Chapter 1: “Do you have a passport?”
I’ve got to keep running. God, I’m so tired. What the hell is going on here? One minute I’m trying to sleep in some damn, Soviet era hotel room. The next minute I’m running for my life. The river. If I jump down and run alongside the river, the cars can’t follow me there.
The gravelly pavement grated through Nick's pants as he landed. He probably shouldn't have jumped, but he knew that the cars that were chasing him could not follow down into the lower pedestrian level. His knee throbbed and burned, but he was definitely motivated to keep going. Sooner or later they were bound to catch up with him. Better for it to be later. He had to buy some time.
OK, I'm a smart guy. I can figure this out. What the HELL is going on here?
Nick Suarez is an engineer. He is used to being given problems and having to figure out good solutions to those problems. This time, however, everything is different. It seems that this time, HE is the problem.
Nick's tired eyes scanned up and down the road. He had never been in Kiev before and now it was night and to top it off the pouring rain made everything blurred. He had to find some place to rest. Some place to figure this out.
Move. Move. What are you waiting for?
After realizing that he hadn't moved in what seemed like an eternity, Nick snapped out of his stupor and just began running. He didn't know where he was running to and he didn't know what he was running from. He just knew that he had to run.
The rain stung as it pelted his face. At every intersection Nick thought that he would certainly run into those men again. Those men. Nick's mind flashed with a cold realization.
Jesus! I didn't even get a good look at them. I could run right into them now and not even recognize them. I could be running right towards them.
Stop.
Just Stop.
Nick stopped dead in his tracks. He was in the middle of what looked to be a large public square. Late night traffic was circling the roundabout. He turned around to get his bearings and looked up to read the name of the building in front of him.
Dnipro Hotel.
Nick's shoulders sank. All of a sudden his legs felt like they were made of lead. The rush of the traffic passing behind him on the wet pavement was suddenly muffled. The crushing realization that he was right back in the same place that he started running from cut into his soul like a searing blade.
Shit.
* * *
Two days earlier...
"Nick, do you have a passport?"
Nick looked up from the stack of blueprints, schematics and calculations spread out all over his desk. Standing at his cubicle was Mark Turner, the engineering manager for VIP Interior Products. VIP Interior Products was known the world over for their seats, cabinets, and other aircraft interior products. They designed and manufactured custom interior components for private aircraft, catering to such diverse clientele as professional sports teams, wealthy businessmen, and heads of state. The famous and the infamous.
Less than two months prior, Nick came on board with the engineering and design team. This was his first "real job" since graduating with his Bachelor’s degree in Mechanical Engineering. He was like an eager puppy trying to please his owner.
"Yes, I do, actually,” he replied readily as he straightened up in his chair.
"Good, go down and talk to Tony. We need you to go to Kiev. It looks like there is a problem with one of the components on the TZ-12 project."
“What? Me? Are you sure?” Nick could barely believe what he was hearing.
Across the aisle in the next cubicle, Alex Meyer perked his head up and glanced quickly at Mark and then at Nick. Alex, like Nick, was also a mechanical engineer at VIP Interior Products but, unlike Nick, Alex had been with the company for a few years now. He was widely regarded as engineering’s “Golden Boy” and was the engineer who was in charge of the TZ-12 project. Nick’s ego was so inflated by the fact that the company would already entrust him with such a critical assignment that he did not even notice Alex’s glances, or his expression.
“Yes. Tony specifically told me to send you down.”
“Oh! Sure, I’ll go right away.” Nick picked up his pen and a notepad and started down to the other end of the building to where the executive offices were.
As he gathered his things to go down to see the Executive Vice President, Alex Meyer stood up from his desk and stopped the engineering manager in the aisle.
“Mark, what’s going on?” Alex was noticeably upset that the management had bypassed him on an issue relating to the project, which he had just headed up.
“Listen, Alex, just hold tight for a minute. I don’t have all of the facts yet, but when Tony calls me and tells me to send down one of my engineers, I do it.”
Tony Tripodo was the executive vice president of VIP Interior Products. He was really very likeable and had many, many contacts in the world of private and VIP aviation. From the moment he first met Tony, Nick felt something equally uneasy and awe-inspiring about him. Something about him screamed “mafia”. Maybe it was the silk suit. Maybe it was his sideways smile. Maybe it was his power and connections. Nick had not been at VIP for very long, but already he could tell that the company existed, and prospered, because Tony Tripodo made the wheels turn. He made the deals and he closed the sales. The owner, Roger Koch, obviously kept Tony very close… and reaped the rewards.
Roger started VIP Interior Products in the mid-eighties, when the world’s rich and powerful were bent on becoming richer and more powerful. Status symbols were very important in this era and a private airplane was seen as the ultimate status symbol. When the world’s elite wanted to outfit their aircraft with the best interiors – seats, divans, beds, showers, and cabinetry – they went to VIP Interior Products. If they didn’t, Roger Koch sent Tony Tripodo to them.
Nick was elated to be a part of this world. Even though he was behind the scenes, being an engineer in this company meant that he was part of this elite lifestyle… a lifestyle that he could never even dream of acquiring for himself or of ever encountering in a “normal” engineering job.
Nick wasted no time and took the quickest route out of engineering, down through the production floor and over to the front of the expansive warehouse factory that housed the executive offices. When he got there, Donna greeted him at the reception desk.
“Hi Nick, Tony’s waiting for you,” Donna said with a big smile as she motioned over to the Executive Vice President’s office.
“Thanks,” replied Nick and he suddenly felt a void begin to build in the pit of his stomach.
Oh come on. Have some guts! It’s not like you’re being called into the principal’s office for detention. Man, Kiev. Cool.
Nick walked down the hall and reached the open doorway. “Anthony Tripodo, Executive Vice President” read the nameplate just to the right of the doorway. Just across the hall, opposite from Tony’s office, Nick could see the president and owner of the company, Roger, briefly look up from his desk. It was like he suddenly made eye contact with a celebrity. Nick quickly raised his hand and gave a little energetic wave to the owner who dismissively lowered his eyes back down to what he was doing.
OK, that was not very cool of me.
Nick bounced into the doorway of the executive vice president’s office.
“Hi, Tony! Did you – “
Nick was cut short by a quick wave of Tony’s index finger. Tony was on the phone and gave Nick the universal “hold on, I’m on the phone” sign.
“Yes. Of course.” Tony was apparently finessing another customer into a large contract. “Listen, why don’t we do this. I’ll talk to our engineers, but I am sure that we can make a track and swivel seat that will also have a height adjuster on it so that Secretary Albright will be at the same height as everyone else at the conference and dining table.” Tony’s self-assured, sideways smile crept across his lips as took in what could only be perceived as a positive response from the person on the other end of the phone line. “Thank you, General. We’ll get to work on this right away.”
Tony hung up the phone and motioned for Nick to come in and sit at one of the leather armchairs facing his desk.
“Did you know that Madeleine Albright is really short?” He continued with a chuckle, “the highest ranking woman in the history of the U.S. government is barely five feet tall. Do you know what that means?”
“Custom seat for the Secretary of State?” Nick replied.
Tony’s smile grew a little wider. “Custom seat. Government Contract. We’re the only supplier. Not too bad.”
Nick sat before Tony in admiration. He knew that he should probably say something, but he just felt so awkward. Luckily, Tony either felt the awkwardness in the young engineer and felt pity or he just wanted to get on with the business at hand. Either way, Nick was relieved that Tony broke the silence.
“Nick, were you here already for the TZ-12 project?”
“No. I heard about it from Alex Meyer, but I think that it was wrapping up and shipping out by the time I was hired. It seems like it was a really great project.”
“Yes, it was a full interior kit for a Tupolev TU-154.”
Nick flipped open his notepad and began jotting down notes as Tony explained the project to him.
“Tupolev?” Nick inquired, he had never heard of that type of airplane.
“Yes. It’s an old school, Soviet era aircraft design and manufacturing company that was founded and headed by Andrey N. Tupolev. The TU-154 is a passenger aircraft designed for medium range flights. It is basically a Soviet knock-off of a Boeing 727-200. With the three engines on a t-shaped tail and an integrated, rear air-stair. Like the Boeing 727-200, the TU-154 had been the mainstay of Russian air travel for many decades. Hundreds of these aircraft are still being successfully operated in other countries as well. Due to the wide availability of this aircraft throughout the former Soviet republics, many heads of state and newly made capitalists have chosen to convert them for VIP operations.”
“Oh, so that’s why the plane is in the Ukraine,” said Nick.
“Yes. The Ukrainian Air Force commissioned the TZ-12 project for President Leonid D. Kuchma,” explained Tony. He reached over to the credenza situated next to his desk and grabbed one of the many aircraft floor plans which were stacked there. Laying it out on the desk between Nick and himself, he continued.
“Here is the LOPA for this project.”
Having been exposed to the aircraft interiors industry for less than two months so far, Nick was still getting accustomed to all of the terms and acronyms specific to aviation.
Low-pah. LOPA… right! Layout of Passenger Accommodations.
Nick leaned in to get a good look at the CAD drawing as Tony continued with his explanation.
“The interior is basically split up into three cabin zones. Here in the aft cabin section of the aircraft is a series of coach class triples with a couple of rows of business class doubles at the forward end of the cabin.” Tony motioned his hand over the rear portion of the aircraft layout, which looked almost exactly like a regular commercial airline configuration. “This section is reserved for staff, the press, or other passengers whom the President may choose to bring along as a ‘favor’.” Tony looked up briefly just to make sure that the young engineer was paying attention. Nick repositioned himself slightly in his chair and refocused on the LOPA. Tony continued with his verbal tour of the aircraft interior.
“The middle cabin section, here over the wing box, has four sets of four executive track and swivel seats in a club configuration. Each of the four tables in each club configuration is an adjustable, two position table with folding leaves. The table can be locked in a low stow position normally and then brought up for dining or working with the leaves folded out.”
Nick noticed that this cabin looked a lot like pictures he had seen of old dining cars on transcontinental railroad lines.
"You’ll notice that the cabins are divided with full height bulkheads and solid doors for privacy.”
“Right, you wouldn’t want for the people in the back to overhear the private conversations of the President.”
Tony nodded his head slightly, “Exactly. So finally we arrive here at the forward section of the cabin which is the main lounge.”
The main lounge looked almost exactly like a living room. A very nice living room. Complete with a credenza running the length of the cabin on one sidewall ending up in a full height entertainment cabinet. Along the other sidewall was a four-place divan and side cabinets. Tony continued his explanation.
“Here is where the problem is. Apparently, the entire entertainment system shuts off at some point in flight.”
“At any particular altitude?”
“That’s the problem. This is the Ukrainian Air Force. They don’t like to give out much detail but they are insisting that we send out someone immediately to evaluate the situation and get it fixed.”
“OK, but, why me? Don’t get me wrong, I really appreciate the vote of confidence, but wouldn’t it be better to send someone who actually designed this? Someone who worked on the program?”
Tony got up from his desk and walked around behind the chair where Nick was sitting. Glancing over to Roger Koch’s office, he quietly closed the door behind him.
Tony turned slowly and placed a steady hand on Nick’s shoulder.
“This is sort of a sensitive matter, Nick.”
Sensitive matter? It’s just an entertainment system, right?
Tony sat back down in his chair and, resting his elbows on the desk, he meshed his fingers together and leaned in towards Nick. “You know that I don’t mess around.”
“Yes.”
“I was the first one to interview you when we first considered bringing you on board, right.”
“Right”
“I saw something in you that the others didn’t see. I went to bat for you with Roger and we brought you in even though you were green, right out of school.”
“Thank you.”
“Nick, I need you to step up to the plate.”
Nick squirmed in his seat. The air was thick with that special power of influence and persuasion, which Tony, no doubt, used during his most difficult deals.
“Nick, don’t prove me wrong. I’m never wrong about people.”
Nick swallowed hard. Deep inside he knew that something was not right. But it was too deep inside. Tony pushed all the right buttons.
Damn, he’s good.
“Don’t worry, Tony. I’ll take care of this.”
Tony’s self-assured, sideways smile of satisfaction crept back across his lips as he slowly leaned back into his chair and crossed one leg slowly over the other.
“I know you will.”
The gravelly pavement grated through Nick's pants as he landed. He probably shouldn't have jumped, but he knew that the cars that were chasing him could not follow down into the lower pedestrian level. His knee throbbed and burned, but he was definitely motivated to keep going. Sooner or later they were bound to catch up with him. Better for it to be later. He had to buy some time.
OK, I'm a smart guy. I can figure this out. What the HELL is going on here?
Nick Suarez is an engineer. He is used to being given problems and having to figure out good solutions to those problems. This time, however, everything is different. It seems that this time, HE is the problem.
Nick's tired eyes scanned up and down the road. He had never been in Kiev before and now it was night and to top it off the pouring rain made everything blurred. He had to find some place to rest. Some place to figure this out.
Move. Move. What are you waiting for?
After realizing that he hadn't moved in what seemed like an eternity, Nick snapped out of his stupor and just began running. He didn't know where he was running to and he didn't know what he was running from. He just knew that he had to run.
The rain stung as it pelted his face. At every intersection Nick thought that he would certainly run into those men again. Those men. Nick's mind flashed with a cold realization.
Jesus! I didn't even get a good look at them. I could run right into them now and not even recognize them. I could be running right towards them.
Stop.
Just Stop.
Nick stopped dead in his tracks. He was in the middle of what looked to be a large public square. Late night traffic was circling the roundabout. He turned around to get his bearings and looked up to read the name of the building in front of him.
Dnipro Hotel.
Nick's shoulders sank. All of a sudden his legs felt like they were made of lead. The rush of the traffic passing behind him on the wet pavement was suddenly muffled. The crushing realization that he was right back in the same place that he started running from cut into his soul like a searing blade.
Shit.
* * *
Two days earlier...
"Nick, do you have a passport?"
Nick looked up from the stack of blueprints, schematics and calculations spread out all over his desk. Standing at his cubicle was Mark Turner, the engineering manager for VIP Interior Products. VIP Interior Products was known the world over for their seats, cabinets, and other aircraft interior products. They designed and manufactured custom interior components for private aircraft, catering to such diverse clientele as professional sports teams, wealthy businessmen, and heads of state. The famous and the infamous.
Less than two months prior, Nick came on board with the engineering and design team. This was his first "real job" since graduating with his Bachelor’s degree in Mechanical Engineering. He was like an eager puppy trying to please his owner.
"Yes, I do, actually,” he replied readily as he straightened up in his chair.
"Good, go down and talk to Tony. We need you to go to Kiev. It looks like there is a problem with one of the components on the TZ-12 project."
“What? Me? Are you sure?” Nick could barely believe what he was hearing.
Across the aisle in the next cubicle, Alex Meyer perked his head up and glanced quickly at Mark and then at Nick. Alex, like Nick, was also a mechanical engineer at VIP Interior Products but, unlike Nick, Alex had been with the company for a few years now. He was widely regarded as engineering’s “Golden Boy” and was the engineer who was in charge of the TZ-12 project. Nick’s ego was so inflated by the fact that the company would already entrust him with such a critical assignment that he did not even notice Alex’s glances, or his expression.
“Yes. Tony specifically told me to send you down.”
“Oh! Sure, I’ll go right away.” Nick picked up his pen and a notepad and started down to the other end of the building to where the executive offices were.
As he gathered his things to go down to see the Executive Vice President, Alex Meyer stood up from his desk and stopped the engineering manager in the aisle.
“Mark, what’s going on?” Alex was noticeably upset that the management had bypassed him on an issue relating to the project, which he had just headed up.
“Listen, Alex, just hold tight for a minute. I don’t have all of the facts yet, but when Tony calls me and tells me to send down one of my engineers, I do it.”
Tony Tripodo was the executive vice president of VIP Interior Products. He was really very likeable and had many, many contacts in the world of private and VIP aviation. From the moment he first met Tony, Nick felt something equally uneasy and awe-inspiring about him. Something about him screamed “mafia”. Maybe it was the silk suit. Maybe it was his sideways smile. Maybe it was his power and connections. Nick had not been at VIP for very long, but already he could tell that the company existed, and prospered, because Tony Tripodo made the wheels turn. He made the deals and he closed the sales. The owner, Roger Koch, obviously kept Tony very close… and reaped the rewards.
Roger started VIP Interior Products in the mid-eighties, when the world’s rich and powerful were bent on becoming richer and more powerful. Status symbols were very important in this era and a private airplane was seen as the ultimate status symbol. When the world’s elite wanted to outfit their aircraft with the best interiors – seats, divans, beds, showers, and cabinetry – they went to VIP Interior Products. If they didn’t, Roger Koch sent Tony Tripodo to them.
Nick was elated to be a part of this world. Even though he was behind the scenes, being an engineer in this company meant that he was part of this elite lifestyle… a lifestyle that he could never even dream of acquiring for himself or of ever encountering in a “normal” engineering job.
Nick wasted no time and took the quickest route out of engineering, down through the production floor and over to the front of the expansive warehouse factory that housed the executive offices. When he got there, Donna greeted him at the reception desk.
“Hi Nick, Tony’s waiting for you,” Donna said with a big smile as she motioned over to the Executive Vice President’s office.
“Thanks,” replied Nick and he suddenly felt a void begin to build in the pit of his stomach.
Oh come on. Have some guts! It’s not like you’re being called into the principal’s office for detention. Man, Kiev. Cool.
Nick walked down the hall and reached the open doorway. “Anthony Tripodo, Executive Vice President” read the nameplate just to the right of the doorway. Just across the hall, opposite from Tony’s office, Nick could see the president and owner of the company, Roger, briefly look up from his desk. It was like he suddenly made eye contact with a celebrity. Nick quickly raised his hand and gave a little energetic wave to the owner who dismissively lowered his eyes back down to what he was doing.
OK, that was not very cool of me.
Nick bounced into the doorway of the executive vice president’s office.
“Hi, Tony! Did you – “
Nick was cut short by a quick wave of Tony’s index finger. Tony was on the phone and gave Nick the universal “hold on, I’m on the phone” sign.
“Yes. Of course.” Tony was apparently finessing another customer into a large contract. “Listen, why don’t we do this. I’ll talk to our engineers, but I am sure that we can make a track and swivel seat that will also have a height adjuster on it so that Secretary Albright will be at the same height as everyone else at the conference and dining table.” Tony’s self-assured, sideways smile crept across his lips as took in what could only be perceived as a positive response from the person on the other end of the phone line. “Thank you, General. We’ll get to work on this right away.”
Tony hung up the phone and motioned for Nick to come in and sit at one of the leather armchairs facing his desk.
“Did you know that Madeleine Albright is really short?” He continued with a chuckle, “the highest ranking woman in the history of the U.S. government is barely five feet tall. Do you know what that means?”
“Custom seat for the Secretary of State?” Nick replied.
Tony’s smile grew a little wider. “Custom seat. Government Contract. We’re the only supplier. Not too bad.”
Nick sat before Tony in admiration. He knew that he should probably say something, but he just felt so awkward. Luckily, Tony either felt the awkwardness in the young engineer and felt pity or he just wanted to get on with the business at hand. Either way, Nick was relieved that Tony broke the silence.
“Nick, were you here already for the TZ-12 project?”
“No. I heard about it from Alex Meyer, but I think that it was wrapping up and shipping out by the time I was hired. It seems like it was a really great project.”
“Yes, it was a full interior kit for a Tupolev TU-154.”
Nick flipped open his notepad and began jotting down notes as Tony explained the project to him.
“Tupolev?” Nick inquired, he had never heard of that type of airplane.
“Yes. It’s an old school, Soviet era aircraft design and manufacturing company that was founded and headed by Andrey N. Tupolev. The TU-154 is a passenger aircraft designed for medium range flights. It is basically a Soviet knock-off of a Boeing 727-200. With the three engines on a t-shaped tail and an integrated, rear air-stair. Like the Boeing 727-200, the TU-154 had been the mainstay of Russian air travel for many decades. Hundreds of these aircraft are still being successfully operated in other countries as well. Due to the wide availability of this aircraft throughout the former Soviet republics, many heads of state and newly made capitalists have chosen to convert them for VIP operations.”
“Oh, so that’s why the plane is in the Ukraine,” said Nick.
“Yes. The Ukrainian Air Force commissioned the TZ-12 project for President Leonid D. Kuchma,” explained Tony. He reached over to the credenza situated next to his desk and grabbed one of the many aircraft floor plans which were stacked there. Laying it out on the desk between Nick and himself, he continued.
“Here is the LOPA for this project.”
Having been exposed to the aircraft interiors industry for less than two months so far, Nick was still getting accustomed to all of the terms and acronyms specific to aviation.
Low-pah. LOPA… right! Layout of Passenger Accommodations.
Nick leaned in to get a good look at the CAD drawing as Tony continued with his explanation.
“The interior is basically split up into three cabin zones. Here in the aft cabin section of the aircraft is a series of coach class triples with a couple of rows of business class doubles at the forward end of the cabin.” Tony motioned his hand over the rear portion of the aircraft layout, which looked almost exactly like a regular commercial airline configuration. “This section is reserved for staff, the press, or other passengers whom the President may choose to bring along as a ‘favor’.” Tony looked up briefly just to make sure that the young engineer was paying attention. Nick repositioned himself slightly in his chair and refocused on the LOPA. Tony continued with his verbal tour of the aircraft interior.
“The middle cabin section, here over the wing box, has four sets of four executive track and swivel seats in a club configuration. Each of the four tables in each club configuration is an adjustable, two position table with folding leaves. The table can be locked in a low stow position normally and then brought up for dining or working with the leaves folded out.”
Nick noticed that this cabin looked a lot like pictures he had seen of old dining cars on transcontinental railroad lines.
"You’ll notice that the cabins are divided with full height bulkheads and solid doors for privacy.”
“Right, you wouldn’t want for the people in the back to overhear the private conversations of the President.”
Tony nodded his head slightly, “Exactly. So finally we arrive here at the forward section of the cabin which is the main lounge.”
The main lounge looked almost exactly like a living room. A very nice living room. Complete with a credenza running the length of the cabin on one sidewall ending up in a full height entertainment cabinet. Along the other sidewall was a four-place divan and side cabinets. Tony continued his explanation.
“Here is where the problem is. Apparently, the entire entertainment system shuts off at some point in flight.”
“At any particular altitude?”
“That’s the problem. This is the Ukrainian Air Force. They don’t like to give out much detail but they are insisting that we send out someone immediately to evaluate the situation and get it fixed.”
“OK, but, why me? Don’t get me wrong, I really appreciate the vote of confidence, but wouldn’t it be better to send someone who actually designed this? Someone who worked on the program?”
Tony got up from his desk and walked around behind the chair where Nick was sitting. Glancing over to Roger Koch’s office, he quietly closed the door behind him.
Tony turned slowly and placed a steady hand on Nick’s shoulder.
“This is sort of a sensitive matter, Nick.”
Sensitive matter? It’s just an entertainment system, right?
Tony sat back down in his chair and, resting his elbows on the desk, he meshed his fingers together and leaned in towards Nick. “You know that I don’t mess around.”
“Yes.”
“I was the first one to interview you when we first considered bringing you on board, right.”
“Right”
“I saw something in you that the others didn’t see. I went to bat for you with Roger and we brought you in even though you were green, right out of school.”
“Thank you.”
“Nick, I need you to step up to the plate.”
Nick squirmed in his seat. The air was thick with that special power of influence and persuasion, which Tony, no doubt, used during his most difficult deals.
“Nick, don’t prove me wrong. I’m never wrong about people.”
Nick swallowed hard. Deep inside he knew that something was not right. But it was too deep inside. Tony pushed all the right buttons.
Damn, he’s good.
“Don’t worry, Tony. I’ll take care of this.”
Tony’s self-assured, sideways smile of satisfaction crept back across his lips as he slowly leaned back into his chair and crossed one leg slowly over the other.
“I know you will.”
© 2004 by Rob Suarez
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