Mark gathered them around one last time for the night.
“Check out at 0600, take-off at 0700. Taking a Citation jet up to Elmira. Breakfast is available here starting at 0530. Good?” Mark asked.
No questions, so everyone started off for their rooms. They all got on the hotel elevator, and Robert and Mark got off on floor two, while Emily and Ford rode up to floor three.
“Quit looking at my bum. You go to your room, I go to mine,” Emily winked at Ford.
“Come on. Ohhh, all right. Good night, Emily.”
Wu got in his bed and slept for what seemed like a week. He woke up after a few hours, a bit refreshed, and grabbed his smart phone. Wu propped up his head on the pillow a bit, and placed the phone on his chest. He verified the Peanut App was on there and connected, and it was. Green light. It looked like a real traffic signal hanging from a wire like in in America, which had red, yellow and green lights on it. His was green, so he started to write his text message to Ford.
Ford: Had a number two engine fireee yesterday (we have four engines). I am okk, but jet was damaged. I think its minimal damage, and will find out today. Compressor stall?
New idea- I will bring jet to China east coast airport under a falsee maintenance problem. Can you meet me there\Monday? Time is wasting and I am not feeling any better. Check out Hong Kong, Beijing, Shanghai airports. Large airportss at night will add to the confusion on my end with local air traffic c0-pilot and boss.
The white U.S. Army Cessna Citation business jet taxied to parking on the ramp at Atlantic Aviation, the fixed base operator company at the Elmira Airport. Atlantic Aviation provided fuel, oil and other services to the business jet and general aviation community. Emily got off first, and immediately noticed the damp coldness in the air, and tightened her coat up a bit. The freezing temperatures, snow and ice on the ground, and the gray overcast skies, were a shock compared to yesterday at Skull Creek and the warmer Savannah climate. Ford, Robert, and Mark, all walked down the jet stairway after her, and all felt the same way about the classic Western New York weather. Typical Mark, in that he didn’t even have a coat with him.
The customer service folks from Atlantic walked them from their lounge area, next door to the Corning Corporate Hangar. Corning Chairman and Chief Executive Officer John Abbott was there to greet them, wearing his crisp dark business suit and white shirt, the uniform of Corning. He had been with Corning, Inc. nearly his whole adult life, except when he went up to Boston to attend business school, in addition to the Corning business road trips that were required to climb the ladder.
“You must be our friends from Washington,” said John Abbott. “It’s a pleasure to meet each of you. Please come into the hangar office.”
The DIA team walked into a ground level meeting room that was decorated like any other high-end room they have been in, except this one was outfitted with leather recliners and some flat panels, in addition to a pool table. There was a wet bar over in the corner, in addition to an eating area, a stove and microwave, a full size black refrigerator, and large wine cooler.
“This is part meeting room, part pilot lounge. Where our pilots relax between flights, flight attendants prepare meals, prep the jet…” John explained.
“Thank you for hosting us, John. And thank you for the use of your jet again. You and Corning have been most gracious through history, and today is no different,” Emily said, with her thick British accent.
“Oh, a Brit?” he said, giving her a special smile. “Well, yes, it’s the least we could do. Corning has, over the years, supported the IC and the military, and we are glad to help the national security team. My father served in the Army Air Corps during World War II, and I’ve always been very patriotic.”
“John, thank you again for the loan on the jet. I’m Robert, the one that called you on behalf of Deputy Director Calvin Burns,” shaking hands once more.
They sat at the table in a circle and munched on the sandwiches that were already set on the table.
Robert opened up right away. “John, per our conversation, and if it’s ok with you, we’d like to borrow the jet for about a week. Borrow your crew with the jet… modify it, at our expense, down at the Gulfstream facility. Fly it to China, and return it. Safely.”
John shook his head while he rubbed his chin. “I see. Okay. I have a Flight Department full of pilots. Most have been here over 15 years, some closer to 30. You can have anyone you want, they are all qualified in the 650, world-wide,” John offered.
“Sir, hello, my name is Mark Savona. Nice to meet you again, as we met a few years ago at a social function at the Corning Museum of Glass. A fund raiser. It was under another, eh, mission for DIA. Anyway, sir, thank you again,” Mark said, as he cleared his throat. “What we would be looking for is for your crew members who not only can fly, but can understand the… sensitive nature of what they are going to do. Be respectful of the mission they are about to embark on.”
“You mean keep their mouths shut,” John blurted out.
“Exactly,” said Mark. “Please allow me to introduce you to U.S. Air Force Reserve Captain Ford Stevens, one of our military pilots.”
Ford shook hands with John.
“Wait, are you flying our jet, too?” asked John, eyeing Ford, and thinking that he wasn’t part of the original deal in the phone call from Robert. “I’d have to check with our insurance folks if that is covered.”
“No, sir. Not exactly. I’ll be a passenger on the jet. Solo. Your jet and crew will be delivering me to China,” Ford said, speaking up to paint a picture for John, since it was his $50 million jet.
“Ohhhh. Who am I to question the DIA?” John said laughing. “What do you need us to do? Want me to select a crew for you? Visit the jet?” as he stood to look through the window into the hangar. “She’s right out there inside the hangar. The hangar doors are closed and it’s warm inside, so you could look around if you wanted.”
John thought ahead about his team of pilots, and had two guys in mind. They flew frequently to China, knew Savannah, were very familiar with the 550 and 650 series jets with Gulfstream, and were trusted representatives. John had known them for close to 26 years, and knew not only their spouses, but their kids.
“Yes, that would be splendid. We would love to meet them,” Emily said, looking towards another room where two pilots were looking at a table that was bar room height and had a piece of Plexiglas over it. They were busy writing on some paperwork, and filling out some forms as they used a calculator to compute something.
“Andrew, Lurch, you guys have a second?” John yelled inside to the two pilots.
Andrew Fitzpatrick and Jeff “Lurch” Baker were very experienced pilots. Both pilots exceeded 12,000 flight hours of flight time, and were commercial pilots typed-rated in an over a dozen different aircraft types between them. In addition, Lurch was a retired Marine Corps AV-8B Harrier pilot who earned his callsign back in the squadrons, and Andrew was a civilian pilot who worked his way up the aviation ladder by flying bank checks at night.
“Andrew, Lurch, please meet our friends from DIA. This is Emily, Ford, Robert, and Mark,” John said, as he did introductions. The pilots walked from the doorway over to the table in the lounge.