Not Quite Crazy
Page 43
“I need you, Rachel.”
She grasped his free hand. “What should I pack?”
Chapter Eighteen
Owen thought it was an epic adventure, Jason was on the phone even at thirty thousand feet, and Rachel scrambled to write press releases and statements to reflect every scenario they might come across, all while flying in Jason’s personal jet. Nathan acted as copilot.
Three hours into their five-and-a-half-hour flight, Jason stepped away from his computer and to her side.
Owen sat in a leather reclined seat, watching a Marvel action flick while continually looking out the window and making comments about the landscape below.
“This is not how I pictured you in this plane for the first time.”
“I can beat that. I never pictured me here.”
He snuggled her neck. “Well, get used to it.”
Her heart kicked hard against her rib cage.
Before she could say a word, he kissed her cheek and moved behind Owen. “What are you watching?”
The two of them spoke over the movie, and Rachel looked around the cabin.
This wasn’t just a jet. It was a private jet of an owner of a massive company that flew jets. It didn’t boast a few seats; there were a minimum of a dozen, and two bedrooms . . . it was massive. Jason had apologized for the lack of an attendant, as if they needed one. Rachel was fairly certain the only thing different from Jason Fairchild’s private plane and that of the president was the cabinet of people inside.
How did I end up here, Em? the voice inside asked her friend, who couldn’t answer.
Owen laughed at something Jason said, the two of them watching grown men act like superheroes.
She glanced at her notes, reread what she’d written for Jason to say. Do your job, she cautioned herself.
She knew he’d asked her to come along as his support, but he’d also mentioned her abilities at her job. Letting him down, the company down, wasn’t an option.
Without anything else to do, and with fatigue already biting at her head, she sat back and closed her eyes.
Costa Rica was hot and wet. The sun was still up as they shuffled through customs and into a waiting car. Nathan and Owen took a separate car to the hotel so Jason and Rachel could go directly to the hospital.
Jason’s first priority was the people on the plane.
Jason had never met either pilot. On the flight over, he pulled up their employee files and directed his US based staff to expedite transportation for their families to travel to be with them.
In Jason’s time as CEO, he’d only had to go to a crash scene two other times. Both were free of fatalities, both were issues with takeoff. The airplanes in both situations sustained some damage but were by no means a complete loss.
According to the early pictures Jason received in flight, that wasn’t the case with the Costa Rica crash.
The hospital was like nothing they’d seen in the States. Less than six stories tall, with walls that appeared to be crumbling and unsuitable for occupancy on the outside, it had a surprising amount of technology inside.
It took a little time to find the right person to speak to, one who spoke English enough to get the information they needed.
The staff allowed both Jason and Rachel into the large room where both the pilots were being treated.
Neither man was conscious.
Both of them looked like they’d been run over with a truck. Or fallen out of the sky, as it stood.
One of the doctors came to the room when he heard there were visitors for the survivors.
“How bad are they?” Jason asked after Dr. Salvador introduced himself.
“Mr. Hyde should recover without complication. He suffered a spleen injury and some damage to his intestines.”
Jason looked at the other man. “And my copilot?”
“Mr. Berglund is more complicated. There is swelling in his brain and several broken bones. We assumed he wasn’t wearing the safety belts required for flight. There weren’t any abrasions along his pelvis like that which we found on Mr. Hyde.”
Jason shook his head. “I haven’t been to the crash site, or received any information from ICAO or the local agency yet.”
“I understand a flight attendant survived with minimal injuries. Perhaps she can help with the facts.”
Rachel placed a hand on Jason’s arm. “Weren’t you told Ron was in critical but stable condition?”
Jason did a quick scan of the unit. “Where is Mr. Lambert?”
“Ah, yes, the passenger. He was transferred to a lower unit.”
“Lower?” Jason asked.
“His injuries are not life threatening. He is down one floor.”
There was some relief in that.
After the doctor walked away, Jason and Rachel moved to a small waiting room outside the unit.
“I guess they don’t worry about HIPAA laws here,” she said.
“Thank God.”
They took a flight of stairs and found the nurse caring for Ron.
Through the broken English of one of the staff, they were told Ron was heavily medicated and shouldn’t be disturbed for a few hours. Jason was relieved to have a few more hours before he was forced to speak to the man who just lost his wife.
“What now?” Rachel asked once they left the floor.
Any other staff member, and Jason wouldn’t hesitate, but because he was speaking with Rachel, Jason cringed. “I need you here while I go to the crash site. Try and find the flight attendant and get some information from her. If any of the family shows up, they need to see us on-site. We should have more reinforcements by morning.”
If Rachel was concerned, it didn’t show. “That’s why I’m here,” she told him.
“You have your phone and a charger?”
She patted her briefcase.
“Money?”
“I have a credit card. I’m fine.”
“Okay.” His gut squeezed. “You’re sure you’re—”
“Jason! I’m a grown woman. Go. Do your job.” She smiled.
He pulled her close and kissed her. “Be safe,” he said before he walked out the door.
Several hours later, Rachel had given up on finding the flight attendant. She called around to the local hotels, many of which had people on staff who spoke English, and none said they had the attendant’s name in their registry.
The only hospital information was that she was treated for a few lacerations and a broken wrist and sent away. No one had seen her since. Rachel hoped it wasn’t an omen and was simply a case of not looking in the right places to find her.
Rachel sent several texts to Owen while she sat in the hospital waiting room. As expected, he was overly excited about being in a foreign country and was vowing to do better in his Spanish class when they returned to school later that month. On that, they both agreed.
Jason wasn’t on the radar. Then again, he was traveling to a clearing in a dense forest that probably didn’t have a cell tower for miles.
Around ten, she wondered if she should stick around or make her way to the hotel. She’d give herself till midnight, or until someone on the staff kicked her out. So far, there didn’t seem to be anyone playing police to visiting hours.
Doing everything in her power to keep from falling asleep . . . and only a few minutes from her midnight deadline, two Americans wearing pullover shirts with the Fairchild Charters logo walked into the lobby.
She stopped them before they found the elevators.
“Hello?”
The woman was probably in her fifties, not more than five feet three inches tall. The man looked to be in his early forties and had to spend five hours a day in the gym working out. They turned at her voice and smiled.
She grasped his free hand. “What should I pack?”
Chapter Eighteen
Owen thought it was an epic adventure, Jason was on the phone even at thirty thousand feet, and Rachel scrambled to write press releases and statements to reflect every scenario they might come across, all while flying in Jason’s personal jet. Nathan acted as copilot.
Three hours into their five-and-a-half-hour flight, Jason stepped away from his computer and to her side.
Owen sat in a leather reclined seat, watching a Marvel action flick while continually looking out the window and making comments about the landscape below.
“This is not how I pictured you in this plane for the first time.”
“I can beat that. I never pictured me here.”
He snuggled her neck. “Well, get used to it.”
Her heart kicked hard against her rib cage.
Before she could say a word, he kissed her cheek and moved behind Owen. “What are you watching?”
The two of them spoke over the movie, and Rachel looked around the cabin.
This wasn’t just a jet. It was a private jet of an owner of a massive company that flew jets. It didn’t boast a few seats; there were a minimum of a dozen, and two bedrooms . . . it was massive. Jason had apologized for the lack of an attendant, as if they needed one. Rachel was fairly certain the only thing different from Jason Fairchild’s private plane and that of the president was the cabinet of people inside.
How did I end up here, Em? the voice inside asked her friend, who couldn’t answer.
Owen laughed at something Jason said, the two of them watching grown men act like superheroes.
She glanced at her notes, reread what she’d written for Jason to say. Do your job, she cautioned herself.
She knew he’d asked her to come along as his support, but he’d also mentioned her abilities at her job. Letting him down, the company down, wasn’t an option.
Without anything else to do, and with fatigue already biting at her head, she sat back and closed her eyes.
Costa Rica was hot and wet. The sun was still up as they shuffled through customs and into a waiting car. Nathan and Owen took a separate car to the hotel so Jason and Rachel could go directly to the hospital.
Jason’s first priority was the people on the plane.
Jason had never met either pilot. On the flight over, he pulled up their employee files and directed his US based staff to expedite transportation for their families to travel to be with them.
In Jason’s time as CEO, he’d only had to go to a crash scene two other times. Both were free of fatalities, both were issues with takeoff. The airplanes in both situations sustained some damage but were by no means a complete loss.
According to the early pictures Jason received in flight, that wasn’t the case with the Costa Rica crash.
The hospital was like nothing they’d seen in the States. Less than six stories tall, with walls that appeared to be crumbling and unsuitable for occupancy on the outside, it had a surprising amount of technology inside.
It took a little time to find the right person to speak to, one who spoke English enough to get the information they needed.
The staff allowed both Jason and Rachel into the large room where both the pilots were being treated.
Neither man was conscious.
Both of them looked like they’d been run over with a truck. Or fallen out of the sky, as it stood.
One of the doctors came to the room when he heard there were visitors for the survivors.
“How bad are they?” Jason asked after Dr. Salvador introduced himself.
“Mr. Hyde should recover without complication. He suffered a spleen injury and some damage to his intestines.”
Jason looked at the other man. “And my copilot?”
“Mr. Berglund is more complicated. There is swelling in his brain and several broken bones. We assumed he wasn’t wearing the safety belts required for flight. There weren’t any abrasions along his pelvis like that which we found on Mr. Hyde.”
Jason shook his head. “I haven’t been to the crash site, or received any information from ICAO or the local agency yet.”
“I understand a flight attendant survived with minimal injuries. Perhaps she can help with the facts.”
Rachel placed a hand on Jason’s arm. “Weren’t you told Ron was in critical but stable condition?”
Jason did a quick scan of the unit. “Where is Mr. Lambert?”
“Ah, yes, the passenger. He was transferred to a lower unit.”
“Lower?” Jason asked.
“His injuries are not life threatening. He is down one floor.”
There was some relief in that.
After the doctor walked away, Jason and Rachel moved to a small waiting room outside the unit.
“I guess they don’t worry about HIPAA laws here,” she said.
“Thank God.”
They took a flight of stairs and found the nurse caring for Ron.
Through the broken English of one of the staff, they were told Ron was heavily medicated and shouldn’t be disturbed for a few hours. Jason was relieved to have a few more hours before he was forced to speak to the man who just lost his wife.
“What now?” Rachel asked once they left the floor.
Any other staff member, and Jason wouldn’t hesitate, but because he was speaking with Rachel, Jason cringed. “I need you here while I go to the crash site. Try and find the flight attendant and get some information from her. If any of the family shows up, they need to see us on-site. We should have more reinforcements by morning.”
If Rachel was concerned, it didn’t show. “That’s why I’m here,” she told him.
“You have your phone and a charger?”
She patted her briefcase.
“Money?”
“I have a credit card. I’m fine.”
“Okay.” His gut squeezed. “You’re sure you’re—”
“Jason! I’m a grown woman. Go. Do your job.” She smiled.
He pulled her close and kissed her. “Be safe,” he said before he walked out the door.
Several hours later, Rachel had given up on finding the flight attendant. She called around to the local hotels, many of which had people on staff who spoke English, and none said they had the attendant’s name in their registry.
The only hospital information was that she was treated for a few lacerations and a broken wrist and sent away. No one had seen her since. Rachel hoped it wasn’t an omen and was simply a case of not looking in the right places to find her.
Rachel sent several texts to Owen while she sat in the hospital waiting room. As expected, he was overly excited about being in a foreign country and was vowing to do better in his Spanish class when they returned to school later that month. On that, they both agreed.
Jason wasn’t on the radar. Then again, he was traveling to a clearing in a dense forest that probably didn’t have a cell tower for miles.
Around ten, she wondered if she should stick around or make her way to the hotel. She’d give herself till midnight, or until someone on the staff kicked her out. So far, there didn’t seem to be anyone playing police to visiting hours.
Doing everything in her power to keep from falling asleep . . . and only a few minutes from her midnight deadline, two Americans wearing pullover shirts with the Fairchild Charters logo walked into the lobby.
She stopped them before they found the elevators.
“Hello?”
The woman was probably in her fifties, not more than five feet three inches tall. The man looked to be in his early forties and had to spend five hours a day in the gym working out. They turned at her voice and smiled.
