‘Coffee is on its way up.’
Saxon rubbed his forehead as if trying to get his bearings. ‘Did you … you came to the bar last night? What happened?’
‘Nothing much,’ she replied. ‘The barman rang me. I went, collected you and brought you back here.’
‘You stayed all night?’
‘No; I went home. You were dead to the entire world.’ There was a knock on the door and the room service boy wheeled in a trolley. Helen signed the check. While she was doing so, Saxon climbed out of bed and went into the bathroom. In a few moments he was out, having had a cold shower and wrapped a towel around himself. He lowered himself onto the couch and grabbed for a cup of black coffee.
‘How long can this last, Tom?’ she said directly.
He winced.
‘No lectures, Helen. Not until I’m repaired a bit.’
‘No lectures. No recriminations. But what of the future? You won’t last long like this. If Garry or Harry Maclaren found out that you are just a lush … ’
‘I’m not!’ Saxon snapped, stung by the realisation that she spoke the truth.
‘You’re doing a pretty good imitation, Tom,’ Helen smiled. ‘I know and understand some of the reasons but you have to let the dead bury the dead eventually. You can’t live in the past.’ There was an awkward silence before she went on.
‘Anyway, speaking for myself, I’m beginning to see things more clearly and I reached a decision last night.’
He glanced up curiously at her.
‘Oh, it’s absolutely nothing to do with us. It’s something I should have done a long, long time ago. I am going to leave Garry. I’m moving out in a day or two after I’ve talked to him.’
‘Oh.’
Saxon didn’t know what else to say.
‘It was all over with Garry and me a long time ago — in fact, I don’t think we ever got started but we never admitted it. So don’t think that it has anything to do with us, Tom. It hasn’t.’
‘No; I see.’
He hesitated, as if trying to make up his mind to say something, then:
‘I’d better call the project site to say I’ll be in late.’
She bit her lip. She had been expecting a little more reaction to her news. She watched him dialling then, as he was put through to Maclaren, she stood up and left. Why should she expect anything from Tom Saxon?
*
‘Hydrogen?’
Villemur stared aghast at Charles Renard.
‘Why not?’
It was Le Braz, doodling on a jotting pad, who spoke.
As Villemur, Renard and Barjonet turned to look at him, Le Braz shrugged.
‘We must accept that even if we were able to get our immediate supply of helium, we would face a long-term problem. It must be acknowledged that the natural supply in North America is limited and that helium released into the atmosphere escapes into outer space and is lost. Eventually, the United States Government will reimpose an export embargo on it as they did during the 1920s and 1930s. Whereas hydrogen is easily obtainable and, at the moment, stands at one-tenth the cost of helium.’
Villemur looked angry.
‘I know about costs … but helium as the necessary lifting gas for the Charles de Gaulle is essential. Surely you must have ensured the availability of an adequate quantity before you undertook the construction of the airship?’
He turned and stared accusingly at Renard. The head of Dirigeable-Commercial sat back and spread his hands.
‘Even I cannot foresee union problems in the United States, Villemur.’
‘There is only one thing for it, the tests must be delayed until we can obtain an adequate supply of helium. Hydrogen is out of the question.’
‘Sooner or later,’ interposed Le Braz, ‘we will be forced to use hydrogen as an alternative gas.’
‘Nonsense!’ returned Villemur. ‘The public won’t stand for it. It is going to be difficult enough to sell them the idea of safe airships in view of their history. But even the smallest child knows just how dangerous hydrogen can be. Why, every major incident connected with airships can be attributable to hydrogen gas.’
‘The use of hydrogen in a passenger-carrying airship might well be ruled out by public opinion,’ replied Le Braz excitedly. ‘But there is no reason why it should not be made as safe as any other commonly accepted fuel, and successful experience with a freight-carrying airship would dispel such fears.’
Renard held up his hands like a priest bestowing a blessing. ‘There seems a division of opinion among you men of science,’ he said paternally. ‘The problem is simple. At the moment we can inflate twenty per cent, one-fifth, of the gas cells with helium from the supply we already have. Now, as you know, and I am not an expert in such matters, the Charles de Gaulle was designed on the same lines as the Hindenburg and Graf Zeppelin II. That is, they were initially designed to carry hydrogen as well as helium for buoyancy. If I recall correctly, the hydrogen was contained in separate gas cells located entirely within the helium cells. So we could carry out this form of inflation with the Charles de Gaulle.’
Le Braz nodded eagerly.
‘The perfect answer! Use the helium we have to encompass the hydrogen-filled cells. And we would still be in with a chance of competing with the Albatross!’
Renard suddenly stared hard at Villemur.
‘Well, Villemur? Yours is the final decision as our chief designer. The entire project, and the economic solvency of this company, stands or falls by your decision.’
Villemur shuffled uncomfortably.
‘I … ’ he coughed nervously. ‘I have already said that I have my reservations. However, if we can ensure that all the hydrogen gas cells are surrounded by helium gas cells … well, I suppose … ’
‘Excellent!’ declared Renard. ‘That is excellent. You agree, of course, Le Braz? Yes. And you, Barjonet? What do you say?’
Jacques Barjonet shrugged.
‘I am not a scientist, m’sieur. I’m merely a glorified bus-driver. Give me the ship and I’ll fly it.’
‘Good. Very well, gentlemen, we shall start the inflation process the day after tomorrow.’
‘We shall still be a long way behind the Americans,’ Villemur complained.
Renard smiled.
‘No; I have a plan that will put us in advance of them.’
‘How?’ demanded Le Braz.
‘As soon as we have completed our inflation process, when the Charles de Gaulle lifts off on … ’ Renard glanced at his calendar, ‘on next Monday, she will start her maiden voyage to New York. No preliminary testing. It will be done en route.’ There was complete silence. Villemur looked astounded while Le Braz and Barjonet exchanged glances. Barjonet cleared his throat. Renard looked up.
‘You have a problem?’ he said softly.
‘Not exactly,’ he replied, ‘but surely we will not be able to make that flight without more extensive tests of the ship under actual flight conditions and before we get a certificate of airworthiness?’
‘That’s right,’ Villemur chimed in. ‘It would not be legally possible.’
Renard smiled smugly.
‘Gentlemen, you build the ship and fly it. Leave the legalities to me. That’s my function. Of course we must get a certificate of airworthiness. Of course testing has to be done. But do not think I put forward ideas without background knowledge. There are no rules or regulations applicable to an airship which specify exactly where a test flight can take place, or the duration of that flight. It can be done on a trip across the Atlantic just as well as a trip up and down the Seine. Is that not so?’
He waited for a contradiction. When there was none, he continued.
‘The maiden voyage of the Charles de Gaulle will start next Monday. We will not carry any fare-paying passengers or cargo. We will simply carry personnel, aviation officials and members of the press, at their own risk, for a test flight. I have already spoken with officials at the Ministry of Transport and they will be on board to chart the flight and res
ults, and grant an airworthiness certificate to be effective on our entry into American airspace to comply with international law.’
‘In that case,’ Barjonet observed slowly, ‘we will have to avoid flying over any part of the British Isles or any foreign airspace before reaching American airspace.’
‘Captain Barjonet is quite correct,’ Villemur supported him. ‘No civil aircraft is allowed to fly over the United Kingdom unless it holds a certificate of airworthiness from its country of origin. It is part of the British Air Navigation Order of 1974.’
‘Then we will do precisely what Captain Barjonet suggests,’ smiled Renard. ‘We will merely avoid British airspace.’.
‘It would be a safer route to fly across southern Britain and Ireland and then up to Greenland and Newfoundland. A straight trip avoiding those countries presents more hazards.’
‘Are you saying that it is more dangerous?’ demanded Renard.
‘Not exactly,’ admitted Barjonet. ‘But making a sea crossing out of sight of land always has an element of risk.’
‘If it is not dangerous then we have no problem,’ Renard said with an air of finality.
Villemur did not look happy.
‘But will our government allow the Charles de Gaulle to take off on such a flight without a certificate of airworthiness? France is a member state of the International Civil Aviation Organisation and has agreed to the international code … ’
‘Crap!’ Renard answered him crudely. ‘I’ve already told you that I am handling that side of things.’
In fact, Renard had just spent an hour on the telephone with Brisset, the presidential aide, who was even now pulling every string in the government bureaucracy to ensure that the Charles de Gaulle could undertake its flight and beat the Americans. It was vital to enhance the prestige of France and its President, now facing a difficult election.
Chapter Eleven
The small band had just finished playing ‘Hail to the Chief’ when the tall, thickset figure of the President of the United States strode into the lounge of the Albatross. He had to squeeze through a huge crowd of reporters, television crew and selected Anglo-American officials and guests as he made his way towards the podium which had been placed at one end of the great cabin. There was a small burst of applause, respectful and deferential. When it had died down, the President coughed. He always coughed before beginning a speech. It was a gesture as widely known to the American television audiences as his nervous habit of brushing some imaginary loose hair away from his forehead.
The President made no preamble.
‘I am deeply honoured to come here to Andrews Air Force Base today to witness with my own eyes a great achievement of American … ’ he paused and turned to smile winningly at the British ambassador who was standing next to John G. Badrick, ‘and British technology; honoured to be able to glimpse a new and exciting future in the history of aviation, a future made possible by our two great countries. I am also proudly aware of the distinction I have in being allowed to officially name this great ship Albatross, a ship — so I am informed — that will be the first of many, the first of a grand fleet. And in so naming this ship, I am delighted to present to Mr. John G. Badrick, chairman of Pan Continental Airways and chief executive of Anglo-American Airships, a certificate of airworthiness for this most remarkable vessel.’
He turned, amidst renewed applause, towards an aide. A scroll was handed to him as Badrick moved forward to the podium. There were smiles. Handshakes. Loud congratulations. The band then struck up ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’ and followed it with ‘Rule Britannia’. A few people mistakenly thought this was the British national anthem and tried to stand respectfully among the milling press men. Then the President took a step backwards to allow Badrick to address the gathering.
Badrick began with effusive thanks. The Albatross had completed the strict FAA and CAA testing requirements and had flown from Portland to Washington. Now the gigantic airship was ready to make her first Transatlantic flight and mark a new step forward in the history of aviation. The Albatross was, at this moment, about to take off for a short circular tour of Washington, and before he left to accompany the President on a tour of the airship, Badrick told the reporters that he wanted to say a few words about the ship.
Samantha Hackerman glanced at Harry Maclaren and raised her eyebrows. Badrick was deviating from the itinerary. The chairman of Pan Continental had agreed simply to thank the President and start the tour. She knew that Badrick liked to hear the sound of his own voice and was inclined to long boring speeches. Maclaren gave her a sympathetic look.
Badrick was smiling expansively at the reporters.
‘We, in Anglo-American, are determined to develop a fleet of freight-carrying airships on the same design pattern as the Albatross. Our company believe that the Albatross has a promising role as a general cargo carrier in competition with conventional transport. As you gentlemen, beg pardon, ladies and gentlemen, know, most time-sensitive shipments are transported by aircraft for long distances and by truck for shorter distances. Let’s examine costs. Current costs may run as high as twenty-five cents per ton mile and trucking costs at nine cents per ton mile. For slow bulk traffic we have railroads making a cost of two to three cents per ton mile and barge traffic at about one-point-five cents.’
The President’s smile was still fixed but Samantha Hackerman saw him glance anxiously at his wristwatch.
‘In terms of speed the Albatross is superior to surface modes of transport but inferior to aircraft. In terms of capacity, the Albatross is superior to trucks and aircraft but inferior to large trains, barge tows or ocean transport … at the moment, that is. I hope you will take note of that. Costs of transportation by airship will be less than aeroplanes but greater than trucking. Under current costs I’d say costs would be twelve cents per ton mile. At that price, with our speed factor, I would say that we will capture that portion of the current air freight market that is semi time-sensitive — traffic that must move faster than truck but does not have to travel at jet speeds; traffic that currently moves by aeroplane because there is no alternative.’
‘That’s all very well, Mr. Badrick,’ a Washington Post reporter standing near the podium took Badrick’s pause as an opportunity to interrupt. ‘But don’t you have to face the fact that the word “airship” has become a synonym with air disasters? Mention “airship” and everyone starts thinking of the blazing infernos of the R101 and the Hindenburg and all the other airship disasters.’
Samantha Hackerman inwardly groaned. The Presidential ceremony was going to get out of hand because Badrick had wanted to sound off; he was opening it up into a press conference. She glanced in desperation at Maclaren.
Badrick was floundering.
‘Ah, a’hmm … well, it can’t be denied that the Hindenburg disaster was an accident of major proportions for its time and for the state of the air industry of that time. I … er … I … ’
Badrick desperately caught Maclaren’s eye.
Harry Maclaren sighed and moved forward.
‘What Mr. Badrick is trying to say,’ he gave a scornful glance at the Pan Continental chairman, ‘is that it’s our job to get you gentlemen of the press … ladies and gentlemen of the press … to put the matter in perspective for the public. What we have to impress on people are the facts. Nothing else. Between 1900 and 1937 the total casualties due to airship accidents were only 349 — and that’s about the same number that can die in one major airline accident today.’
Badrick wiped his brow and looked a little relieved.
‘And now,’ he forced his smile, ‘I understand we are due for take-off so … ’
‘What about the mad bomber tales that are going about?’ It was an anonymous reporter from the back of the crowd. ‘Is it true that someone has it in for Anglo-American? Are you expecting an attempt to destroy the Albatross on its Transatlantic flight?’
Before Badrick could answer, Harry Maclaren swung round angrily.
&n
bsp; ‘Like many major companies we receive our share of threatening letters. It is also true that our company has suffered a couple of tragic accidents resulting in the deaths of two of our key personnel. The matter is under police investigation. We can say no more at this stage.’
‘Yeah, but you can say … ’ began another reporter.
‘I’m sorry,’ Maclaren snapped. ‘That’s as far as we can go at this stage. Now we are due to take off for the trip around Washington. Why don’t you all relax now and enjoy the view from the observation windows?’
He turned and began to hustle Badrick, the British ambassador and the President out of the lounge, leaving Samantha Hacker-man to deal with the questions now being shouted. Outside the lounge Badrick heaved a sigh of relief.
‘We certainly don’t want any scare-mongering publicity.’
‘It shouldn’t have developed into a press conference,’ Maclaren said. There was a strong tone of rebuke in his voice which was not lost on Badrick.
‘Don’t you think you should have issued a denial instead of saying the matter was under police investigation?’ he countered.
‘No.’ Maclaren was emphatic. ‘Once a reporter has an idea for a story, unless you can positively contradict him, it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie by not antagonising him.’
The President interrupted with his bad joke about the press which had now become a White House cliché.
‘Not better to let lying dogs sleep, eh?’
Maclaren smiled politely.
‘If you’ll come this way, sir, we can start our tour of the ship.’
*
Garry Carson could scarcely restrain his enthusiasm.
‘She is the sweetest thing I ever saw,’ he exclaimed, as they manoeuvred five hundred feet above Andrews Air Force Base. ‘This is exactly like flying the simulator. No problems.’
Tom Saxon glanced at him from the co-pilot’s seat.
‘You didn’t expect her to handle in any other way, did you, skipper?’ he said as he punched the computer controls for a course change to head them towards Suitland Heights. Saxon was feeling a little testy. He was confused and vaguely unhappy. He had not seen Helen Carson for several days; not since she had visited the morning after his last drink. He had an overpowering urge to see her again but he lacked the courage to call her. He glanced at Carson out of the corner of his eye. The man never talked about his private life these days. He wondered whether Helen had moved out yet. Wondered whether Carson suspected that Helen and he had once had an affair. Wondered whether Carson realised that Helen had been in touch with him and still loved him. Saxon suddenly started. Yes, that was true. Helen had said it. She still loved him and he had only just realised what that meant. Damn it! He must speak with her.
Airship Page 23
