Come Fly With Me (10 page)

She
buzzed
Natalya.
“Do
you
know
my
father’s
password?”

“Sorry,
I
don’t,"
she
responded.

“Thank
you,
Natalya.”
She
swiveled
her
chair
around
as
she
looked
out
over
the
city
and
tried
to
think
like
her
father.
She
phoned
her
mother.
“Mom,
do
you
know
the
patent
number
of
the
GPS
system
that
Zeidy
invented?”

“What
an
odd
question,
Allison.
I
know
your
father
kept
all
that
information
in
the
safe.
Let
me
just
run
up
and
check.”
A
few
minutes
later
Vivienne
read
off
the
numbers
and
Allison
was
in—she
couldn't
believe
it
was
that
simple.

She
spent
the
next
couple
of
hours
trying
to
catch
up
on
the
latest
industry
intelligence
and
creating
a
triaged
list
of
items
that
needed
her
immediate
concern.
She
was
deep
in
thought
when
there
was
a
tap
at
the
door.
The
door
opened
before
she
had
the
chance
to
respond.

“I’ve
come
to
introduce
myself.
I’m
Alexander
Coventry,”
said
a
smooth
voice,
accompanied
by
a
firm
handshake.

Allison's
jaw
dropped
as
she
looked
at
the
lean,
six-foot
plus
hunk
that
had
just
introduced
himself.
She
recovered
quickly
and
looked
down
at
the
list
of
prime
candidates
that
was
on
her
desk.

Alex
flashed
a
blinding
smile
as
he
pointed.
“That’s
me
at
the
top
of
the
list.
No
need
to
look
any
further.”
He
made
himself
comfortable
as
he
crossed
his
legs.

“I
believe
the
list
is
alphabetical,”
Allison
responded.

“Makes
no
bit
of
difference—I
always
end
up
on
top,”
his
green
eyes
sparked
as
he
spoke.

He
reached
forward
to
take
the
paper
as
she
tried
to
drop
her
hand
on
it.
Alex
was
faster.
It
reminded
her
of
her
youth
when
she
would
play
'spit,'
that
crazy,
fast-paced
card
game
with
her
friends.

“Now
don’t
they
teach
you
how
to
share
here
in
New
York?
Well
look
at
that.
Your
name
is
here
too—right
at
the
bottom.”

“Again,
Mr.
Coventry,
I
believe
the
list
is
alphabetical."

“No
need
for
formalities,
Allison.
Please
call
me
Alex.
I
believe
we
will
be
working
rather
closely
for
the
next
little
while
as
we
smooth
out
the
bumps
to
make
way
for
my
new
position
as
CEO
of
RossAir
Industries.”

Allison
took
in
his
light-colored
linen
suit—regrettably
off-season
and
his
blonde
surfer
good
looks
and
shook
her
head.
“Are
you
not
from
around
here,
Alex?
I
detect
a
strange
blend
of
accents.”

“Born
in
Buckhead—that's
the
snooty
part
of
Atlanta,"
he
smiled
as
she
nodded.
"And
schooled
in
the
Northeast—
Harvard,
M.I.T.”

“Of
course,
I
might
have
known,”
Allison
half-mumbled
to
herself.
Her
father
had
always
been
a
closet
intellectual
snob.

“Well.”
Alex
rose
to
his
full
height,
which
was
several
inches
taller
than
Allison’s
five-eight
plus
four
inches
for
her
black
Gucci
patent
pumps.
“I
joined
the
company
just
a
year
ago
and
greatly
enjoyed
the
time
I
spent
here
with
your
father.
He
was
a
visionary
and
his
loss
will
be
felt
greatly,
professionally
as
well
as
personally.”
He
tipped
an
imaginary
hat
and
quickly
left.

Allison
stared
at
the
closed
door.
She
didn’t
know
what
to
make
of
his
cocky,
overly
confident
swagger.
The
other
three
names
on
her
list
were
ones
she
recognized
from
years
of
hearing
her
father
talk
business.
They
were
trusted,
familiar,
and
most
likely
predictable
in
their
vision
for
the
company.

She
buzzed
Natalya
again.
“Could
you
please
send
out
a
memo
asking
the
board
members
to
meet
me
in
the
conference
room
in
two
hours?”

Allison
walked
into
the
conference
room
a
short
while
later
and
looked
at
the
six
men
sitting
around
the
gleaming
wood
table.
They
ranged
in
age
from
fifty-five
to
sixty-three
and
were
wearing
almost
identical
dark
suits
and
varying
versions
of
power
ties.
Alexander
Coventry
was
nowhere
in
sight.

“Gentlemen,
thank
you
for
joining
me
on
such
short
notice,
as
you
know,
the
matter
at
hand
is
an
urgent
one.
RossAir
is
a
pilotless
plane
now.
I
will
do
everything
in
my
power
to
see
that
the
proper
candidate
is
selected
to
steer
us
into
the
twenty-first
century.”
The
group
looked
as
if
they
might
appreciate
a
pep
talk
heavy
on
symbolism—she
hoped
she
was
right.