He looked back at me.
"Ten bucks says I can take the General's hat off on the first pass."
He hesitated a moment, then grinned.
"You're on!"
I came down at the field from about a thousand feet and leveled off about fifteen feet over the runway.
I could see the startled expression on their faces as we rushed toward them, then I pulled back the stick. We went over their heads, into an almost vertical climb, catching them full blast in the prop wash.
I looked back just in time to see the captain running after the General's hat.
I tapped Forrester's shoulder again.
He turned to look back. He was laughing so hard there were tears in his eyes.
She set down as lightly as a pigeon coming home to its roost.
I slid back the plastic canopy and we climbed down.
I glanced at Forrester's face as we walked over to the group.
All the laughter was gone from it now and the wary mask was back on.
The General had his hat on his head again.
"Well, Forrester," he said stiffly. "What do you think?"
Forrester looked into his commanding officer's face. "Without a doubt, sir, this is the best fighter in the air today," he said in a flat, emotionless voice. "I'd suggest, sir, that you have a test group make an immediate check to substantiate my opinion."
"Hmm," the General said coldly. "You would, eh?"
"I would, sir," Forrester said quietly.
"There are other factors to be considered, Forrester.
Do you have any idea of what these planes might cost?"
"No, sir," Forrester answered. '"My only responsibility is to evaluate the performance of the plane itself."
"My responsibilities go much further than that," the General said. "You must remember that we're operating under a strict budget."
"Yes, sir."
"Please bear it in mind," General Gaddis said testily.
"If I went off half-cocked over every idea you Air Corps men had, there wouldn't be money enough left to keep the Army running for a month."
Forrester's face flushed. "Yes, sir."
I glanced at him, wondering why he stood there and took it.
It didn't make sense.
Not with the reputation he had. He could step out of the Army and knock down twenty times what he was making with any airline in the country. He had a name as good as Rickenbacker's any day.
The General turned to Morrissey.
"Now, Mr. Morrissey," he said in an almost jovial voice. "Whom do we talk to about getting a few facts and figures on the cost of this airplane?"
"You can talk with Mr. Cord, sir."
"Fine!" boomed the General. "Let's go into the office and call him."
"You don't have to do that, General," I said quickly. "We can talk right here."
The General stared at me, then his lips broke into what he thought was an expansive smile.
"No offense intended, son.
I didn't connect the names."
"That's all right, General."
"Your father and I are old friends," he said. "Back during the last war, I bought a lot of the hard stuff from him and if it's all right with you, I'd like to talk this over with him.
Purely for old times' sake, you understand.
Besides, this can turn out to be a mighty big deal and I'm sure your daddy would like to get in on it himself."
I felt my face go white. I had all I could do to control myself.
How long did you have to live in a man's shadow?
My voice sounded flat and strained even to my own ears.
"I'm sure he would, General. But I'm afraid you'll have to talk to me; you can't talk to him."
"Why not?" The voice was suddenly cold.
"My father's been dead for ten years," I said, turning my back on him and walking toward the hangar.
2.
I walked through to the small room in the back that Morrissey used as an office. I shut the door behind me and crossing to his desk, took out the bottle of bourbon that was always there for me.
Pouring a shot into a paper cup, I tossed the whisky down my throat.