by Elaine Meece
MX7 had been implemented in the construction of several parts beside the fuel systems. Every airline in the country had replaced their aluminum alloy fuel systems with ones constructed from the lightweight metal. The effect had been billions added to Zurtel’s empire. Currently, the outer casing of engines and the inner turbo fans constructed from the miracle commune were being tested.
Brice couldn’t believe he’d be the one running the show once Cynthia handed over the reins. She wanted more time to spend with her family, but it was evident how much she loved this company.
He had run several other large companies with great success, but Zurtel outranked them all in size and monetary worth.
After seeing what they were doing with MX7, Brice grinned. “It’s the invention of the century.”
“Thank you, but we are working on something that will take air travel to the next level.”
Brice couldn’t think what could be better than MX7. “I don’t have a clue how you can change the business more than you have already.”
“Artificial intelligence. Autonomy is the future.”
“Autopilot has been around a long time. Every jet has it,” he said with a grin.
Cynthia laughed softly. “True, but this is something bigger. Autopilot is programmed. It doesn’t think or make decisions for itself.”
“You’re scaring me,” Brice said. “Boeing has been trying to produce pilotless planes for years.”
“Boeing focuses on internal computers. It’s more like a hyped-up autopilot. Wait until you see what we’ve done.” She placed her hand on a pad, and the door slid open to a magnificent robotics lab.
The pure air that circulated seemed so fresh it hurt to breathe it. Technicians worked on robots at different stages of development in the large sterile room with silver metal counters. The techs wore white lab coats. But it was the glossy, white robots with humanlike heads, that knocked the breath out of him. They had large eyes and a slightly opened mouth that didn’t move.
“I feel like I’m in a sci-fi movie.”
“It’s creepy at first, but you’ll get used to seeing them.”
Brice didn’t think he could ever grow accustomed to the humanlike robots. They didn’t have hair, and their faces didn’t have any facial muscles to show emotion.
These robots would be great poker players.
Cynthia stopped at a work station where an activated robot sat. “They’re constructed from MX7, so they add very little weight to an aircraft. Then there is a thin white polymer coat added. That’s why it looks like a stormtrooper.”
The robot turned toward them, and its enormous eyes studied them. The eye balls rolled up, down, and from side to side.
“It has twice the peripheral vision of a human,” Cynthia said. “The military first developed this vision technology.”
A chill ran down his spine. “So, just what are they supposed to do?”
“Replace the copilots.”
He wanted to ask if she and her engineers were crazy, but he really needed this job. He was paying alimony and child support. Shea had never worked outside the home. Though she was the one who initiated the divorce, the judge didn’t have a problem putting the screws to him and allotting her a substantial chunk of his money.
“Can they make critical decisions?” he asked.
“Yes, just like the self-driving cars. Unlike Boeing, ours can land, take off, and even taxi onto the runway.”
“Except, they sit beside the pilot. What will happen to the human copilots?”
Guilt shined in Cynthia’s eyes. “We wouldn’t need them.”
“Are the copilots who work for you aware of this?”
“Not really.”
“I doubt they’ll be too happy about it. Why stop there? Why not use robots to pilot all your planes and bring sodas and snacks to the passengers?”
“I can see it upsets you, but it’s the way of the future. Novik and every other aerospace company have jumped on this cutting-edge technology. I want Zurtel to be the first. Give it some thought.”
He nodded. “I guess seeing the robots has left me unnerved. I keep thinking of the movie where they take over.”
“They have no emotions.”
“Exactly,” he said. “I don’t want a machine that doesn’t care if I live or die flying my plane. I want a real person who has as much to lose as I do.”
Brice needed to shut up. Perhaps by trying to keep up with Novik, Cynthia Conners had lost sight of what was important. Then he sighed, realizing he wasn’t being fair. In her field, she had to keep up with the latest trends affecting the business.
That night, they had dinner at Capital Grille. He’d ordered a steak and potato. It surprised him Cynthia and Tristen had invited the attendant and copilot. Though it could be Cynthia’s attempt to pull Annie and Evan together.
Annie ordered a steak salad and tea. She ate like a nervous little rabbit. Earlier, she had offered to have his pants cleaned, but he declined.
The waiter came up and refilled everyone’s coffee. Brice glanced across at Annie and winked. “Now that’s how it’s done.”
She blushed. “Not the same as pouring coffee when you’re thirty to forty thousand feet up.”
Cynthia laughed. “She has never spilled a drop before. I think you make her nervous.”
Annie blinked her eyes rapidly. “That’s not true.”
Brice wanted to change the subject to spare the ditzy flight attendant any embarrassment. “It’s nice knowing I’m leaving my car in a secure lot.”
“We’ve never had an issue,” Cynthia said.
Brice grinned. “Who drives that lime green box with the bumper stickers on it?”
“It’s mine,” Annie said. Her tone defensive. “It gets great gas mileage.”
“I’m sure it does. Last car I saw like it was being driven by clowns in a circus.”
Annie snarled, and something about it thrilled Brice.
“It beats the gas guzzler you drive.”
“The green square on wheels definitely has me beat on being eco-friendly.” He grinned. “You probably don’t sit more than a foot off the ground.”
“If you’re through insulting my car, I’ll finish my dinner.”
“Is that what you thought I was doing? It’s cute. It fits you.”
“Now what is that supposed to mean?” she asked.
He laughed. “Annie, it’s going to be fun working with you.”
Cynthia and Tristen laughed.
“She loves her little car, so tread lightly,” Cynthia said. “She might brew another pot of coffee for you.”
“I’ll stick with ice tea,” Brice said.
They all laughed, including Annie.
Evan reached for a breadstick before glancing at Brice. “Tell us about your wife and kids. Are they excited about the new job?”
“I’m divorced.” For some reason, Brice’s gaze connected to Annie’s. “But I think it’s just a matter of time before we remarry. We married young, and Shea feels she needs to experience life on her own.”
“Why do men try to pin a divorce on their wives?” Annie said. Immediately, she blushed.
“Annie,” Cynthia said. “That wasn’t called for.”
“I’m sorry. I had no right to say that. It just popped out.”
Brice shook his head. “No, she was just saying what she thought. So, how many husbands have walked out on you?”
The pink color in Annie’s cheeks deepened. “I’ve never been married.”
“So, your opinion on divorced men comes from where?”
She lowered her head and mumbled, “I dated one.”
Brice laughed. “You’re judging all men based on one guy. Isn’t that unfair?”
Annie let out a loud breath. “I shouldn’t have said anything, but you were looking right at me when you said it. So, I spit out the first thing that came to me.”
Brice realized Annie was right. So, why had he directed his attention to her instead of the ot
hers?
You wanted her to know you’re not available.
Guilty as charged. Cynthia had already told him Annie wasn’t married. So, far she and Evan hadn’t behaved like a couple. When she’d first looked at Brice, she’d had that star-struck look.
He turned his attention to Evan. “How long have you been flying?”
“Six years,” Evan replied, then returned to eating.
Later at the Sheraton on Deerwood Park, Brice walked down to the hotel’s small store to pick up some antacids. Annie sat in a chair, talking on the phone. The heated conversation came across as an argument. Maybe, it was a boyfriend. Could it be the copilot?
Brice didn’t interrupt her.
Back in his hotel room, he called Shea to ask if the boys could go to Utah.
Gabriel answered the phone. “Hello.”
“It’s Dad. How you doing, hot shot?”
“Shawn slammed the car door on my hand. It hurts.”
“Anything broken?”
“No, just buised.”
Brice smiled at the ‘R’ being left out of the word. “It’ll be better in few days. Tell Shawn to be more careful.”
“When you coming home, Daddy?”
Brice’s throat constricted in pain. “Maybe later.”
“Do you still love me,” Gabe asked.
“Of course, I do.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “Take the phone to your mom.”
“She’s with a man.”
Brice’s temper soared for a moment before remembering she was remodeling the house. “Is he a repairman?”
“No, it’s Uncle Hayden.”
Brice didn’t recall an Uncle Hayden in the family. “Tell her Daddy is on the phone.”
Gabe ran through the house, stopped, and banged on the door. “Mommy, it’s Daddy.”
“I told you not to bother me,” she said to Gabe.
“Daddy’s on the phone.”
“Give it here. Go watch the movie I put on.” A moment of silence passed. “Why are you calling?”
He explained about the Utah trip. “I’d have them through the Fourth and over the weekend.”
“I don’t have a problem with it. You could have asked about this when you pick them up tomorrow.”
“I need to let my boss know, so she can make arrangements.” He paused, knowing he’d used it for an excuse to call her. “Gabriel said you have someone there.”
“Yes, a friend stopped by.”
His stomach dropped. “You don’t have him in our bedroom with the boys there, do you?”
“That’s none of your business.”
He drew in a long deep breath to keep his cool. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Once disconnected, Brice exhaled a frustrated breath. He missed his kids and home. As far as his new job, he wasn’t sure it was the right fit for him. The last thing he wanted to do was place robots in the sky flying duel engine jets.
His thought returned to the flight attendant. The tone of her voice as she argued with the person on the other end of the call reflected a great deal of anger.
He recalled his first time seeing her. She’d first come across as plain until he really studied her.
What would she look like with her hair down and her glasses off?
He pushed the frivolous thought away.
♦♦♦
Annie sat on her bed in the lovely hotel room and debated whether she should send Megan another letter. The fact she didn’t receive a return letter didn’t necessarily mean their correspondence had been compromised. She decided to reach out to her older sister.
Megan,
I’m worried. I haven’t heard from you. Are you safe? I hope I haven’t done anything that would put you in danger. We are returning to Utah. I’ll book a flight to Phoenix and rent a car. I doubt you’ll receive this before I arrive. But in case you do, I’m going to the market and praying you’ll be there.
She wrote about the new CEO.
I can’t believe I spilled coffee all over him. If I keep doing stupid things around him, the man will hate me. But he’s divorced with kids. Wouldn’t you know it. I’m not paddling that boat again. Besides, he’s too handsome for me.
As far as Evan, I’m trying to get over him.
Hopefully, I’ll see you next week.
Love, Annie.
She scribbled Mrs. Craven’s address down. She was one of the few outsiders allowed in the commune. She accompanied her husband on his trips there to deliver gas tanks.
Annie confronted her greatest fear. There was a chance her sister wouldn’t be with the women when they came to town. If that were the case, would she attempt going to the commune? How far would she go to save Megan?
Chapter Two
On the return trip to Zurtel’s home base in Atlanta, Brice stared out the window at blue skies and enormous cumulus clouds. His brain suffered from knowledge overload. Cynthia Conners had covered so much information his brain had fogged over. He hoped he could remember all the key facts. The only thing that kept coming to the forefront were the robots. They still troubled him.
His thoughts drifted to Shea. Never once during their divorce had she mentioned another man. When had she met him?
After Tristen announced they would land in ten minutes and to fasten their seatbelts, Brice glanced toward the front of the jet.
Annie pulled down her little seat and buckled herself in. She had already asked twice to have his pants cleaned.
They landed smoothly. Eventually, Brice hoped to pilot a few of the flights.
He moved toward the exit with his carryon. Annie stepped in front of him. “You will not leave until you hand over your pants.”
“That’d leave me in just my briefs,” he said, jokingly.
Cynthia laughed. “Spare us.”
Annie frowned. “Not those pants. The ones I spilled coffee on. Give them to me.”
He opened his bag and pulled them out. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I know, but I want to.”
He handed them over. Maybe it’d make her feel better to do this after dousing hot coffee on him. “I’d like to have them back by next Wednesday.”
“Not a problem,” Annie said.
After Cynthia and Tristen headed for the limo, he walked to his Cadillac Escalade. Inside, he fastened the seatbelt and adjusted the mirror.
Annie left the jet carrying several tote bags. As she passed Evan, he said something. She stopped and spoke with the copilot.
Were they making plans to meet later?
If they were an item, they did an excellent job of concealing their relationship while on the job.
Brice started up his car and drove from the private airstrip. He returned to Zurtel to attend a board meeting.
In the board room, Cynthia joined him. As people entered, she greeted them with a smile. “I’ll introduce you to everyone when we start.”
He nodded and took a seat at the large conference table.
When a tall, gorgeous redhaired woman walked in, Cynthia bristled up like a hissing cat and frowned. “This could be trouble.” She stood and walked over to the woman. “Kayla, why are you here?”
“I own a great deal of Zurtel stock. I have a right to attend this meeting.” Kayla’s dress appeared professional as well as sexy, accentuating her hourglass figure. “Being a grieving widow, this makes me feel closer to Randall.”
“How much?” Cynthia asked.
“I’m not interested in selling. You can’t buy me like you do others.”
“Beg your pardon. I’ve never bought anyone off. That was Randall’s method.”
The woman glared at Cynthia, then took a seat facing Brice.
Cynthia Conners stood at the head of the long table. “I’d like to welcome everyone. First, I’d like to introduce, Brice Jordan, our new CEO. I was fortunate enough to find someone based right here in Atlanta.”
Brice flinched when something rubbed against his calve. He glanced over at Kayla, who offered him a seductive smi
le. He moved his legs out of her reach and concentrated on Cynthia.
Cynthia gazed out over the twenty board members. “He’ll be in training for the next few weeks. “He is a Harvard graduate, holding several degrees in business, marketing, and is also a highly certified pilot.” She read off other companies he’d been CEO of and their successes. “Let’s make Brice feel welcomed.”
When she clapped, the others did as well.
Brice stood. “Thank you.” He gave a brief speech on being dedicated to the company. “In the past, my success has stemmed from putting the company first. I am honored to be a part of Zurtel.” He continued with the speech he’d rehearsed, and once it was done, he sighed with relief. “It will be a challenge filling her shoes. Just don’t expect me to wear heels.”
The board members laughed and applauded.
He tried not to make eye contact with Kayla Miller. “Mrs. Conners has done an excellent job of running Zurtel. I hope I do as well.”
“She can’t claim all the credit,” Kayla said. “My deceased husband, Randall Miller, is the reason this company is so great.”
Cynthia stood. “I beg to disagree. Your husband stole our top secrets and sold them. He tried to merge us with Novik. That pitiful company of yours will never endeavor to what Zurtel has become.”
Kayla chuckled. “That’s what you keep saying, but we’ve already advanced our robots to the simulators. We’ll have them in the air before Zurtel. “Don’t look so surprised. It’s not difficult to find out what’s going on in your labs.”
Brice had heard about the fatal shooting of Cynthia’s step-brother and Zurtel’s co-CEO, Randall Miller. It had been ruled as self-defense. Now his bride planned to go for Zurtel’s jugular and bring the company down to get revenge on Cynthia.
But after the intimate touch under the table, Brice concluded that Kayla wasn’t a grieving widow.
Her remark about the lab made him wonder who was on her payroll. It’d be one of the first things he looked in to. He’d discuss it with Cynthia later and get her input.
Kayla Miller stood and strutted toward the door like a high-class hooker. She stopped and turned back, directing her gaze on him. “You’ve been hired by the wrong company. Work for me. I’ll offer you ten percent more than she’s paying you.”
