“Don’t worry about it, honey. These men know what they’re doing and we provide all the support that they need. We’ve got the best of the best here, and that includes people like Montana, Victoria and Hayes.”
“And you two,” said April admiringly. “I’m in awe at the work you all do out here. My grandfather told me about the security and protection business but not the manufacturing part of it all. I had no idea that something like this even existed.”
“We like to keep it that way,” smiled Macie. “Each one of us works on different components to a project. Some of us specialize in communications equipment, stealth technologies, or weapons technologies. Many of us are trained engineers, multi-degreed. Doug over there, our wise and senior leader, was an Air Force pilot and has a master’s in engineering.”
“I heard that,” muttered Doug. “Wise and senior? You couldn’t just leave it at wise?” The girls all laughed and Doug reached out a hand to April.
“Hello,” she smiled. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Very nice to meet you as well. You know, April, as a pilot one of the things I always worried about was keeping my crew safe. That was usually just one or two other people unless I was flying something really big. There were always safety nets for me where I could ensure that nothing was leaked.
“I guess I’m telling you all of this because I was curious if you ever noticed anything odd about the pilots. Were they highly secretive? Did they speak to the cabin crew at all? That type of thing.”
“I wouldn’t say they were secretive but they did stick to themselves. Jerry would always comment that they all thought they were too good for us, which was why they did dinner on their own, pretty much stayed away from us. I was okay with that.”
“What age group do you think your pilots fall into? Were they over thirty, over forty, fifty, maybe even sixty?” he asked.
“Oh, we had quite a few over sixty. I knew that because they talked about their grandchildren once in a while. My grandfather even served with one of our pilots who retired last year.” That made Doug frown, staring at the young woman.
“Do you remember his name?” She nodded picking up a piece of paper and pen.
“His name was Michael Mario Marconi. We used to call him triple-M and he’d always laugh. He was a nice man but I don’t think his retirement was voluntary. I think the airline pushed him out.”
“Well, it could have been his age,” said Doug. “Most airlines have a mandatory retirement age even if pilots are still capable and qualified.”
“I knew that but ours did not. We had some very young pilots, as young as twenty-three or twenty-four and I know for a fact we had a pilot who was seventy-nine. He was originally from Cuba and had some wild stories about flying during civil unrest.”
It wasn’t just Doug that listened intently but all the men who were standing around discussing the case. April stopped, staring at their stunned faces.
“Did I say something wrong?” she whispered.
“No, honey, I think you said something right. I’m going to try to contact triple-M and see what he says,” he grinned. “It was lovely meeting you and I can’t wait to see more of you.”
“Thank you, Doug,” she smiled. “What about the fibers in the suitcase? Is that something I should have known about?”
“There’s no way you would have known about this,” said Quinn hugging her to his side. “Even I wouldn’t have noticed anything unusual about the suitcase, nor would anyone here. You had to be able to examine each of those fibers and know what you’re looking at. There’s no way the average person would see that.”
“That makes me feel a bit better,” she frowned.
“I’m going to take a short flight of my own,” smirked Doug. “I haven’t done that in a while. Visit an old pilot like me.”
“I’m going with you,” said Chase.
“Me too,” said Will. Doug started to protest but Will held up a hand. “Sorry, Doug. You can’t have all the fun.”
“Fine. But I’m the pilot. Stay out of my way.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Doug knocked on the door of the quaint ranch-style home. There were two rocking chairs on the front porch, the landscaping sparse due to the cold winter weather.
Michael Mario Marconi lived in Winter Park, Florida along with a million other retirees. His home was modest and what one would expect from a retired pilot. So far, so good.
“Can I help you boys?” frowned Marconi.
“Are you Michael Marconi?” asked Doug. The man nodded at him, eyeing the men suspiciously. “Mr. Marconi, my name is Doug and I’m a pilot for a private security company. Like you, I’ve been a pilot my entire adult life. We were referred to you by a former flight attendant, April Lewis.”
“Former? What the hell? April was the best cabin crew I ever flew with. That kid knew what she was doing.” He stared at the men again, then stepped back. “Come in. Sorry, come on in. I never know when someone is trying to sell me something or make an offer I can’t refuse.”
