Stress tests proved that conventional metals would make the plane too heavy for the engines to lift into the air.
We lost two months there, until the engineers came up with a Fiberglas compound that was less than one tenth the weight of metal and four times as strong.
Then we had to construct special machinery to work the new material.
I even brought Amos Winthrop down from Canada to sit in on the project.
The old bastard had done a fantastic job up there and had a way of bulling a job through when no one else was able to.
The old leopard hadn't changed any of his spots, either.
He had me by the shorts and he knew it. He held me up for a vice-presidency in Cord Aircraft before he'd come down.
"How much are we in for up to now?" I asked.
Mac looked down at the sheet. "Sixteen million, eight hundred seventy-six thousand, five hundred ninety-four dollars and thirty-one cents, as of June thirtieth."
"We're in trouble," I said, reaching for the telephone. The operator came on. "Get me Amos Winthrop in San Diego. And while I'm waiting to talk to him, call Mr. Dalton at the Inter-Continental Airlines office in Los Angeles and ask him to send down a special charter for me."
''What's the trouble?" Mac asked, watching me.
"Seventeen million dollars.
We're going to blow it if we don't get that plane into the air right away."
Then Amos came on the phone.
"How soon do you expect to get The Centurion into the sky?" I asked.
"We're coming along pretty good now. Just the finishing touches.
I figure we ought to be able to lift her sometime in September or early October."
"What's missing?"
"The usual stuff.
Mountings, fittings, polishing, tightening.
You know."
I knew. The small but important part that took longer than anything else.
But nothing really essential, nothing that would keep the plane from flying.
"Get her ready," I said. "I'm taking her up tomorrow."
"Are you crazy?
We've never even had gasoline in her tanks."
"Then fill her up."
"But the hull hasn't been water-tested yet," he shouted. "How do you know she won't go right to the bottom of San Diego Bay when you send her down the runway?"
"Then test it.
You've got twenty-four hours to make sure she floats.
I’ll be up there tonight, if you need a hand."
This was no cost-plus, money-guaranteed project, where the government picked up the tab, win, lose or draw.
This was my money and I didn't like the idea of losing it.
For seventeen million dollars, The Centurion would fly if I had to lift her out of the water with my bare hands.
3.
I had Robair take me out to the ranch, where I took a hot shower and changed my clothes before I got on the plane to San Diego.
I was just leaving the house when the telephone rang.
"It's for you, Mr. Jonas," Robair said. "Mr. McAllister."
I took the phone from his hand.
"Yes, Mac?"
"Sorry to bother you, Jonas, but this is important."
"Shoot."
"Bonner just called from the studio," he said.
"He's leaving at the end of the month to go over to Paramount.
He's got a deal with them to make nothing but blockbusters."
"Offer him more money."
"I did. He doesn't want it. He wants out."
"What does his contract say?"
"It's over the end of this month," he said.
"We cant hold him if he wants to go."