Top Gun (10 page)

“So everything really does come down to getting a launch customer,” Steve mused.

“There’s more,” Harrison muttered. “You might as well know it all. Skytrain wanted a British engine firm to supply the Pont
with its fan power plants. I knew how essential it would be to the U.S. airlines that an American company supply the engines,
so in order to get the consortium to endorse Rogers and Simpson, I had to trade off some of GAT’s Third World profits on the
Pont.

“Jesus,” Steve groaned. “Why didn’t you just put on a pair of black fishnets and
charge
people to screw you?”

“Taken by itself, it was a reasonable arrangement,” Harrison said defensively. “GAT had to compensate Skytrain because the
consortium had to in turn compensate the foreign and Third World airlines. Skytrain had to cover those airlines’ cash outlays
concerning the cost to them for the American engine spare-parts inventory they would have to carry in order to keep their
Ponts airborne.”

“So GAT had to
pay
Rogers and Simpson to come into the deal, and had to pay the
deal
to let Rogers and Simpson in,” Steve said slowly. “All of that, in addition to GAT shouldering half the Pont’s start-up costs,
while putting itself at the very end of the line when payday came around. Talk about getting it coming and going…”

“I took a risk,” Harrison admitted.

Steve burst out laughing. “Talk about understatement! You call this a
risk?
Then what’s your idea of a long shot: playing Russian roulette with a fully loaded gun? You’ve put this company on the brink!
We’ve got to be in hock up to our necks?”

“Okay, so I took a
large
risk.” Harrison sulked, thinking that if Steve knew more about this business he’d know that it was a cutthroat game of poker
that called for the guts to put everything you had on the table to back up your hand. Harrison had not been flying totally
on instruments when he’d entered into this deal. Part of his strategy had been to recruit Steve into GAT, and he’d succeeded
in that. The fly in the ointment, the “unk-unk” as aviation engineers called those unknown and unforeseen problems that can
crop up in a design, was the unexpected move by the DOD to run a fighter competition. Harrison had been counting on an ex-Pentagon
heavyweight like Steve being able to muscle the Air Force into buying the Stiletto. That influx of Air Force dollars, combined
with another stock offering propelled by the after-burn of positive publicity surrounding the new military contract, was to
have temporarily pulled GAT out of the red until the Pont could be successfully launched in America.

Of course, Harrison was not about to tell Steve how he had expected the ex-Air Force man to be GAT’s white knight riding to
the rescue. This mess the company was in was Harrison’s doing, and he was not about to off-load the responsibility for it
on anyone else.

Harrison said, “All I can tell you is that at the time I felt the potential reward to GAT was worth the risk. I still feel
that way. If the Pont is an American success, we’ll see the return on our investment, plus enjoy a sustained substantial cash
flow to finance other projects. And consider the prestige. GAT will tower over its competitors. The company will have taken
a giant step toward being an international aviation concern. If we can get the Pont accepted in America, it will mean—”

“Not ‘if,’ “ Steve suddenly and firmly interrupted. “You keep saying ‘if when you ought to be saying ‘when.’ The existence
of our company depends on us succeeding. We can’t afford to voice doubt, even among ourselves. With the economy the way it
is, some of our smarter people must already be wondering about their futures at GAT. If our fears concerning this deal should
leak, we’d suffer a mass exodus. We can’t afford that kind of talent drain. There’s something Pop told me years ago: A company
like GAT is only as good as the brains of the people who work for it.”

Harrison, gratified, stared at Steve in admiration. “Son of a gun, every time I think I have you pegged, you surprise me.”

“No wonder you’ve been prowling around here like a bear all this while.” Steve smiled. “I thought you were mad at
me,
that maybe you were sorry you had me come into the business….”

“No way,” Harrison said. “You may still have a few Air Force rough edges on you, but I’m very pleased with the job you’ve
been doing. Convincing you to join GAT was the soundest damned business decision I ever made.” He shook his head. “I’ve just
been pissed at myself, Steve. And at the way our luck has been breaking.”

“Listen up,” Steve demanded. “I’ve got something to say to you, because I think in all your worrying you’ve forgotten it.
My father literally bet this company on nothing more substantial than a wing and a prayer any
number
of times.”

“But Herman always won.”

“So will we,” Steve said. “Next to building airplanes, winning is what Herman Gold’s sons do best.”

Jesus Christ,
Harrison thought.
He sounded just like his father when he said that.

The telephone rang. Harrison went over to the antique sideboard to pick up the receiver.

(Two)

Steve Gold watched Don answer the phone, thinking ruefully of how comparatively sedate life had been in the Air Force. Don
had sure as fuck made some bad mistakes concerning this Skytrain/Pont situation; hell, the whole thing was a fiasco. On the
other hand, Gold realized that it was vital that GAT’s position as a member in good standing in the consortium be preserved.
That position would be vital in the future just as it had been vital in the past, in ways that GAT’s stockholders and the
general public could never imagine.

For example, it had been GAT’s participation in Skytrain Industrie that had allowed Herman Gold to come to the aid of the
nation of Israel prior to that country’s 1967 Six-Day War. Back then, Aérosens Aviation, the French company in the Skytrain
consortium, was supplying Israel with Tyran II jet fighters. The Tyran II was a good warbird, but it needed aftermarket, sophisticated
combat avionics: specifically, the VectorA radarranging weaponsfiring system that GAT was manufacturing in a co-venture with
another firm. The United States government had a foreign export restriction in place on the Vector-A when Steve Gold’s old
war buddy turned political lobbyist asked Steve to intercede on Israel’s behalf with Herman Gold. The official U.S. government
stance on the matter was that it was a nonstarter, but the CIA and the USAF persuaded GAT to do the deal—at the company’s
own risk—because in exchange the Israelis had offered the Air Force a peek at a Russian-built MiG-21 the Israelis had managed
to purloin from Iraq. In those days, the MiG-21 was the Russians’ top-of-the-line fighter. The U.S. Air Force was drooling
over the chance to check one out.

Gold remembered how much his father had wanted to help Israel. Pop, who most of his life had been something of a lapsed Jew,
had seen it as a chance to get back to his roots. Pop had risked his company, breaking the law by smuggling the Vector-A’s
to Israel by way of France. The combat avionics systems left America hidden in GAT shipments to Skytrain Industrie.

Fortunately, the caper went smoothly, and in response the grateful Israelis made good on their offer to let the U.S. check
out their stolen MiG. Not only that, but the Israelis, in appreciation for what GAT had done, required that none other than
Herman Gold’s fighter-pilot son be sent to do the checking. Colonel Steve Gold went to Israel, where he spent several wonderful
months putting the MiG-21 through her paces.

It all worked out well for everyone. Pop got his chance to do something important for Israel, and in the process revitalized
his own spirit. Israel was helped to win the Six-Day War thanks to the Vector-A’s installed in their Tyran II war-birds. And
GAT earned itself brownie points with an appreciative USAF that were still paying off. Just the other day, Gold’s contact
at the Air Force had confided to him that they were leaning toward buying the Stiletto in some part due to the good feeling
toward GAT concerning the Vector A/MiG-21 trade that still existed at the highest levels of that branch of the service. The
Air Force had received invaluable information on the state of Russian aviation thanks to the reports Gold had filed on the
MiG-21.

And Gold himself had gotten something personally important out of the deal: his name in the Air Force’s history books. It
was Colonel Steven Gold’s notes and evaluations on the MiG-21 that comprised one of the textbooks that every fledgling pilot
studied in Fighter Training School.

All of those unexpected benefits had accrued thanks to GAT’s membership in Skytrain, Gold now realized. Pop could never have
smuggled the Vector-A’s to Israel if he hadn’t had a working relationship with Aérosens, getting that company to serve as
a conduit. Who knew what other unknown benefits were waiting in the future for GAT thanks to Skytrain?

Or for the American company that replaced GAT in Skytrain Industrie if this Pont 500 situation was allowed to get out of control?

“It’s my secretary on the phone,” Don said, breaking through Gold’s reveries. “She’s got Jack Rosa on the line. Rosa is the
president of TransWest, a smaller airline operating west of the Rockies. The Pont is the perfect airplane for TransWest, and
the airline would be the perfect launch customer for the Pont. I’ve been working on Jack for months to get him to put in an
order. I told my secretary to cancel our meeting with the department heads, and that I’d take Rosa’s call here. I’ll use the
speakerphone so that you can listen in. “

Gold watched Don fiddle with some buttons on the telephone console. There was some crackling as the small rectangular speakers
and omnidirectional mikes built into the walls came to life, and then the secretary’s voice was clearly broadcast into the
conference room: “Mr. Harrison? Here’s Mr. Rosa.”

“Jack,” Don said in conversational tones, returning to his chair.

“Hello, Don,” Jack Rosa’s hearty voice came booming through the wall speakers.

“Jack, how are you?” Don said.

Gold listened idly as the two men proceeded to exchange pleasantries concerning the weather, current events, and their current
golf handicaps. The sound of Rosa’s voice had jogged his memory. Gold remembered that he’d met Jack Rosa at the 1ATC trade
show back in November. Rosa was short, fat, and in his late fifties, with white hair and a beard. Gold recalled thinking at
the time that Jack Rosa looked like Santa Claus in cowboy boots and three-piece glen plaid.

“Don, I called to talk to you about the Pont deal.”

Gold nervously lit a cigarette. Don looked at him, holding up both hands and crossing his fingers.

“I hope you’ve got good news for me,” Don said jovially. Gold had to give Don credit: he sounded relaxed and on top of the
world about the whole thing, as if it didn’t really matter one way or the other.

“Well, it’s good news all right, Don, but for us, not for GAT.”

Gold’s heart sank. He heard Don say, “Oh? Tell me about it.” Don’s voice was calm, but he was leaning back in his chair and
his eyes were closed, a man in pain.

“It’s like this, Don,” Rosa was saying. “TransWest and the other airlines have received an offer from a new outfit on the
block: Agatha Holding Company.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of them,” Don said slowly.

“Like I said, they’re new….”

Rosa was sounding evasive, Gold thought. Don must have sensed Rosa’s unease as well, for he smoothly changed his line of questioning.

“You said they made you an offer?” Don began. “I’m not sure I understand. They sure can’t be manufacturing air planes?”

“No, not planes,” Rosa answered. “Engines. Agatha Holding contacted us representing the British engine firm of Payn-Reese
in regards to our power plant choice should we go with the Pont—”

“Wait a minute, Jack,” Don interrupted. “What do you mean by
choice
of engines for the Pont? You know she was designed to hang Rogers and Simpson’s new fan jet?”

“Come on, Don. “ Gold heard Rosa’s laugh hiss forth from the wall speakers. “We’ve both been in this game too long to be jerking
each other around. You know as well as I do that most airplanes can be equipped with a choice of engines. Take Boeing’s 747:
it comes with a choice of GE, Pratt and Whitney, or Rolls-Royce power plants.”

“But the Pont was designed for the Rogers and Simp son…” Don was repeating icily. Gold frowned. Don was beginning to lose
his composure.

“Maybe,” Rosa said noncommittally. “But the engineering representatives from Agatha Holding made quite a convincing presentation
to my own engineers about how the Payn-Reese power plant could be fitted to the Pont.”

“But it’s all bullshit!” Don exploded. “Jack, get it through your head that GAT is licensed by Skytrain Industrie to be the
exclusive supplier of the Pont in the United States. You buy it from us or you don’t buy it at all, and if you buy it from
us, that plane will come with Rogers and Simpson engines.”

“I look at it this way,” Rosa said. “Say we decide to go with the Pont, but with the Payn-Reese engine. You know the competition
that exists for you out in the marketplace. Do you mean to tell me that GAT is in a financial position to withhold the airplane
from those customers who demand a change in the engine?”

Gold watched as Don opened his mouth to say something but then closed it.

“I thought not.” Rosa chuckled. “Look, Don. The bottom line is that Agatha Holding has offered a superior financing package
to any airline that decides to go with the Payn-Reese equipped Ponts. Agatha will attractively seller-finance the initial
purchase price of the engine portion of the airplane, and also guarantee and attractively finance the after-sale service and
spare-parts inventory for ten years.”

“You’re going to need that guarantee,” Don rallied valiantly, “if you decide to trust a British-based company to keep your
planes flying.”

Jack Rosa said, “And we’ve got that guarantee. From Agatha Holding, an
American-based
company,” he emphasized. “They’re right here in L.A. —” Rosa stopped abruptly, as if he’d belatedly realized he’d said too
much.