by Scott Cook
She laughed, “Don’t worry! No hard feelings.”
Jean trotted off toward the hangar. I looked at Franklin, whose smile had gone from friendly to reserved.
“Guess I stuck my whole leg in it this time…” I muttered.
He shrugged, “You’ve got to do your job. Don’t concern yourself. That Jean is a good girl. Smart and as fine a pilot as I’ve ever known. Our best test pilot too. Come on.”
“Test pilot?” I asked as I climbed into the passenger seat of the Escalade.
“We’ve got a couple of dedicated test-bed aircraft,” Franklin said. “So how’s Ronnie, really?”
I sighed, “Shaken up. After last Sunday, a stint in the hospital and the attempt last night…”
“Another one?” Franklin asked. “Jesus…”
I briefly filled him in, “I’m here, Mr. Franklin… to investigate and find out which one of the Bradfords, if any or if all, is behind this. Veronica feels that Julius’ family wants her out, and they don’t mind getting her all the way out. If you know what I mean.”
Franklin blew out his breath, “I’m sorry to say I do. I’m not saying they’re trying to kill Ronnie… but it’s been made pretty clear since Julius’ death that they want the company solely under the command of the Bradfords.”
“And you,” I noted.
He chuckled, “And a few other officers… but the lead roles will be all theirs if they have their way.”
“But Jean says you pretty much run things. You and Veronica.”
He nodded, “True… I’m the financial branch, you might say. It’s been… stressful around here the past few months.”
“And yet you’re inviting the two kids to your house for dinner.”
“Good relations,” Franklin admitted. “They need me. I’m not family, but I keep the books straight, so to speak.”
“You write their paychecks, in other words,” I said with a grin. “The CFO as well?”
He nodded.
“That ought to keep you from a poor man’s burial,” I noted.
11
“This operation is very impressive, Mr. Franklin,” I said as we drove toward the upgrade hangar. The Navy C-130 was being pulled inside as we approached.
“Oh, it is,” Franklin replied. “And please call me Will… anyway, that Herc there is our only on-site job at the moment, but we often have three or four aircraft in the shop at a time. Luckily not now, though. That big bird is going to take up the better part of two bays.”
“Do you do all the upgrades here?” I asked. “Four bays seems limited in that case.”
“No, mostly the equipment is shipped to the customers, which is mainly military bases. However, in some cases, it’s more efficient to bring the aircraft here. That Herc, for instance, is receiving a big upgrade. New Nav. gear, a brand new electronic warfare package, the latest in radar and sat com, the works.”
“As I understand it, Will,” I queried casually. “This was a much smaller operation just a few years back.”
He nodded and grinned, “True. We weren’t a third as large just seven years ago. This contract with the government has skyrocketed our firm. And it’s only getting better. We’re being given more and more work for the six branches. We’ve already got plans for adding another runway, expanding the work bays there and more. We’re the largest employer in the state now, even over the University of Wyoming. If Veronica’s Boeing and Airbus contracts go through… hell, if either goes through… we’ll probably be adding another thousand or fifteen hundred people over the next two years.”
“And increasing your revenue quite a bit,” I said. ‘I’m sure the stockholders will be pleased.”
Franklin laughed, “They would be if we had any public ones, that is. We’re a privately owned firm, and Veronica and I have had quite a few discussions about that.”
“Oh?” I asked as we headed for the manufacturing center. “Who’s for and who’s against?”
Franklin cut his eyes toward me and smiled thinly, “I’m for. Ronnie isn’t exactly against an IPO, but her position has always been that if we can keep things private, we can maintain better control. Fewer people to answer to.”
I nodded, “Makes sense. Why throw open the company if you don’t have to?”
“Well Scott… mind if I call you Scott?”
“Not at all, Will.”
“Well Scott… I don’t mean to sound condescending here,” Franklin said as he steered the SUV toward a large, plain-looking building with no windows that I could see. The structure was three stories tall and probably a couple of hundred feet on a side. “But I do have a Master’s in business from Harvard. Corporate finance is my life, as you might expect. The problem is that as a company like ours grows, and grows quickly, we need larger and larger injections of capital in order to support that growth. Our revenue stream always lags behind our expenses, so in order to scale up, we’ve got to front a great deal of money. So far, we’ve managed to do it in-house, so to speak. However…”
“However,” I put in, “adding a large corporate customer such as the two largest commercial aircraft manufacturers in the world requires a bundle to upgrade in order to ready yourselves to handle the workload.”
He grinned, “Exactly.”
“I’m not just another pretty face, Will.”
He laughed then, “Good to know. Sorry if I’m lecturing, it’s an occupational hazard.”
“Not at all, please continue.”
“Well,” Franklin stated as he pulled the Escalade beneath a large portico, the only decoration on the big building, “my feeling is that if we put BA on the market, the initial influx of capital will be more than enough to prep us for the coming business and then some.”
“Not to mention making all of your current officers very rich,” I suggested.
He nodded, “We’re already quite well off… but yes, an IPO would certainly double or even triple our stakes.”
“I take it that Veronica doesn’t agree?” I asked.
He put the car in park, and we sat for a moment. Franklin seemed to collect himself before saying: “Her idea is that she’ll require the big two to help us fund our facility upgrades as part of the contract. That Boeing and Airbus will funnel eight figures into our coffers before we begin working on their planes.”
“Makes sense to me,” I suggested. “That way you can keep the company private. You’ll still benefit from the increased business.”
“Yes, a get rich slow scheme,” Franklin admitted. “Which I like… in my opinion, though, it has two flaws. First, we wouldn’t see any profit for several years. Have to pay off the expansion, after all.”
That also made sense to me, “And the second?”
“Well… it’s just that I’m not sure it’ll work. My fear, and the fear of the rest of the board, honestly, is that she’ll tick them off and we’ll lose the contracts. Then we have no expansion and no reason to go public. We stagnate.”
“Uh-huh,” I pondered thoughtfully.
Franklin shrugged and shut the engine down, “Well, it’s a point of contention, but we’re working through it. Now let me show you around a little…”
After entering the manufacturing center, Franklin and I were subjected to several layers of cleansing. A high-powered air shower, hand sanitizing, and we had to remove our shoes and dress in something like a hazmat suit without the helmet. The suits were one piece, including built-in footings that went over our clothing.
The building was comprised of three floors and a variety of areas. Clean rooms, coding centers and several high-tech assembly lines that were a mixture of human hands and robotics.
After that, Franklin showed me around the admin building, and we drove around the rest of the facility. He drove us over to the Bradford compound, although we didn’t go in. We then left the main facility and headed down a blacktop road that headed north called Bradford Way. We then turned toward the west and drove about a mile up into the foothills where several large homes sat
on multi-acre lots among a smattering of spruce and pine trees.
Franklin’s house was a large two-story with a gabled roof and a wrap-around porch on the first floor. A three-car detached garage sat off to one side and connected to the street by a double-wide red paver driveway. He pulled in behind a red Jaguar and we got out.
“Welcome to the Franklin ranch,” he said with a grin. “Five beds, four baths and sits on three acres. Modest by the Bradford standards, but we’ve got a small stable in back. Got a couple of horses for our girls.”
“Of course you do,” I said with a chuckle. “When in cowboy country, eh?”
He nodded, “Linda and I have two girls in high school, Bridgett and Tasha. Sixteen and seventeen. And probably more horse crazy than boy crazy, thank God.”
Franklin’s wife was an attractive and sturdily-built woman a few years younger. Although her body was somewhat thick, it was nicely shaped. She wore a warm smile and gave off the immediate impression of kindness and openness.
“Hey, babe,” Franklin said in a casual tone that belied his heretofore somewhat business-like demeanor. “Need any help setting up?”
Linda kissed him and extended a hand to me, “Not quite yet. Hi, I’m Linda Franklin.”
“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” I said. “Scott Jarvis. A very lovely home you have here.”
“Just wait till you see the view out back,” she said with a charming smile. “Why don’t you two boys grab a beer and sit on the porch a minute. I’ll join you when I check the roast. So are you new to the company, Mr. Jarvis?”
“No ma’am, not exactly,” I said. “And please call me Scott. I’ve just come up from Florida.”
“Oh!” she said, placing a hand to her generous bosom. “You’re the private eye, huh? Looking into that shocking business with Ronnie?”
“Yes ma’am.”
She chuckled, “Enough with the ma’am stuff. Just call me Linda.”
“Yes ma’am,” I grinned. “All this cowboy stuff kind of rubs off on you. And yes, Linda, I’m here poking my nose into things on her behalf.”
“Well, I hope you figure things out,” Linda said with a head shake. “Can’t imagine anybody wanting to hurt Ronnie… any suspects?”
I chuckled sardonically, “The Bradfords. At least she thinks so. And I went and tried to get Jean, my pilot, to give me some inside info.”
“Before he realized Jeanie was involved with Andy,” Franklin said with some amusement.“Well… I can’t imagine the kids trying anything so foolish,” Linda said. “Although there’s no love lost between Ronnie and Sarah Beth. Have you spoken to Marcus? He’s down in Florida at his ranch I think.”
“I have,” I said, accepting a Sam Adams Lawn Chair Lager. “Little taste of home, huh Will?”
He grinned, “Boston born and bred. Me and Linda both. Think you’ll like this. Hint of melon and berry. Let’s go out back and give the missus a chance to check her masterpiece.”
This was an entirely different side of Franklin that I hadn’t seen yet. Relaxed, homey and inviting. His wife as well.
We walked out onto the back porch, and I saw that Linda was right. The Snowy Mountains stretched out in the distance and were met by rolling hills that reached right to the back edge of the property and the rambling log fence that seemed to surround it. As we sat, I noticed a trio of riders off in the foothills. Although they were toy-sized by the perspective of distance, the visible cloud of dust behind them told me they were coming at a gallop or at least a fast trot.
“There’s Jean, Andy and Sarah Beth now,” Franklin said.
“This ought to be interesting…” I muttered and took a pull from the good, cold New England beer.
Within a few minutes, the three riders came down off the last rise and entered the rear of Franklin’s property through a large turnstile. They walked their mounts over to the small stable behind the house where an older man dressed in jeans, khaki shirt and broad-brimmed hat stepped out to take charge of the horses. The three riders then began to walk toward us.
Andrew Bradford reminded me somewhat of his uncle. Medium tall with a good build and rugged good looks. Beside him, Jean looked rather fetching in her now more casual jeans and western shirt. On his other side, Andrew’s sister strode along. She was nearly as tall as her brother, with long straight black hair tied into a ponytail. Her body was lithe and athletic-looking. Her face was pretty, and she wore little makeup, probably for the ride. Her lack of it gave her youthful face the look of a teenager.
“Howdy Will!” Andy called out, raising a hand in greeting when they were still fifty feet away.
“Evenin’ Andy, Sarah Beth, Jeanie!” Franklin called out, waving back.
The three mounted the steps up to the back porch. I was briefly reminded of my visit to Marcus Bradford’s cattle farm in LaBelle. Especially with the nephew bearing a close family resemblance. Franklin stood and introduced me to the two Bradford kids. We shook hands, but there was definitely a sense of reserve on Andrew’s part and something less than friendly in Sarah Beth’s blue eyes.
“Get comfortable,” Franklin said, heading into the house. “I’ll see how Linda’s doing and grab a round of beers.”
“So how did you enjoy your tour, Commander?” Jean asked, winking at me.
“Impressive,” I said, sitting back in my chair and draining the dregs in my bottle. “And from what I’ve heard, about to get even more so.”
“Unless you prove that one of us evil Bradfords tried to have Ronnie killed, right?” Sarah Beth asked frostily.
I met her iceberg eyes and smiled charmingly, “Even if I do. Doubt that’ll stop progress.”
The young woman huffed. Her brother held up a hand.
“Now, come on, Sarah, Mr. Jarvis here is just doing his job,” Andy said reasonably. “After all, somebody did try to harm Ronnie… twice, according to Jeanie. Only natural for somebody to look into things.”
“You sound like your uncle,” I said. “Natalie was put out by my visit, but Marcus seemed pretty cool about it.”
“Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean we all are,” Sarah Beth snapped. “I don’t appreciate some… snooper… coming around here and sticking his nose in what isn’t his business.”
“I guess I can understand that Miss Bradford,” I said evenly. “Maybe I’d feel the same in your shoes. But I’m not here to point fingers, only check things out. And with all due respect… that is my business.”
Jean met my eyes but said nothing.
“Yeah, but you wouldn’t be here unless that… unless Ronnie sent you,” Sarah Beth replied coldly. “So what’s the difference?”
I drew in a breath, “Well, Miss Bradford… she seems to have reasons to think that your family has taken a stand against her.”
“We want to keep the company in the family,” Andy cut in, still sounding reasonable. “It’s been that way since dad started it thirty years back.”
“That doesn’t mean we want to kill his latest wife,” Sarah Beth offered.
“I didn’t say you did,” I replied.
“But that’s what she thinks,” the young woman retorted. “She’s been nothing but a pain in the ass ever since dad met her. Worming her way into our family and our business and getting dad so wrapped around her finger that he let her do whatever she wanted, including becoming CEO.”
“And has made the firm a lot of money,” Jean pointed out.
“Whose side are you on, Jeanie?” Sarah Beth asked her potential sister-in-law hotly.
“The side of reason, Sarah,” Jean said. “And I think Scott here is a good guy to look at things dispassionately.”
“Just because my client might think there’s something wrong doesn’t mean there is,” I said. “But it still has to be looked into. There is a motive. I’m sorry this has come up and has upset you so… but with respect, Miss Bradford, a couple of attempted murders can be rather upsetting.”
“Well, it doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Sarah Beth said defiantl
y. “Or that I have to talk to you. You’re not a fucking cop and you can’t make me.”
“True,” I said. “And I wouldn’t try. But I want you to think about something.”
“And what’s that?” she asked snottily, only reinforcing the impression of a teenager.
“If the Bradfords aren’t behind the attempts to take Veronica out,” I said sternly. “Then that means that somebody else is. Somebody who may have designs on this company or on the rest of you. She’s simply the first target, perhaps. Just something to consider.”
That seemed to shut Sarah Beth down, although she only sat in her rocker, crossed her arms and glared at me. Andrew and Jean exchanged worried glances.
“Do you think that’s likely?” Andy finally asked.
I shrugged, “It’s only a possibility. But unless I can find some personal reason for somebody trying so hard to come at Veronica… then it must be considered.”
“Which theory do you favor?” Jean asked.
“I wouldn’t even call them theories now,” I said.
Franklin came back out with five beers clutched together in his hands. He passed them out and took a seat.
“What’s that mean?” Sarah Beth asked.
“Just hypothesis,” I said. “I don’t have any kind of real evidence… well, almost none.”
Franklin had instantly taken in the mood and eyed me with a raised eyebrow.
“What evidence?” Andy asked.
I drew in a breath and let it out slowly, “Veronica was seeing a man named Ted Whittaker. He’s your uncle’s lawyer, and Marcus is the one who introduced them.”
“So?” Sarah Beth asked sharply.
“So Ted was on the boat with Veronica,” I explained. “Yet the attackers, whoever they were, took him off and brought him to the hospital. Seems kind of odd, doesn’t it?”
Everyone fell silent for a moment before Sarah scoffed and said: “That doesn’t prove anything.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I said. “But it certainly doesn’t do much to relieve suspicion, either. There is a connection between your uncle and Veronica through Ted. And frankly, I am not very convinced about Whittaker’s yarn that he’s got temporary amnesia and doesn’t remember what happened. It’s a little fishy that these mystery attackers would knock them both out, set up the boat for a fire and yet take Ted off and deliver him to a hospital.”
