Date: Tue, 8 May 2001 11:57:07 -0700 (PDT)
From: Orrin Rush <orrinrush@yahoo.com>
Subject: Lifeguard
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. If you are
offended by graphic descriptions of homosexual acts, go
somewhere else.
Copyright c 2001 by Orrin C. Rush. All rights reserved.
Neither this story nor any parts of it may be distributed
electronically or in any other manner without the express,
written consent of the author.
This is a work of fiction, any resemblance of the characters
to anyone living or dead is pure coincidence and not
intended. They are all products of the author's imagination.
--------------------------------------------------------------
THE LIFEGUARD
Chapter 44
Thursday was a work day.
The new building seemed to be alive with activity. Business
was rapidly returning to normal.
I was sitting, contemplating the Picasso, when Bill walked
in. "Ohmygawd," he commented, "What's that?"
"A loan from Sarah," I told him.
"I don't know anything about art, but I recognize that one."
"It's one of Picasso's masterpieces," I told him. "I'm
really going to enjoy living with it. Have you seen Eric's
office yet?"
"I can just imagine!" he said. "This place is turning into a
museum."
"How does everybody like the new digs?" I asked.
"From what I've heard, everybody loves it here. Lots of
space for a change."
"Is everybody moved in yet?" I asked.
"Lundborg Rush is moving in today. They're the last."
While we were talking, the phone rang. It was Dr. Naimann who
was working on the New Hampshire case.
"I've got some really interesting information for you," he
said. I could sense excitement in his voice.
"Can you either hold for about 5 minutes or let me call you
back so I can get the troops together?" I asked.
"Call me back," he said, and gave me his number.
I called Eric, then Annie and Tina, then Jack, telling them
all to get their asses to my office immediately.
Eric, Jack and Tina were there in minutes. We couldn't find
Annie.
"We had a hearing in state district court yesterday on our
application for a temporary restraining order," Dr. Naimann
said over the speakerphone that we were huddled around.
"The Judge agreed with us and ordered the county to deposit
the amount of the fine they collected from you, $18 million
plus, in the court's registry."
He paused, then continued. "The county refused, saying that
they didn't have that much money, and also said they wouldn't
do it even if they could, citing immunity."
"The judge didn't buy that, and got rather upset. I don't
think it was the legal issue that they raised as much as the
smug way they presented it that set him off. His order
stood, and he gave the county 24 hours to deliver the funds
or face sanctions.
"That was yesterday. Today, the county showed up empty
handed. To say that the judge was upset is an
understatement. He slapped a sanction on them for $8
million, and gave them another 24 hours to come up with the
whole amount."
"What does all this mean?" I asked.
"It means," Dr. Naimann answered, "that if the county doesn't
bring $26 million to court tomorrow, the judge could enter a
default judgment against them. In his present frame of mind,
that wouldn't surprise me a bit.
"If a default judgment is entered, I intend to ask for $50
million in punitive damages and 35% of the total judgment for
attorney's fees. Since it'd be a 'default judgment' the
county can't use any of the immunity defenses that would
otherwise be available to them on appeal."
"Would that be the end of it? No trial?" Eric asked.
"They'd appeal, no doubt, but I don't think any higher courts
will even hear the case. They have no defense. Yes, I think
that'd be the end of the state court case. But, there's more.
"As soon as these suits were filed, we started the discovery
process. So far, there has been zero cooperation from
anybody. They won't let us see any of their records or
minutes of their meetings. We've requested depositions from
the county officials involved, and the judge. These have all
been refused, too. We're having a hearing in federal court
on this on Monday.
"What do you think will happen?" I asked.
"Federal judges don't have much patience with discovery
abuses, and could again impose sanctions. If the county
continues with their cavalier attitude, the judge could
impose what we lawyers call the 'death penalty'. That means
that the county couldn't use any of the evidence they had
refused to give us either at the trial or on appeal."
"Would that be to our advantage?" I asked.
"It'd make our case a slam dunk," Dr. Naimann answered.
"Why are they doing this?" I asked.
"I believe they think they can fall back on their immunity,
regardless of what they do. If worse came to worst, the
county thinks they could file for bankruptcy, and the
judgments would be moot. That would be the case unless we
can prove malice, which I don't think should be very
difficult."
"But, aren't we suing the state too?" I asked. "Wouldn't
they be liable for a judgment if we got one?"
"That's something I don't understand," Dr. Naimann answered.
"So far, the state's stayed completely out of it. They could
be forced to pay if the county defaults. My best guess is
that they're treating the whole thing as a frivolous matter
that'll be thrown out without any intervention by them.
They're grossly underestimating the possible consequences."
"I've never heard of a state declaring bankruptcy," I
chuckled.
"It hasn't happened yet, but there's always a first time,"
Dr. Naimann said. "I'll keep you informed on everything
that's happening. This may all be over a lot faster than we
expected."
Jack was jubilant. "Those idiots! They're making it too
easy for us! If they keep this up, you could own the whole
goddam state!"
"Who'd want it?" Eric commented.
- - - - -
We went home in midafternoon to spend a little time with
Sarah. She was waiting, grinning. What was she up to?
"I've spent a lot of time looking at the paintings you
bought," she said. "I've decided to take the boy on, be his
sponsor in the artworld."
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"First, I want to meet him, talk to him a little and see if
he's serious. Then, I'll need a few of his latest works to
take home with me. Not bragging, but if I sponsor him, he'll
have a one-man show in one of the best galleries in New York
as soon as he's ready."
"Would you like to meet him while you're here on the west
coast?" Eric asked her.
"That would be ideal," she said.
"Got any plans for this evening?" he asked.
"Only dinner with you gentlemen and my two girls," she said.
"Let me see if I can locate him. We can be up there in an
hour or so."
"I love a man of action!" Sarah told me, grinning, while Eric
got on the phone.
Eric came back with a smile. "He'll be waiting for us. I
told him two hours, max. One of the planes is ready, too, so
let's go."
"I'd suggest a coat," I told Sarah. "It's cooler up there."
On the way up, Eric told Sarah about the developments in New
Hampshire. Then I understood why he suggested we go that
evening instead of the next day. He didn't want to miss the
latest news from Dr. Naimann.
A limo was waiting and we went straight to Carmel. Eric
performed introductions, and I learned that his name was Brad
Jacoby.
His studio was a two-car garage. He opened the door for
decent light, he said. He'd propped up several finished
paintings and had several more on easels that were works in
progress.
Sarah looked at them, then got serious.
"You've probably never heard of me..." she started, but Brad
interrupted her.
"I've heard of you, Mrs. Thornton. I know you have one of
the largest private art collections in the world."
Sarah smiled. "I also carry a little clout in New York art
circles," she said, "and I think your work, at least what
Eric and Dave bought, has a lot of merit. I'd like to see
you get the recognition you deserve. That is, if you're
serious about painting."
"I wish I had more time to work," Brad said. "I'm going to
school and hold down a full time job. Actually, the
paintings that Mr. Lundborg bought were my first sale," he
added sheepishly.
"Here's what I'm going to do," she said. "I'd like two of
your paintings to take back to New York with me. I'm going
to advance you $50,000 so that you can quit your job and
paint. I don't want you to neglect your schooling, though,"
she warned.
"I'm not 'buying' these two paintings. They'll go into the
show I'll arrange for you at one of New York's best
galleries. I want you to take pictures of every painting you
complete and send them to me. When I think you have enough
for a show, I'll let you know, and we'll go from there. Is
that acceptable?"
"It's a dream come true," he said.
Sarah dug into her purse and fished out a checkbook. She
handed him the check along with a card. "Call me anytime,"
she said. "I want to know how you're progressing."
She walked around the garage and picked two of his paintings
which he and Eric wrapped up.
- - - - -
Eric hovered, wanting to be there for Dr. Naimann's call.
Jack was on alert, but neither Annie nor Tina considered it
necessary to be there. They felt we could let them know what
was going on later.
"It went as I expected," Dr. Naimann reported. "The county
showed up, but defied the judge again. No money. The worst
part, for them, was their arrogance. The judge blew sky
high. He ordered a default judgment and tacked on the
punitive damages I requested as well as attorney's fees.
"That all adds up to over $95 million, plus interest on the
$18 million dollar fine."
"Can we collect any of it?" I asked.
"I'm almost positive the county will file for bankruptcy as
fast as they can," Dr. Naimann said. "Unless they already
have everything ready, that's going to take a day or two. If
they do, we'll file a 'Motion to Lift Stay', and have an
opportunity to prove malicious intent in bankruptcy court.
If we can do that, it will keep the judgment from being
discharged in bankruptcy. In the meantime, they have to
answer in federal court Monday. That should be very
interesting!"
"What do you think our chances are of proving malicious
intent?" Eric asked.
"I think our chances are excellent," Dr. Naimann answered.
"We have depositions from people who attended the council
meetings that confirm that their intent was to hurt you, and
you alone, and we also have about 60 documented cases where
this statute was NOT enforced. We even have cases where the
council members themselves violated the law."
"What do you think will happen Monday in federal court?" I
asked.
"It's hard to predict, but if the county continues the
arrogant attitude, they could get into even more trouble."
Up until this point, the press hadn't had much to say, but
with the big default judgment against the county, they got
back into the act. The national news picked up the story,
and even had a quote from the county's attorney. "This is
just a minor setback," he arrogantly stated. "We have
immunity from this type of action, a fact that will be proven
as the case is heard by higher courts. Neither Lundborg,
Rush nor Micron are ever going to get a cent."
"Don't be too sure of that," the network's legal expert
commented dryly.
Lundborg Rush had already reimbursed Metalco for the fine
they had paid for us, so Eric wanted to know what we could do
with the money if we did collect.
"I wouldn't spend it yet," I cautioned. "I still think we
should give away everything but the actual amount of our
losses."
"I agree," he said. "I have an idea that I'll tell you about
later. I think you'll like it."
- - - - -
Sarah, enthusiastic about her "new artist", packed up her
paintings and headed home. Things returned to normal.
"I see you're still wearing your ring," Eric observed. "I'm
surprised."
"I'm getting used to it," I told him. "It's going to stay on
my finger from now on. It means a lot more to me than I ever
thought it would."
"I'm glad," he answered. "It shows that you're officially
'taken'," he giggled.
"So are you, my love."
- - - - -
Monday, we waited for Dr. Naimann's call. This time everybody
was waiting.
"It was a circus," Dr. Naimann chuckled. "The county was
scrambling for reasons why they'd failed to comply with our
requests, citing immunity again. The state's finally gotten
into the act. A lawyer from the state Attorney General's
office was there to represent the state, but all he could
come up with were lame excuses too."
"What was the outcome?" Jack asked.
"The 'death penalty' was imposed," Dr. Naimann said
gleefully. "Need I say more? The Judge set a trial date for
three weeks from today, and warned both the County and the
State not to try any delaying tactics or he'd enter a default
judgment."
"Does that mean they can't present a defense?" I asked.
"It looks that way," he said. "I'll be able to establish
their malicious intent, so that may not be necessary in
bankruptcy court, if the county or the state decide to take
that route. It should be a short trial."
With this development, the press got really involved. Legal
experts were expounding everywhere. In general, they
couldn't understand the position that the county and state
had taken. Immunity was one thing, but the way they had
literally thrown away their rights was inconceivable.
It was generally agreed that the county, and the state as
well, had lost the case. The damages that would be awarded
would be enormous and fully justified in view of the inept,
downright stupid, actions they'd taken in the case.
They further predicted that the state, as well as the county,
wouldn't find any relief in bankruptcy court either. Proving
malicious conduct was expected to be a certainty, and the
citizens of the entire State would end up paying for the
stupidity of their elected officials.
"Something that could have been stopped by the governor's
intervention in the beginning is going to become a disaster
for the whole state," one commentator predicted. "Not only
will it cause a hike in taxes, but the whole state's credit
and credibility will suffer. The attitude they've expressed
toward business will probably cost them the most in the long
run. Who'd want to do business in THAT state?"
On and on it went. The politicians were gored in the press,
and the attorneys who handled the case were subjected to
ridicule. It wasn't a pretty sight.
"The trial is still crucial," Dr. Naimann told us. "About
all we have to prove is malicious intent, and that has to be
done carefully so that we don't open any doors for them."
Eric and I discussed the fact that it wasn't really a
"victory" but a win by default. It was also far from over,
and would drag through the courts for months, or years.
- - - - -
In all the recent confusion, we'd pretty much ignored Hal.
He hadn't pestered us about the economic analysis, and when
I'd seen him around the office, he'd seemed busy and happy.
Security had checked him out more thoroughly than the
government usually did for top secret clearance. The only
blemishes were several barroom brawls that had caused him to
spend a few nights in jail. These I attributed to his inner
battle with his sexual identity. Everything they found out
about his character and honesty was clean as a whistle.
A meeting with him was scheduled. Eric and I glanced through
the Tulsa Report in preparation.
We apologised for ignoring him, but he said that didn't
matter. He'd found plenty to do to keep busy. "I took it
upon myself to work as liaison between John, Loren, and the
people here," he said. "I've worked with Annie, and we've
got all the mining operations organized and on computer."
He went on to detail what he'd accomplished. Lovebird Mining
Company was being run like a business.
We got down to the economic analysis. Hal's bottom line was
significantly different from the Tulsa Report. At current
copper prices, he came up with a 25 year net of $1.2
billion. That sounded a LOT better.
"How does that compare with Tulsa?" Hal wanted to know.
"Not even close," Eric snickered.
"Higher or lower?"
"Just a tad higher," I commented dryly, "by over a billion
bucks."
"I find that hard to believe," Hal said. "I checked my
numbers more than once, and I tried to be conservative, if
anything. There's something definitely wrong here. I'd like
to do a comparison, item by item, to see who's off and where."
"That might be interesting," Eric said, and I handed Hal the
Tulsa Report.
"It'll take me a few days," Hal said, "I just can't believe
I'm so far off."
"Take your time," I told him. "We've held those guys off
this long, a few more days isn't going to matter."
"How much did we pay that outfit in Tulsa?" Eric asked.
"$50,000 up front, and we owe then another fifty," I said.
"I don't think they're going to be seeing that other fifty if
Hal proves that they're playing games with us. Are they
idiots enough to believe that we wouldn't get a second
opinion?"
Hal looked pretty serious when we got together again. "I'd
like to show you where I differ from the Tulsa Report point
by point," he said. "There were so many differences that I
called John to verify the numbers on his survey."
He spread out the two reports on his desk, and a third that
compared the two.
"First is the overburden. They say an average of 100 feet
needs to be removed. John's survey says 26 feet. That's a
major up-front item.
"Next is their extraction cost for the ore. I called a buddy
at Kennicott, and used their cost which is comparable because
of the terrain, location and everything else. Their costs
are only 23 percent of what Tulsa used.
"Then there's recovery. Tulsa figured 71% when the industry
average is 94%.
"The smelter. Tulsa must be planning to build a gold-plated
one because they overestimated the cost by over a half
billion. I verified this with the manufacturers. Their
operating costs are also completely out of sight according to
the people who build them.
"The total amount of ore that's economically feasible to take
out is double what Tulsa used.
"Neither one of us put any value on the silver, gold and moly
that will be recovered in smelting. That's gravy.
"Bottom line: My original figures turn out to be very
conservative. Now, I'm coming up with $1.8 billion."
"I wonder who Tulsa's really working for," Eric commented.
"We may find out when we talk with Ross, Birney and Tom," I
said.
"Another thing," Hal added. "I went over all these figures
with Loren, who knows a lot about the copper industry, and he
agrees with everything."
"If we go for a royalty arrangement, what percentage should
we shoot for?" I asked.
"On something this big, I'd go for 30% of the gross or 60% of
the net. Gross is best because you can keep closer tabs on
them, keep them honest."
"How do we do that?" I chuckled. "Sounds to me like it's
going to be a full time job."
"If you base it on net, you'll spend a fortune on audits.
It's kind of like the film industry. They throw in costs
from everyplace. Overhead is a favorite. If you go for
gross, it's a percentage of what they sell. That's easier to
keep track of."
"How do we go about keeping track of what they sell?" Eric
asked.
Hal started laughing. "For us, it'll be a piece of cake.
All the copper will be shipped out by rail, and you own the
railroad."
"I see," Eric said laughing. "We compare outgoing shipments
and weights against what they report, and any discrepancies
would show up. Yeah, gross would be the way to go."
"I think we're ready to talk to Ross, Birney and Tom," I
said. "Let's get a bidding war going!"
"Want to sit in?" Eric asked Hal.
"I'd love to, as an observer," he answered. "I can tell you
afterward where they're trying to screw you. I know those
three, they'll all try!"
Eric set up the meetings, Tom first, but they were all so
eager that Tom would be there the next day with the others
following close behind.
I got hold of Jack and warned him to brush up on mining law,
that we were ready to move on the copper, and that I didn't
trust Preston.
"Are we going to be doing a lot of this?" he asked.
"That'll depend on what John finds for us," I told him, "Why?"
"If we are, I'd like to look around for somebody who knows
mining law to put on staff."
"I doubt that there'll be too many deals like this, but
they'll probably be big ones. Go ahead and get somebody, but
one that can handle other stuff too. Real estate might be a
busy area."
- - - - -
Tom didn't look like a thief, but appearances can be
misleading. Jovial and folksy, he looked harmless.
"Glad you fellas are ready to talk," he said. "I'd shore
like to work with ya on this."
"Tell us what you have in mind," I said.
"You put a price on it?" he asked.
"No, that's open to negotiation," Eric said, then, with a
smile. "We won't be making any decisions until we talk to
Ross and Birney too."
"I see," he said. "You want bids?"
"We need a starting point," I told him, "you want to make an
offer?"
"I'd like to buy it outright, give you $200 million cash
money."
"We'd like to look at a royalty arrangement too," Eric said.
"I could give you 10% of the net," he said.
"Neither of those figures impress me much," I said honestly.
"How much would it take to impress you?" he asked me.
"A billion cash," Eric said.
"Or 60% of the net," I added. "Maybe we should talk a gross
sales percentage."
"Do you fellows know how much it's gonna cost to get that
copper out?" he asked.
"We have a rough idea," Eric said.
"Have you seen the surveys?" I asked. "We'll be glad to give
you a copy if you haven't."
"No, I've seen 'em," he said.
"Then you know how much the mine's really worth," Eric said.
"It ain't nothin' like you're talkin," he said.
"Maybe you'd better take another look," I suggested. "We did."
"How much of the gross do you want?" he asked.
"How's 30 percent sound," Eric said.
"Pretty high, but I'll go home and work on it," he said.
He agreed to get back in touch with us in a few days and
left. I don't think he got the answers he was looking for.
Hal was shaking his head. "Nobody better underestimate you
two," he said.
Later that afternoon I got a call from Big George. He was
chuckling. "I told old Tom that you two were pretty sharp,
but I guess he didn't believe me," he said.
"What'd he expect? We do our homework," I told him.
"He said dealin' with you guys was like bein' in a tag team
wrestlin' match without a partner," he laughed.
"I don't think we were THAT rough on him," I said.
"You weren't. He just expected a coupla pansy pushovers. I
know better and now he does too! Hope I didn't offend ya."
"Not at all, George," I laughed. "I'll have to remember that.
Actually there were three of us. We've got a damned smart
'pansy' geologist working with us now too."
"Smart idea. This mining game is kinda nasty at times. Pays
to look over your shoulder, but I know you men. Nobody's
gonna get the best of you. How's the gold mine doin'?"
"We'll be crushing ore in a few weeks," I told him. "We're
all pretty excited about it."
"Ya damned well should be. That mine is gonna make you
rich," he chuckled, "Texas rich."
"How's Claire?" I asked.
"She's fine, can't stop talkin' about that ceremony you guys
had. Really impressed the hell out of both of us."
"Me too," I said.
"I noticed," he answered softly. "I'm proud of you, Dave."
I couldn't wait to tell Eric and Hal that we were considered
"pansy pushovers." They both got a big laugh out of it.
Eric's comment was "We may be pansies, but we sure ain't
pushovers."
"Hey, wanna play with a pansy?" he asked me that night.
"You're the butchest 'pansy' I've ever seen," I told him,
"Come on, 'pretty boy', let's fuck."
- - - - -
Our meetings with the other two copper barons went a lot
differently. They'd been warned. Birney still tried to
low-ball us, but learned we weren't so damn dumb afterall.
Ross was a gentleman all the way. "Please don't put me in
the same category as those two," he asked. "Actually, I've
gotten a lot of laughs out of their stories about dealing
with you two."
"We appreciate your being straight with us," Eric chuckled.
"Let's not beat around the bush," he continued. "I know what
the mine is worth and so do you. How does a third of the
gross sound?"
I smiled at Eric. "Now we're talking!" I told him.
"Tom and Birney may try to outbid me, but I doubt it. I also
think we could work well together."
"I doubt they'll even try," Eric said.
"We haven't talked about the other metals we expect to
recover," he said. "I think we're going to find a lot more
of those than anyone expects. That'll be frosting on the
cake."
"What do you guys think?" I asked Eric and Hal after Ross
left.
"I'd say it's a phenomenal deal," Hal said. "Financially,
Ross is the strongest of the three, too. That helps."
"I'd feel much better about working with Ross," Eric said.
"I'd be nervous working with either of the other two. I just
don't trust them."
"I agree with both of you," I said. "I don't think we should
tell either of them what Ross offered, just ask them for
their best shot, and if neither of them are a LOT higher, I
vote we go with Ross."
Neither of them came even close.
- - - - -
Lovebird Mining was getting a lot of publicity. Interest in
the gold discovery hadn't lasted long, as I had predicted, but
Ross's Company was publicly held, so after the deal had been
finalized, they issued an announcement.
"BASIC METALS AND LOVEBIRD IN BILLION DOLLAR VENTURE"
screamed the local headline in the Business Section. In
other papers, the story wasn't as prominent, but nevertheless
there.
"Lovebird Mining, part of the Lundborg and Rush Empire has
joined forces with Basic Metals to exploit Lovebird's vast
copper reserves in Arizona..." It went on and on from there,
the usual.
The initiative that Hal had shown in getting Lovebird set up
was impressive. He also had Loren and John's respect, so who
would be better to take over Lovebird than him.
Eric and I took him out to dinner to make our pitch. At
first, he wasn't interested at all, not wanting to become a
"desk jockey" with nothing to do, but we pointed out that in
order to keep on top of things, there'd be a lot of field
work required.
Loren was running the gold mine, but somebody had to set up
transportation for the concentrate, refining, and sale of the
end product. There'd be a lot more work once the copper mine
was running, too.
"And, the 'scenery' is a lot better around here than it is up
in the hills too," Eric put in with a wink.
"So I've noticed," Hal said dryly, "particularly at the
beach."
Eric mentioned the beach where he used to work. "Ever check
that one out?" he asked.
"Oh YESSSS!" he said. "The Lifeguards are enough, not to
mention all the other hot guys I've seen there."
"You're definitely going to have to come to our next pool
party," Eric giggled.
"What do you mean?" Hal asked.
"Just wait and see," Eric said enigmatically.
We gave him a pretty thorough working over, and eventually
arrived at a deal. He'd be a vice president of Hydra with
full responsibility for Lovebird, at double his current
salary, reporting to Eric and me.
- - - - -
The new plane was ready. It had been flight tested, and the
interior was finally complete. We now had four pilots who
were certified to fly it, but Ron and Jason wanted to be the
first, naturally.
They wanted us to go along when they went to pick it up in
Dallas, but we told them that we'd rather they brought it
home first, then we'd be the first passengers.
"Where do you want to go on our first trip?" I asked Eric.
"Doesn't matter to me, just so it's long enough for us to
fuck our brains out," he giggled.
"Nothing like breaking it in right!" I said. "You think about
it, I really don't care much where we go either."
"Are we going to have a flight attendant?" he asked.
"Not on this flight," I assured him.
"How's this sound?" he said grinning. "We'll leave it up to
the pilots, tell them to go anyplace that's at least two
hours away. We could have an 'appetizer' on the way, stop
for dinner, then 'dessert' on the way home?"
"A veritable feast!" I laughed. "Sounds delicious."
"I'll take care of it," he volunteered.
- - - - -
We were waiting when Ron and Jason taxied up to the Metalco
hangar. Compared to our other planes, it was huge. Sleek,
with the upturned ends of the wings giving it a rakish
appearance.
The door went up and the stairs slid down. Jason came out
beaming. "Man, flying this baby is like driving a sports
car," he said. "Ready to go for a spin?"
We went on board. Ron was standing at the door to the "crew
quarters". "Take a look at this," he said, motioning us
inside.
There were two leather chairs, each with a table beside
them. Ron sat in one of the chairs and reclined it. "See,
we can get some rest here," he said. "These are the most
comfortable seats I've ever been in, and there's lots of room
to stretch out."
We went on into the cockpit. "This baby's got more
instrumentation than any airliner ever thought of having,"
Ron said proudly. "Just about everything conceivable. I'm
damned glad we were trained on how to use all of it."
That was all nice to know, but my non-technical mind wasn't
interested in details. Ron understood that.
The passenger cabin was spectacular. Gary's color scheme was
warm but gave the illusion of spaciousness. Walking down the
center, I noticed that I could stand erect comfortably.
While Eric explored, I plopped down in one of the chairs.
Damn, they WERE comfortable!
"Check this out, babe!" Eric called. He was stretched out
full-length on the couch near the back, his six-foot frame
fitting comfortably.
"It folds out to a queen size bed," Jason explained.
"Appropriate," I chuckled.
"Even when it's open, you can walk around it to get to the
galley," he said. "It's also already 'made up' with sheets
and blankets."
"Somebody'll be changing those tomorrow," Eric leered.
"Are you guys ready to go?" Ron asked.
"Sure," I said. "Where are we going?"
"Surprise," Eric said. "Wait'll we get there."
The plane moved out onto the runway. "Here we go," Jason
said over the intercom.
As we moved down the runway, we could hear the engines
revving up, but only barely. We cleared the runway and went
into a steep climb. It was so quiet! No vibration, no
sound.
In our other jets, you couldn't hear yourself think on
takeoff. This was a completely different experience. I
looked at Eric with my eyebrows arched. "This is
unbelievable!" he said. "So different, so quiet!"
When we leveled out a little, I got up to explore. I found
the bar in the galley and made us a drink. The galley itself
had everything one could ask for in a full-fledged kitchen,
but it was compact and organized. Hell, I'd even like to
cook in it. One of these days...
I took our drinks and went back to sit with Eric on the
sofa. It was comfortable, just like everything else.
We clinked glasses. "Here's to the new toy," I said. "I
think we're going to love it."
"It's unbelievable," he said with a smile. "You know," he
continued, "I'd like to make love to you, but I'm just not in
the mood. It's just too contrived."
"I understand fully," I chuckled. "I'm not really interested
either. Maybe on the way home."
"Let's check out the gadgets!" he said, relieved.
Each seat had a small, enclosed console with buttons,
switches and dials in it. There was a larger one next to the
couch. We looked them over, but couldn't figure out what did
what. "I've got an idea," I told Eric, "Let's save some time
and get either Ron or Jason to show us how all this stuff
works."
Eric nodded and went to the cockpit, coming back with Ron.
"I thought you guys'd be..." he said.
"Later," Eric told him.
"Does that mean the honeymoon's over?" Ron asked.
"Not at all," I said, grinning. "We're just too excited about
this thing."
Ron showed us how things worked. Each seat had controls for
individual lighting and ventilation. There was a jack for
headphones so each passenger could either watch the TV or
listen to music. The TV was located on the front bulkhead and
with the touch of a button, the paneling disappeared and a
big flat screen was revealed.
The TV was connected to satellite, so there were several
hundred channels available. A program guide would be coming
soon so we'd know what was on, when.
A VCR was below the screen, already stocked, Ron told us,
with movies and even some porn if we were interested.
The sound system consisted of a CD player and could either
fill the whole cabin or be listened to individually on
headphones. The master control was by the sofa where cabin
lighting could be adjusted too.
There were other jacks where laptop computers could be
plugged in for internet access.
Phones, strategically placed, could be used just like the
ones at home. Other communications gear was in the cockpit.
"No reason to ever get bored," Ron commented as he returned
to the cockpit. He acted like he was disappointed that we
weren't fucking our brains out.
We landed in, of all places, Oakland.
A limo was waiting and we were whisked off to Alice Waters'
restaurant in Berkeley.
I'd heard of the place but never eaten there. Reservations
were hard to come by, but Eric, as usual, came through. The
food was as good as I'd heard. There were no choices. We
ate what they prepared.
Full and relaxed, we got back on board. Mozart was playing
throughout the cabin on the fabulous sound system.
I sat on the couch, Eric's head in my lap. "I think my
libido's on vacation," he said. "All I want is to be with
you."
"Funny, I feel the same way," I told him. "We don't have to
be UP all the time."
"I hope it's not the plane," Eric giggled. "It'd be a shame
if we felt like this on every trip."
"As you said earlier, it's too "contrived", and we'd have to
rush. That's no fun."
- - - - -
"We cranked up the crusher yesterday," Hal reported. "Loren
says it's running like it's supposed to."
"That's great!" Eric said. "Isn't this a little ahead of
schedule?"
"Way ahead," Hal answered. "We got lucky. Everything came
together a lot faster than anybody expected."
"Have you figured out how to get the concentrate out?" I
asked.
"We're working on that," Hal answered. "It looks like it's
going to be cheapest and safest to chopper it out. Since
we're going to be doing this for quite a while, it'd be less
expensive to buy one than to use a charter, but for the time
being we're going to use John's when it's free."
"You mentioned 'safest'. What do you mean by that?" Eric
asked.
"The ore, even concentrated, doesn't have much value, but
some nutcases will no doubt try to get their hands on it. We
want to get it to the refinery with as little risk to our
people as possible."
"How're you going to do that?" Eric asked.
"We bought a few acres in Prescott, and we're going to build
a 'secure' area where the choppers can land and unload
directly into armored cars. We've gotten a variance so the
choppers can land there, but only during daylight hours.
Noise pollution, you know, even though the site is away from
town."
"How far along on this are you?" I asked.
"It'll be ready in about a month," Hal said. "In the
meantime, we're going to use the Prescott airport. Bob's
providing security."
"How are you going to transport the ore?" I asked, "I mean
what are you going to put it in?"
"We'll use canvas bags that hold about 50 pounds. The
refinery will return them and we'll re-use them."
"Sounds to me like you have everything worked out," Eric
commented. "When does all this start?"
"We'll be taking the first loads out tomorrow. The chopper
we'll be using can carry about 800 pounds safely, so we
figure three trips a day. That's about all one armored car
can hold."
"Let us know how it goes," I requested.
Again, Hal had taken the initiative and planned ahead. He'd
already become very valuable to us. Now, all we had to do
was keep him happy.
To be continued.
- - - - -
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