Broken Windows

By Willard White

Action, Adventure, Romance. Sequel to Starting Over in Savannah. Anthem Enterprises wants to bring a supersonic corporate jet to market... yesterday. Alan Taylor is a brilliant engineer. He's a former fighter pilot and has experience with composite materials. He's socially challenged, but otherwise a perfect choice to head up the new program.
The decision is made to send Gloria to the new unit to smooth over Alan's rough edges. Gloria can run the business side and free up Alan to focus on developing the world's first supersonic corporate jet.
So the fuse is lit on a warehouse full of fireworks.
Corporate eventually terminates the program, fires or transfers the employees and sells off the assets. The Mystery Ship project is finished.
Or is it? Under new ownership, the flying prototype morphs into a carrier based long range supersonic stealth weapon... and its pilot is one very angry Alan Taylor.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Willard White
• Release date: Oct 6, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465730343

Willard White

I've been a service station attendant, steel building erector, combat helicopter pilot (1,200 hours in Viet Nam) instructor pilot in airplanes and helicopters, ambulance helicopter pilot, and most recently a corporate pilot with approximately 200 North Atlantic crossings. I started writing 12 years ago while at my job. Well, I didn't write books in the cockpit, but while traveling to my airplane on the airlines and while sitting in hotel rooms on standby. You might find my job description interesting; I worked seven days on and seven days off. Day one normally was devoted to traveling on the airlines to my airplane and meeting my crew (First Officer and Flight Attendant). We would fly our airplane anywhere in the world for five days, and on day seven would leave our Gulfstream where-ever it happened to be and airline to our homes for our seven days off. It was the best job in the world, and I had plenty of forced isolation time to write.

Book preview

Broken Windows

Willard White

Published by Willard White at Smashwords.

Copyright 2011 Willard White

The events, characters and organizations in this book are fictitious

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. The ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is dedicated to Diane, who is very patient and keeps an open mind.

Broken Windows

Chapter 1

Alan was on a pace to lap the one mile circuit of Forsyth Park in seven minutes. His goal was to manage ten laps, ten miles, in an hour and ten minutes. The park was populated by a remarkable variety of people, from off duty soldiers to students and tourists from all over the world which made it a good place to run in Savannah. The overhanging trees lent an air of intimacy while shading most of the park. The mansions surrounding the park increased the charm of the route.

He had just turned south on the sidewalk along Whitaker street when he saw her ahead on the sidewalk, something about her was familiar. Alan had been studying Gloria for years and it was perfectly appropriate that he should recognize her at a great distance, even in a totally different context. She was small and quick, she had her brunette ponytail stuffed out the rear of her baseball cap. Her strides made her hair swing from side to side as she walked. Yeah, it was Gloria.

A brown leather shoulder-bag dangled at her side. A small girl walked beside her, clutching her hand, she held a Frisbee in her other hand. Who would the girl be? Alan slowed to a walk fifty feet behind them. He was suddenly conscious of his appearance. He knew that the concept of dressing to be seen while exercising hadn't really arrived at his house. Suddenly he was wishing he'd put on some better clothes. He was wearing cut-off shorts and a t-shirt that had a large hole in the side. He ran his hand through his hair, he needed a haircut too.

Gloria always affected him this way. She was perfection. She was wearing a beige track suit which fit her well, the little girl was outfitted with a white tee shirt, pink shorts and white tennis shoes. Her brown hair was fixed in a pony tail and pulled through the back of a pink ball cap, just like... who was she?

Even at a walk, Alan was overtaking them. Their pace was being set by the girl who was perhaps five years old. Alan drew a breath to call out, then hesitated. A young man approached on an intersecting sidewalk. After he passed, Alan would call out to her. Would she be glad to see him? He wondered.

Alan's instinct caused him to take another look at the man. The dark blue overcoat was inappropriate in this weather, and the guy seemed to be unnaturally focused on Gloria. Alan recognized the feeling in his gut. It was fear.

The girl looked up at Gloria and asked a question. Alan couldn't hear the tiny voice well enough to understand her. Gloria evidently didn't either for she turned and stooped slightly toward the girl. Overcoat lunged toward them and grasped Gloria's bag. She turned in surprise, her mouth opened, she dropped the frisbee and attempted to clutch the strap on her bag.

Alan saw all this happening in front of him before he could take one step. Somehow he should have been able to prevent this. His fear turned to rage.

Stop! Gloria cried. She maintained her grip on the strap, but stumbled over the girl.

Overcoat jerked the bag and the strap broke. Gloria fell against the child knocking her down.

Gloria fell over the girl on the sidewalk. Overcoat had the purse in his hands and was began to run away across the grass. Alan spent two seconds assuring himself that the girls were not seriously hurt, then set out after the purse snatcher.

It was easy. The stupid jerk never looked back. He hid the purse inside the coat and loped across the park, never imagining that someone would pursue. Unfortunately for Overcoat, the grass muffled Alan's footsteps. He had no idea.

Alan caught and managed to trip him without losing his own footing. Overcoat went sprawling on the turf, the purse came out of his coat and spilled some of its contents on the grass.

I'll kill you! Overcoat promised and got to his hands and knees, he reached for the purse, exposing his torso. Alan kicked him hard in the side. The coat might have absorbed some of the energy, but Overcoat expelled his air and rolled over. The purse flew into the air as he let go of it.

He came to his hands and knees again, apparently with no further thought for the purse. He seemed to be having trouble getting his breath. The poor sucker had no idea how much frustration and anger he had stirred. Alan kicked him in the face then. It was like punting a football.

Overcoat's head snapped back and he rolled over on his side, drew up his legs and put his arms over his head defensively. He was bleeding from his nose and mouth.

Alan moved a step closer and prepared to kick him again when he heard Gloria's voice.

Stop! She stood twenty feet away holding her hands up. The little girl in the pink shorts was sitting in the grass by the sidewalk, crying and reaching out towards Gloria.

Alan hesitated. Gloria turned and went back to retrieve the child. Alan was surprised by the extent of his rage. He took a breath and tried to get himself under control. He wanted to kill this guy. Maybe he needed killing. It would be doing society a favor.

Alan shook his head and moved back a couple of steps. Overcoat sensed that the attack was over. He got slowly to his feet and tried to straighten up, he couldn't. He ambled off across the park, bent over his broken ribs and bleeding all over his coat.

Alan looked around the park. People were throwing footballs, people were playing with their dogs, there was even a picnic in progress. If anybody saw the purse snatching and the fight, they were studiously ignoring it.

It's all right now Prissy. The bad man's gone. Gloria had the girl perched on her hip and was stroking her face with her free hand. We're safe now.

To Alan she said, Jees, I thought you were going to kill him!

Alan didn't - couldn't speak. He bent over and put his hands on his knees and gasped for air. He was fascinated by his rage. He had frightened himself. He really would have killed him.

Where did you come from? Gloria set the girl down, got on her knees and began retrieving her purse, her wallet and her make-up from the grass.

I was running, just coming up behind you. Who is this?

This? She smiled. This is Priscilla. Isn't she beautiful?

Priscilla was standing beside her and she put her arms around Gloria's neck and shyly looked up at Alan with her brown eyes, Gloria's eyes.

Alan got down on his knees. Hello Priscilla. Are you OK now? Im sorry that man frightened you. He's gone now."

Say hello to Alan, Gloria prompted.

Hello. What happened to your face? Her cheeks were wet with tears, she wiped mucus from her nose with the back of her hand.

Alan studied her eyes, nose mouth and hair. She was a small edition of Gloria. He looked at Gloria. She was sitting in the grass with her arm around the girl watching him closely. Alan tried to read her expression, she was still wide eyed with fear. Why was she still frightened?

Alan looked at Priscilla again and tried to do some math in his head. His mind was in such a turmoil that he couldn't do it. He couldn't do the simple calculations!

Gloria nodded her head affirmative. She must have known what he was thinking.

Priscilla is your daughter.

Alan sat on the grass and concentrated on his breathing for a minute, trying to understand. He didn't doubt it was the truth. He just couldn't get his mind around all the implications. He and Gloria had been together when they graduated from Embry Riddle six years ago. Then he had gotten involved with a secret military unit. He had crashed a spy plane in Iraq and spent months evading and finally escaping, then more months in rehab. Gloria had never answered his letters or returned his calls to her house. When he had returned to Savannah, he discovered she was married. Why?

Gloria had both arms around her daughter. Her expression kept changing. Alan tried to concentrate, he felt like he was in the middle of a storm. Priscilla looked from Alan to Gloria and back. She seemed to be aware that something important was happening.

Gloria couldn't wait any longer. Hello? What are you thinking?

Alan drew another large breath. What am I thinking? The question is what were you thinking?

She inhaled and opened her mouth. He interrupted her.

What in the world goes on in that beautiful head of yours?

Again she prepared to speak. Once more he interrupted.

Why? Why would you keep her a secret Gloria? What have I done?

She scrambled to her feet with the girl in one arm, the other grasped the broken purse. Suddenly she was angry. You chose to be a fighter pilot and a spook. You went away!

Alan climbed to his feet. He had no idea what to say.

Gloria did. She drew herself up to her five foot two inch height. You went dark! I believe that is the term you spooks use.

Christ. I had a job to do!

Don't talk like that in front of her. I was pregnant and you were gone. What was I supposed to think? I couldn't contact you. What was I supposed to do?

Priscilla began to cry again. Alan couldn't stand the way she was looking at him.

You a bad man!" she sobbed.

Now you've frightened her! We have to go. Gloria turned and carried Priscilla away across the park.

The frisbee was still lying on the sidewalk.

Chapter 2

Alan manhandled his fifty-year-old hot rod truck into the driveway and stopped before the gates. Some day he was going to have to put power steering on the thing, but then, as long as he left it off, he wouldn't have to fix it. He'd been here before, just not in the last six years. Gloria's parents were rich and it was apparent. The ornamental iron gates were remote controlled. The driveway was lined on both sides by oak trees. The trees were old and hugely overhanging, making the road a virtual tunnel. The driveway was paved and the verges perfectly manicured. Somehow the Morton's grounds-keeper was able to grow grass in the shade.

The camera behind the gate moved slightly and stopped. The gates opened slowly and majestically before Alan could push the intercom button. Gloria must have been watching for him. He put the truck in gear and drove up the long driveway. The driveway was lined by flowerbeds and made a circle in front of the house. And quite a house it was. The Mortons lived in a genuine antebellum mansion. Alan recalled that it was built in 1855 by a wealthy planter, a planter who must have owned a boat because there was a deep-water dock behind the house. Alan brought the truck to a halt near the wide front veranda. The house had five large columns on the veranda which supported an overhanging roof.

Alan was early, but he wasn't going to sit out here in the heat and humidity and wait. He stepped out of the truck and slammed the door. Gloria answered the door. As usual, she took his breath away.

You're early.

Yep.

Come on in.

He followed her through the front sitting room, down a short hallway to a parlor. He walked past her into the room. It might have been a library, for every wall was lined with bookshelves, bookshelves filled with books and magazines. There was a fireplace and a small television, but the room was dominated by the windows. Fourteen foot ceilings allowed windows that must have been twelve feet tall. They looked over at least two acres of groomed yard to the dock beyond. A sailboat, at least fifty feet long, was tied up at the dock.

How are your parents?

She hesitated. They're OK. They'll be home soon. You can wait here, I'll wake Prissy up and bring her down to you.

What does she think about all this?

About what?

Don't be obtuse, Gloria. What does she think about suddenly discovering that she has a dad?

I don't know exactly, we haven't talked about it much.

You haven't? Why in the hell wouldn't you talk to her about it? It's important!

It's also important that she not get her heart broken. It's important that she not love you and then have you go away! Gloria was standing in the doorway with her feet planted and her hands clinched on her hips.

Funny, as I recall, it was you who walked out the door. It was you who didn't take my calls or answer my letters. Alan felt the old anger surge.

By the time you got around to calling, I was already married. Now we've had this conversation twenty times Alan. Why don't we just can it before you wake her up and frighten her again.

She turned and disappeared down the hall.

The overstuffed furniture was old, worn and leather covered. Alan settled himself into a wing-back chair and reflected that unless a more comfortable chair could be had it would be foolish to replace this one. A newspaper was on the coffee table. Alan considered that it was probably the only coffee table he had ever seen with nothing on it but today's paper. He passed up the paper and looked out the window. He wondered if this was really worth it. Did he need another person in his life just now? Did he ever need another person, a dependent little person? He shook his head. The question was, could he add anything to her life? If so, then this was the right thing. He looked at the understated opulence around him. She already had anything money could buy. It would be a challenge to give this little girl anything that she didn't already have.

He heard a noise at the door.

Why don't you show daddy where your toys and games are kept?

Gloria stayed by the door while Priscilla advanced wide-eyed into the room.

Hello Priscilla, Alan managed.

Hi! Priscilla made a wide detour around him on her way to a cabinet built into the wall beneath a book-shelf.

This was going to be even tougher than he imagined. Priscilla was doing just fine without him. Alan looked up at Gloria who was still by the door.

Would you like something to drink? she said.

A beer would be nice thanks.

She almost smiled. You don't get a beer Alan. What's your next choice?

He got the point. I'll have what she's having.

Coming up. She left and Priscilla approached with her arms filled with stuffed animals. Alan nearly groaned aloud. What in the world was he going to do now?

A door slammed in a distant room and Alan could hear voices. He remembered the high pitched voice of Gloria's mother.

Pops! Priscilla said. She set the collection of stuffed dolls on Alan's lap and scooted out the door. Alan could hear more doors closing, then the delighted squeal of the child. She was never going to greet him that way. What was he doing here? He felt an urge to just walk out the front door, get into his truck and leave.

It was too late to leave anyway, the hustle and bustle had arrived at the doorway.

Gloria was first into the room, she carried a tray with a pitcher of iced tea and several glasses, she set it on the coffee table. Her mother and father came just inside the door. Priscilla was in Mr. Morton's arms. Alan stood and faced them. Gloria stood up straight, wiped her hands on the front of her dress and took a deep breath.

Alan, you remember my parents.

Mrs. Morton, Mr. Morton. Alan advanced two steps and extended his hand to Gloria's mother. She ignored it. . Morton was occupied with the child in his hands so Alan was left standing there, feeling stupid.

Gloria came to the rescue. Why don't we all sit and have some tea?

Alan backed away to allow the Morton's into the room.

That's your old truck in our driveway I suppose. Mrs. Morton observed, she made no move into the room.

Mother... Gloria said.

Yes, the old truck is mine.

Our gardener has a better truck than that. I think it might be leaking oil or something on the concrete, would you please remove it?

Five seconds ticked off in silence while Alan tightened down his emotions. This little old lady wasn't going to get him down. He would not allow her to deflect him. She was a distraction that was all. Nothing to do with his objectives.

It wasn't working.

Sure, I'll move it. He was out the door in seconds, out the front door onto the porch with his key in his hand. He was aware that Gloria was following him closely. She must have been curious about what he was going to do.

She watched from the veranda as he fired up the 505 cubic inch V8, put the transmission in drive and flashed the torque converter with 3,000 RPM with his left foot on the brake. He could hear the turbochargers begin to whine and spool up. He released the brake. The rear tires were no match for over eight hundred foot pounds of torque. They made a squalling noise as they failed to gain traction for a few seconds then hooked up. Alan dropped the throttle and locked up the brakes and brought the truck to a sliding halt in the middle of the perfectly manicured lawn. He put the selector in park, shut the engine down and jumped out of the truck.

There, that should do it, he said to Gloria. She was speechless on the veranda. Well? He looked around, there were two black streaks across the driveway, twin holes in the flower bed where the wheels had transited and skid marks in the grass leading up to the parked truck.

Ohhh, Gloria moaned. Alan hadn't heard her moan like that for a very long time, and that was in decidedly different circumstances. The inane thought tripped his sense of humor and he very nearly laughed out loud. He managed to contain it to a smile as he walked up the steps.

I haven't heard you moan like that for nearly six years, Gloria.

She didn't think it was funny. She clinched her hands and stomped her foot. You can't do this Alan! This is our home. You can't come in here and act like this.

Gloria's parents had come out onto the deck. Priscilla was holding on to her grandpa's hand, she had her other thumb in her mouth.

Oh but the judge says I can. Alan produced the folded paper from his hip pocket. The DNA says she mine, the judge says I can visit her. He looked pointedly at Gloria's mother, he expected considerable noise from her. She seemed to be speechless, near fainting even, she was partially supported by an arm from her husband.

Gloria opened her mouth, but didn't speak. Her father cleared his throat: What will happen then, Alan, he said quietly, is we'll just have to meet you somewhere else. Is that what you want?

It was the absence of emotion in his voice that deflated Alan's rage. The message was reasonable. They could try to get along and he could meet Priscilla in this comfortable and private home. Or he could be an ass, and they could meet, where? In a hotel lobby? At a museum? Park? The beach?

Let's start over, Morton continued. I apologize for Cynthia's bad manners. She's not well, you see. I promise you she'll be more civil in the future.

All four of them were looking at him expectantly. He realized they were waiting for him to apologize for being an overreacting jerk. They had no idea how difficult it was for him. He had a policy of never apologizing for anything. He surveyed the four faces in front of him. His gaze lingered on Priscilla, she was looking up at him with wonder, but not fear, not loathing. Not yet. How could he love her so much already? He didn't even know her. She had pronounced him a 'mean man' for Christ's sake. Time was passing, they were waiting for him to say something.

I'm sorry, he said for perhaps the first time in his life. I overreacted. You're right Mr. Morton. If we could start all over again...

Shall we try it again next Saturday? Gloria was quick on the uptake. Same time?

Sure. Alan discovered he had been holding his breath for a while. Good bye Priscilla, I'll see you next Saturday.

He turned to go. He walked down two steps and turned. I'll come back in the morning and try to fix the flowers.

Thanks for the offer, Mr. Morton responded. It's not necessary. Herb will fix it in fifteen minutes.

Priscilla had come to the edge of the veranda. Goodbye, Daddy! Her chubby arm was up in a wave. Alan felt a weight develop in his stomach. He glanced at Gloria, so she had talked to Priscilla after all. She must have coached Priscilla to say it. He closed up and turned away.

Chapter 3

Gloria left her car in the driveway in front of the house. She knew mother liked for her car to be in the garage but she intended to go out for groceries later. It was Saturday afternoon and Priscilla was off at the beach with Alan. Gloria was just off from work and it was the one time in the week when she could do whatever she wanted. Right now she just wanted to take a dip in the pool, lay on a lounger and read a book 'til she fell asleep.

The door to the study was open. Gloria couldn't resist looking in as she walked by on her way to the stairs. Her dad was sitting in his wing-back chair, looking out the window. He did that a lot these days. Gloria considered calling out to him, asking if he needed anything, but then she thought he might be asleep. He must have sensed her there for he turned his head toward her.

Welcome home, Glory. How was your morning?

Fine, Dad. Can I get you anything?

Would you have a glass of iced tea with me?

Yes, would you like it by the pool? It's a lovely day.

He nodded his head.

"I want to get