Thin Blood Thick Water (Clueless Resolutions Book 2) (27 page)

Brad had no sooner exited when Head Secretary Heather Copeland, working overtime on this weekend, walked in for ‘her turn’ for a question and answer session by her boss. She soon left with the feeling that Chip seemed quite nervous, and wondered why he would be questioning Max’s actions.   Her raised eyebrows and quizzical expression surprised Partner Danyel Uhlman, as they passed on the raised walkway near the door to Chip’s Office.

The atmosphere at USAP headquarters was suddenly inverted. Senior Partner Chip Chaplain was arbitrarily causing concern among the key operatives, as had been his habit lately. But now Chip was the person abruptly left hanging with questions and uncertainties. Although still completely in charge he felt vaguely challenged and somehow threatened by Max Hargrove’s phone call, although he had no idea why.

By 4:20 PM on Sunday afternoon Max had lowered the altitude of the rental airplane to 2000 feet. The Ithaca air traffic control center had acknowledged the cancellation of the flight following, and the intention to land there, according to the flight plan which Max had filed. The USAP airstrip at Lakeside had come into view. Max circled the headquarters area checking the wind sock indicator to verify direction. He flew the Cessna across Black Bottom Lake as he approached the runway, into the brisk southeastern headwind which had caused a longer than predicted trip. The touchdown and the taxi to the hangar parking area went smoothly.  After shutdown Maggie asked Max if it would be best if she simply waited in the plane while he met with Chip. Max thought it would be best if she described, to Chip, the general offer proposal for the purchase of Bickford Laboratory but with no names and no final details.

No one seemed to be in the building as they strode through the hangar to the elevator at the rear. They knew that Chip would have had his eyes glued to the security monitors as they approached his office, even in the elevator. They casually stepped out of the elevator into the meeting room and went up the stairway to meet Chip.

“Come on in, you two gadabouts, and have a seat around the cocktail table,” Chip said rather loudly. His face was flushed and his eyes were rather bloodshot as he extended his hand, first to Maggie, and then to Max. “You must be thirsty after that flight,” he added. “What can I get you?”

Maggie had a glass of chardonnay wine and Max refused alcohol, explaining that they had to get their rented plane back to New Haven.  Chip nodded, looking smug as he finally got the answer to one of his questions.

“Why rent a plane? Didn’t Brad have anything available for you?” asked Chip.

“Actually Maggie rented it,” Max lied, “to work with her associate who introduced her to a potential buyer up in Maine, and she asked if I’d fly her there. I agreed to it since I was off duty for the weekend.”  Chip nodded knowingly but they knew he didn’t know anything at all about their trip.

Maggie explained that only the preliminaries of a purchase offer had been broached and that she would need an introduction and a meeting with Mahlah Bickford, who was listed as the owner according to the parish records in Nova Scotia.

“Max told me that you might be able to contact Ms. Bickford,” Maggie said to Chip, faking ignorance of any connection they might have. Chip had slightly over-imbibed on scotch whiskey, judging by the half bottle on the bar, and by his demeanor. He was in no condition to be his usual svelte, calculating self, and it was obvious to Maggie and Max that he wasn’t sure if he was disguising his relationship with Mahlah adequately.

He rose from his chair and walked to his desk where he pretended to look for the contact information that Maggie would need.

“I’ll get it to Max first thing tomorrow,” he said after shuffling some papers, “if that’s okay.” Maggie agreed. She suggested that, if he didn’t mind, he could pass along the suggestion of a purchase offer to see if there was interest.  Chip indicated that he’d do that and kiddingly asked Maggie if he’d get a referral fee for his efforts.

“It’s a little early for that,” Maggie replied with a smile. “But I know this buyer will offer a cash deal, and I know that it will be around the million mark. Anything beyond that should be discussed directly with the owner,” Maggie finished, with a more serious inflection in her voice.

Chip, although a little slower due to his alcohol content on this occasion, picked up on Maggie’s unmistakable business voice and deferred any further pursuit of information. He seemed more inclined than usual to drift toward friendly chatting.  Under other circumstances it would perhaps develop into a fun night among friends. On this early evening, however, he wasn’t exactly among friends, and the security guard was probably the only other person on the premises. With the goal of their meeting achieved, it was time for Max and Maggie to make their exit.

“Damn! Look at the time!” Max exclaimed with manufactured urgency. “We agreed to get the Cessna back in New Haven by 6:00 o’clock.  Maggie, we have to get moving. I’ll radio an amendment to our flight plan to land at Tweed-New Haven after we’re airborne.”

At that, Maggie got up and started leaving.  Max was right behind her as a slightly confused and pre-occupied Chip Chaplain ushered them toward the stairway which led down to the briefing room and the waiting elevator.

Within twelve minutes the Cessna was started and idling. With pilot and unofficial co-pilot strapped in, they embarked on the final leg of their journey.  After a taxi to the lake-end of the USAP runway and the alignment for takeoff, Max pushed the throttle to full power position and they accelerated down the runway.

At 3000 ft. altitude and five miles south of Ithaca, Max radioed the flight controllers to amend their flight plan and to request a flight-following on the way to Tweed airport. The request was accommodated.

“Well Mag, the ‘baited hook’ is hanging there for the fish to take a nibble,” Max said over the intercom. “And my guess is he’s probably on the phone with Mahlah Bickford right now, talking about how they can spend her proceeds.” He went on to compliment Maggie on her handling of the meeting and felt that Chip had no idea he was being set up.

“Oh, that was a snap,” she responded. “I’ve handled bigger fish than him. I hope he can convince the other half of the equation.”

“I think we should set up the transaction right away before they have time to think too much,” Max suggested. “I’ll call Don Chace when we land. Hopefully he can arrange everything before Thanksgiving.”

Maggie ran through the list of what she would need from Chace, including a decoy buyer with the cash. She would prepare a legitimate-looking sales agreement and, from Max, she would need the specifics on the laboratory, the land, and the furnishings. Maggie added that she would try to get a copy of the recorded deed from her contact in Nova Scotia, to compare it when presented during the sale proceedings.

Time arrived for preparation to land at Tweed Airport and the travelers set about the task at hand. By 6:40 PM the landing was completed successfully, the rented Cessna was presented for inspection at the airplane rental office and it was time for a much-needed ‘martini-with-a-supper-on-the-side’ for two.

While Maggie drove, on the way to Jerry’s Jug, Max cell-phoned Don Chace to give him an update on the meeting with Chip Chaplain. Chace agreed with arranging the ‘sale’ as soon as possible. They set a target date for the following Friday, the 20th of November, one week before the busy Thanksgiving Holiday travel time. Chace told Max that he needed a few days to arrange for the $1.1 Million in 100 dollar denominations to use for the ‘sale’. He wasn’t specific as to the source but indicated that the cash would be marked for tracing in case it was mismanaged or misappropriated in the process. Chace mentioned that his job would be in question if that happened.

Maggie took the longer route to Jerry’s Bar so that she could stop in at her office to pick up any important messages.  Max waited for her in the Marshall Real Estate Services parking lot while Maggie darted in and out with a few notes in her hand. Max had taken over the driver’s seat in the meantime.

“Nothing to get excited about,” she said with a disdainful expression, glancing at Max as she got into the passenger side. “So, I see you’re not comfortable in the co-pilot’s seat, eh captain?” was her comment with a question.

“It’s just that you’re such a terrific co-pilot, I don’t want to steal you’re thunder,” Max retorted with a grin. Distracted as she read her messages, Maggie just nodded.

Max could see that she was not happy with the way her business seemed to be slacking off as of late. Residential real estate sales were slow these days and lending institutions were re-positioning their stance on lending. Uncertainty was running rampant in the financial circuits these days.

The evening meal at a quiet corner table in Jerry’s Jug was another of those which included a serious, reflective conversation from Max.  He was uncertain of his involvement with USAP since he learned of the Senior Partner’s relationship with the Bickford widow, questions revolving around the cause of the deceased Partner Ernest Bickford’s death, and possible involvement Chip Chaplain may have had in the occurrence.

In the back of Max’s mind there was the nagging question as to whether the nearly-lethal ordeal he and Maggie were recently subjected to in Nova Scotia, during the inspection of the Bickford property, was linked to Chip Chaplain, Mahlah Bickford, or both.

As with the time prior to the past two years, persons connected with Max’s new occupation were causing disorder in his lifestyle. In the past instance, his personal reputation and his business acumen were at stake. No sooner had he been cleared of any wrongdoing he willingly became party to an undercover police action which, although successful and honorable, resulted in his employer’s company being closed. He was therefore out of a job. Now here he was getting involved again in a similar action.  Although well meaning, it could result in a similar ending.

Maggie had been preoccupied recently with insecurity issues of her own. It related to the strength of her income source which came solely from her company, Marshall Real Estate Services. She had received fees during the past three weeks which were a result of her work from the previous month. During this current month, her billed fee charges did not cover her operating expenses, which included Jessie Knowles’s salary and employee costs. Not only that, it wouldn’t produce any net profit to herself. Maggie had lost one long-time lender client.  She had established connections with two new ones but the lending businesses in general had almost ground to a halt. Due to declining real estate values it was practically impossible for Maggie to apply her financial expertise to help challenged property owners recover from payment delinquencies. Foreclosures were increasing exponentially in number, but the minimal fees from auction sale referrals wouldn’t sustain her for long.

Neither of the ‘Dynamic Duo’, so nicknamed by Jerry Pippin during visits to his pub, felt very ‘dynamic’ at this point regarding their economic status.  Where Max’s reserves and investments could maintain his lifestyle almost indefinitely, Maggie was within two months of going out of business.

“Submit a bill for your services to USAP as soon as the Bickford Lab ‘transaction’ takes place,” Max directed. “I’ll advance payment. Be sure to include the recent plane rental and fuel costs in the itemization along with your time and effort on both of the Nova Scotia trips.”

“Max, I’m not asking for anything,” Maggie interjected. “We’re just swapping sob stories about what’s nagging at our brains. We’re alike, you and I, and talking things out seems to help keep things in order. We both depend on each other for this and I’m convinced that we’re both better off as a result.”

“You’ve got that right Mag, you’ve hit the nail right on the head,” Max responded. “But business is business and you need to get paid for your time with this USAP stuff just as you would with any client.  I recommended you to assist in the Bickford Lab investigation and I’m the one that authorizes USAP payment for services. I’m sorry, I should have told you to submit an invoice every week. There’s more to come with the ‘transaction’ in Maine coming up.”

Maggie insisted that her dilemma over the drop-off in her East Wayford business wasn’t because she neglected it. She agreed to submit an invoice to USAP but admitted that she herself hadn’t thought of it in a financial sense.

“But enough of this wallowing in self-pity,” said Maggie, summoning herself to sit up straight as she raised her dwindling martini. “Let’s order two pie-ala modes for dessert, and two Irish liqueur-flavored hot coffees for chasers!”

“I’m with you, babe,” Max exclaimed, hoisting an empty martini glass as he summoned the waitress.

The pre-Thanksgiving holiday week in late November went quickly for Maggie and Max. Maggie went about setting up the research and paperwork for the staged sale transaction in Fort Fairfield, Maine. Her contact in Nova Scotia gave her the property specifics on record and Max relayed the details of the transaction as he got word from Don Chace. Chace was also getting input from his cohort in the Canadian RCMP.  Maggie was given the buyer’s fabricated-but-verifiable name, along with the ‘personality quirks’. The buyer’s information was also given to Max to pass along to the seller, through Chip, to facilitate the arrangements.

Max had driven a one-way rental car back to Lakeside and, by Wednesday, he had gotten caught up on his Financial Officers responsibilities at USAP headquarters. There was a memo to all Partners from Head Secretary Heather Copeland that the regular business meeting for November would be postponed until after the Thanksgiving holiday. Max found out that Chip was away ‘on leave’.

Partner Ezra Carrol had called Max to check with him before he left for the day. Max stopped at the flight office to have Brad prep an airplane for his flight back to New Haven on Thursday. He asked if any of the aircraft were outfitted with skis for landing on snow or ice. Brad took him into the hangar service area and proudly showed-off the Cessna Skyhawk to which he had retrofitted a set of semi-retractable skis. The ski mechanisms were mounted on each of the two landing gear struts and were activated with an electrical switch on the console. The ski surfaces hovered just above the landing surface when in the raised position. Since the aircraft was not running, Brad connected the idle plane to a portable battery pack to demonstrate how the skis, with electric servo motors activated, lowered slowly by around 3 inches. They met the concrete surface with a weight-bearing pivot point approximately 18 inches ahead of the tires. When lowered, they lifted the aircraft tires just a half inch above the hangar floor. This forward support point changed the weight distribution which, when the plane was on land, caused the tail to lower onto an affixed tail-skid. Simultaneously, the nose wheel telescoped inward. In this position the nose wheel was raised to match the ground clearance of the propeller, and was not functional for steering, or for support.

“This essentially converts the plane to a ‘tail-dragger’ while landing and taking off,” Brad explained. He asked Max if he had any experience with older style tail-dragger airplanes. Max answered in the affirmative. He had flown the well-known Piper Cub as a youngster and more recently he flew a restored, antique bi-winged Stetson. Brad agreed that the landing, take-off, and taxi procedures with the skis lowered, would be similar to those.

“The whole ski set-up is titanium and only adds 62 pounds to the overall weight,” Brad went on. “You might notice a slight wind drag from the apparatus when airborne but the up-tilted ski surfaces add a fraction more lift.

“That is real slick improvising Brad, has it tested out okay?” Max asked. Brad explained that he copied the idea from a Scandinavian aircraft that he saw in an airplane show, except that, in that model the system worked in reverse with fixed skis and wheels that could be lowered for hard surfaces.

The retrofit was tested by Brad three years prior, and had been used several times since. During the warmer months he removed the ski conversion apparatus from the Cessna Skyhawk.

Max was amazed at the ingenuity and mechanical engineering ability Brad exhibited. He seemed to live for one challenge after another without feeling a need to be publicly recognized.

After pre-filing his flight plan for early the following morning, Max buzzed Ezra’s office door. Ezra let him in and showed him one of the latest handgun models he was making available to all Partners. Made in Germany under the brand name ‘Stundervol’, it was an extremely lightweight 9 millimeter automatic pistol that could be fired in semi-automatic or fully automatic mode. For use as a concealed weapon it had an 8 round ammo clip but it came with two additional clips. One was an extended clip holding 14 rounds. For fully automatic firing it had a curved clip approximately 19 inches long which could be fitted with a shoulder brace. An extended front grip was located directly below the muzzle when the clip was inserted into the hand grip. It had a capacity to hold 43 rounds. The pistol was mostly made of high-impact plastic with metal moving parts, chamber and barrel. Without the ammo clips its weight was only 19 ounces.

Ezra suggested that Max test out the new sidearm, especially in the full-automatic mode.

They donned ear cups and went into the sound-proofed firing stations.  Max test-fired 30 rounds shooting at targets of various distances, re-loading the small ammo clip once and then emptying the extended clip. The light pistol jumped somewhat when firing but it had a well-balanced design and was easy to get accustomed to.  While Max was testing the short clips, Ezra had assembled the extra-long clip with the shoulder brace and handle apparatus and filled the clip with 43 rounds of ammunition.

Ezra lectured Max on firing in the full-automatic mode, pointing out that it was difficult to hold steady while firing. He recommended short bursts of 4-to-7 rounds. Max tested a few single shots holding the gun with the two hand grips, one hand ahead of the other, with the brace against his shoulder. When he started shooting longer bursts the gun bucked upward with each successive shot. Max’s conclusion was that accuracy was not to be expected in that mode, but the number of rounds made up for that.

He thanked Ezra for the demo, signed the requisition for the gun and asked Ezra to put it in his locker.

The workday was done. Max donned his hooded parka and goggles to protect against the cold air and departed to his Lakeside apartment on his run-about.

During his dinner of a heated turkey-carrots-peas and mashed potatoes frozen ‘gourmet’ meal, accompanied by a mini-bottle of Pinot Noir wine, Max conferred with Maggie by cell-phone. Maggie was enjoying her warmed leftover chicken soup, pop-in muffins and a stirred, not shaken, martini with three olives. Neither felt inclined to drool over the others meal.

Just before dawn on Thursday, Max arrived at the USAP hangar. The readied Cessna Skyhawk, dressed for winter weather, was parked at the hangar door ready to go. He noticed reinforcement strips on the underside of the wingtips which weren’t there the day before. As he looked into the cockpit he saw a note from Brad taped to the control wheel. It read:

“Max, I added wing-tip protection blades. Last winter I had to replace the running lights twice because the wing tips hit the snow. Be careful landing on uneven surfaces – the skis are mounted closer together than the wheels are, and you might experience some side-to-side rocking when you taxi.”

After Max entered the pre-set flight plan on the main computer, he left a return note taped to Brad’s monitor.

“Brad – I got the memo on the wing tips – Thanks for the tip on the tipping – I’d leave you a tip but I’m tapped out on pocket change - but I’m tipping my hat to ya, Ta-Ta.”

Max didn’t recall ever seeing Brad with anything but a serious ‘Science Professor’ type of demeanor. Like most aviators he took his work very seriously and never ‘took his eye off the ball’, so-to-speak. He wasn’t sure whether Brad had a sense of humor but this was one way to find out. On second thought he added to the note.

“P.S. – Thanks for prepping the winterized Cessna on short notice – I owe you one.”

He checked his flight room locker and noticed a black leather carrying case which, when opened, displayed the Stundervol brand of pistol complete with the kit of three ammo clips, firing brace assembly and a box of 100 rounds of 9mm APC cartridges. The pistol kit was stowed with Max’s overnight case and a bag of dirty laundry in the cargo hold of the Skyhawk. Shortly thereafter Max was making a pre-dawn, skis-up takeoff down the snowless USAP runway on his way to Tweed-New Haven Airport.

Today the sun rose over the southeastern horizon a few minutes earlier for Max since he had climbed to altitude. The ground was still dark below him and, from his vantage point at 4000 ft. altitude, he marveled at the effervescent effect of the sunrise at dawn spreading over the earth’s surface below.

Max was acutely aware of the ever-present dangers humans were subjected to when flying through the air at high speed, at towering heights, in a manufactured mechanical device.  But at moments such as this, in the solitude of solo flight, he was in awe over the exhilaration of it all.

Private air traffic was minimal at this time of day in the northeast region of the country and Max’s flight to New Haven was uneventful. His landing at Tweed-New Haven was normal but the interest by the airport crew on the ground over the ski apparatus was keen. The ground crew had never seen a Cessna Skyhawk with this type of apparatus attached.  Many New England natives loved the short trip to New Hampshire during the ski season and any alternative to driving there created interest. Light aircraft rigged with skis had been around for years in the U.S. North Country, but this was a phenomenon. An affordable and reliable four-passenger aircraft such as the Cessna Skyhawk outfitted with IFR and GPS technology, seasonably rigged for landing on snow or ice was something to behold!

Maggie had arrived to pick up Max at the airport as planned, but the horde of interested onlookers that assembled in the airplane parking area was something that they had not anticipated.

Max was given several business cards assumedly belonging to marketing personnel known by the ground crew. He was somewhat alarmed by the sudden and unexpected interest in the modifications on the USAP Cessna and he requested a sequestered parking area from the ground crew supervisor. The request was granted but the process took an hour.

“Life sometimes boils down to a roll of the dice,” Max philosophized to an exasperated Maggie, as she made it known that she had prepared one of Max’s favorite meals. It had been timed to coincide with an uneventful arrival and pick-up at Tweed Airport.

Maggie had improvised with the simmering meal that she prepared, which she called “blackened chicken,” by placing it on low-heat hold atop the apartment range while she drove to the airport and back. As it turned out her concern was unnecessary. To her surprise, once they were finally home, there was no adverse effect from the delay, and the special meal presentation was flawless. They both ate to their fill and settled back to watch TV, and finish-off a bottle of Chianti wine. They both felt a need to unwind a bit and share a lazy afternoon beside a glowing fireplace on this chilly, late-fall day.

The blissful interlude was short lived however. At 3:15 PM Maggie’s cellphone beeped.

“Hello. Is this Maggie Marshall,” a woman’s voice asked, “This is Mahlah Bickford.” Maggie suddenly sat erect, poking Max and motioned for him to listen as she turned her phone sideways between their heads.

“Yes, this is she,” Maggie answered. “Did you say Bickford?” Maggie was stalling while she reached for the paperwork she had been preparing for the ‘sale transaction’, which was on the coffee table.  Mahlah repeated her name and related that Chip Chaplain had passed along information on a potential buyer for the Laboratory property in Halifax, Nova Scotia. He had given her Maggie’s phone number.  Maggie asked Mahlah if it was okay to speak freely on the telephone about the offer. Mahlah felt it was okay so Maggie asked if she could call Mahlah right back after she retrieved the details from her attaché case ‘which was outside in her car’. Mahlah agreed and gave her home phone number, which was in Ithaca, N.Y.

This was standard procedure for Maggie when receiving an important call.  The purpose was to verify the number as belonging to the caller.

As Maggie jotted the number on her notes, Max began opening his lap-top to check the number on the internet using his membership account on a credit-check site.

The number was listed at the Bickford home address in Ithaca, still listed under Ernest Bickford. Max and Maggie had a brief back and forth and Maggie dialed the New York listing.

When Mahlah Bickford answered, the two women exchanged politically correct over-the-phone introductions and typical agent-to-seller real estate business chit chat. Then Maggie passed on that a well-to-do party was interested in offering to purchase the Bickford Laboratory property. Saying that she was quoting the buyer, Maggie recited a, “Lock-stock-and barrel, cash transaction for 1 million, 1 hundred thousand dollars, American”. Maggie explained that there were stipulations.  It had to transpire prior to the Thanksgiving holiday and the transaction must take place with the buyer “Receiving the signed ownership documentation, and handing over the money while standing on U.S. soil.”

Maggie heard muffled sounds for a moment before Mahlah said that it sounded like a rather strange way to buy and sell real estate property.  Maggie agreed with her that it did seem strange, but told the skeptical-sounding seller that, although the buyer was an eccentric person, the cash would be straight-up and genuine. When Mahlah wondered aloud why anyone would pay over a million dollars for a sight-unseen property, Maggie explained that the buyer was familiar with the property from a few years back. Maggie also pointed out that she herself, along with her associate, had recently inspected the property and attested to its contents and general state of repair. Current pictures were also presented. She told Mahlah that the buyer had an undisclosed connection in Halifax who would attest to the validity, and recording, of the official transfer of ownership. Mahlah asked if the equipment and furnishing of the property included the underwater research vessel. Maggie gulped inaudibly and rustled the paper to make it seem like she was looking through the offer document while she glanced at Max for the answer. Max shrugged, so Maggie told Mahlah that it wasn’t specifically listed in the offer.