Page 108 of Forbidden
The reason I take my chopper, and not the jet, is so we can have the meeting at his residence and get in and out fast. There’s no landing strip anywhere near his remote home, and his estate is on the rugged coastline.
It’s also winter, and the roads out to his home can get icy this time of the year. I need to get in and out, and I don’t do drama, unless I approve it in a screenplay.
As the banker and I go for a long walk along the beach, I lift my collar against the cold. We discuss what I am seeking for expansion, and what global entertainment banks may be open to regarding several billion of debt. Also, with favorable rates, terms and conditions.
He advises I consider private equity firms in Boston, Wall Street, Silicon Valley, and a new unit in Monaco.
Finally, we agree to a time frame, and his fees, to help secure funds. To in effect broker a deal for entertainment capital I require. The aim is long term steady capital, and controlled expansion. Just like how I do all of my business.
After returning, we have a hot drink in his kitchen with Storm and his lovely wife.
It’s fresh and cold out this far north, and we discuss the horses around his property. The banker’s wife is an ex Olympic show jumper from Texas. She now breeds horses, and they have a wide mix on the estate.
She offers Storm and I two horses, and we decide to take a short ride up the coast together.
The long remote beach is private, and the day clear and crisp. As we ride, the cold wind bites, and Storm in the tight borrowed jodhpurs and long black boots distract me.
Having her tight butt so visible, and riding up and down feet away, gives me filthy thoughts.
I plan ahead, and I think of her tonight, as the cold winds pick up.
As grey clouds head towards us, I decide enough is enough. We are dressed warm, but we are in a remote location. A location with no help anywhere near.
After returning the horses,we pull on thicker jackets, and the clouds drift closer. We head back down the coast, and the winds pick up. Out, it’s as cold as hell.
All alone in the sky, and miles from people, vehicles, and buildings, we streak low over green pastures. As we bank around remote beaches and endless icy cold inlets, Peregrine Falcons and other birds fly about.
To give them space, I bank us slowly around in a dramatic arc, and we head down the remote East Coast of the country.
There is little between us, Nantucket, Matha’s Vineyard and The Hamptons. We are on the extreme east coast north of New York City and we are all alone.
It is calming, and it is desolate.
As we streak low over near freezing coastal waters and land, Storm points below.
As always, we are wearing headsets to communicate with, and she asks me to turn around. I slow, and I bank carefully as I look down.
As we peer below, we make out a Peregrine Falcon flapping. It looks stuck in the near frozen water, and something has damaged one of its wings.
“It may have fishing line around it, or fence wire. Hold her above.”
“What?” I ask, confused and throwing Storm a look.
Storm is already unclipping herself, and she climbs between the seats and into the back. After looking around, she finds the emergency capsule and an extra jacket. We already have cold weather boots, jackets, and gloves on, but outside here is next level.
Outside, the combination of wind, and near frozen water is dangerous and potentially lethal.
As Storm hits the back side-door button, she yanks the emergency jacket on fast.
“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” I growl losing patience.
“Just hold her steady,” Storm yells above the rotor blades. As she pulls on emergency gloves, she peers down, wind blasting her hair.
I peer below and I think fast. I know we can’t land close to the falcon, because it will be blown away, and likely have both of its wings damaged. We need to use the winch, or Storm needs to be dropped to the ground nearby.
As Storm points below to the water, her hair blasts in all directions. “See that swampy island, near it? Hover above, and over it.”
“You’re crazy!”
