.
sir
had always helped defuse his father’s anger and it apparently worked on this science geek too. After a moment of silence, he seemed to calm down.
“Don’t let it happen again.” He cleared his throat and his voice calmed further. “I’ll be in touch in a day or two, after the first shipment is completed, to schedule more.”
The phone disconnected with an abrupt click. No goodbye. Just a click.
Jennings was a nutcase, that was for sure, but he was a rich one with what seemed like unlimited resources. And if the deal he was working on came through, Scott could finally buy that island in the South Pacific he’d had his eye on for a while. Owning his own island was something Scott had always wanted. The old man had left him rich, but not rich enough to do that. It was his goal and he’d do anything—anything—to get it. Including selling his soul to the devil.
In this case, the devil was a nutty professor who wanted to remake the world in his own image. Whatever. All Scott wanted was enough money to buy his island and transplant all the people and supplies he’d need to live out his life with a harem of beauties at his beck and call.
Was that too much to ask? A different girl for every day of the week. Hell, why not every day of the month? With enough money he was sure to find thirty or forty women willing to live on his oasis in the sea with him.
It was his fondest daydream. And if the rest of the world went to hell because of Jennings’ little plague, so be it. Scott didn’t really care.
Chapter Two
S
omeone was in the hangar with her, of that Emily was certain. Nobody should be here. It was way too early for the day shift of mechanics to arrive and there were no outstanding charters from this airport at this ungodly hour of the morning.
omeone was in the hangar with her, of that Emily was certain. Nobody should be here. It was way too early for the day shift of mechanics to arrive and there were no outstanding charters from this airport at this ungodly hour of the morning.
She’d come in at 2
A.M.
to take delivery of a cargo job. The client was in an unaccountable rush to get the cargo loaded and ready for takeoff at 9
A.M.
Emily couldn’t figure out why. If they wanted it gone that badly, why hadn’t they requested a night flight?
A.M.
to take delivery of a cargo job. The client was in an unaccountable rush to get the cargo loaded and ready for takeoff at 9
A.M.
Emily couldn’t figure out why. If they wanted it gone that badly, why hadn’t they requested a night flight?
Under normal circumstances, she probably wouldn’t have given it a second thought. Lately though, she’d been noticing more and more odd occurrences, particularly with cargo flights. They’d been getting more and more of them, when previously Praxis Air had catered mostly to passengers. In fact, the Board of Directors had decided to outfit more jets for cargo hauling in the past year.
Emily hadn’t agreed with the move at the time but she was a minority shareholder and had been overruled. Since they’d dedicated more jets to cargo duty the number of cargo flights had gone up considerably, even though Praxis Air wasn’t the cheapest or easiest way to deliver cargo.
Heck, if they’d wanted to make the airline into a cargo service, they could easily have done it by adding bigger jets that could haul more. They’d been approached numerous times by everyone from the popular overnight carriers to the US Postal Service about ongoing cargo contracts, but Praxis Air had always been about catering to an elite clientele. Sometimes those elite had cargo, so they’d outfitted a few planes to carry it. Every once in a while, Praxis flew small, high priority items like emergency medical supplies as charity runs, but nothing on the scale of what they’d been doing in the past few months.
Something moved in the darkness. It was approaching four in the morning. The first workers shouldn’t be here for another hour at least.
Emily grabbed a wrench from a nearby workbench. It wasn’t much of a weapon but at least it was something.
There. Another sound. Something scraping along the concrete floor of the hangar, barely perceptible. Emily edged cautiously closer, peering around crates and past machinery.
Something moved over by the cargo she’d just accepted earlier from the late night delivery and her heart leapt into her throat. She hefted the wrench higher.
“You expecting trouble from an unhappy robot or something?”
Emily spun to face the source of the deep, male voice, ready to clobber him.
It was the new guy. Sam.
“What the
hell
are you doing here?” Emily lowered the wrench, her heart pounding in relief.
hell
are you doing here?” Emily lowered the wrench, her heart pounding in relief.
Then she realized how vulnerable she was all alone in the hangar with a pilot she’d only met the day before. And he was a lot bigger than her. Massive was a good word to describe his size in comparison to her petite frame. She tightened her hold on the wrench, keeping it at her side.
“I’m sorry.” His tone was placating as he straightened from his crouch over one of the cargo containers. “I know I shouldn’t have come in so early but I couldn’t sleep. Kind of excited about my first day on the schedule.”
He looked sheepish enough that she almost believed him. She’d give him the benefit of the doubt . . . for now.
“First day jitters? I thought only school kids admitted to that.”
“You’ll keep my secret, won’t you?”
His grin was disarming and charming at the same time. She found it hard to resist the impulse to return it.
“Remember . . . I now have blackmail material to use against you and we should get along fine.” She thought about the situation for a moment and decided to extend a bit of trust his way. “Come on, I’ll buy you a cup of coffee since it looks like neither of us is going to get any more sleep before it’s time to fly.”
He kept a comfortable distance as they walked out of the cargo area toward the office. It was as if he knew how intimidating his presence and sheer bulk could be and was trying to minimize the effect. That was either incredibly considerate or potentially creepy, if he was trying to keep her calm before he struck.
It was a ridiculous thought, but one she couldn’t help having. Women had to be careful—especially when they worked in a male dominated field like aviation. Winding up alone in the hangar wasn’t the smartest move she’d ever made and she’d make a point not to repeat it. She had planned to leave right after the cargo handlers but she’d forgotten something in the office and needed to go back for it. Then she’d heard Sam . . . and now here they were. Together. Talk about the law of unintended consequences.
“So are you going to tell me why you’re so nervous about your first day on the job here?”
She pushed the door open to the small office lounge. There was a snack machine and most importantly, a coffeemaker. Emily started a pot brewing, always keeping one eye on her companion. He seemed safe, but she wasn’t going to let her guard down yet. Thankfully, he stayed where she could see him, across the width of the room from her.
Sam shrugged. “I guess I wanted to impress my new boss. The grapevine says she’s a stickler for protocol.”
She liked that he would tease her yet keep his conversation on a professional level. If he kept it there, they’d get along just fine.
“Yeah, she definitely likes all her i’s dotted and all her t’s crossed. I’d watch myself around her if I were you.” Laughing at herself helped ease her tension.
“I’ll remember that. Thanks for the tip.”
Too impatient to wait for the entire pot to brew, Emily placed one cup at a time directly under the stream of fresh coffee coming out of the filter compartment. When she had two reasonably full cups, she replaced the pot to collect the rest and headed toward the round table in one corner. She placed one of the cups of coffee in front of Sam, who had seated himself across from her.
She was still suspicious of him and his reasons for being in the hangar at this early hour, but since being discovered, he’d been nothing but polite and considerate. She wouldn’t confront him about his presence here this morning any more than she already had—at least not until the hangar was full of people. She felt safe enough with him for now. She wasn’t going to push it, but she would keep her eyes open and her suspicions carefully to herself.
She’d already asked one too many questions of the front office. Scott, the new CEO and majority shareholder wasn’t her biggest fan. Emily still had some clout as a minority shareholder but the questions she’d been asking had been noticed by the wrong person. As she’d left the last shareholders meeting at corporate headquarters, her car had been sabotaged. The brakes failed and she’d managed to crash the vehicle without killing herself in the process. It had been a warning. A potentially deadly warning.
Since then, she’d been more careful. Something was definitely up with her beloved airline and she’d be damned if she’d let that weasel Scott ruin the company their parents had built. She just had to be more cautious in her queries.
And she wouldn’t put it above Scott to insert a spy into the ranks to keep tabs on her. Sam could very well be a plant. Someone to watch her and report back to Scott if she put a toe out of line again.
Or maybe Sam was exactly what he seemed—another good time fly boy pilot flirting with every woman he met. Well, maybe he wasn’t quite that bad, but he was certainly pouring on the charm with her. Of course, she was his new boss. Maybe he was trying to ingratiate himself with her for that reason.
She couldn’t deny he was handsome and his offbeat sense of humor definitely meshed well with hers. But could he be trusted? Was he part of the drug ring or whatever it was that had her driving planes full of high tech lab equipment around the country?
Yeah, she’d taken a few peeks inside the crates when she thought nobody was looking. She had a right to know what she was transporting, and the vague words on a few manifests had made her want to investigate. That hadn’t gone over well with Scott the Louse when she had brought it up at the shareholders meeting, but after that one rather obvious attempt to silence her permanently, she’d stopped questioning things. At least in public.
Privately, she still kept her eyes open for an opportunity to learn exactly what was going on in the company and how to stop it. She wouldn’t waste a second going to the authorities as soon as she had some proof of wrongdoing. Until she had evidence though, she had to pretend like she was being a good little girl and minding her own business.
“What did you mean about me expecting trouble from an unhappy robot?” His words came back to her now that adrenaline had ceased its pounding through her bloodstream.
“Well you looked pretty fierce with that wrench. If I were a robot, I’d have been really afraid.”
Nonsensical, but funny. She found herself warming to his offbeat sense of humor.
“Good thing for you, you’re not a robot then.” They shared a laugh and sipped coffee. “So what are you, some kind of secret science fiction fan?”
“Not so secret, I’m afraid. I love most all sci-fi movies. I don’t get to watch a lot of television, but when I do, it’s usually the science fiction channel.”
“Star Wars, Star Trek or StarGate? Which do you like best?”
“Do I have to choose?” he joked, getting into the spirit of her teasing.
“Fair enough. How about Captain Kirk or Captain Picard?”
“Tough call, but I think I’d have to go with Jean Luc Picard. I had a commanding officer like him in the service once, and I’d follow that man to hell and back. Kirk, not so much. Too many of the guys in red shirts wound up dead on his watch for my taste.”
Oh yes, he was the sci-fi fan he claimed to be. About that, at least, she was sure he was telling the truth. She continued her subtle questioning as they talked, trying to gauge just who and what Sam Archer really was. One thing was for sure, he was a puzzle and she’d always enjoyed solving puzzles.
Sam and Emily spent the next twenty minutes discussing their flight plan and schedule for the upcoming charter. Emily only became aware of the passage of time when Buddy clomped into the break room in his heavy work boots, heading straight for the coffeepot.
“You’re here early, Em,” Buddy observed in his gravelly voice. Emily knew from long association that he wasn’t the sunniest of personalities until he’d had his morning coffee.
“The cargo for today’s charter was dropped off in the middle of the night. I came in to meet it.”
“You’ve been here since then?” Buddy was clearly surprised.
“Well, I’d planned to go home but then I remembered I left my monthly reports on my desk and went back for them. By the time I was ready to head out, Sam was here and we got to talking.” She didn’t elaborate on how long they’d been talking. It had been a couple of hours, at least. Better to let Buddy think she’d gotten stuck working on her reports.
Buddy was like a father, or maybe a much older brother. He would’ve given her grief if he knew what had really happened. She’d let him know if necessary, but for now things had worked out well enough with Sam that she thought it was okay to keep her secrets to herself for a bit. After all, she’d have to spend a great deal of time alone with Sam in a small cockpit. She’d have to trust him with her life and vice versa. They’d made a start here. She hoped it boded well for their future working together.
She hoped Sam would turn out to be someone she could count on. She hoped like hell he wasn’t involved in whatever it was that Scott and his cronies were doing. Whether her hopes were based purely on professional reasons, she wasn’t entirely sure. Sam Archer was, after all, a total hottie.
After the rough start, the flight to Boise was smooth sailing. Sam hadn’t been able to get a good look inside those high priority crates but he’d bet there was something fishy going on there. He’d gotten a peek at the manifest and the vagueness of what was written there was alarming. The contents of the crates were listed merely as
equipment
with no further information. Not what kind of equipment, the value of it, the locations of where it had come from or where it was going, merely that five boxes of equipment were being moved from one airport to another.
equipment
with no further information. Not what kind of equipment, the value of it, the locations of where it had come from or where it was going, merely that five boxes of equipment were being moved from one airport to another.
Sam knew that was far from standard. Cargo manifests at Praxis Air were supposed to record way more information than that. Part of the speech he’d gotten on his first day had been about how to fill out their paperwork and the importance of getting the most information possible. The office manager had shown him several examples of paperwork she considered filled out correctly and numerous versions of the wrong way to do it.
Even the worst of the bad examples were better than what he’d seen on the manifest for this shipment. The information provided by the sender was less than nothing. That nobody at Praxis Air had demanded more seemed impossible. Then he’d caught a glimpse of the signature on the woefully incomplete paperwork. It was signed by Scott Southerland, the new CEO of the airline and majority shareholder since the sudden death of his father a few weeks ago.
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