Chapters 5 and 6 had some minor rewrites, nothing worth reposting, which brings us to Chapter 7.
Tom stroked Frank Sinatra’s fur as Stacey exited the Station’s main gate. She glanced over and chuckled. “You’re approved of. He doesn’t give up his seat for anybody.”
Frank cushed Tom’s lap and fell asleep, his purrs almost as loud as the F-150’s AC. “Frank Sinatra, huh? If we had Gene Kelly, Ann Miller, and a couple of other hoofers we could make a movie. When did you get a cat? When did you get a truck? When did you get a farm? Feel free to answer in any order you’d like.”
“How come you were there when I made managing partner but not for my retirement party?”
“You retired a little suddenly, Sis. None of your emails ever mentioned antyhing about that.”
Stacey entered I-278 traffic. Frank stood up and looked out the window as if riding shotgun. Satisfied she handled the maneuver safely, he turned, cushed Tom’s lap again, settled back down, and continued his purr.
“Yeah, that kind of happened. Ingram alerted you back when I made partner?”
Tom smoothed Frank’s fur. “What kind of connections does he have he can get word to me through Navy channels and arrange for a 72-hour leave so I can come stateside, party-hardy, and get back in time for exercises?” Frank burrowed into Tom’s lap.
“I worked two months on a liability shield for Valdex Oil. They bought a fleet of single hulled tankers – ”
“And took up operations in the Gulf. Perfect targets for terrorist activity and environmental disasters. That was yours?”
“I spent nights finding double-hulled tankers they could afford. They didn’t want to hear about it, and that didn’t make sense.”
Frank opened his eyes, yawned, blinked at Stacey, and went back to sleep.
“So I had one of our people do some forensics. They hired us to create a liability shield, and hired a competitor to create an insurance trust.”
“They wanted a disaster?”
“Complete with parachutes and indemnities for everybody in the C-Suite.”
“Who’d take the hit?”
Stacey looked at him and pursed her lips.
“The investors?”
She raised her eyebrows.
“The investors and everybody else in the company?”
“Don’t forget all the oil giants Valdex transports for. It’ll make the ’70s energy crisis look like a day on the beach when it happens, and it will happen. They’re counting on it.”
“You gave up twenty-plus years of career building because of one client?”
“No, I gave up twenty-plus years of career building because of a fortune teller.”
Tom sared at his kid sister. His kid sister diligently kept her eyes on the road. Frank Sinatra opened his eyes and looked up at Tom.
Tom realized he stopped stroking Frank’s fur and started up again.
“Okay, tell me about the cat, the truck, the farm, and the fortune teller.”
Fank closed his eyes and the three of them continued north to Acra.
