Power Play by Joseph Finder EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Joseph Finder
- Publish Date: August 21, 2007
- Language: English
- Genre: Mystery, Thriller & Suspense
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Pages: 384
- Price: Free
- ISBN: 9780312347482
We got trouble.”
I recognized Zoë’s voice, but I didn’t turn around from my
computer. I was too absorbed in a news report on the website
AviationNow.com. A competitor’s new plane had crashed a
couple of days ago, at the Paris Air Show. I wasn’t there, but
my boss was, and so were all the other honchos at my
company, so I’d heard all about it. At least no one was killed.
And at least it wasn’t one of ours.
I picked up my big black coffee mug—THE HAMMOND
SKYCRUISER: THE FUTURE OF FLIGHT—and took a sip.
The coffee was cold and bitter.
“You hear me, Landry? This is serious.”
I swiveled slowly around in my chair. Zoë Robichaux was
my boss’s admin. She had dyed copper hair and a ghostly
pallor. She was in her mid-twenties and lived in El Segundo
not too far from me, but she did a lot of club-hopping in L.A.
at night. If the dress code at Hammond allowed, I suspected
she’d have worn studded black leather every day, black
fingernail polish, probably gotten everything pierced. Even
parts of the body you don’t want to think about getting
pierced. Then again, maybe she already did. I didn’t want to
know.
“Does this mean you didn’t get me a bagel?” I said.
“I was on my way down there when Mike called. From
Mumbai.”
“What’s he doing in India? He told me he’d be back in the
office today for a couple of hours before he leaves for the
offsite.”
“Yeah, well, Eurospatiale’s losing orders all over the place
since their plane crashed.”
“So Mike’s lined up meetings at Air India instead of
coming back here,” I said. “Nice of him to tell me.”
Mike Zorn was an executive vice president and the
program manager in charge of building our brand-new widebodied passenger jet, the H-880, which we called the
SkyCruiser. Four VPs and hundreds of people reported to him
—engineers and designers and stress analysts and marketing
and finance people. But Mike was always selling the hell out
of the 880, which meant he was out of the office far more than
he was in.
So he’d hired a chief assistant—me—to make sure
everything ran smoothly. Crack the whip if necessary. His
jack-of-all-trades and U.N. translator, since I have enough of
an engineering background to talk to the engineers in their
own geeky language, talk finance with the money people, talk
to the shop floor guys in the assembly plant who distrust the
lardasses who sit in the office and keep revising and revising
the damned drawings.
Zoë looked uneasy. “Sorry, he wanted me to tell you, but I
kind of forgot. Anyway, the point is, he wants you to get over
to Fab.”
“When?”
“Like an hour ago.”
The fabrication plant was the enormous factory where we
were building part of the SkyCruiser. “Why?” I said. “What’s
going on?”
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