Endworlds - Nicholas Read [7]
Raef headed back to the nosecone of the plane where he knew a hatch in the forward deck of First Class gave access to a small electronics bay, through which the cargo section could be accessed.
“I want to go down there. Now. I’ll look for myself. Give me a breathing mask.” Despite the circumstances he nearly smiled. “Cold doesn’t bother me.”
By the time AN888 arrived in Sydney he was exhausted from searching the cargo bay from one end to the other, pawing through stacks of luggage and forcing paths between pallets of commercial goods. Having to rotate personnel to accompany him, the crew could only marvel at his stamina in the biting cold and low pressure.
They had to all but force him back into his seat while the plane landed. Then it took three members of airport security to wrestle him bodily off the plane. He was crying and fighting the whole time. Curses and threats alternated with tears as he screamed his daughter’s name.
“Paige, Paige!”
His eyes blazed as he fought wildly with the police and airport personnel who now surrounded him. “Let go of me! I want that plane sealed. Sealed and taken apart rivet by rivet until she’s found!” His voice cracked. “I’ll fire everyone, you understand? Everyone! I’ll buy the goddamn airline! I’ll . . !”
Inconsolable and out of his head with grief, he was whisked by dark suited Burroughs Labs representatives to a private hospital on the harbor city’s North Shore. It took two days and a combination of sympathetic visitors and proper medication to calm him down. What remained was a smoldering determination.
The duty nurse who entered the room on the third morning expected to encounter a convalescing patient. She was shocked to discover him standing by the window, dressed complete to tie and hand-made shoes. Holding a phone to his ear, he turned to acknowledge her presence.
“Mr. Eisman—sir—you’re supposed to be in bed. The doctor—”
“Tell the doctor to attend to sick people. This is a hospital; I’m sure there are plenty of them. I’ll be checking myself out shortly.”
“Checking your— Sir, you can’t. Only a senior member of staff can authorize that.”
A thin smile creased the patient’s face. “Watch and learn.” As the stunned nurse retreated to find a superior, the billionaire’s connection came through.
“This is Raef Eisman. I need to speak to William Hills. Yes, I know what time it is in New York. Wake him up—we’re buying a healthcare company today.” He looked down at himself, reasonably pleased.
Hospital garb had never suited him.
1 Search “Burroughs” at the Center for the History of Information Technology in the Charles Babbage Institute: http://www.cbi.umn.edu. Or Google “Burroughs” and “Computing” in Image view for other archival material. In 2010 Burroughs Labs was annexed by a special arm of the military to ‘specialize in the development of new technologies in the interest of national security’ (FOI-DGML1009A-C78). Divisions of non-military interest were sold by private treaty in 2010.
THE SPACES BETWEEN
FEDERATED STATES OF MICRONESIA
DECEMBER, 2001
THEY HELD AN empty-casket funeral for the other two girls. But Raef Eisman did not attend, nor did he respond to the offers to share the ceremony from the other mourning, bewildered parents. Because while he grieved over Paige’s disappearance, he was far from ready to surrender her to the past tense. Others bade their goodbyes to those presumed dead and gone. Paige was merely—gone.
It was left to Hills to console the head of Burroughs Labs and coax him from his despair. Depression and obsession is what other members of the Board called it. The junior seats and advisors said nothing, of course. They were too polite to do so. Too understanding.