by Andrew Watts
Charles looked around the room, beaming. “I can’t tell you all how proud I am of the men and women on the Fend 100 project team. They have each put a great deal of hard work into this. Decades of research and development have led to this moment. It is truly the dawn of a new era in aviation.”
The TV host said, “Mr. Fend, what do you say to those that are worried about flying on pilotless aircraft?”
Charles nodded and smiled. “You know, there was a day not too long ago in our history when people rode on elevators, and they couldn’t imagine the possibility of not having a bellboy there to expertly control it for them.”
The crowd around him gave a muffled laugh.
“Today,” Charles continued, “we think nothing of walking into an elevator and pressing that little button. That button sends you traveling through the air, thanks to a bunch of computers and electronics. There was a time when pilots used to control aircraft mechanically, through yokes attached to cables. You needed muscle power to move the elevators and ailerons. To manipulate the surface of the wing, which would move the aircraft into a turn. Aviators needed a wealth of knowledge to navigate and solve problems while flying. But those days are long past. We have computers in our phones that are exponentially more powerful than anything we had in the early days of aviation.”
The TV show host said, “So you’re saying that computers can do it all now?”
“Let me ask you a question. Have you gone on an airplane in the past few months?”
The TV host smiled. “Yes, Mr. Fend.”
“How long was your flight? Probably a few hours, right? And do you know that the pilots on your commercial airliner were probably only touching the flight controls for about two minutes out of the entire flight? Aircraft can already do everything by themselves. On a foggy day, they even land themselves. Why? Because computers make fewer mistakes than people. In truth, mankind has been ready to take this step for quite some time. And, despite what the newspapers say about me, I’m a human being…not a computer.”
The crowd around him laughed again. Louder this time. That was good. Keep them happy. People needed to believe in this.
“I… believe it or not, I understand the unease that some might feel at the thought of a pilotless aircraft flying them around the world. But science and statistics prove it…computers are safer. The majority of advancements in aviation over the past few decades have been incremental introductions of automated flight. Airspeed control. Altitude hold. Different computerized functions that most of you laymen would simply lump into the term ‘autopilot.’ But each one of these improvements was another step towards allowing a computer to more fully control the airplane. It is worth mentioning that these improvements have saved countless lives. Now, with artificial intelligence, we have machines that can learn, just like a pilot. And that is really the groundbreaking technology that we’re going to provide. We want to make flying even safer and more efficient than it is today.”
The TV host said, “Will you still have pilots as a backup? In case anything goes wrong?”
Charles Fend looked over at Maria and then back at the camera. She had told him to be ready for that question.
“We have built in that capability. And we will continue to work with the FAA and other regulatory agencies on best practices as we look to integrate this into the commercial aviation industry. Fend Aerospace has meshed the latest in AI capability with autopilot software. This creates a proprietary feature that enables safe and effective pilotless commercial flight. It’s really quite extraordinary—and it will make flying both safer and cheaper.”
“Mr. Fend, I think we can all agree that those are both two improvements to look forward to.” The host thanked him and transitioned to the next segment.
Cheers and claps from the crowd around him.
Brunch was at Sequoia, a restaurant on the shores of the Potomac. White tablecloths and a glitzy atmosphere.
“Are you excited?” Max said.
“Thrilled,” his father answered, although he didn’t sound it. Max and Charles Fend sat across from each other at an outside table. “This automated flight program has been more than ten years in the making. It will be nice to see it through before my retirement.” He took a drink. “So your classes start in a few weeks?”
“Orientation. It’s just a weekend. The classes start in August. I think I’ll be the old man of my cohort.”
His father shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re going to Georgetown. It hurts my heart. You know you don’t need it for a resume. I’ll give you the job anyway. That’s a privilege of owning your own company.”
Max smiled. His father had gone to Boston College, a rival Jesuit institution, for his undergrad degree back in the day.
Max had decided to get his MBA at Georgetown prior to starting his new career. His twelve years of prior work experience would qualify him for an elite subset of jobs, but those jobs were unrelated to managing an aerospace company.
“Well, we’ll have to start betting on the sports games,” his father said.
“Deal.”
Max forked another bite of his “Chesapeake eggs Benedict”—a delicious hollandaise sauce dribbled over lump crab meat, a poached egg, and an English muffin. His father sipped on his bloody mary, looking up at the dreary gray sky.
“So you’re sure about the retirement, then?” Max asked as he chewed.
“Mr. Fend, good morning!”
A woman strolled along the walkway near the restaurant’s outdoor seating area.
“Maria. You can’t get away from me, it seems. How are you, my dear? Care to join us?”
“Oh no, I couldn’t.”
Max realized Maria must have been in the group of executives that had flown on the corporate jet up from Jacksonville the day before. They were doing a full court press publicity tour in the run-up to the Fend 100 flight. Max’s father had been on TV more often in the last few weeks than in the past decade. And for a man as in the spotlight as he was, that was saying a lot.
“Are you sure? We don’t mind,” said Max’s father.
Maria came up to their table, sliding awkwardly through a large set of potted frond leaves.
“No, thank you, though. I was just doing a little shopping before we head back.” She smiled at Max. “Max, I’m surprised your father didn’t send you on the Today Show in his place yesterday. Now that you’ll be joining the company and all.”
Max gave a humble grin. “I hope he has more common sense than that. After spending the past few weeks with you all in Jacksonville, I’ve realized just how much I still have to learn.”
Maria pushed a lock of her red hair back over her shoulder. “Max, you will do just fine.” She smiled widely and looked back at Max’s father. “Every time he comes down to Jacksonville, he’s always asking such good questions.”
“Well, I’ve always been interested in flying. Just need to learn more about the business, I suppose.”
“Oh yes. I recently heard that you’re a pilot. Is that right, Max?”
“Just for fun. I have my private pilot’s license.”
“What aircraft do you fly?”
“I’ve flown a few of them, but I’m partial to the Cirrus aircraft. I keep telling my father that Fend Aerospace needs to get into the general aviation market.”
Charles laughed. “Maria, this is the part that worries me. If I give him too much of a leash, he’ll turn the company into his own hobby center.”
Maria smiled politely. “That’s the sign of a good executive, Charles. Someone who’s already interested in the work.”
“Excellent,” Charles said. “Well, you don’t need to waste time on us. Anything more on that thing we were discussing yesterday?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“Very well. I’ll see you later today.”
“Max, it was a pleasure as always. Charles, I’ll see you on the plane.”
Maria departed and walked away, along the brick walkway next to the Pot
omac River.
When she was out of earshot, Charles said, “A lovely woman. She has exceeded my expectations. You’ll do well to shadow her when you join us full-time.”
Maria had been hired by Charles Fend personally a few years ago, out of London. Max had gotten to know her relatively well, as she was one of the few people he interacted with when he would visit his father. She was one of Charles Fend’s most trusted advisors.
Max lowered his voice. “So you were saying you think you’re ready to scale back a bit?”
His father looked at him and nodded. “Yes. It’s time. I’ll still keep involved. I’m staying on as chairman of the board. I can step in if I see anything out of sorts. But all the day-to-day decision-making will be handled by a new CEO.”
“And who will that be?”
Charles shook his head. “That’s months away. I need to get us through this Fend 100 project first. Once we get that finished, my real work will be complete. The Fend 100 program will set Fend Aerospace up for the next few decades.”
Max raised an eyebrow. “I don’t mean to be selfish, but your retirement does make me curious about how I might be affected.”
His father smiled. “That doesn’t make you selfish, just human. Nothing will change for you. I’ll see to that. You’ll be employed with the company, as long as that’s what you still want. You can finish your master’s program here at Georgetown and then start working full-time after that.”
Max sat back in his chair, mulling it over. His whole life, he’d been running from his wealth. His father had a controlling interest in one of the largest aerospace companies in the world. Everyone had heard of Fend Aerospace. When Max was growing up, most people that he met assumed that he was some spoiled rich prep school kid. And he had gone to all the best schools. They’d never been short of money. His father had taken him around the world on fabulous vacations.
But he’d always had a chip on his shoulder. Max wanted to forge his own path. He hadn’t gone on to work on Wall Street or as an investment banker, like many of his classmates at Princeton. Instead, he had chosen to take a job that allowed him to see the world, live an exciting life, and do something fulfilling.
It just wasn’t the type of occupation that he could talk to people about. In that field, talking about your work was the quickest way to ending up dead in a ditch.
But he was no longer in that line of work, he had to keep reminding himself. Whether he wanted to or not, now it was time for him to move on and try something new. Time to learn his family trade—and in doing so, accept an opportunity that few received.
The family business was worth close to twenty billion dollars. Fend was one of the largest airplane manufacturers on the planet. For years, Max and his father had an ongoing joke about how Max would one day take over as CEO. At least, it had been a joke. Until that walk on the French Riviera, when Max had asked his father if he might be able to come to work for Fend Aerospace.
Max said, “I don’t feel like I’ve earned it.”
His father took a bite of his bagel, a smear of cream cheese and smoked salmon on top.
“You haven’t earned it. But I have. That’s capitalism, son. To the victor go the spoils. One of mine is being able to name whomever the hell I want as my successor. And another is being able to place my son in management, if I so desire.”
“I don’t like getting handouts.”
“It isn’t one. You’ll work your tail off, won’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I know how smart you are.” He hesitated. “Your mother would have been proud of the man you’ve become, Max. I mean that.”
Max flushed. “Thank you.” He had trouble looking his father in the eye after that one. Compliments were sometimes hard for him. He changed the subject. “So what’s next for the Fend 100?”
His father’s face lit up. Max knew that he could talk all day about his work. “The FAA is going to evaluate the first passenger flight the week after next.”
“And they don’t mind that you’re going to have a big show about it?”
“The FAA has all but granted us the contract as the sole supplier of autonomous flight technology for the NextGen program. They want us to succeed, and to generate enthusiasm among the public.”
“And you don’t have any reservations about it? Safety-wise, I mean.”
“No, of course not. We’ve tested everything a million times. This is a dog-and-pony show. For the investors, for the trade, and for Washington. The FAA and those who are making the decisions with NextGen want to see consumer confidence in the product before they grant us final approval for the contract.”
“So you’ll have this first passenger flight…”
Charles said, “Yes.”
“And that will get you the contract?”
His voice lowered. “Essentially, yes. That’s what I’m being told. After that, the FAA will approve Fend Aerospace as the contractor for all US autonomous commercial flight software and networking. And then…I’ll be looking at taking more vacations.”
Max didn’t respond. He was distracted by a young couple sitting at an umbrella table on the far end of the restaurant patio. They weren’t talking. They both had sunglasses on. And Max was almost positive that they were conducting surveillance on him.
Why would anyone be surveilling him now? He hadn’t been in Europe for a few months. And who were they?
Max tried to keep up his conversation with his father without appearing distracted. “Any thoughts on where you’d travel to first?”
“I liked Japan very much the last time I was there. There are some great spots in the mountains. Peaceful spas. Great food. Friendly, respectful people. I very much like the Japanese culture.”
“That certainly sounds nice.”
He spotted two more inside the restaurant. Max guessed that they were probably US federal law enforcement. They each wore a very small, almost imperceptible earpiece. And they looked nervous, like they were trying too hard to play it cool. Definitely not interested in what they were ordering, or in talking to each other.
For a moment, he thought that they might be there for someone else. Perhaps even his father, the way the man was obviously glancing in their direction.
No. They appeared to be watching him.
They never looked at him directly. Their glances were always at someone or something near him. Just like they were trained, Max knew. Just like he had been trained.
Max’s mind kicked into high gear. He began thinking about an exit strategy. Vehicles. Doors. Weapons. No—weapons were out of the question. Better to just roll with it and trust that his father’s lawyer would be able to handle whatever misunderstanding there might be.
But what if he was wrong? What if they weren’t US law enforcement? What if they were some less talented foreign intelligence service? (The talented ones wouldn’t be so obvious.) What if they were contractors? Lawyers might not matter to those types.
Max spotted a dark SUV with tinted windows in the street. The door opened only for a second, but it was enough for him to see a dark blue jacket—just like the raid jackets that federal agents wore.
He wracked his brain to think of what this might be about. His father was still speaking. He had moved the conversation on to Max’s new corporate training plan.
“Come to think of it, I may have Maria schedule some time to go over the company’s priorities for the next fiscal year. It would be good for you to get a head start of sorts. To learn about the company’s big bets and priorities while you’re still in school. You’ll have a steep enough learning curve as it is.”
Max tried to remain in the conversation. “Alright. Anything else I should do to prepare?”
His father took another bite of his bagel and washed it down with ice water. “Yes, actually. I think it’s about damned time you learned how to fly.”
“I know how to fly, Dad.”
“I’m talking about one of these bigger aircraft. You can’t very well be expecte
d to lead a company that makes jet airliners and not have any idea how to pilot them.”
“You mean get my multiengine or jet rating? Sure. I can do that. Maybe I can schedule some lessons up at BWI? There’s got to be a multiengine instructor there.”
“Max, we have our own school. It’s top-notch. We can train you. You’ll just need to find the time.”
Another SUV pulled up and parked just in back of the first. What were they doing, bringing in the whole agency? He was one man, and unarmed. He wasn’t going to fight them. Not to mention that he hadn’t done anything wrong.
The couple at the far table both cocked their heads at the same time and looked at each other. Someone had just given them a command via their earpieces.
The man rose from his seat. Then the woman.
They began walking toward Max, hands down near their waists. The two at the table inside were headed his way as well now, walking through the restaurant exit and out onto the patio.
“Dad.”
“Yes?”
“I think I may need you to call your lawyer.”
3
The agents were actually quite polite. They asked Max if he would voluntarily accompany them. He wasn’t under arrest; they just had some questions. Max was amenable. His father was not.
“This is ridiculous, disturbing us here like this,” his father said.
“We’re sorry, Mr. Fend, but this is an urgent matter that we need to resolve.”
Max tried to calm his father down, but that proved to be a tall order. After arguing with the agents and threatening to sue, Charles was on the phone with his lawyer. Max wasn’t sure what his father would sue for, since he was voluntarily following his FBI escorts. But he knew that his father was just embarrassed and maybe a bit scared. He was always overly protective of Max.
