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Authors: Sameer Kamat
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to plan a trip to one of my favorite locations over the weekend. We can be back on Monday morning,” suggested Joe.
“Couldn’t we start this on Monday morning?” Martin was accustomed to flying out of Los Angeles on Monday mornings and returning on Friday evenings to spend the weekend with Anita. That was the standard consulting drill and Martin did not want to lose a weekend just for a crazy new client.
“No, wouldn’t recommend that. It’ll take the fun out of the whole thing.” said Joe.
“Why? Where are we going?” Martin got curious.
“Las Vegas, bay-beeeee!”
Chapter 4
The rendezvous was fixed for Friday evening. As Schneider and Martin reached the top storey of the high rise, they saw Joe already waiting for them. The helicopter perched atop the building was a sight to behold for the bespectacled Martin, though Schneider was trying hard to appear nonchalant. It was a Bell 429, painted in black, glistening in the yellowish-orange glow of the setting sun. It was a lean and mean machine – sleek, efficient and powerful – much like what Schneider and team were setting out to transform WFB to. The aircraft was very well-maintained – no soot on the turbo exhausts and no black greasy residue was to be seen on the rotor assembly. The slowly churning composite blades idly chopped the already thin air and gave the entire evening dollops of style, as if they were taking a breather before starting to slice and dice the air during their upcoming flight. The chopper, with WFB emblazoned in large yellow lettering across the rear portion of its fuselage lurched and swung away from the ground and Martin’s stomach lurched with it. He swallowed, scared. This client was loaded, he thought, trying to forget that he was precariously swinging in mid-air. Couldn’t this blasted thing fly straight and steady like a plane ? He thought glumly to himself, sitting stiff as a board. Next to him, Schneider seemed to be doing fine. His face was expressionless, as he looked out the side. Going by the way he was almost leaning out the window of the thing, he seemed to be enjoying the ride. It was a different point altogether that the ‘window’ looked more like a hole punched into the vehicle at the last minute.
Martin looked away hastily, keeping his attention straight ahead – w hich happened to be the headset-mounted head of the pilot. While Martin’s stomach was churning, Schneider noticed that the pilot was wearing a David Clark H10-76 headset, with ‘ Reiner ’ imprinted on one of the right ear-cup. He knew that that model was a standard issue to USAF recruits, and it was customary for them to imprint their names on the ear-cups. He also spotted the remnants of what looked like an entry bullet wound on Reiner’s exposed forearm, suffered many years ago in a war fought in a far off land. The wound had healed, but it had left its mark. Knowing that the aircraft was in the capable hands of a well-trained former Air Force pilot, some of his tension eased away. What he did not know was that Captain Reiner was a veteran of two wars – Iraq and Afghanistan – and had recently been recruited by Woody to serve as his trusted pilot. Closing his eyes he muttered a small frantic prayer that this journey would end, quickly. Quickly and safely.
The two of them were seated at the back, with Joe ahead next to the pilot.
When Woody had suggested that they go ahead and reconnoiter his places of business, they assumed they would book their own air tickets and then charge it back to WFB as project expenses. Woody seemed to have other ideas. He offered them the use of his private helicopter. He actually thrust it on them, refusing to take no for an answer. He claimed it would save them the time and the effort, which it definitely seemed to be doing. Like a well-oiled machinery, the internal project accounting code was already setup by Martin, and the billing hours had started counting the moment they had agreed to have a look
“Couldn’t we start this on Monday morning?” Martin was accustomed to flying out of Los Angeles on Monday mornings and returning on Friday evenings to spend the weekend with Anita. That was the standard consulting drill and Martin did not want to lose a weekend just for a crazy new client.
“No, wouldn’t recommend that. It’ll take the fun out of the whole thing.” said Joe.
“Why? Where are we going?” Martin got curious.
“Las Vegas, bay-beeeee!”
Chapter 4
The rendezvous was fixed for Friday evening. As Schneider and Martin reached the top storey of the high rise, they saw Joe already waiting for them. The helicopter perched atop the building was a sight to behold for the bespectacled Martin, though Schneider was trying hard to appear nonchalant. It was a Bell 429, painted in black, glistening in the yellowish-orange glow of the setting sun. It was a lean and mean machine – sleek, efficient and powerful – much like what Schneider and team were setting out to transform WFB to. The aircraft was very well-maintained – no soot on the turbo exhausts and no black greasy residue was to be seen on the rotor assembly. The slowly churning composite blades idly chopped the already thin air and gave the entire evening dollops of style, as if they were taking a breather before starting to slice and dice the air during their upcoming flight. The chopper, with WFB emblazoned in large yellow lettering across the rear portion of its fuselage lurched and swung away from the ground and Martin’s stomach lurched with it. He swallowed, scared. This client was loaded, he thought, trying to forget that he was precariously swinging in mid-air. Couldn’t this blasted thing fly straight and steady like a plane ? He thought glumly to himself, sitting stiff as a board. Next to him, Schneider seemed to be doing fine. His face was expressionless, as he looked out the side. Going by the way he was almost leaning out the window of the thing, he seemed to be enjoying the ride. It was a different point altogether that the ‘window’ looked more like a hole punched into the vehicle at the last minute.
Martin looked away hastily, keeping his attention straight ahead – w hich happened to be the headset-mounted head of the pilot. While Martin’s stomach was churning, Schneider noticed that the pilot was wearing a David Clark H10-76 headset, with ‘ Reiner ’ imprinted on one of the right ear-cup. He knew that that model was a standard issue to USAF recruits, and it was customary for them to imprint their names on the ear-cups. He also spotted the remnants of what looked like an entry bullet wound on Reiner’s exposed forearm, suffered many years ago in a war fought in a far off land. The wound had healed, but it had left its mark. Knowing that the aircraft was in the capable hands of a well-trained former Air Force pilot, some of his tension eased away. What he did not know was that Captain Reiner was a veteran of two wars – Iraq and Afghanistan – and had recently been recruited by Woody to serve as his trusted pilot. Closing his eyes he muttered a small frantic prayer that this journey would end, quickly. Quickly and safely.
The two of them were seated at the back, with Joe ahead next to the pilot.
When Woody had suggested that they go ahead and reconnoiter his places of business, they assumed they would book their own air tickets and then charge it back to WFB as project expenses. Woody seemed to have other ideas. He offered them the use of his private helicopter. He actually thrust it on them, refusing to take no for an answer. He claimed it would save them the time and the effort, which it definitely seemed to be doing. Like a well-oiled machinery, the internal project accounting code was already setup by Martin, and the billing hours had started counting the moment they had agreed to have a look
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