boss
disturbing, for some reason.
“Let’s go, then,” says King.
“Ms. Greene, if you would be so kind as to
accompany us?” says Tanner, gently grabbing me by the elbow.
It’s not a forced gesture.
He actually seems to be trying to be
gentlemanly.
“Where are we going now? I’m not all that
inclined to go,” I say.
King looks south, at an approaching
helicopter. It’s descending towards the beach, and there are a few police
blocking traffic and beach access, and shooing some of the partygoers away.
“Up, my dear. Always up!” says King, with
a chuckle.
He gets into the elevator, and Tanner and
I crowd in behind him.
The doors close.
*****
I’d never been in a private helicopter
before.
This one was a Sikorsky S-76, according to
the safety card. It was similar to the ones for passenger planes. Except it
didn’t have all those emergency exit rafts, or oxygen mask things.
It was very quiet inside, compared to the
noise it made when it landed outside The Clevelander.
The crowd stared at us as we rushed out to
it, and I thought I saw a couple of flashes from a camera. It might have just
been the police cruisers, though.
When it lifted off; it was kind of fun.
The ground went away, and suddenly the
chopper shifted a bit, and we were floating above the dark-blue Atlantic
waters.
It was pretty impressive, and I am sure
that was by intent.
I resolved to hold my ground, and not be
swayed by this bit of technological opulence.
We sat across from each other - King and
Tanner on one side of a small but elegant marble table, and me on the other.
The limousine was something gauche and
vulgar, but this vehicle gave the impression of power and elegance.
It was something designed for and owned by
an elite class of individual.
I found myself suddenly envious and
blushed at my obvious jealousy.
Tanner and King both smirked at me.
I thought I saw a slight nod pass between
them, but the chopper lurched slightly and I glanced out the window
involuntarily.
The ocean was dotted with small whitecaps,
and a few boats plowed through the waves, leaving long, ragged white wakes
behind.
As we climbed, and the helicopter banked
north, I wondered just what the hell I’d gotten myself into.
*****
“I am afraid that you have a poor
impression of me, Ms. Greene,” said King.
He was sitting in his seat, without the
lap belt.
I suppose one can do whatever one wants in
their own private aircraft, but it seemed reckless.
There is always the danger of turbulence,
when flying.
King sat there, his gin and tonic having
been replaced with a bourbon. Another stinking cigar was grasped in his fist.
He puffed on it, and filled the cabin with odorous fumes.
The pilots ignored him.
“I dunno, Mr. King,” I replied.
“So far, my instincts regarding you seem
spot on.”
I tried to muster some contempt or at
least derision, but I had to admit, the bastard looked confident and at ease,
as he sat there.
He mulled over my response for a minute or
so, puffed on his rancid cigar another time or two, and took a huge gulp of the
bourbon. He smacked his lips, and made a satisfied grunting noise. Then, he put
the cigar into an ashtray, and set down his drink on the mahogany table.
King leaned over towards me, his arms
resting on the table that separated us.
“Your stepbrother is of immense interest
to me,” he said. “He is currently becoming a major pain in my ass.”
King sat back.
His brow furrowed, and he looked over at
Tanner.
“What Mr. King means is that Derek has
done some things, in the pursuit of his current endeavors, that are not
precisely legal. We have reason to believe that he is involved in a scheme to
defraud Mr. King and his enterprises in Monaco and the Cayman Islands of
something like five billion dollars.”
My face must have registered my shock.
King and Tanner sat there, inside the
immaculate helicopter, observing my response.
“I am sure there is a reasonable
explanation for
disturbing, for some reason.
“Let’s go, then,” says King.
“Ms. Greene, if you would be so kind as to
accompany us?” says Tanner, gently grabbing me by the elbow.
It’s not a forced gesture.
He actually seems to be trying to be
gentlemanly.
“Where are we going now? I’m not all that
inclined to go,” I say.
King looks south, at an approaching
helicopter. It’s descending towards the beach, and there are a few police
blocking traffic and beach access, and shooing some of the partygoers away.
“Up, my dear. Always up!” says King, with
a chuckle.
He gets into the elevator, and Tanner and
I crowd in behind him.
The doors close.
*****
I’d never been in a private helicopter
before.
This one was a Sikorsky S-76, according to
the safety card. It was similar to the ones for passenger planes. Except it
didn’t have all those emergency exit rafts, or oxygen mask things.
It was very quiet inside, compared to the
noise it made when it landed outside The Clevelander.
The crowd stared at us as we rushed out to
it, and I thought I saw a couple of flashes from a camera. It might have just
been the police cruisers, though.
When it lifted off; it was kind of fun.
The ground went away, and suddenly the
chopper shifted a bit, and we were floating above the dark-blue Atlantic
waters.
It was pretty impressive, and I am sure
that was by intent.
I resolved to hold my ground, and not be
swayed by this bit of technological opulence.
We sat across from each other - King and
Tanner on one side of a small but elegant marble table, and me on the other.
The limousine was something gauche and
vulgar, but this vehicle gave the impression of power and elegance.
It was something designed for and owned by
an elite class of individual.
I found myself suddenly envious and
blushed at my obvious jealousy.
Tanner and King both smirked at me.
I thought I saw a slight nod pass between
them, but the chopper lurched slightly and I glanced out the window
involuntarily.
The ocean was dotted with small whitecaps,
and a few boats plowed through the waves, leaving long, ragged white wakes
behind.
As we climbed, and the helicopter banked
north, I wondered just what the hell I’d gotten myself into.
*****
“I am afraid that you have a poor
impression of me, Ms. Greene,” said King.
He was sitting in his seat, without the
lap belt.
I suppose one can do whatever one wants in
their own private aircraft, but it seemed reckless.
There is always the danger of turbulence,
when flying.
King sat there, his gin and tonic having
been replaced with a bourbon. Another stinking cigar was grasped in his fist.
He puffed on it, and filled the cabin with odorous fumes.
The pilots ignored him.
“I dunno, Mr. King,” I replied.
“So far, my instincts regarding you seem
spot on.”
I tried to muster some contempt or at
least derision, but I had to admit, the bastard looked confident and at ease,
as he sat there.
He mulled over my response for a minute or
so, puffed on his rancid cigar another time or two, and took a huge gulp of the
bourbon. He smacked his lips, and made a satisfied grunting noise. Then, he put
the cigar into an ashtray, and set down his drink on the mahogany table.
King leaned over towards me, his arms
resting on the table that separated us.
“Your stepbrother is of immense interest
to me,” he said. “He is currently becoming a major pain in my ass.”
King sat back.
His brow furrowed, and he looked over at
Tanner.
“What Mr. King means is that Derek has
done some things, in the pursuit of his current endeavors, that are not
precisely legal. We have reason to believe that he is involved in a scheme to
defraud Mr. King and his enterprises in Monaco and the Cayman Islands of
something like five billion dollars.”
My face must have registered my shock.
King and Tanner sat there, inside the
immaculate helicopter, observing my response.
“I am sure there is a reasonable
explanation for
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