LACKING VIRTUES (66 page)

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Authors: Thomas Kirkwood

BOOK: LACKING VIRTUES
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“Claussen’s money,” Steven said. “I couldn’t let it go.”

 

“Jesus,” Warner said, disgusted. “Are you still looking for the lost treasure? Why don’t you concentrate on your next book? The first one was terrific.”

 

“I’m not looking for the lost treasure,” Steven said. “I’ve found it. And it’s not a mere two hundred fifty million, either. It’s three billion. The bastard must have been doing jobs on the side for a long time.”

 

“Slow down,” Warner said. “Just slow down. How did
you
find the money?”

 

“Well, actually, it was Uncle Emmanuel, working with some strange lists of numbers in there with the KGB documents. I don’t know how he did it, but he tracked down over a hundred of Claussen’s numbered accounts. We can remove the money without anyone knowing.
That
is what I wanted to talk to you about.”

 

Warner gazed off at the distant peaks, their whiteness dimming as the sun slid down their backside. “Steven, this is a bad idea. I don’t like it. Besides, you don’t need the money.”

 

“Your old agency does, Frank. I’ve been reading about what happened to the FAA’s budget after you resigned.”

 

“I didn’t resign. I was kicked out when the new administration took over.”

 

“Why, for Christ’s sake?”

 

“Because these new guys are more intent on striking Iraq than the old bunch was. I know it’s almost impossible to believe but it’s the reality we face.’

 

“What? Didn’t we put the bad guys out of commission.”

 

“Some of the bad guys. We also showed the world how porous our security is at all levels of commercial flight. Now, with the attack on the USS Cole, it’s clear this bin Laden character is for real. No telling how many clones he has. The former president was beginning to understand the new type of threat we face. He had empowered the FAA to deal with it. Which is what I was doing when the new boys sidelined me. I’ll never understand this Iraq fetish but I’ll tell you one thing. For my industry there are some dark horizons ahead. The public is going to pay dearly for the obsessions of a few.”

 

“Jesus, Frank, this can’t be. No one’s that dumb.”  

 

“I would like to agree, Steven. Sadly – ”

 

“Okay, enough. You know better than anyone. But it still doesn’t change my plan. A three billion dollar contribution
has
to help the agency’s fight to keep the skies safe. Making Claussen pay for it is also a nice touch. ”

 

“Nice but a total waste. Steven, the FAA is again the industry lapdog it was under Shelton. My advice to you is this: save the money for the victims of the next disaster. I don’t know when it will come or what form it will take. But mark my words: it will come.”

 

“Frank, listen, you’ve got to be more creative. I’m trying to donate three billion dollars to the cause of aviation safety. It’s the cause to which you’ve devoted your whole life. You’ve got to figure out a way to use it.”

 

“It doesn’t just take money. It takes political will. It takes a framework for channeling funds. That framework does not now exist. It won’t exist until there’s another disaster or another administration.”  

 

“You’ve gotten cynical in your old age. Nothing’s going to happen. When you’re back doing the things you’re supposed to be doing, the money will be there for you.”

 

“Thanks, Steven. That’s very generous. But I’d like to drop the subject. This is supposed to be a happy day.”

 

“I’ll drop it for now, but you’ll have to hear it again when I return from France.”

 

On the way back to the reception Warner stopped at the barn. “Geese? Ultralights?”

 

“Not regular geese, Frank, watch geese. I let them out at night. Just because Claussen was evil doesn’t mean his ideas were all bad.”

 

“Watch geese. I see. What do you feed them? Dog food?”

 

“You got it. They don’t seem to be as aggressive as our man’s birds were. I’ve been trying to remember the name of that dog food we saw the guy with the horse cart making over there. You wouldn’t happen to recall it, would you?”

 

“You’re crazy,” Warner said.

 

“Moi? Wait till you see this.”

 

He opened the barn door, affectionately parted his geese as they stormed toward the exit and started both ultralight engines. He taxied one craft out onto the meadow, left it idling and went back for the other one.

 

Warner watched, unsure if he was feeling amazement or horror.

 

Steven stayed in the second ultralight. “You coming?” he shouted. 

 

“Look, Steven, you know how much I love to fly. But as former Director of the FAA, I –  ”

 

“Cut the bullshit, Frank. You’ve just spent half an hour pontificating on the inadequacies of that agency. You’re a country boy, you love freedom. Let’s go for it.”

 

Warner stalled. “When did you learn to fly?”

 

“The time I watched you for half the night on the way to Claussen’s farmhouse.”

 

“You were asleep.”

 

“I was watching over your shoulder. Nicole’s actually better at it then I am. She learned the right way, lessons and all. Hop in. This is something special.”

 

The peaks glowed rose and alabaster in the distance, the air was cool and calm. A more perfect dusk for flying he had never seen.

 

Warner reluctantly climbed aboard and buckled his harness. Steven LeConte, he mused, was a bad influence on him.

 

He taxied to the end of the meadow. When Steven gave full throttle, he followed. They were airborne before Warner had time to reconsider. When he looked down, Jules and Luc were leaning against one of Steven’s Harleys, waving from the side of the road.

 

They flew south, over a brown and green quilt of farmland. Night was rising over Kansas, where a giant amber moon hung on the horizon. They flew higher and looped back toward town. The peaks at this altitude still burned in the golden fire of the sun.

 

In the middle of this meeting of day and night, of plains and mountains, was the town, its lights beginning to twinkle.

 

Flight, thought Warner. He’d seen it produce every human horror imaginable. It promised to produce more. He didn’t know why he still loved it, but he did – passionately.

 

He was lost in thought over what to do with Claussen’s billions to make air travel less vulnerable when Steven veered from formation and did some kind of self-taught roll.

 

Warner stared in shock when he noticed what he had not seen until now: the geese were following them in a wedge 40 strong. In the air, he thought, they were a lot more beautiful than on the ground.

 

When they flew over the meadow in preparation for landing, he saw yet another beautiful thing. Nicole and Claire stood in the dying light of evening, arms around each other, waving happily.

 

They landed. The geese touched down behind them and followed as they taxied into the barn. “They just started doing it,” Steven explained. “While we were learning to taxi, they learned to follow. What do you think?”

 

Warner shook his head. “I think you’re a fortunate guy, Steven.”

 

“What about lucky?” 

 

“That, too. I’m not given to New Age male embraces but I’m glad we met.”

 

“It’s mutual,” Steven said. “And you’re not done with me yet.”

 

They walked over to the women. Warner kissed Claire on her incredulous smile. Steven hugged Nicole and swayed slowly back and forth with her.

 

For a time the four of them stood in silence, watching the twilight spread across the peaks.

 

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