North Star-chapter 1

I was in the middle of an important meeting with a potential client when the pager in my pocket started its silent buzzing against my hip. There was only one reason that the annoying thing would go off, The Firm needed me for something.

I leaned toward the Partner next to me. “Listen, Dan, I just got a page from Mr. Johnson. I’ve got to take it,” I whispered to him.

“Now?” Dan whispered back, “The guy’s got some timing. Make the old guy wait.”

I slipped my folder surreptitiously into my briefcase and closed it. “Easy for you to say. You don’t have to deal with him afterwards,” I hissed back.

I stood and faced the head of the conference table. “Excuse me gentlemen I’ve just received a page from another client. I will be back as soon as possible. I’m sure Dan and the others will be able to handle any questions you might have.” I picked up my briefcase and left.

As I walked out the front doors of the office building I punched the phone number from the pager into my cell phone. The phone rang once before someone on the other end picked up.

“Where are you?” The man on the other end demanded.

“You know you guys have some nerve. I was in the middle of an important meeting,” I groused. My decorum had disappeared by the time I had gotten to street level.

“Where are you?” The man demanded again.

“I’m in front of the Bank Building,” I snapped.

“Walk two blocks to your right and turn right into the park. I’ll be reading the ‘Times’ on a bench in front of the fountain,” the voice said.

“Fine!” I punched the “End” button on the phone and headed in the direction of the park. I picked up my own copy of the ‘Times’ along the way.

When I got to the park there were at least five men sitting and reading the ‘Times’ around the fountain. However only one of them was dressed in a business suit but not carrying a briefcase. I sat down on a bench that faced the opposite direction and was directly behind his.

“You guys have some nerve calling me in the middle of a meeting like that,” I snapped, opening the paper.

“We’re the ones who got you that job in the first place,” the man behind me said.

“And you’re going to help me lose it with the way you’re going,” I snapped back, rustling the paper.

“Your boss knew the conditions of your employment when he hired you. It will not be your fault if they lose the client,” he said.

“It still doesn’t look good,” I groused. “So what is it this time?”

“Check out the front page,” he said.

I wrestled the paper around until I got to the front page. A bold headline screamed “Downed American Pilots Still Not Found” at me from the top of the page. “They still haven’t found those two guys?” I asked as I scanned the article.

A week ago a pair of Marine Harriers had crashed in the jungles of one of the Philippine islands. The jump jets were part of a group of Marines who had been shipped to the islands to help fight the war on terrorism in the area. The rainforest jungles of the islands were so dense it would be nearly impossible to find the wreckage of the site from the air.

“They found what they think is the crash site,” he said as I heard him turn a page.

“And you want me to go find them.” I sighed, putting down my paper.

“Smart girl, the agency just might keep you around.” I heard the paper rustled softly in his hands.

I swore. “Will you look at that, the business section to my paper is missing. Excuse me sir,” I said turning to face the man behind me, “May I borrow your business section?”

The man didn’t turn around but handed the business section of ‘Times’ to me over his shoulder. “Go ahead and keep it. I’ve already read it. There’s a good article on a new tech stock on page 7 B,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said. I stuffed the overly thick section into my briefcase along with the rest of my paper. I stood and then turned to ask the man a question but the bench behind me was already empty.

It was dusk when I arrived in Manila, lugging 50lbs of equipment in my business suit, skirt, and heels. I’m going to slug the next corporate officer who insists I wear a skirt to client meetings. A Marine Private picked me up at the airport and dropped me off at the front door of the hotel the Marines were using for a base.

I dropped my bag on the floor and flopped down on the bed to think. When I woke the alarm clock on the nightstand read 11:00 P.M. Damn, there was no way I was going to see Colonel Offley, the Marine’s commanding officer, tonight. I hate jet lag.

I grabbed a quick shower, changed into a pair of blue sweat shorts and a white tank top and then pulled the business section of the ‘Times’ from my bag. I flopped back down on the bed with a bag of chips and a soda to read the mission folder hidden inside the paper.

According to the mission summary, the two Marine pilots were flying over a section of mountainous terrain north of Mt. Pinatubo. There were no eyewitnesses as to what caused the crash and according to the air traffic controllers there was no warning from either pilot that something was wrong.