"That's the story, gentlemen," I said. "The CA-JET X.P. should reach six hundred easier than the British De Havilland-Rolls jet did the five-o-six point five they're bragging about." I smiled at them and got to my feet. "And now, if you'll step outside, gentlemen, I’ll show you."
"I have no doubt about that, Mr. Cord," the General said smoothly. "If there'd been any doubts in our minds, you never would have got the contract."
"Then what are we waiting for?
Let's go."
"Just a moment, Mr. Cord," the General said quickly. "We can't allow you to demonstrate the jet."
I stared at him.
"Why not?"
"You haven't been cleared for jet aircraft," he said. He looked down at a sheet of paper on his desk. "Your medical report indicates a fractional lag in your reflexes.
Perfectly normal, of course, considering your age, but you'll understand why we can't let you fly her."
"That's a lot of crap, General.
Who the hell do you think flew her down here to deliver her to you?"
"You had a perfect right to – then," the General replied. "It was your plane.
But the moment she touched that field outside, according to the contract, she became the property of the Army.
And we can't afford the risk of allowing you to take her up."
I slammed my fist into my hand angrily.
Rules, nothing but rules.
That was the trouble with these damn contracts.
Yesterday, I could have flown her up to Alaska and back and they couldn't have stopped me. Or for that matter, even catch me.
The CA-JET X.P. was two hundred odd miles an hour faster than any of the conventional aircraft the Army had in the air.
Someday, I'd have to take the time to read those contracts.
The General smiled and came around the table toward me.
"I know just how you feel, Mr. Cord," he said. "When the medics told me I was too old for combat flying and put me behind a desk, I wasn't any older than you are right now.
And I didn't like it any more than you do.
Nobody likes being told he is growing older."
What the hell was he talking about?
I was only forty-one. That isn't old.
I could still fly rings around most of those damp-eared kids walking around on the field outside with gold and silver bars and oak leaves on their shoulders.
I looked at the General.
He must have read the surprise in my eyes, for he smiled again.
"That was only a year ago. I'm forty-three now." He offered me a cigarette and I took it silently. "Lieutenant Colonel Shaw will take her up. He's on the field right now, waiting for us." Again, he read the question in my eyes. "Don't worry about it," he said quickly. "Shaw's completely familiar with the plane.
He spent the last three weeks at your plant in Burbank checking her out."
I glanced at Morrissey but he was carefully looking somewhere else at the time.
He'd been in on it, too. I'd make him sweat for that one.
I turned back to the General.
"O.K., General. Let's go outside and watch that baby fly."
Baby was the right word and not only for the plane. Lieutenant Colonel Shaw couldn't have been more than twenty years old.
I watched him take her up but somehow I couldn't stand there squinting up at the sky, watching him put her through her paces.
It was like going to a lot of trouble to set yourself up with a virgin and then when you had everything warmed up and ready, you opened the bedroom door and found another guy copping the cherry right under your nose.
"Is there anywhere around here I could get a cup of coffee?"
"There's a commissary down near the main gate," one of the soldiers said.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome," he said automatically, never taking his eyes from the plane in the sky, while I walked away.
The commissary wasn't air-conditioned but they kept it dark and it wasn't too bad, even if the ice cubes in the iced coffee had melted before I got the glass back to my seat.
I stared morosely out of the window in front of my table.
Too young or too old. That was the story of my life.
I was fourteen when the last one ended, in 1918, and almost over the age limit when we got into this one.
Some people never had any luck.
I always thought that war came to every generation but I was neither one nor the other. I had the bad fortune to be born in between.
A medium-size Army bus pulled up in front of the commissary.
Men started to pile out and I watched them because there was nothing else to look at.