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datatime: 2022-11-27 03:18:17 Author:dimHWHSw

"Check." Roger turned down the mixture. "That's what I'm talking about," he said, motioning toward Morrissey, who was acting as flight engineer. "It's stupid - all of us on the same plane. What if it went down? Who'd be left to run the company?"

"Amos Winthrop."

"Sure," he said, shooting a curious look at me. "But you aren't going to like it."

"We'll have to get someone to run the Canadian plant."

I nodded silently. He'd been right - it was a hell of a wise move. We'd fabricate the parts in our plants in the States and ship them to Canada, where they'd go on the production line. As they rolled off, the R.C.A.F. would fly them to England. If it worked, we could knock about three weeks off the production time for each plane.

"Sure," he said, shooting a curious look at me. "But you aren't going to like it."

"He knows aircraft production," Forrester said stubbornly. He glanced at me again. "I heard what happened between you two but that's got nothing to do with this."

The idea also had some fiscal advantages. The British and Canadian governments were willing to finance the building of the plant and we'd save two ways. The factory would cost less because we would have no interest charges and the tax on net income could be taken in Canada, where the depreciation allowance was four times that allowed by Uncle Sam. And His Majesty's boys were happy, too, because living in the sterling bloc, they'd have fewer American dollars to pay out.

"He's the only man around who can handle it," he said. "And he won't be available for long. The way things are going, somebody's going to snap him up."

"O.K., Captain," Forrester said. "Thank you."

"This is where we leave you, old boy."

I grinned at him. "You worry too much."

"This is where we leave you, old boy."

"Safe home, chaps. And don't forget to send us the big ones. We'll be needing them next summer to pay Jerry back a little."

"Let them He's a prick and a lush. Besides, he's bombed out on everything he ever did."

I reached for a cigarette. "What's going to happen to us?" I asked, lighting it. I looked at him through the cloud of smoke. "Unless you got a little jealous of the R.A.F. back there and are thinking about going back into the service."

"He knows aircraft production," Forrester said stubbornly. He glanced at me again. "I heard what happened between you two but that's got nothing to do with this."

"We'll have to get someone to run the Canadian plant."

I stared at him. "Try me and see."

"Engines one and two, check," Morrissey called from behind us. "Engines three and four, check. You can cut the fuel now."

"Check." Roger turned down the mixture. "That's what I'm talking about," he said, motioning toward Morrissey, who was acting as flight engineer. "It's stupid - all of us on the same plane. What if it went down? Who'd be left to run the company?"

Forrester laughed in his mike. The British had just taken the shellacking of their lives and here they were worried about getting their licks in. "You'll have them, Captain."

The idea also had some fiscal advantages. The British and Canadian governments were willing to finance the building of the plant and we'd save two ways. The factory would cost less because we would have no interest charges and the tax on net income could be taken in Canada, where the depreciation allowance was four times that allowed by Uncle Sam. And His Majesty's boys were happy, too, because living in the sterling bloc, they'd have fewer American dollars to pay out.

"O.K., Captain," Forrester said. "Thank you."

"What's stupid?" I asked, looking down behind me from the copilot's seat, to see London dropping back into the early-morning haze. There were several fires still burning from last night's raid. "They didn't buy our plane but they'll buy all the B-17's we can turn out. What the hell, we both know they have to standardize."

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