Hypersonic Thunder: A Novel of the Jet Age (16 page)

“We’ll probably never have to fight Iraq; but if we do, it’s better for Israel and the U.S. for them not to have nukes. And better for the Iraqis as well.”

Allen nodded, stood up, and strode out, his staff following. Menard looked up. “Good briefing, Colonel, all except for that last part.”

“You mean about us fighting Iraq?”

“Yeah, like that will ever happen. We’ve got the Israelis there to clean their clocks.”

“You may be right, Dave. I hope you are.”

December 31, 1981
Palos Verdes, California

T
OM
S
HANNON SAT
at his father’s big desk, laboriously typing a letter he was going to stuff into the envelopes of his Christmas cards. They were all signed, and would be going out the following Saturday, weeks later than his usual early November sending.

“This is the first year I’ve ever put a letter in the Christmas cards, but so much has happened, and I had to explain why I’m late. I hate being late. It makes you look like you are only sending out cards to people who have already sent you one!”

Harry responded, “You’ve got a lot to tell them, Tom. Just the big fight with Rodriquez alone would fill a couple of pages. And then you have to hit all the things that affected the company this year; at least with your old business friends.”

“The fight with Rodriquez was just like combat, Harry. If you turn away from an attacking fighter, you are dead. You turn into him, guns blazing, and you have a better chance. It worked with Zeroes, it worked with MiGs, and it worked with Bob Rodriquez.”

Harry watched his brother with pride. Eight years ago he had come home, literally a beaten man, savaged by more than six years as a prisoner of war in Hanoi. He was starved, his broken bones had not healed properly, and no one knew the extent of his psychological scars.

The first few years of his recovery were slow, in part because of the extent of the trauma, in part because of the death of his father, and in part because he felt emasculated that in his absence his wife Nancy had become chairman and CEO of Vance Shannon, Incorporated. He loved her, but he didn’t want to work for her, and he resented the fact that neither he nor his twin Harry was running his father’s company. He even resented Harry not taking over, just because he was preoccupied with his wife Anna’s drinking problem.

All that changed when Nancy ran the company almost into the ground with failed real estate ventures. She called it “diversifying,” but it almost gutted the firm until he and Harry engineered a coup to take over the company. In the process, Harry took over as chairman of the board, giving the CEO position to Tom. Then, in September 1980, Bob Rodriquez had openly announced his intention to acquire enough shares to take over Vance Shannon, Incorporated.

The announcement had been like an electric prod to Tom, who had never liked Rodriquez. He was yearning for combat again, just as in the old days when nothing could keep him from volunteering to fight in Korea or Vietnam. He couldn’t fly fighters anymore, but he could sure as hell take on Rodriquez.

He insisted that Harry take over the role of CEO and then began a series of nationwide tours, soliciting votes from the major stockholders in Vance Shannon, Incorporated. Most of the individuals he saw were old friends, often retired employees from the firm. But he did his best work at the many mutual funds that held substantial amounts of Vance Shannon stock in their portfolios.

Coming home, he told Harry, “You wouldn’t believe it, little brother, the mutual funds regard our company as the most stable in the industry. It gives them a toehold in aerospace without the risk that most companies have.”

“What’s their take on ActOn?”

“They have less confidence. They know Bob’s brilliant, but they are worried about the last year’s performance—it was OK, but not like the previous two years. And of course, we did better last year.”

“I had no idea we were that popular.”

“No, neither one of us ever paid any attention to the bean-counter side of the business. Some of it is halo effect from Dad’s name. But just thank goodness we had good people, and that they didn’t lose faith when Nancy put us in the nosedive. In fact, a lot of the mutual funds came in when we were in a slump, figuring they would profit when we recovered. And they have.”

“What do they say when you tell them Rodriquez is going to buy us out?”

“That’s the tough part, Harry. They like ActOn, too, but they think Bob is making a mistake trying to buy us out. They run charts on us, they run charts on everybody, and they think that ActOn and Vance Shannon
are both big enough and different enough to prosper. They don’t think there’s much to be gained by a consolidation of the two firms.”

“Do they know it’s just revenge that’s motivating Rodriquez?”

“No, he’s selling it as a ‘merger of two equals’ and telling them he can cut out a lot of duplication if he acquires control.”

“For ‘duplication’ read ‘Tom and Harry Shannon.’

” “You’re right of course, but he doesn’t say that. We’ve got a reputation, too, and that would hurt his chances. And when I tell them what the problem is, they sit up and listen. It will probably hurt ActOn in the long run. A lot of them I talk to are suspicious of Bob’s judgment.”

The battle with Rodriquez was a tonic for Tom. The more difficult it became, the more he enjoyed it, traveling around the country and doing a lot of flying in the company Learjet, always with an instructor pilot, but still in the left seat, making all the decisions, and even regaining his instrument flying proficiency. Concentrating on the gauges was a relief from the tedium of the business details he used to woo the stockholders.

Matters came to a head at a special stockholders meeting that Rodriquez insisted on, even specifying the time, date, and place—9:00
A.M.
, Wednesday, October 7, at the big Vance Shannon hangar at the Los Angeles International Airport. Rodriquez knew that it would be difficult for a lot of the small shareholders to get to the hangar in rush hour and that most would be at work on a Wednesday. He believed he controlled enough votes to win, but wanted to make sure.

The hangar was carpeted with folding chairs, anticipating a large turnout of stockholders, and an improvised stage was built, with two podiums, desks, and chairs for the two respective teams. Tom and Bob did not speak or shake hands. Each man sat near his podium. At the appointed hour, Rodriquez rose and addressed the sparse audience. Relatively few stockholders had managed to get through, but the press was well represented. After some formula words of welcome, Rodriquez came to the point.

“This meeting was called to announce ActOn’s determination to purchase Vance Shannon, Incorporated, for $250,000,000. This represents a premium of about 20 percent over the current price of thirty-four dollars, and is believed to be in the best interests of the shareholders.”

There was a stunned murmur from the press, and an audible gasp
from the audience of stockholders. The price was considerably higher than had been predicted.

Rodriquez went on for a few moments, saying the expected things about consolidation, economies, growth, and future prospects, then turned, nodded to Tom, and sat down.

Tom walked slowly to the podium. Harry noted that his limp seemed a bit more pronounced than usual, perhaps a bit of gamesmanship.

“Mr. Rodriquez has made his declaration. I will now make Vance Shannon, Incorporated’s declaration. We decline his offer. Instead we are making an offer of $300,000,000 for ActOn, and have secured the necessary funds to prosecute this strategy today.”

There was another gasp from the crowd as Rodriquez stood up shouting, “You cannot do that, Shannon!”

Tom walked to Rodriquez and stood looking down at him. Even though his beating in Hanoi had cost him the erect posture he’d carried since the Academy, he still towered over his old friend and longtime enemy.

“We can, and we will, Bob. I have the money pledged already, and I have the necessary votes. By the way, Bob, I doubt if you’ve had time to play any of the new video games. I suggest you look into Pac-Man; that’s what we’re calling our business strategy—‘the Pac-Man defense.’ You could look it up.”

Tom turned back to the microphone and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, we will now take questions from the audience, before proceeding to a vote on the two issues before us.”

Rodriquez stood up.

“There won’t be any questions and no vote is necessary. I withdraw ActOn’s offer to purchase Vance Shannon, Incorporated, and I’ll see you in court, Tom Shannon.”

Tom picked up his microphone, walked forward to the edge of the platform, and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, this will take a bit of time to sort out, as you can imagine. I’m sorry Bob called you out here on a wild-goose chase. We’ll be getting back to you shortly with the time and date of a new stockholders meeting, with a complete agenda and a more convenient location.”

A week later, ActOn announced that it was being acquired by the Allied Corporation. Bob Rodriquez was severing his connection with the firm.

Tom looked up from the typewriter.

“You pretty much know what I’ll tell them about Bob’s attempted takeover and our Pac-Man defense, where the goal is to eat up the other guy before he eats you up. Well, we ate him up first! But jog my mind about what’s happened recently in the industry that affected us.”

“Well, it’s not good material for a Christmas card, maybe, but we lost a lot of the giants in the industry this year. Just think of it—Don Douglas, Jack Northrop, and Juan Trippe all went west earlier in the year, all within a period of about sixty days.”

“Yeah, and the ejection seat guy, James Martin, he died around then, too. I’ll throw them all in with a line of condolence. What else, something upbeat.”

“How about Boeing’s response to Airbus with the 757 and 767? We have contracts to do the interiors on about thirty of them already. And NASA got two operational Space Shuttle flights off; that helped our maintenance subcontracts at Cape Canaveral.”

“Good! And there were those crazy guys who flew the balloon across the Pacific. We don’t make any money out of that, but they deserve a salute, anyway.”

“It’s a bit of a downer, but you might mention Lockheed has finally bit the bullet and is going to phase out the L-1011.”

“No, that’s too gloomy. They lost a bundle on it, and poor old McDonnell Douglas is in worse shape on the DC-10, just like you said it would be. I have to hand it to you, Harry, you called that one.”

“Well, getting back to upbeat, McDonnell Douglas flew its first jump jet—the AV-8B.”

“That’s a keeper. I love that name ‘AV-8B’—reminds me of the old McGuffey AV-8 that Dad test-flew back in the thirties—you know, the one powered by a flat-head Ford V-8 automobile engine.”

“The new one has a little more than 80 horsepower, I believe.” The two brothers batted the year’s news back and forth for another hour before Tom finally gave up.

“That’s it, two typewritten pages; I have to have three hundred copies made, and I’ll be stuffing envelopes all New Year’s Day.”

They were quiet for a while.

“What do you think Dad would say if he knew how deep in debt we were willing to go to scare Rodriquez off?”

“He knows. I’ve got the feeling he’s looking down here all the
time. And as much as he hated debt, he would have approved. Even though Bob was his pick, he never would have stood for a takeover.”

“Have you talked to Mae since the big stockholders meeting?” “No. Nancy said she was embarrassed by the whole thing, just wants to forget it. She’s dating a nice guy now. Bob’s a thing of the past.”

Harry shook his head. “I doubt it. I think Bob’s round the bend. I think he’ll be back to make trouble for us, and for Mae.”

May 1, 1982
Tonopah, Nevada

T
HERE WAS STILL
plenty of light and the temperature had dropped ten degrees from the daytime high of seventy-three. V. R. Shannon knew that he could use all the thrust he could get on any takeoff in Lockheed’s super secret “Senior Trend” aircraft. Called the F-117A, it was a full-scale development version of the aircraft Shannon knew would revolutionize the way wars were fought.

It had not been easy. The whole concept had been contested from the very start. Kelly Johnson, the doyen of Lockheed engineers—indeed, the doyen of all aeronautic engineers—had protested bitterly that the awkwardly shaped stealth fighter would never fly well. That was just the start of the problems that Ben Rich and his team had to endure—and were still enduring.

The two “Have Blue” experimental prototypes had flown a total of eighty-eight flights, but both had crashed and now lay buried at a hidden spot in the Nevada desert. Fortunately, in both crashes the pilots, Bill Park and Ken Dyson, had survived. V. R. had flown the second prototype on a number of occasions, and it was always chancy, like balancing a pool ball on the point of a cue stick. There was simply too much stealth in the design—and not enough aerodynamics.

The Have Blues had taught Lockheed a great deal, however, and earned it a contract for five full-scale development versions and fifteen production aircraft. These were not simply scaled up versions of the Have Blue, although they followed its general outlines and its faceted shape. The second Have Blue had been covered with radar absorbent
material, and it was soon painfully obvious that the so-called RAM was difficult to work with.

But the big problem was with openings, whether for the landing gear or the refueling probe or a simple access panel. When they were perfectly sealed, they didn’t present anything for a radar beam to reflect from, but if they were not perfectly aligned, they multiplied the aircraft’s radar signature by hundreds of times. There were manufacturing problems as well. In many cases, normal off-the-shelf avionics could not be used because of the awkward, angular shape of the aircraft. Instead, they had to be custom built to fit within the faceted contours of the bulging fuselage. This drove costs up and made maintenance difficult.

The full-sized F-117As were much bigger and heavier than the Have Blues. Engine thrust was way up, of course. Where the Have Blue’s J85 engines, borrowed from a Navy trainer, had about three thousand pounds of thrust, the production aircraft had GE F404 engines with about eleven thousand pounds of thrust. It needed every ounce, because the new airplane, at fifty-two thousand pounds takeoff weight, was more than four times as heavy as the Have Blue. The weight, combined with the less-than-aerodynamic shape of the airframe, made aerial combat problematic.