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“Quint Dermott,” the airline’s president shook his hand the moment he stepped off his business jet and out into the sunshine. “Thank you for saving as many as you did.”
Quint had never even met Eli Jackson before, yet the president gripped his hand like they were old drinking buddies.
“Uh, did what I could, Mr. Jackson. But it was mostly Captain Dani Evers’ doing, sir. As I recall, I spent most of the time just trying not to piss myself.” He had to shout a bit as the dozer was now nudging the aft chunk of circular fuselage into a lazy banging roll across the runway.
Eli looked down at Quint’s pants, raised a questioning eyebrow, and offered a flash of his famous smile. He appeared in a lot of the airline’s ads as well as being the CEO. His two-day-old beard looked hip. When Quint ha
