Chapter 9 - The Transatlantic Flight Home
By late afternoon, the heavy executive doors of the Aquila jet closed behind me with a smooth, pneumatic seal.
The cabin was bathed in warm, muted lighting. I settled into the plush leather seat, spreading a set of global logistics reports across the mahogany table.
Samuel Vance sat across from me, pouring two cups of hot black coffee from a silver thermos.
“The European restructuring is moving faster than anticipated, Claire,” Samuel said, handing me a cup. “With Holloway Capital’s assets fully integrated, our shipping network across the Atlantic is operating at zero friction.”
“Good,” I said, taking a slow sip. “Never leave room for friction, Samuel. In aviation, as in business, a tiny grain of sand can bring down an entire engine.”
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He nodded in quiet agreement, looking out the window as the jet’s powerful engines spooled up with a deep, reassuring hum, carrying us smoothly away from the past and into the unyielding clarity of the future.
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