Texas Gal

Texas Gal
by C. Sprite
© 1999

Chapter Fifty-Four

Armed with a list containing the names of people who would need temporary quarters, I spent Monday on the telephone making final arrangements with the folks I'd contacted on Friday. By the end of the day, I'd secured rooms for everyone that had signed up to come to JC. Most of the clerical people would be quartered in motels, the more senior people having kitchenettes, while the managers and a few supervisors would have furnished apartments.
I also made arrangements to view the available condos at the complex that had held the 'open house' on Friday.
On Tuesday I visited every condo that was still available in the complex. When we were done, I submitted an offer. The realtor tried to hold firm at $45,999 per unit for two of the units, and $49,999 for a third, deluxe condo, but was swayed by my offer of $120 thousand for all three units. She called her boss, who called the former owner of the apartment complex who owned the three condos, plus the forty-eight others that hadn't yet sold. At two p.m. I signed the papers for the three condos, at a total price of $120 thousand. The deluxe unit was on the top floor of a three-story building that overlooked a tiny lake. It had larger bedrooms, more closet space, and a more open feel in the living room, dining area, and kitchen. The others were on the second floor of nearby buildings. The rooms were still a good size, and the views were decent. I intended to occupy the top floor, 'penthouse' condo. The others would be shared by visiting executives who preferred a more homey environment to a hotel suite while in Jeff City.
As soon as I told Bob about the condos, he asked if he could be considered the first visiting executive. I was still so delighted that he had agreed to move to JC that I consented immediately, although I made it clear that it might take some time to complete the deed transfer. He assured me that he would see that it was completed as expeditiously as possible.
While I had been out working on housing, the first truck from Brandon arrived and the files offloaded, either to the large, long-term storage vault in the basement, or to the small vault in the Accounting Department. So far the boxes were just stacked up in the vaults. Once the people from Brandon arrived, they'd begin to sort out the files and properly stow them.

On Wednesday, twenty-eight of our thirty-three temporary employees arrived at the airport. All were given their housing assignments and allowed to go directly there to settle in, with instructions to report to the office building the following morning at their regular starting work time. The other five, and the six employees intending to relocate, arrived by automobile during the day and were likewise given their housing assignments and allowed to take the rest of the day off to settle in. One of our sales people, who had lived in JC his entire life, had prepared a 'getting acquainted with the city' package. It contained a city map, with a list of recommended restaurants, points of interest, and entertainment places. A copy was given to each arriving employee.

On Thursday morning, our people began the task of reestablishing our accounting systems. People were first assigned to sort and store the files still sealed in the plastic boxes sent from Brandon. Greg Lissum, our Comptroller, worked in the Accounting Department vault to get the current files and input documents ready, while Bill Marshall, my VP of Finance worked with accounting employees in the basement vault to unseal the plastic boxes from long-term storage and properly re-store everything in its new home.
By the end of the day, our employees had settled into their tasks like you settle into a comfortable and familiar armchair after a hard day at work. There'd been a few problems with the use of the telephone system because it was considerably newer and different from the older system that we had in Brandon, but they caught on, with just a minimum of callers lost after being put on hold. Newly arrived pages of telex transmissions vied for attention with several large mailbags forwarded from the USPS in Vermont. Very soon the mail would begin to come directly, although it would take months, perhaps years, for everyone with whom we did business to get the address corrections made. I assumed that when the free trade mags sent to me all had the proper address on the label, the industry would basically know where we were.

On Friday morning, Ben, John, Matt, Ron, Gerard, and Jerry arrived for our weekly meeting. Nancy Pollack was there to take the minutes, as she had done for years. But for the different surroundings, and the different lunch caterer, it would have seemed that little changed. That thought made me think of my first meeting with my executive board. I had changed so much since those first days. I was no longer a small thirteen-year-old trying to hide her nervousness. I had grown up. I doubted that I would grow very much taller than my present 5 foot 5 inches, but my body had filled out in recent years and I had the curves of a young woman entering her prime.
"Welcome to our first meeting in JC," I said to the group after everyone had prepared their beverage of choice and taken their seat at the enormous conference table in my spacious new office. "I'm pleased that we're able to get together in our new corporate home so quickly after the devastating fire that drove us from our old one. We could have wished to be closer to Brandon, but in the long run, I believe that our decision to occupy this building will be viewed as being the correct one. For each feature that we miss most about Brandon and Vermont, we have a substitute just as wonderful here. For example, instead of the rural, friendly nature of Brandon, we have the variety of dining and entertainment choices only available in a city."
I tried to read the faces around me, but saw only the staid visages of executives feeling the effects of a week of stress.
"We've come an incredibly long way in just one week, thanks to the Herculean efforts of everyone at this table and the disaster preparedness built into our systems by Bob and Bill. After suffering a disaster like the one we experienced, most companies would still be floundering around trying to make sense of the situation, while we are well on the way to full recovery."
I decided that perhaps a little humor might help the situation.
"Since I personally have nothing to do, I've decided that a little shopping trip is in order. There's a little company for sale in Mississippi. They make packing tape products. I thought that it might be a product line we could include in our catalogs. Any company that ships products has to buy packing tape."
The expressions on the faces around me had changed from somber to incredulous. It was exactly the reaction that I was hoping for. They couldn't believe that with everything that had happened, that I would even consider buying something right now. I held myself in check for as long as I could, then reacted to their reaction by breaking out in a grin.
"Okay, so I'm kidding. There's no company selling packing tape. I just wanted to see if anyone was still alive at this table and listening."
Gerard led the response to my admission by chuckling. In a couple of seconds everyone else was grinning or chuckling.
"It's not a bad idea," Matt said. "Seriously. It would make a good addition to our product lineup."
"Where would it fit in our division structure," Bill asked. "It's not paper exactly, nor printing or a construction material."
"It's paper," Jerry said, "It's simply has an adhesive on one side."
"The manufacturing equipment is more like the equipment we use to produce roofing paper," John said. "It should probably go with Construction Products."
"How is it like roofing paper," Jerry asked. "It's just glued paper."
"There's more than one type of sealing tape, Jerry," Matt said. "For instance, there's the reinforced type with nylon strands embedded in the tape. And then there are the new plastic tapes. Some people believe that they'll eventually replace all paper tapes."
"Never happen," Jerry said. "Paper tape is much less expensive to produce. Manufacturers always want the least expensive alternative. Consumers may prefer the cellophane, plastic, or vinyl tapes for personal use because paper tape is a lot messier if you don't have a special dispenser."
The discussion continued for another thirty minutes or so. I didn't intervene because I saw it as a welcome diversion from the issue that had plagued everyone's thoughts since the fire. It was Bob who put on the brakes.
"Whoa everyone. Enough. The boss said that she was just kidding. Let's not make plans to advertise a product we don't have and don't propose to have in the near future because we don't have a plant that can produce it."
"Who knows," I said, "perhaps one day we will. Okay, let's continue with our legitimate topics. Bob?"
"Things are moving along well. By the time our new computer arrives and is set up, we should have the input data waiting. Then, within a couple of more days we should be able to produce all invoices and billing statements which have been delayed since the week of the fire. Of the hundred-twenty-eight employees at Brandon, thirty-three have joined us here as temporary help and six others are relocating to JC. The boss arranged for housing for everyone and they've settled in. The task that lies ahead of us now, aside from getting the accounting systems reestablished, is to rebuild a staff decimated by the move. On a personal note, to those who haven't already heard, I've decided to move my family to JC as soon as possible. My wife and kids will be joining me here next week so that we might begin house hunting."
"Thank you, Bob," I said. "Bill?"
"All of the files from the two Brandon vaults have arrived, been fully accounted for, determined to be tamper free, and stored in the appropriate vault here in the new headquarters. The fire never reached any documents in either vault, and everything that should have been stored, had been put into the vault. A thought has occurred to me that we couldn't have hoped for a better time for the fire to occur. Because they were facing a weekend, people might have been more diligent in storing documents that they were working with. During the week, they might have been tempted to simply lock documents in their desk so they were available immediately for work the next day. When this ordeal is over, we'll review those procedures and make sure that everyone understands the importance of following all disaster recovery protocols. Anyway, Greg's staff has already turned their attention to bringing the ledger accounts up to date. As Bob said, we expect to be ready with input data when the new computer is available for processing."
"Thank you, Bill. Ben?"
"It's been a wild and crazy seven days. It almost seems like treble that, we've been so busy. Now that we're moving towards getting our backlog cleared with the temp workers, I can begin to hire permanent staff. We've begun contacting furloughed employees to determine if they have any interest in rejoining our work force before we open our hiring to the public."
"Thanks, Ben. Tom?"
"So far all I've been doing is returning calls to suppliers and assuring them that we'll be back in full operation shortly. Every plant had enough supplies on hand or on order that we've suffered no shortages during the one week we've been down. On Monday I'll occupy my office here and reestablish our purchasing and procurement operations."
"Thanks, Tom. Matt?"
"Our sales offices in Owosso, Asheville, and here in JC have done a great job of handling the entire burden of toll-free calls for catalog products. Our Brandon sales office will be back in operation this coming week, as soon as a telex machine is installed, so that orders can be communicated to the accounting operation here. The phones have already been set up in the second trailer and only need to be activated at the telephone switching office. I'm afraid that the design team is still floundering. We've found an empty store in which to set up the operation, but it will take a couple more weeks to acquire the equipment and furniture we need."
"Thank you, Matt. John?"
"I've begun the onerous task of accumulating the service manuals for the equipment we have installed in our various plants. Where there are multiple copies at the plants, they're sending me one. Where they have only one, someone is photocopying the manual. Where no manuals can be found, I'll have to get one from the manufacturer, if they're still in business. The fire has driven home the point that we should create a master list of all service documentation, and ensure that copies exist in multiple locations, including the long term storage vault."
"Thank you, John. Gerard?"
"The Midwest Region is quiet, except for all the activity at our new headquarters building. I'm glad to see that, so far, things appear to be progressing well."
"Thank you, Gerard. Ron?"
"Things are also quiet in the Southeast Region. Perhaps it's a result of the fire, but things have been quieter than normal. I think that everyone in the company is watching to see how well we recover from such a withering blow."
"Thank you, Ron. Jerry?"
"I'm still settling in myself, so I've been pretty busy. I'm pleased that things have been so quiet in my region, but it seems to me that if Alliance is planning to attack us, now would be the ideal time, while we're so distracted with issues here."
"Thank you, Jerry. Thank you, everyone."
Nothing noteworthy had been stated, and everyone was probably already aware of everything said, but it was important that we hear the reports from each person to give this first meeting in the new building a sense of normalcy.
"And you're right, Jerry. Now would be the ideal time for Alliance, and everyone else in the industry, to attack us. 'Kick them hardest while they're down' is an expected and accepted stratagem in business. What we have to do is prove that we're not down, or even hanging on the ropes. All we received was a glancing blow. I'm going to draft a press release, now that we're sure of where we stand. Perhaps I should have done it immediately after the fire, but since none of our plants were affected, I didn't think it critical. Now that I think about it, I imagine that our competitors are out there spreading half-truths to make people believe that we're on the verge of collapse. What all of you should do is spread the word through your industry contacts that we're not hurting in the slightest, and that the fire was a mere annoyance. Since our ability to produce product hasn't been affected, we should have nothing to prove, but if our competitors manage to convince our customers that they'll be left short of supplies, they may order from someone else as a safeguard."
"How about having a fire sale?" Gerard said. When everyone looked at him, he added, "It makes sense when you think about it. We offer product, especially newsprint, at slightly reduced prices with the excuse that we need to raise some capital to cover the enormous expense of moving our headquarters operation."
"That could backfire on us," Tom said. "If our creditors think that we're having financial problems, it could affect the prices we're charged for supplies."
"Our suppliers know we have seventy-two plant locations now," Ron said. "And they'll know that all we lost was one office, not production ability. What's more, no pun intended, is the fact that we're a division of Ameri-Moore, and we have the full strength and protection of our parent company."
"That's another concern," Bill said. "We can't afford to do something that could reflect badly on Ameri-Moore. If people think that we're in trouble, they might begin to think that Ameri-Moore is in trouble as well."
"Then don't say that we need to raise capital to cover our expenses," Gerard said. "Let's say that the fire sale is only to show the industry that we were completely unaffected by the fire that destroyed our offices, and that they should act quickly to take advantage of this special offer because it won't last. That establishes up front that we intend to reinstate our normal pricing structure quickly so that our competitors don't feel obligated to lower their normal prices to meet this special sale price. I remember the sale that was run after Piermont acquired Plymouth Paper in Concord. Piermont hadn't yet acquired Owosso Paper, and we were scrambling to keep from losing customers, I can tell you. We saw a severe drop in orders for a couple of months, until all of Plymouth's excess inventory was sold."
"Actually," Bob said smiling, "we continued to sell at sale prices well beyond the movement of the excess inventory. It enabled us to quickly clear the warehouse to a point where we had to start producing more product at Concord, and then rebuild the inventory so we could continue selling and bringing back the customers. By the time the sale ended, we had sold several times the amount of inventory we had on hand when the sale was begun."
Gerard looked dumbfounded. "I never heard that." Looking at me, he asked, "Is it true?"
"Absolutely," I said. "Matt was the force behind that strategy, and he personally handled the accounts that got the special prices."
"We're too big now for one person to handle such a sale if we intend to offer it across the board," Ron said.
"Yes," Bob agreed, "and we don't need to run it as long. We only want to show people that our production capability wasn't diminished by the fire. Of course, it will probably mean losing money on newsprint sales since we're already selling it at break-even prices to compete with Alliance."
"Financially, we're in good shape right now," Bill said. "Outside of the fifteen plants in the Northwest and the six in the Northeast that produce newsprint, our producing plants have been operating solidly in the black. A short period of minimal loses on newsprint won't seriously effect our overall health. I would hesitate to extend the discounts on other products since they're keeping us on a solid footing, but a short sale period across the board shouldn't drag us down very much."
When no one else spoke up, I said, "Okay, then. All in favor of having a 'fire sale' of product to large commercial accounts?"
"Why limit it to large commercial accounts?" Ron asked as hands started to go up. "A 'fire sale' implies that 'everything must go,' and go now."
As the hands fell back down, I said, "We can't advertise it to catalog customers since we're unable to produce a new catalog right now, and if they've already decided to order from us, we don't need it to get their business."
"But if they get an extra discount they weren't expecting, perhaps they'll increase their order size."
"Is that desirable?" I asked. "Isn't this sale only intended to show our presence hasn't been diminished in the industry? We already run 'specials' in the catalogs throughout the year that small accounts can take advantage of."
The discussion began anew, and by the time it was done the consensus seemed to be that we should exempt all catalog sales, except those to previously established customers whose purchases exceeded a thousand dollars a year. All direct sales would receive the discounted prices.
"All in favor, so signify," I said.
Every hand at the table was raised up.
"The Fire Sale plan carries. Bob and Matt will get together and establish the starting and ending dates. It's nearly noon and the lunch should be here. Is there anything else we should discuss before we take a break?"
When no one spoke up I said, "Okay, let's sample the fare from a recommended local restaurant."
As always, we continued to talk business while we ate, but I excused Nancy from taking minutes until we officially resumed so she could eat also.
The meeting broke up a little before three p.m., and I was left alone with my thoughts. Despite the fact that we were losing most of our Brandon headquarters staff, and that we were still not in a position to produce and mail statements, I felt good about our progress and our current situation. It remained to be seen if the data we needed could be recovered from the computer drives or tapes, but we had confirmed that we had all the hard copies of the current orders and the invoices for shipped products. The redundancy built into the paper system would have allowed us to recover all invoice data from the plants, but it would have created a tremendous amount of extra effort. All in all, we were in pretty good shape.
We had all been so busy, and had accomplished so much, that it was difficult to believe only one week had passed since the fire. Actually, we were still twelve hours short of a full week. It was a beautiful June day, so I carried my tea out onto my deck and took my preferred seat at the table there so I could look out at the western horizon. At least here in JC, I was able to sit on my deck without worrying that someone in the yard below would see me 'lounging' for an extended period. The plant in JC was far from the office and on the opposite side of the building.
Normally in this situation I would head for my couch and my pile of trade mags, but I have a couch I don't like, and not a single trade magazine graced my coffee table. I don't even have any offers to look through. I never thought that I'd miss my mail. So I did what had to be done, I worked on the press release that would go out to the paper and financial communities.
When I finished the draft of the press release, I gave it to Ellen to type, with instructions to give it to Bob when she was done. My work complete, I drove to the airport. Bob had no plans to return to Vermont over the weekend, so I'd decided to use the G1 to go home. Being significantly closer to the ranch than I would have been at Brandon, just five-hundred-thirty air miles versus fifteen-hundred-twenty, I would make the trip in less than two hours.

** image texasgal-54a **

I love flying on a beautiful day. It always makes the trip such a pleasure. The thermals bounced me around a bit, but the plane settled down some as I climbed to altitude. I let my mind become totally absorbed in flying the plane as I tried to forget the problems plaguing Piermont.
Although the cockpit of a plane is filled with levers, switches, and gauges, once you've reached your cruising altitude your attention is primarily directed at just several gauges. You watch your Artificial Horizon/Turn and Bank, Air Speed, Altimeter, and either the Directional Gyro or the VOR (Variable Omni-directional Radio) Indicator frequently. If you have a good autopilot system, you don't even have to watch those very closely. But all pilots are taught to scan the complete instrument panel every few minutes, to insure that everything is within proper operating norms. I was halfway home when I noticed that the oil temperature in the right engine was running hot. Instead of hovering around 50 degrees C, it was up around 110 and climbing. The red line is at 120. The gauge immediately above the temperature gauge gives the Oil Pressure for the right engine. It should have been around 20 P.S.I., but it had fallen to less than 5. The red line is at 9. I had a problem; a serious problem. If I was in a car, I would simply pull over to the side of the road. Your options are a bit more limited at twenty thousand feet.

** image texasgal-54b **

I chopped power to the right engine, and felt the plane yaw in response to the loss of thrust on the right side, but the autopilot began to immediately compensate for the change. As the prop slowed and came to halt, I feathered the blades. Turning them so they slice cleanly into the wind significantly reduces drag. I took a few seconds to check everything else carefully, and breathed a sigh of relief when I discovered no other problems.
My next chore was to determine precisely where I was. I naturally knew that I had just passed Fort Smith, Arkansas, but I wanted to know precisely how far past it I was. Once I had that information, it was time for a decision. I was flying light, so one engine was more than adequate to get me safely to the ranch. But if I had another problem, the Gulfstream could become a sailplane. And with an empty weight of 21,900 pounds, it wouldn't float much better than the apple that landed on Sir Isaac Newton's head, if that in fact even happened. On the other hand, there was no reason to assume that I would have a problem with the other engine. I never hesitated to jump into the Cessna and take to the skies, and that only had one engine. The only thing that gave me pause was that I was less than twenty miles from the mountains of southwest Oklahoma. We're not talking about the Alps, certainly, but they did extend across my flight path for ninety miles. There were a few airports, mostly private strips on ranches, but overall the hilly terrain precluded a safe and easy emergency landing in an eleven-ton plane.
With the loss of one engine, my air speed dropped considerably, but as I neared the mountains everything seemed to be running fine. I decided to continue my trip, and actually extend it by twenty miles or so. The mechanic who had checked out the plane while it was in Las Vegas, and then performed the necessary maintenance, was based at Waco Regional. If I could make it there I would have him check out the engine and perform the required work. Once I got across the Texas border the land was mostly flat or gently rolling, and there were airports all over the place. Many were public airports, but there were also numerous private strips. In an emergency, no one is going to fault you for landing at a non-public strip, except maybe the military. I'd always heard they become a bit perturbed when people drop in unexpectedly.
Once I was safely past the mountains and into Texas, I called the ranch. When Rosa answered I asked her to tell Mother I was on the line. A couple of minutes later I heard Mother's voice.
"Hello dear," she said. She had to have heard the noise in the cockpit and recognized it. "Are you coming home?"
"Hello, Mother. Yes, I am. Can you pick me up in Waco? I'm having a little problem with the G1 and I want to leave it there for Jeff to take a look at it. I'm about an hour out. "
"Of course, honey. I'll leave here in about forty-five minutes. I'm sure you'll need some time on the ground when you arrive."
"Okay, Mother. Thank you."
I kept a close eye on the gauges, but everything remained within safe limits. When I called in to Waco Approach Control I informed the traffic controller that I had one engine out.
"Are you declaring an emergency?" he asked.
I certainly didn't want to be met by ambulances and fire engines as I touched down.
"Negative," I said. "I have no passengers on board and the left engine is running fine. I'm only reporting it before someone on the ground sees the right prop feathered and gets excited."
"Understood."
He gave me an approach vector, wind direction and speed, and the barometric pressure. I altered course and checked my altimeter setting.
Once I was on the ground I was handed over to ground control and routed to Jeff's maintenance hanger. I was happy to see that he was still there. Being after six p.m. on Friday, I thought he might have left already. As I taxied up to the hanger entrance, Jeff saw me and walked out to direct me to where he wanted me to park.
"Hi, DD," he said as I appeared in the doorway after shutting down the left engine and turning off all the power. "It looks like you had a problem."
"I shut the engine down as soon as I noticed the oil temp, but it had already redlined. I hope that I caught it before the engine was damaged."
"Redlined, huh?" Jeff said before turning to re-enter the hanger. He returned almost immediately with a stepladder. Planting it next to the right engine he climbed up and opened the engine cowling cover so he could check the oil level.
"When did you last use the plane?" he asked as he looked at the dipstick.
"A couple of my executives flew it down to Missouri from Vermont a week ago."
"Any problems then?"
"Nope. None."
"Where are you coming from?"
"Jefferson City, Missouri."
"How far out were you when you noticed the problem?"
"About fifty minutes."
He nodded and said, "I need a screwdriver. Be right back."
He hurried into the hanger and returned a minute later pushing a waist-high tool cart in front of him. I stood out of his way and watched as he began disassembling the cowling. When the protective covering was removed, he pulled a flashlight from his rear pocket and began examining the engine closely. After a few minutes he turned to face me.
"You got any enemies, DD?"
"Who doesn't?"
"I mean the kind of enemies that would be happy if you weren't around anymore?"
"Uh, one or two— hundred."
"Well, be careful. One of them two hundred crimped an oil line. You can see a crosshatch pattern where the pliers squeezed the metal. Whoever did it didn't squeeze it completely shut. They just closed it down enough to restrict the flow so that you'd have a problem after you were flying for a bit. If your execs brought the plane to Missouri without a problem, then the deed was done after they arrived."
"You're sure it was sabotage?"
"Absolutely. I just don't understand why they only sabotaged one engine."
"Perhaps they weren't trying to kill anyone. Maybe they only wanted to send a message."
"Causing a plane to fall from the sky sends a better message. I wonder..."
Jeff grabbed his tool caddy and ladder and moved over to the other engine. He never said a word as he began dismantling the cowling. When he had removed the engine cover, he pulled out his flashlight and examined the engine. Then he turned to me and scowled.
"Yep, it's as I thought. They crimped this one also, but they didn't squeeze it enough to restrict the flow sufficiently. They might have been interrupted, or perhaps they were working in the dark and couldn't see well enough. Anyone monkeying around with an engine on a plane would be suspect and they had to be careful not to be seen. That's tough to do when you have to use a ladder and remove the whole cowling. And if they squeezed the line too hard, you would have noticed the problem even before you took off."
"So you're saying that they purposely tried to cause a crash?"
"Or at least an emergency landing. If you weren't near enough to a decent airpark, you could have crashed."
"Our headquarters in Vermont was destroyed by fire a week ago. The authorities have informed us that it was most likely arson."
"Sounds like someone is super pissed off with you, DD. But they screwed up royally with this maneuver. Arson is a local beef, but messing with a plane is a federal rap; even for general aviation aircraft. You should ground your plane until a complete check can be done. I'll report this to the FAA right away. The feds might want to see if the guilty party left any fingerprints."
"No problem, Jeff. I wouldn't even taxi it off this ramp until it's been checked over thoroughly. They could have cut partway through a control cable or something, and it just hasn't snapped yet."
"I'll go over it from nose cover to vertical stabilizer trim panel."
"Thanks, Jeff."
I wandered over to the parking lot to wait for Mother, and was surprised when I heard Jeff calling to me.
"Your aunt just radioed the office," he yelled. "She's taxiing in. She should be here in a minute or two."
"Thanks, Jeff," I said loudly as I walked back out onto the ramp. Auntie's Cessna swung in from the taxiway to the hanger a few seconds later. As I climbed into the 206 I said, "I guess Mother's not coming?"
"I was down in Crockett. I called the house just after you did and your mom asked if I could pick you up since it wasn't very far out of the way. Problem with the G1?"
"You could say that. Someone sabotaged the engines."
"What?! Someone damaged your engines?"
"Jeff thinks they were trying to cause a crash, but didn't do a very effective job."
"What did they do?"
"They crimped an oil line on both engines, but only one was effectively sabotaged, so I flew in on one engine."
"Is this related to the fire at Brandon?"
"It might be. I don't know. If it isn't, it's a hell of a coincidence."
"You might not want to mention this to your mom."
"It'll be impossible to hide if the FBI shows up at the door."
"The FBI?" Auntie said with surprise.
"Wouldn't they be the ones to investigate aircraft tampering?" I asked.
"I don't know. The NTSB investigates crashes, but I'm not sure who investigates aircraft theft, tampering, or vandalism. I suppose you're right. It must be the FBI."
"I have to tell Mother. She'd feel hurt if I didn't, even if it was simply because I was trying to keep her from worry. She'd think I didn't trust her to react sensibly."
"She's a big girl, Darla Anne. I guess she can handle the news."
I grinned at Auntie and she smiled back.

Susan was at the house when I arrived, but neither Judy or Mary had yet arrived home for the weekend. I waited until after dinner to break the news.
"What?!" Mother said, with horror written on her face. "Someone deliberately damaged your plane to cause you to crash?"
"I don't know that it was directed at me personally. Bob Warren flew the plane down from Brandon. Whoever did it might simply be attacking Piermont in general."
"Or Piermont's generals," Susan quipped. "Only two people fly the G1, right? So they had a fifty-fifty chance of it being you."
"What are you going to do, dear?" Mother asked.
"Jeff's going to notify the FAA. They're required to open an investigation. We'll just have to wait and see what they turn up. In the meantime, Jeff will check over the entire plane to see if they did anything else. When I get back to JC I'll see if there's hanger space available. Once the plane is locked inside a hanger with a security system, no one can get to it without setting off an alarm."
"And if there's no hanger space available?"
"Then we'll find a better place to park it; perhaps somewhere illuminated at night; at least someplace where anyone trying to tamper with it will definitely be seen."
"Do you think it was the same person who burned down your headquarters building?"
"I don't know. But I do know that we should be extra careful or a while. That goes for here at the ranch as well. Everyone has to be on their guard until we find out who's behind these attacks."
"Neither of the attacks occurred in the open," Auntie said, "so it makes sense that whoever is behind them likes to maintain a low profile. It's reasonable to assume that if they come here, it will be at night, under the cover of darkness. I know a couple of guys that might be perfect for a nighttime protection force. They do special security work at oil sites where violence from neighbors, competitors, or just someone with a grudge, is a distinct possibility. They're the very best at what they do. They'll watch the house and surrounding yards from dusk to dawn. I'll see if I can locate them."
"Do you really think that's necessary?" Mother asked.
"Better safe than sorry. Until this situation is resolved, we should have someone on guard."
"I agree," I said. "So far the attacks have been troublesome, but not crippling. If they see that they're not accomplishing their goal, whatever it might be, they might decide to step up their efforts with a direct assault."

Since the G1 would be tied up for a couple of weeks, I hitched a ride with Susan on Monday. She was headed to West Virginia to begin an inspection tour, so JC was practically on her way.
The car assigned to me from the pool was still in the Jeff City airport parking lot space where I'd left it Friday, so I reached our headquarters building a little after ten a.m. The increased activity at the building had already justified the planned increase in the security force. Since one guard was always required to remain in the lobby, a second guard was available to oversee deliveries at the loading dock, or to respond to calls for assistance. Both guards were in the lobby when I entered, and came sharply to attention. I was still unsure how I should respond, so I just smiled pleasantly and nodded.
As I rode the car to the top floor I thought about visitors being greeted in a marble and glass entrance hall by an unsmiling security guard in a freshly pressed uniform. At Brandon, visitors were greeted by a friendly receptionist who directed them to their destination. While our recent troubles were adequate to justify changes, it seemed like we were losing something very valuable in the name of security. I much preferred the more 'homey' environment we'd had before. I knew I would have to work on finding a compromise position.
At least the situation on the top floor was a little better. Ellen DeFranco, the executive floor receptionist, greeted me warmly as I stepped out of the car. I stopped to exchange pleasantries and chat for a few minutes before continuing on to my office. The light was on in my kitchen and a freshly brewed pot of tea sat on the countertop, along with a small plate of appetizing chocolate-chip cookies.

(new thought)

So I was feeling pretty good when I received the call from the chief arson investigator in Vermont. He told me that the fire was no doubt the work of an arsonist; an ethyl alcohol accelerant had been identified. A police investigation had been opened, but so far they had no suspects.