Political Science 101

Chater Sixty-Nine

HE WOKE suddenly when he felt the turbulence. It was early on Saturday morning, perhaps 6AM, when Ray Doyle's flight landed at the small St. Louis Downtown Airport. On the plane, being a multimillion dollar Gulfstream, Ray had no trouble napping comfortably napping during the three-hour flight. He wasn't sure if Lenore Sable's overly-well-to-do friends (or acquaintances) owned the plane, but it was a foregone conclusion that he or she was of seemingly endless means and resources.

The interior of the plane was something straight out of the movies — it reminded him of the plane the FBI's Behavioral Sciences Unit used on one of his favorite television shows, Criminal Minds. The seats were soft, brown, leather, and lavish. The plane smell of the plane reminded him of the distinct scent of the MGM Signature Hotel in Las Vegas. Everything about this plane was top-notch, classy, and expensive. And somehow, Lenore Sable had this resource readily available.

Additionally, the plane was also equipped with an on-call three-person wait staff — three beautiful women — who catered to the needs of the lone passenger on the plane.

* * * * * * *

During the flight, Ray was under considerable stress and it must have been obvious. Prior to take-off, one of the flight attendants — a beautiful tall thin brunette woman named Kristine — noticed his tense demeanor and worried face.

"Are you all right, Mr. Doyle?" she asked after the plane had reached its cruising altitude. Her tone seemed more genuine and caring than the average flight attendant.

"I'm fine," he told her, immediately noticing her tall, elegant, slender figure as well as her thick light-brown hair. Wow, he thought to himself. 'just under a little stress is all," he added, "and it's just late, or early, or something."

"Is there anything I can do to relax you?" she asked in a tone which Ray perceived as seductive, though he wasn't sure if she meant it that way.

Ray glanced conspicuously at her short skirt. I can think of a few things, he thought to himself. "No," he said, "I'm fine."

Kristine turned and walked to the front of the passenger cabin and closed the privacy curtain in front of her which separated the passenger area from the staff area, secluding the two of them from the rest of the crew.

Ray couldn't help but watch her stunning figure glide throughout the cabin.

She turned to faced him, curtains closed behind her, and unbuttoned the top two buttons of her properly-kept flight attendant uniform. "Well," she said, slowly walking toward him, "I'm sure there's something I can do to you. — or, I mean, for you, to help you relax and make your flight a little more, um, enjoyable."

They both smiled.

Thirty minutes later, Ray was sound asleep.

* * * * * * *

On the ground in St. Louis, Ray again had mountains of thoughts on his mind. Was his son home safely yet? Was Ashlynn Bradley awake? What had Lenore done about the situation? Who was picking him up from the airport? And what the hell was up with the flight attendant on the plane — Christina, Kristine, something like that? Crazy...

Ray walked intently through the small airport terminal to the parking lot, toting his overnight bag on his left shoulder and scrolling through text messages on his iPhone in his right hand. He exited the exterior doors and stood for a moment on the sidewalk. It was still dark outside. Ray wasn't sure whether to consider this hour to be extremely-late at night or ridiculously-early in the morning. Had he crossed a time zone? Yes, he had — right? His mind was jumbled. His mind was racing. His mind was tired.

He blinked hard and slow, shaking his head as if to knock off a layer of cobwebs, then looked up in time to see a black Lincoln Navigator pull up in front of him, driven by an ominous-looking balled man wearing sunglasses and toting Lenore Sable in the passenger seat.

"Welcome home," Lenore said in a tone-of-voice not reflective of the incredibly early (or incredibly late) hour. Did this woman ever sleep? Ray wondered.

"Thank you," Ray said, opening the back door of the Navigator and tossing his bag in before climbing into the backseat. He felt in a hurry and felt like he was moving in a hurried manner. However, he was so tired, he also felt like he was moving in slow motion. At the moment, he figured this probably averaged-out to being normal.

As Ray climbed into the backseat, groggy and tired, he noticed that not only was there a third person in the SUV sitting quietly behind the driver, but he'd accidentally thrown his overnight bag onto the silent passenger's lap. Noticing this as he sat down in the dark backseat, he was immediately apologetic. "Oh," he exclaimed, "sorry about that." He paused, maneuvering the bag onto the backseat's floorboard between the two of them. "I didn't see you through the tinted windows," Ray said, still apologetically as he spoke to the faceless silhouette next to him.

"It's okay, Congressman Doyle," the silhouette said in a beautiful woman's voice — a voice which Ray could never (and would never) forget. And in an instant, just as his mind and heart identified this alluring voice in the dark, the ambrosial scent of her unmistakable perfume removed all doubt. But out of disbelief, Ray pulled out his iPhone and activated the screen, illuminating the Navigator's backseat.

She smiled a humble (but slightly uncomfortable) smile.

"Amber?" Ray said, mystified and somewhat rattled, "what are ... you doing here?"