Test Pilot's Daughter: Revenge

by Ward, Steve

  Heather choked, flushed with embarrassment. Not only was she totally humiliated, she was irate with herself for being such a fool. That bastard! Her mind was stunned, but her heart was destroyed. Betrayed by the man who had made her feel so special, a man she defended over her best friend’s accusations, Heather sank into the depths of depression.

  “My friend will be very disappointed to hear that,” she said.

  The manager seemed to sense her reaction. He ogled her again staring at her low-cut blouse. “Now who did you say this friend of yours was? Maybe I could meet her. Bet I could get her a better ring than that.”

  “No, it doesn’t matter. Thank you anyway.”

  He put his hand softly on her wrist.

  “No problem, my dear. Would you like to come in the back, and I’ll show you how to tell a real diamond from a fake?”

  All traces of self esteem vanished. She felt just like a side of beef hanging on the inspection rack. “No, I gotta go.” She jerked her arm away and ran for the door.

  “Well, you just come back and see me any time,” the man cackled.

  Later that night, after drinking a whole bottle of wine, she still couldn’t sleep. She called Christina’s dorm room, but no one answered. She called Lazer’s apartment, and it rang and rang. Finally, someone picked up.

  “Huh?”

  “Is Christina there?”

  “Heather? That you? Oh, just a second, here she is.”

  “Christina?”

  “Hello?”

  “I’m sorry to call you this late,” Heather started crying. For the longest time she couldn’t say anything.

  “What’s the matter, Heather?”

  “Everything!” she cried. “I’m gonna need a shrink.”

  “Me too.”

  “You were right.” Heather tried her best to stop crying.

  “About what?”

  “About everything. I took the ring to a dealer. It’s a fake.”

  “God, Heather, I’m sooo sorry.”

  “You were right about Steve too. He was behind the whole thing. I went to see him, and he almost had a heart attack. Hadn’t seen the news.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He wasn’t exactly, what you would call, overcome with joy.”

  “You can set your mind at ease, Heather. There’s no doubt. I promise you, there’s no other possible explanation,” Christina said with authority.

  “I’m sorry for all the bad things I said, Christina. I should’ve never doubted you. Besides my parents, you’re the only person in this world who cares about me.”

  “Don’t worry. Anyway, you’re the only real friend I have left now. That is, besides Lazer, of course, and Billy. Heather, we have to look out for each other. All for one, and one for all, remember?”

  “That’s not all,” Heather choked.

  “What?”

  “He was spaced out on something. . .and there was someone in his bed.”

  “That asshole!”

  “It wasn’t even a student. It was. . .a. . .a little girl.”

  “My God! Heather, that animal doesn’t deserve to live another day! We’ve got to act quickly before he hurts someone else.”

  “But. . .”

  “But nothing. Without us, he’ll never see justice. I swore to avenge Jessica’s death, and I fully intend to do it.”

  “Isn’t there some way we could let the police take care of this?” Heather begged for an easy way out.

  “Yeah, the police. . .they’ve done a great job so far,” Christina said sarcastically. “By now he’s responsible for at least four deaths, and God knows how many children have been molested. He’s too smart for the police. We’re just damn lucky we weren’t all killed. Unfortunately, there’s not a shred of physical evidence. This case wouldn’t hold water in front of a jury.”

  “But, when they recover the bodies, can’t they prove that Hank was poisoned with a simple autopsy?”

  “They aren’t going to recover any bodies, Heather. That hurricane was a level five. You could wash those shallow graves away with a garden hose.”

  “Can you come up this weekend? Please?” Heather begged.

  “Yeah, I got a plan,” said Christina. “I’ll be there Friday night.”

  * * *

  During the days following their escape, the survivors made the national news three nights running. The major channels kept playing the footage of Christina’s perfect, dead stick landing at Miami International. Just as she had envisioned, every major network did a story on The Miracle Flight of Saratoga Two Eight Niner Niner Kilo. There was a great deal of speculation how a girl with only twelve hours flying time could pull it off, when young Kennedy couldn’t even land his own plane safely.

  She started getting calls in her dorm room at Georgia Tech from all over the country. Some were wackos, but some were legit. She received a wide range of offers including book and movie deals and product endorsements. The Piper Company wanted to use her in a series of ads promoting their new line of Saratogas. She was interviewed by the morning shows and by AOPA for a feature article in the popular magazine for pilots. The article was to be entitled, Hurricane Launch, The Ultimate Short Field Take Off.

  Christina enjoyed her celebrity and was torn whether or not to pursue any of the more interesting propositions. After a great deal of thought and talking it over with her dad, she remembered the words of her grandmother.

  You can achieve whatever you dream. All you have to do is set your mind and stay focused.

  Christina turned down every offer, but one call was just impossible to ignore.

  “Miss Christina Matthews?”

  “This is she.”

  “Hello, my name is Charles Winston Scott.”

  “So? Forgive me, if I sound a little short. I just had a call from someone who wanted to lick the bottom of my feet.”

  “Charles Winston Scott. You don’t recognize my name?”

  “Never heard of you. Though I have to admit, I’m always a little wary of people who use all three names. You’re either a politician or a crook,” she chided.

  “Neither one, thank you very much. I’m Charles Winston Scott, the Director of NASA.”

  “Sure, and I’m Christina Matthews, the Queen of Sheba.”

  “I tell you what. Hang up the phone, call directory service at 1-800-555-1212. Ask for NASA’s main 800 number. Give the operator extension 8324, that’s my direct line.” The caller hung up.

  Her heart started to pound. Naaah, can’t be. Why would NASA be calling me?

  She quickly dialed information and asked to be connected to NASA’s toll free number. After just one ring someone picked up and said, “Good morning, it’s a beautiful day in orbit. Welcome to NASA’s Johnson Space Center. How may I direct your call?”

  “Extension 8324 please.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Good morning, Director Scott’s office. Juanita Clark speaking, how may I help you?”

  “Hoy shit! Are you kidding me?”

  “What? Who is this?” Clark asked in a teasing tone.

  “Uhh, Christina Matthews. May I speak to Director Scott?”

  “Sure thing, Miss Matthews, we’ve been waiting on your call.”

  She almost fell out of her chair. Remembering how she had spoken to the man, her breath came in gasps. NASA? It was the thing of dreams.

  “Charles Winston Scott speaking.”

  “My God! I’m sooo sorry. I don’t know what to say. I’ve had a lot of surprise phone calls this week, but I never dreamed NASA. . .I mean. . .well you know.”

  “You’re totally forgiven, young lady.”

  “If you only knew. . .my life goal is to work for NASA. Why on earth would you want to talk to me?”

  “Yes, I heard of your ambitions when you were interviewed by Good Morning America. Your dreams may not be as far off as you think. You know we regret very much that your dad never made it. He’s a very fine man and one of the best flyers alive.”

>   “It’s a subject we avoid. So what does it have to do with me?”

  “I’ve been trying to come up with some clever new ways to improve NASA’s image. Congress is always nipping at our heels, trying to take our money away. We’re looking for a few outstanding college students at the leading technical universities who might be willing to dedicate their research to NASA missions.”

  “You’re making this up.”

  “No. No. We want to find a few aerospace majors for a very exclusive club, FAA, Future Astronauts of America.” NBC showed clips of your valedictorian speech, and I must say, I was inspired. We need to figure out how to spread your message and enthusiasm for space travel amongst the younger generation. Thought I’d give you a call to see if you might be interested in helping me organize such a program.”

  “Are you kidding? I’d give my left arm for an opportunity like that.”

  “Let’s not be sacrificing any body parts. I’d like very much to get your ideas how to promote space travel to younger folks, future tax payers as it were.”

  “Sure, I got a shit-load of ideas. I just can’t imagine why NASA would be willing to do such a thing.”

  “Pure survival, my dear. There’s a big push to get the space business out of the hands of Government. We intend to poll aerospace engineering majors at MIT, Georgia Tech and Stanford to see if we can identify four exceptional candidates. Could you come to JSC for a visit, at our expense, of course?”

  “Could I. Hell yes! Wait a minute, let me pinch myself. . .ouch! Okay, I’m not dreaming. What do I have to do to get one of those four slots?”

  “We’ll send you all the usual Government forms. Just get those filled out and returned to my attention as soon as possible. I expect there’ll be a lot of competition, and we’ll have to be completely fair in the selection process. In the meantime, I’d like you to come to JSC at your convenience and meet with my staff. After looking at your schedule, just call Juanita and let her know when you might be available. She’ll set up the meeting.”

  “I can’t believe it!” she squealed. She was beside herself. “Thank you so much for calling. I look forward to meeting you.”

  “And I you. Have a nice day.”

  Christina shook with excitement. It’s a sign, she thought, a dream come true. She was worried about her dad, that it might open old wounds. She quickly placed the call.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  On the drive to Athens, Christina was caught in heavy traffic. Her mind reeled over all the implications of dark plans. Because of the excitement of the NASA opportunity, she was beginning to have second thoughts. So easy to forget the whole thing, she thought. Why should I risk such a promising future for that slime bag? You know why, she argued with herself, Jessica. If she turned her back on her friend, their solemn pledge would be nothing but lies. As bright as her future appeared, the horrifying nightmares continued, and she needed some resolution. The blood on her arms in recent dreams was that of her dead friend. Unjustifiable travesties of two innocent people dying in her arms continued to chip away at the core of her soul.

  She finally decided to risk it all, everything. I’m all in, she thought. Kind a like flying through that thunderstorm, no viable alternative. It was time to take the gavel of justice in her hand and bring it down hard on Weston.

  * * *

  An edgy Steve Weston scanned the newspaper. Fearing Heather might report him to authorities, he hired Gilmore to pick up the Cuban girl and fly her back to Florida. In front of a jury, it would be a simple matter of putting Heather’s mental condition under question. Her word against his. He was beginning to feel more at ease, because nothing had happened for almost two weeks. After two glasses of wine, just as he began to relax, he heard the phone.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, Dr. Weston, this is Christina Matthews.”

  “Ahhh, the beautiful aviator,” he said cautiously. “That was some flying, and you said you were a beginner. I saw it all on the news. Miss Christina Matthews is quite famous these days.”

  “Dr. Weston, I’m very worried. I think Heather is losing it. She hasn’t been the same since we were attacked on that island. She seems to be showing signs of severe depression, and she’s been saying some really weird things. We need to get her some help.”

  He could hardly believe her cordial tone. Feeling better by the minute, he answered, “Please, call me Steve. Ah yes, I agree. The trauma of her experience has driven a wedge between us. I can’t get her to talk to me either.”

  “I was wondering if I might come up and have dinner. I’m sure you know some good therapists. I’m afraid I need some help myself. Just can’t sleep any more. I’ve been plagued with recurring nightmares ever since my mom died. So, I wondered if you would. . .”

  “Poor baby, I’m so sorry to hear that.”

  “I thought we might get together and talk about therapy.”

  “Wonderful idea. How about tomorrow night? I could meet you at the Double Eagle at say, 9:00 o’clock? I’ll make a reservation for two.”

  “Perfect, I’ll see you there.”

  The following evening Weston reserved a table at his second favorite restaurant. Not just any table, of course, a table in the darkest corner, a place where he could work his magic. He arrived early and had a double Jack Daniels on the rocks. He sat where he could watch the door.

  When Christina entered, she took his breath away. She had on a low-cut frock that clung to her sleek body. He almost choked on his drink. The dress was very short and revealed most of her long legs. She had on spike heels with no stockings. He moaned as he focused on her silky smooth, bare skin. She sat down beside him, crossed her legs and ordered a double martini.

  “Welcome to the Double Eagle. You’ll love the cuisine. Very good food.”

  She didn’t waste any time. “I just can’t understand it. Why would Heather walk away from marrying a guy as good looking as you,” she cooed.

  “Uh,” he didn’t know what to say.

  She turned to him and stared in his eyes. “She refuses to talk about you. I told her I was going to meet you, and she didn’t react one way or another.”

  Weston could hardly believe his luck. “She’s very disturbed, I’m afraid. I’m going to recommend she be treated by a colleague of mine, Dr. Ted Hampton. He’s the Chairman of our department and an old golfing buddy. Very discrete.”

  “Great! She’s always shied away from therapy, but I’ll talk to her about it. How about me?”

  “Do you really think you need therapy, Christina?” he said with a chuckle.

  “People really don’t understand the mental torment I’ve been through,” she said. “I’m not sleeping well, and when I do sleep, pretty bad dreams. I just want all this to go away, so I can get back to my old life.”

  “I was thinking of treating you myself,” he suggested. The thought of her beautiful body stretched out on his couch made his blood boil. “Of course, I wouldn’t charge you anything. It’d be good for my practice, a client as famous as you. Seems the least I could do for saving Heather’s life. Even if she never speaks to me again, I still have very deep feelings.”

  Christina put her hand under the table and casually rested it on his thigh. “I feel for her too, Steve. But life is short, and sometimes you have to pick up and move on.”

  His heart pounded. Over his long career as a college professor, he had seen many young girls succumb to his powers of seduction, but he could hardly believe how quickly this spirited young lass was responding.

  “Well, why don’t we start by getting a little personal,” Weston said in a whisper. “Heather told me you are sometimes kidded about being a lesbian. True?”

  “Ha!” Christina guffawed. “It’s true they used to call me LJ in high school, for ‘lesbo-jock.’ The truth is, I’m bisexual, and a little kinky at that.”

  “My, oh my.” Weston said in a shocked voice. “How wicked! So you are a lesbian?”

  “No, actually I prefer men.”

&n
bsp; “But you’ve been with women? Or should I ask, which women?”

  “I’d rather not say. But I can say being stranded on that island wasn’t all bad,” she gave him a big wink.

  The vision of Christina locked in passion with Heather under a palm tree was more than he could bear. His mind raced how he might maneuver those young ladies into a threesome. He reached over and put his hand on her leg.