“What about the stitches?”
“I’ll wrap ‘em up real tight,” he said. “I’ll get by. The fuckin’ show must go on.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Jake told him. He looked at the drummer meaningfully. “Was it worth it?”
“Fuck yeah, it was worth it,” Coop replied. “What that asshole did was not cool. It ain’t the way the world is supposed to work. What happens on the road stays on the road. Everybody knows that. It’s fuckin’ sacred, man! That motherfucker violated that shit. That cannot go unanswered, especially not when he’s spreading shit about Celia and Teach and Suzie.”
Jake smiled and patted him on the back. “You really do say some profound shit sometimes, Coop.”
“Do I?” he asked.
Suzie called the home office and told them everything about Njord. She told them about the insubordination, the lack of crew cohesion, the misogynistic remarks he had made, and about how they had good information that he had spread vicious rumors about their passengers to the media—rumors that weren’t even true, not that that really made any difference. She told them that her passengers were demanding that he be removed from the assignment immediately—not that he would be cleared for resuming normal duties for at least a month thanks to Coop.
Pauline called the home office as well. She told them that she and her clients were absolutely outraged by the slanderous lies Suzie’s copilot had spread to the entertainment media for whatever twisted reason he had. She also told them that her clients had reported to her a string of sexual harassment and misogynistic statements they had heard Njord make in the course of his tenure with them. She cited her evidence that Njord was the culprit—highly circumstantial though it was—ticking off point by point, naming names, and repeating quotes. She told them that KVA Records would never agree to a contract with them again and would likely file lawsuits against them if this situation was not made right immediately.
Jake and Laura even got in on this action. Laura called first, telling them how her reputation was now in question because of the lies that Njord had spread. She told of how Njord had come onto her back in the beginning of his assignment and how, after she had shot him down, he had continued to come onto her until she had been forced to become firm with him. From that point on, he had seemed to have some sort of vendetta against her.
Jake simply echoed Pauline’s statement, though in more straightforward terms. One of their pilots had slandered his wife to the entertainment media. This was a gross violation of the trust they were supposed to enjoy in their air transport contractor. If this was not made right, not only would KVA never do business with Peterson Aviation again, not only would lawsuits be filed, but KVA would go out of their way to spread the information far and wide that Peterson Aviation could not be trusted to remain discrete, making sure that all potential future clients heard about it.
And so, Njord was summarily fired from his job at Peterson Aviation. They did not bother investigating the matter. Though he vehemently insisted (through his wired-shut jaw) to Jack Benton, the CEO of the company, when Jack called to sever the relationship, that he had not spoken to any reporters, that he had nothing to do with the leak, Jack did not listen. Peterson Aviation was not a union shop. Though Njord had a contract with the company, that contract specifically stated that it was subject to cancellation by either party for any or no reason and Benton was therefore invoking that clause on the grounds that he had strong reason to believe that Njord had violated the company policies related to sexual harassment, subordination to the chain of command, and, most significant, keeping his fucking mouth shut about the personal lives of the wealthy passengers they transported from place to place in their aircraft. Njord was free to file a complaint with the California Department of Fair Labor and Housing if he thought this was an unlawful termination, but he was advised quite sternly that Peterson’s lawyers would fight such a complaint with everything they had, would not settle under any circumstance, and would make sure that all of the claims made against Njord by Suzie, Laura and Celia would be aired and made public record for any potential future employers to peruse.
Njord, in a rare display of wisdom, decided to just accept the termination. He booked a flight back to Los Angeles at his own expense and tried to come up with a plausible story to tell his wife about how he had ended up unemployed with a broken jaw.
Peterson Aviation, meanwhile, dispatched a new hire copilot who had just cleared his training period on the King Air to Bangor to take over Njord’s duties. His name was Scott Fator. He was twenty-six years old and this was his first assignment after receiving his ATP-r certification after working for a small cargo carrier company for the past three years. He was completely awed by the fact that he would be flying Celia Valdez and her band around Canada as his first gig.
“Do you know why you were given this assignment?” Suzie asked him within five minutes of meeting him for the first time at Bangor International.
“They said it was because your previous copilot was released from his contract and I was the only one that they had available to fill in on short notice,” was his reply.
“That’s true,” Suzie agreed, “but not the whole story. He was not released from his contract. He was fired. And do you know why he was fired?”
“Why?” Scott asked nervously.
“Partly because he was an asshole,” she said, “but mostly because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He talked to a reporter and gave her details about our very famous passengers.”
Scott’s eyes widened. “You mean ... all that about how Celia and you ... about Jake Kingsley’s wife and those women... he is the one who talked?”
“He is the one who talked,” she confirmed. “And because he did that, our passengers and me are now in the midst of a whole lot of unwanted attention. My question to you, my new copilot, is what can you learn from Njord’s mistake?”
“Uh ... not to talk to reporters about what happens on the mission?” he asked hesitantly.
“Wrong,” she said. “Not to talk to anyone about what happens on the mission. That means no one, ever—even long after you are done with this mission. You don’t talk to your future PICs or copilots about what happens on the mission. You don’t talk to your wife or your girlfriend or your gay lover about what happens on the mission. You don’t talk to your fucking priest or your fucking rabbi or your fucking bishop or your fucking imam about what happens on the mission. After you die, when you finally get to meet whatever god you worship and believe in, if you want to discuss it then, that’s cool. But until that moment, your mouth stays shut. Are you following me?”
“Yes, absolutely,” he said. “What happens on the mission stays on the mission. Everyone knows that.”
“Apparently everyone does not,” Suzie said. “Now, let’s get this aircraft out of this hangar and preflighted. Our passengers will be here for the ride to Quebec in less than two hours. And this is an international hop, so we’ll have to deal with customs and all that shit.”
“Right,” Scott said. “Let’s do it.”
They did it. And two hours and thirty-eight minutes later, they were lifting off from Bangor International for the one hour and ten-minute flight across the United States border.
Chapter 5: The Tax Man
Rotterdam, Netherlands
May 30, 1996
The flight from Brussels to Rotterdam had only taken about twenty minutes from wheels up to touchdown. Though the flight was international—from Belgium to Netherlands—it was within the European Union and therefore no border check or customs clearance was required. As such, Matt and his band were checking into the Hilton of Rotterdam Hotel only fifty-eight minutes after stepping onto the plane at Brussels International. It took them even less time to find the nearest hash bar.