Page 15 of Marcellus: House of Drakos
And with that announcement the passengers onboard Flight 381 from Chicago O’Hare to Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris, France began to unbuckle their seatbelts, stand up and stretch their arms and legs, go to the restroom, pull out items from their carry-ons, and generally relax with light conversation and laughter. It was going to be a long eight-hour flight, and they were just getting started.
But within minutes of that announcement and all of that activity in the cabin, a loud thunderous clap was heard that shook the cabin to its core. The plane began to take a nosedive so fast that it felt as if it was freefall. Passengers began flying from the back of the plane to the front with screams so loud they drowned out the loud alarms.
Within seconds the plane, with two-hundred-and seventeen souls onboard, crashed into the middle of a barn, splitting it in half, and creating a chasm around it as wide as a football field.
And suddenly all of the sounds of human screams and bodies being tossed and thrown and cries of mayday and alarms sounding like sirens in their ears, all came to an eerily silent, feathery-quiet halt.
The Drakos D-940 commercial airliner, renowned for its sleekness and safety, was in a million scattered pieces.
Everybody onboard were too.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The stairwell door flew open and the personal valet to the lord of the manor ran down those stairs so fast he nearly fell twice. When he reached the bottom stair, he flung open the door and hurried up to Bernard Bertrand, the manager of the estate of Marcellus Drakos and the head of household.
Bernard sat at the table in the servants’ quarters, along with his employees, and sipped his morning coffee and ate his baguette. As the only Frenchman of African heritage on staff, early on he had to terminate many servants who questioned his authority. But after twenty years on the job with unquestioned authority, he no longer had that issue. Other than Mr. Drakos himself, Bernard was the most respected man on the estate.
The valet knew not to speak out of turn, there were rules to domestic service in France, so he stood by the chair of his boss and waited to be recognized. But his heart was pounding and he could hardly wait to tell the news.
When Bernard finally looked his way, he blurted it out. “There’s been another crash, sir,” he said so fast that his tongue was almost flipping over his words.
Bernard and every servant at that table were stunned. “Another one?” asked the chef.
“Any fatalities?” asked a maid.
“Everybody on board is dead,” the valet said. “Over two hundred people.”
Audible gasps were heard in the room. “Good Lord,” said Bernard.
Catalina Habershem, the housekeeping supervisor, quickly grabbed the remote and turned on the television. She had to flip through frivolous channels to get to the news:
“. . . has endured numerous crashes over the last few months. A total of seven in all. Although the previous crashes had a combined total of ten fatalities from the same model Drakos 903sa, the aircraft maker was heavily criticized for not grounding that model sooner than it finally did. But this was the first airliner to crash, a D-940, one of their largest jets. And unlike the other crashes and near-misses the aircraft maker had endured over the past few months, this crash claimed the lives of all two-hundred-and-seventeen passengers and crew onboard. There were no survivors. The NTSB was on the scene last night, and are continuing their efforts this morning. The head of the FCC, who is scheduled to hold a press conference later today, has already said that the frequency of these incidences were troubling. Drakos Aeronautics nor their Chairman and Founder, Marcellus Drakos, have had any comment at this time. After a stellar history of safety that Boeing and Airbus envied, something is going horribly wrong with the third-largest aircraft maker’s engines. And nobody’s saying what or even why.”
Then the bell rang. When they all looked and saw it was coming from the boss’s bedroom, Bernard jumped to his feet. “Turn it off,” he ordered.
“It’s strange though,” said Miss Habershem. “No safety concerns for years, and now every week there’s a crash or a near-crash? I’m with that reporter. Something’s wrong over there.”
“I don’t care who you’re with,” Bernard said firmly. “Turn it off.”
“Yes sir.” Miss Habershem didn’t hesitate. She quickly turned the television off.
“Prepare his breakfast,” Bernard ordered the chef.
“Yes sir.” The chef jumped up too.
“Come with me,” he ordered the valet as he began walking away. “No comment is the order of the day should any news person approach you,” he said as he walked. Then he glanced back at his staff. “Understood?”
“Yes sir, Mr. Bertrand,” they all said in various iterations. Another requirement of the job: fluent English, although the boss could speak fluent French. But English was his preference.
Bernard and the valet hopped onto the elevator and hurried to the top floor.
“Prepare his bath,” Bernard said to the valet as the elevator door opened. “Run the last hot when he enters.”
“Yes sir,” the valet said as the two men parted. The valet quietly opened the door to the master bathroom from the hallway so as not to disturb the boss. Bernard walked around to the double door entrance into the master bedroom.
Seated on the settee outside of the bedroom doors was a beautiful young lady that had obviously spent the night. Just like all the others who had come and gone, she too had regret and disappointment on her face. As if she thought spending the night with Marcellus Drakos was going to be her ticket out. Especially when he singled her out and took her home with him. But instead it was a ticket just like all the tickets that the other pretty ladies had cashed in: A ticket to a one-night stand that would never be repeated. A ticket that didn’t even satisfy the man if her expression was to be believed. A ticket to nowhere.
He'd picked her up at an island party no doubt. Another fresh-face twenty-something with the body type the boss liked.
