The Eighty-eighth Key Ch. 50

Callahan's flight suit was soaked through, sweat was running down his face and neck down into his t-shirt, and the sandwiches he'd eaten five hours ago were long gone. His hands were soaked, too, and his grip on the stick was at best tenuous now; Chapman was in back helping wrap steri-pads on another badly burned firefighter, leaving him alone upfront. He checked VOR 1 and re-checked his intercept angle, heading for the Coffee Creek Volunteer Fire Department landing pad for the fifth time in as many hours.

And still, he couldn't get C-Med out of his mind. The white snake seemed to be with him constantly now, like a feeling he just couldn't shake.

He double-checked his altitude as the 412 flew through another wall of bright orange smoke, and he looked at the clock on the panel before he shook his head. 'Almost midnight,' he said to himself, 'and these clouds look like high noon..."

The Huey flew out of the smoke and Callahan could just see Coffee Creek ahead when Chapman crawled back into the left seat. Callahan looked at the kid and shook his head; he was covered in blood and soot and now he had the same hollow look in his eyes that he'd seen in the eyes of pilots he'd flown with in 'Nam.

"How ya doing, Ace?" he said after the kid got his helmet back on.

"Man, I didn't know anything could be this intense."

"Well, if it's any consolation, this is the worst flying I've been through since '68."

"Man, this is some mean shit."

"Well, like I said, how are you doing?"

Chapman looked at Callahan, then at the mess in back. "I don't know, man. I just don't know."

"Well, eight hours in the rack and you'll know what to do."

"What to do, sir?"

"You're thinking about calling it quits, right?"

"Uh, Hell no, sir. I'm just tired, that's all."

Callahan tried not to smile. "Well, we're both over the limit, so let's grab some rack time once we get back to Center."

"Is there anyone there to help clean out the rear, sir?"

"How bad is it?"

"Blood is two inches deep in places."

Callahan nodded then switched to COMM 2: "Cat 1 to Cat 3 on 2."

"Cat 3, go."

"20?"

"Landing at Center in five."

"Got it. We're going to need a cleanup crew, we've got a lot of blood on board."

"We do too. I'll see what we can muster-up. Our staff is still pretty thin up here, so don't expect much. How far out are you?"

"Going to drop at the Creek, then come on down for some rack time."

"Okay. We'll be waiting for you here."

"Cat 1 out." Then he turned to Chapman. "Take the stick for a second, would you?" He pulled out a hand towel from a pouch on his leg and wiped his hands, then he handed the cloth to Chapman. "My helicopter," he added.

"You got it. Thanks." Chapman tried to clean his hands but there was just too much dried blood on them - and he tightened up when he realized what it was. "Was it like this over there?"

"Yeah, for ten months straight. I got there just before Tet cooked off."

"That was the thing in '68?"

"It was indeed," Callahan sighed, stunned but not really surprised that one of the defining times of his life had become so casually - what? - forgotten?

He lined up on the pasture behind the fire department's station, then made his flare - as close to the row of waiting ambulances as he dared - then he looked over to the Red Cross canteen and saw that it had closed down for the night. He sighed again, then waited for the signal that the pad was clear and that they could take off. A few minutes later they were airborne and headed for the depot at Trinity Center, Chapman so tired he was about to doze off, and that too made him think about '68.

Don McCall was finishing up his training to move over to the S-76, but Callahan regretted that move now. McCall would be perfect to head up operations in Redding, so he'd have to have a talk with him...soon.

Next, his thoughts drifted to Fujiko, then to a new project under development near Fisherman's Wharf - then he looked out the windshield and saw trees ahead...

...too late...?

He chopped the throttle and pulled up on the collective - effectively stopping in mid-air - and Chapman woke in a start, reached for the stick...

"I've got it," Callahan said as he recovered and began climbing again.

"What happened?"

"I started daydreaming, stopped scanning, and I very nearly screwed the pooch. That's what happened."

"Man, I know the feeling. I don't know how you're keeping your eyes open."

"By daydreaming, Ace. That's the first stop on the way to falling asleep on the stick."

"Yessir."

He landed ten minutes later, and a ground crew was waiting for them - then he saw Frank standing by a Ford pickup waving at them. He waved back, then shot him a thumb's up.

He left the kid to supervise the cleanup and walked over to Bullitt and the Ford. "So, you were listening in again?"

"No, not really. I figured it out a while ago; we're sub-contracting to the Forest Service, right? So DD and I got with them and worked something out. This group is from a local 4-H club, all of 'em want to be pilots too, so they want in on the action."

"They're high school kids?"

"Every swingin' dick out there, yup."

"Hmm..."

"Uh-oh...I know that look. What are you thinking?"

"They want experience and we need people in back to help load and take care of the wounded. Sounds like a match made in heaven to me."

Bullitt shook his head. "Let me check with their supervisor first, okay?"

"Sure. Just see if you can find me three with first aid training to ride in the morning. Maybe we could rotate them during the day, get all of them some air time..."

"Okay. From the look of things, I'd say you guys need a cot before you do anything else. We have those tents over there for now."

"Anything to eat or drink around here?"

"I picked up burgers at Carl's Jr. Some Cokes, too. Two sacks in each tent, ready to go."

"You're a lifesaver, Frank."

"Just trying to help - wish I knew how to fly; I'd be up there with you guys if I could."

+++++

Callahan stayed up north for a week, and he got to know Jeanie Post well enough to ask her out on a date.

"You mean, like a real date?" she asked, blushing intensely.

"Yeah, the real deal," Callahan said. "Dinner and a movie, the whole nine yards."

"Well, sure, why not? Any idea when?"

"Saturday okay? I can pick you up here."

"Here? You mean, here, as in this landing pad?"

"Yeah. Unless you're afraid of flying."

"No, not really, but my boy will be so disappointed..."

"Why?"

"He's always wanted to fly, ever since he was old enough to read."

"So, bring him along. There's an air show over in Alameda this weekend and we're going to have an exhibit set up there. I need to be there at noon, but I can pick you guys up at nine and we'll play it by ear after that. Sound doable?"

"Yes, sure, sounds fun. We'll be here at nine."

"Okay. Well, I gotta head back to the city today. I'll see you Saturday." He found Chapman and their 4-H volunteer - and then they headed for Trinity Center to drop off the volunteer before they flew on to San Francisco. While they were there Bullitt hopped on board at the last moment...

"Mind if I bum a ride off you guys?"

"No, hop on and get a helmet. We need to talk, and this is as good a time as any."

Frank got his helmet on after he'd settled into the jump-seat behind Chapman's. "Okay, I'm on."

Callahan took off then turned the controls over to Chapman before he turned to Frank. "So, how much work is needed in Redding to go operational?"

"Sam has a punch list to work through, but it's short. We're waiting on some kind of special fire-resistant carpet, and that's about it - as far as I know."

"Okay. And, good work on the 4-H thing. That's working out pretty good."

"Right. Some of the parents are really grateful."

"I heard from Beechcraft this morning. We need to send someone to Kansas to pick up the first 1900."

"Are they painting them?"

"No. They're doing carpet and seats, that's it. We have to get them painted and registered. After we settle on a paint scheme they can do it."

"Who's designing it...as if I didn't know?"

"Yeah. Cathy."

"So, she's still talking to you?"

"About business stuff, yeah."

"And?"

"Not a whole lot else to say, Frank. She did mention that Fujiko is dating now, but I think she was just twisting the knife a little."

"She can be that way, Harry. Sorry."

"Nothing for you to be sorry about. And, oh, before I forget: I have to go to Switzerland in two weeks. Want to tag along?"

"How long are you going for?"

"Two, three days, tops."

"I'll have to check with DD. You know, there are sure a lot of DDs in your life..."

"Don't I know it. There are some guys from PHI coming in to talk with me this afternoon. Could you hang around for that?"

"Who is PHI?"

"Big helicopter outfit down south. They service oilfields, stuff like that."

"What do they want?"

"No one knows, but DD thinks they're going to try and buy us out."

"No shit?"

"Yeah, apparently there are a few people not real happy we're doing so well."

"That figures."

"Oh, before I forget, I met a gal up in Coffee Creek. I'll be bringing her and her son to the thing in Alameda on Saturday."

"No shit?"

"No shit."

"So, you are moving on, I take it?"

"Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. I ain't goin' down that road again, Frank. Casual dates for me from now on. No commitments, no hassles. No more bullshit serious relationships."

"I was thinking the same thing," Frank said.

"What? About Cathy?"

"Yeah."

"No way, Frank. You two have been together for almost twenty-five years, you have a kid too, for cryin' out loud. Why would you do that?"

"Because I'm alone, Harry, and I'm not enjoying it one little bit."

"I hear that," Chapman said.

"What? You're not hitched up?" Harry asked. "I thought on your resumé it said..."

"It did because I was. She ditched me as soon as I decided to move out here."

"How long were you together?" Frank asked.

"Too fuckin' long, apparently," Chapman sighed.

"What about that nurse I saw you hangin' around with at the Red Cross tent?" Harry asked. "She looked pretty damn cute, from what I could see."

"I'm still workin' on that one."

"Why did your, what was she, girlfriend or wife?"

"Wife."

"Why didn't she want to move out here?"

"She doesn't like big cities."

"So? We post you to Redding, end of problem."

The kid shrugged.

"Okay, so there's more to it than just big cities."

"A whole lot more. I think her lawyer calls it irreconcilable differences."

Callahan and Bullitt both nodded.

"You're probably better off with the nurse," Callahan said, trying not to smile.

"A lot better off," Frank added.

"Did you get her number, at least?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, but she's from Redding, and I'm...uh...did you say I could base at Redding?"

Harry looked at the kid, then at Frank: "Ya know, I think he's just had a flash of insight, Frank. What do you think?"

"A stiff prick has no conscience, that's what I think," Bullitt sighed.

"That goes without saying," Callahan said. "What do you think, kid?"

"I think I'm going to call a nurse."

"Bingo!" Frank cried. "And another one bites the dust."

____________________________________

Frank and DD sat beside Callahan on one side of the conference table, the three reps from PHI on the other. The reps were identically dressed in black suits, with white button-down shirts and red ties. They even had little American flags on their lapels. Callahan thought they looked like Jehovah's Witnesses and tried not to laugh.

"Okay," DD began, "this is your meeting. Fire away."

One of them spoke: "We're here to buy you out. All we need is the right number, then we can leave."

"I see," Callahan said. "And why do you want to buy us out? We don't compete with you, at least as far as I can tell."

"We don't want any competitors should we decide to move into this market."

Callahan shrugged. "Okay. Two billion and it's all yours."

They laughed. "Let's get serious, Mr. Callahan. Your market value is..."

"I know what our value is, and I don't give a flying fuck about your offer, or your money. We're not a threat to you, not now, anyway, so you must be here because you think there's going to be a market for your services in California. but let's see, you service offshore oil rigs, and there aren't exactly too many of those around, are there? So, you think something's about to change, right?"

No one answered.

"Okay. so here's my deal. You leave us alone, and in return, we give you what amounts to a written non-compete contract. And that contract stipulates that you won't compete in the air taxi and fire fighting business in Northern California."

"Define Northern California," one of the reps said.

"Draw a line from Santa Barbara to Bishop, and we have exclusive rights to Yosemite and Sequoia. PHI can have everything south of that line."

"And Santa Barbara?"

"Our southern hub for fixed wing ops. Again, we will not service offshore oil platforms, period."

"And how much do you want for this?"

"How much are you offering?"

The rep wrote out a figure and passed it over to Callahan. Who looked at the number and smiled.

____________________________________

He met Don McCall at the Cathouse early on Saturday morning, and they walked around CATs newest S-76. With the same silver and deep red paint on the outside, this latest delivery had a more upscale interior. Off white leather everywhere but the carpet, which was navy blue, and the passenger windows were polarized so light could be controlled with a simple dial.

"Good idea basing this one in Palo Alto," McCall said. "Right market there."

"Yeah, I think Pattison called this one right."

"Is he taking Palo Alto?" Don asked - nervously.

"Yup. He found a little house in Menlo Park."

"No room for two down there, right?"

"I don't see why not. We'll all still be on rotation."

"Just curious, but ideally, where would you like me?"

"Redding during fire season. The rest is up to you."

"Redding? What's it like up there?"

"We're gonna stop there on the way up to Coffee Creek. Frank's riding up with us to look over a few things, then we'll make our pickup before we head to Alameda. You can look it over while we're up there."

"I thought Redding was going to be fixed-wing only?"

"Except during fire season."

"Ah."

"And, keep in mind Pattison has asked about fixed wing training."

"Oh? I hadn't heard that one."

"Nothing's definite yet, but you'd be next in line for Palo Alto if he leaves helicopters."

"Interesting."

"Yeah. So take a look around Redding a little, tell me what you think this afternoon."

"Will do."

Frank came out of the Cathouse carrying a briefcase and Callahan almost lost it. "Next thing you know, Frank, you'll be wearing a three-piece suit."

Bullitt grinned. "I should be so lucky. Just how much money did you make yesterday? DD won't say, not for love or money."

"Enough to give you a raise."

"Good. Maybe we could stop at Brooks Brothers on the way up."

"If they got a pad, why not?" McCall said, grinning. "Besides, I could use some new wingtips," he added, holding up his leg - revealing an ancient, saddle-worn cowboy boot.

Bullitt climbed into the passenger cabin and whistled. "Wow, this is a little upscale, even for us," he said.

"Yeah, kind of a modern take on the Parisian bordello look," McCall said, scowling. "Cathouse, my ass," he grumbled.

McCall checked in with ATC after their engine warm-up, then they took off due north over the bay; they arrived in Redding about an hour later and Frank took McCall around the operation, showing him on a local map where all the potential fire areas were located. Callahan walked around the new terminal and felt an odd little stirring of pride as he looked around. 'This is mine,' he said to himself, 'I built this.' There were a couple of people working behind the counter, setting up for the grand opening - now just a week away - so he walked over to meet them.

They recognized him, for some reason, and thanked him for the opportunity to get in on the ground floor, and he talked with them for quite a while, listening to their hopes and dreams. Both were local Gold Star wives, women who'd lost husbands in combat, both supporting families in a small community where good-paying jobs were hard to come by. They wanted medical benefits most of all, but they hoped for a good retirement plan too, and maybe a way to save for college tuition for their kids. They seemed impressed that Callahan took out a notebook and wrote down things as they talked.

Because they'd heard Callahan was like this. For some reason, he cared, and to them that made him different from the other employers they'd worked for over the years. And because he cared, they cared too. They were determined to do the best job possible to help this new venture grow because they felt vested in the outcome now.

Callahan met Bullitt and McCall out on the ramp after the S-76 refueled; a few minutes later they flew west to Coffee Creek and touched down behind the fire station. Jeanie and her son were waiting beside the Red Cross tent with Mickey Rooney, and Callahan watched as Rooney walked them out to the helicopter.

"Mind if I come along?" Rooney said. "I've got three days off and..."

"As long as you don't mind going to Alameda," McCall said, mentally recalculating his weights and balances as Rooney climbed in and sat down.

"Mr. Callahan?" Jeanie said. "This is my son Don. Don, this is Mr. Callahan."

They shook hands and Callahan could tell that he'd need to break the ice. "Don, my name is Harry, and the fella sitting beside me over here? Well, his name is Don too, so I'll try not to get too screwed up with the name thing today." But Callahan could see that the boy was very nervous and probably tongue-tied - and that his mother a little in awe of the helicopter, too - which was, he had to admit, more than a little opulent. "I tell you what? Why don't you come sit up here, that way I can sit with your mother and tell her all kinds of lies. That okay with you?"

That did it. Ice. Broken.

And an hour later they touched down at Naval Air Station Alameda-Nimitz Field in the area set aside for civilian vendors, and Callahan led the little group to CATs display booth. DD had a team on hand to provide an overview of their helicopter services around the Bay Area, and two new pilots would provide an overview of the new air links up Northern California's I-5 corridor and along the coast.

"Harry?" DD said as he walked up to the booth, "I thought you were going to wear your flight suit today?"

"Not back from the cleaners," he shrugged.

"Well, we've got two meetings set up this afternoon. Mayors from Stockton and Sacramento want to talk about links to their municipal airports."

"Really?"

"Yeah, both mentioned tax breaks and other incentives. Stockton has done a marketing analysis, too."

"Interesting. You need me, or do you want to handle it?"

"Harry, you're the CEO...you have to be here. I mean it. You really have to be here," she said, noticing Jeanie for the first time and backing off a little. "Okay?"

"What time do you need me?"

"Two o'clock sharp."

Callahan looked at the show schedule and saw that the Blue Angels were set to start at 3:00 so he demurred. "Okay, two it is."

"Here's your vendor's badge. Pin it to your jacket, please?"

"Here, let me," Jeanie said - stepping close to Harry. Callahan seemed surprised by this unexpected move; DD smiled patiently as she handed the badge to this latest interlocutor. Then - after Harry introduced Jeanie's son, she watched them walk off together - and for a moment she imagined them as a happy couple with a grown-up son. Would he have been happier, she wondered.