by T. E. Cruise
Lord Glass said: “You see the situation wrongly, Mr. Gold, for it is neither cut nor dry. From the start of the Pont project, there was ambiguity and controversy, protracted and at times heated discussion concerning the jetliner’s engines. Since the French were doing the lion’s share of the work on the fuselage, and GAT was in charge of preliminary design and building the wing, the British viewpoint was that an English company be given the opportunity to design and build the engine. It was GAT that insisted that the job be given to an American firm, specifically Rogers and Simpson. At the time, GAT made several persuasive arguments to that end that there was real doubt whether Payn-Reese or any other British motor works could produce a sufficiently powerful engine within the desired time frame. Also, Aérosens was keen on the idea of involving an American engine concern that our French partner might do business with on their own at some later time. Finally, we British accepted GAT’s argument that if your firm was to be able to market the Pont in America, the jetliner would have to be perceived as a more American product. Skytrain wanted the Pont jetliner to symbolize the post war reemergence of the European community as an industrial power.” He shrugged, sighing. “But at GAT’s behest it was reluctantly decided to blur the Pont’s European origins.” Lord Glass frowned at his pipe, which had gone out while he was busy talking. “Mr. Harrison would attest to as much ifhe were here.”
“I don’t dispute what you’ve said,” Gold replied. “On the contrary, I would only add that in exchange for getting what it wanted, GAT allowed its consortium partners an extremely advantageous financial arrangement.”
“Quite so,” Lord Glass sanguinely acquiesced, stoking his pipe.
Gold shrugged. “So as I said, it’s cut and dry. You’re the one who said that this is just business. A deal’s a deal. The question is, will Skytrain live up to it’s agreement?”
“Skytrain is living up to its agreement,” Lord Glass said. “GAT wanted Rogers and Simpson to build the Pont’s engines. That company did. The fact that an English firm has since decided to venture into the market by offering an alternative engine has nothing whatsoever to do with Skytrain.”
What a duplicitous crock of shit! Gold thought. “Lord Glass, I’m prepared to leave that questionable statement on your part unchallenged for the moment, because now I’d like to speak to you as the director of Stoat-Black rather than the British representative in Skytrain.”
Gold glimpsed Peters casting a worried look at Glass. All right, Gold thought. It’s about time we got down to the nitty-gritty.
“For years Payn-Reese has been the exclusive supplier of aircraft engines to Stoat-Black,” Gold continued. “It’s perfectly obvious that if your firm chose to do so, it could influence Payn-Reese to withdraw their proposed Pont engine. Why haven’t you done that?”
“Stoat-Black has no desire to interfere in this matter,” Lord Glass said. “Why should we? Stoat-Black and Payn-Reese have everything to gain and nothing to lose. The entire venture is being funded by an American company, Agatha Holding.”
“You know who that is,” Gold accused.
“I do indeed!” Lord Glass vigorously nodded. “What’s more, since I’m aware of the history between Mr. Campbell and your late father, I know why Mr. Campbell has seen fit to wiggle his toes in GAT’s previously pristine pond, but that holds no relevance to us. Meanwhile, if Payn-Reese should succeed in penetrating the American market, its enhanced cash flow will make it possible for the firm to develop more advanced engines that will in the future power Stoat-Black’s airplanes. Also, if Payn-Reese’s venture is successful, the company’s enhanced status as an international engine concern will make Stoat-Black’s current and future airplane offerings more desirable to the American domestic market.”
“And that’s why you’re willing to stab GAT in the back?” Gold asked fiercely. He gestured to the display cases lining Sir Lyndon’s office. “Over there are models and drawings of the Supershark World War Two pursuit plane and the GAT-SB Sea Dragon flying boat, the first two products of the early collaboration between GAT and Stoat-Black. Back then, my father and Stoat-Black’s own Sir Hugh Luddy created a revolutionary mutually advantageous partnership across the sea that has since flowered into Skytrain.” Gold paused. “Lord Glass, a few moments ago you spoke of tradition: Are you now prepared to turn your back on the long tradition between your company and mine?”
Lord Glass had been listening intently. Gold had high hopes that his remarks had hit home.
Lord Glass studied his pipe as he answered: “What has gone before does mean a great deal to me, Mr. Gold. Your father was a great man.” His eyes flicked up to pinion Gold. “But your father is dead. Sir Hugh is dead. It is one thing to honor the past, quite another to wallow in it. I count myself among the many in my country who believe that for too long the European community has done just that: mourn past glory. If you’ll forgive me for saying this, Mr. Gold, I think that these days GAT is also guilty of wallowing in the past.”
“You’re tragically mistaken,” Gold said fiercely. “You’re as wrong as Peters here was a minute ago: GAT is no paper tiger.”
Lord Glass looked embarrassed. “My information has it that your chief creditor, AVG, has become concerned about GAT’s ability to repay its outstanding loan. That GAT has requested AVG to issue the company an extensive line of credit intended to counter Tim Campbell’s offer to the air-lines. That AVG is unlikely to do so.”
“That’s not true!” Gold lied bravely. “AVG and GAT are in negotiations concerning the matter, and GAT is in negotiations with another investment syndicate,” he added forcefully, remembering what Don had said during their last telephone conversation: If Gold could bluff the English into backing down by making them believe that GAT had the financial resources to do battle with Tim Campbell, GAT would no longer need AVG to advance the line of credit. The first rule of threat management was that the bigger your gun, the less likely it was that your adversary would force you to fire a shot.
“I think you’re mistaken on that, Mr. Gold,” Lord Glass said diplomatically. “You see, Mr. Gold, I also know that AVG is pressuring you to pursue a cost-saving corporate restructuring that would drastically reduce—perhaps even eliminate—GAT’s presence in the military market.”
More lies were rising up on Gold’s tongue, but he swallowed them down. Lord Glass clearly had his act together concerning GAT’s financial situation. Bluffing was one thing; trying to convince a sane man that night was day was something else entirely.
“GAT has no intention of accepting AVG’s recommendations,” Gold said, and left it at that.
Lord Glass shrugged. “GAT is a company on the rocks, but Skytrain desires to extend a helping hand.”
“Meaning what?” Gold tried hard not to sound eager.
“I have spoken to my counterpart at Aérosens,” Lord Glass began. “In exchange for GAT withdrawing its opposition to Payn-Reese in the American market, Skytrain will renegotiate the original profit-sharing agreement. GAT will be allowed to participate in the Pont’s European and Third World markets’ payback in order to give GAT some interim relief from its financial woes.”
“You see the beauty of it, Mr. Gold,” Quint Peters spoke up. “Skytrain is prepared to help shoulder GAT’s financial burden by allowing you a slice of the whole pie, not just that portion baked in America.”
Lord Glass said, “My advice to you, and to Mr. Harrison, is that you accept our offer, and live to fight another day.”
Skytrain’s offering a bribe to get GAT to back off. Gold thought. Why? It’s painfully obvious they’re holding all the cards, so what are they afraid of?
Gold glanced at Quint Peters. The Payn-Reese sales exec was watching him closely. Their eyes met, and Peters smiled, nodding encouragement.
Gold thought: The cash flow to GAT from the Pont’s existing European and Third World sales would only serve to temporarily balance the company’s books. GAT would gain only a little breathing room in which to figure out what t
o do next, or until the DOD did or didn’t pull GAT’s bacon out of the fire. GAT was dying of thirst, but all Skytrain was willing to give was a swallow of water to keep GAT alive a bit longer, while it hoped for rain.
The sad part was how much Gold wanted to accept the crummy little offer. How much he wanted to be able to telephone Don Harrison and relay even this meager scrap of positive news that a backlog of funds from the Pont’s existing sales was forthcoming, and that the wolf at GAT’s door might be temporarily appeased.
Lord Glass said, “Before you reply, Mr. Gold, you’d best realize that you’ve heard Stoat-Black’s final opinion on the matter, and Skytrain’s best offer.”
Gold said, “Your offer is not acceptable, Lord Glass. GAT will abide by its original agreement with Skytrain, and GAT expects Stoat-Black to abide by its moral responsibility to bring Payn-Reese to heel concerning this matter.”
“Why, of all the bloody gall,” Lord Glass murmured in astonished consternation as Gold stood up and strode out of the office.
CHAPTER 8
(One)
London, the West End
“So why didn’t you accept Lord Glass’s offer?” Linda Forrester asked.
“Pride, I guess,” Gold said, rehashing in his mind the day’s earlier meeting at the Air Ministry. “They were offering me an ultimatum, and nothing gets my back up quicker than someone telling me I’ve got no choice in a matter.”
Gold leaned toward her across their small table, so that she could hear him over the surrounding noise. They were in a pub off Piccadilly Circus. It was Friday evening, and the place was bustling. Earlier, he and Linda had left their suite at Claridge’s on Brook Street to wander the West End, until they’d discovered this pub called the Winged Bull. Considering the state of things at GAT, and the tone of today’s meeting at the Air Ministry, the Winged Bull had struck Gold as an appropriate place to grab a bite, so they’d gone in.
Now Gold signaled the waitress and ordered another steak-and-kidney pie for himself. “How about you?” he asked Linda.
She shook her head, smiling. “One’s my limit. But I’ll have another glass of wine,” she told the waitress.
“And another pint of Guinness for me.” Gold said. As the waitress left, he confided to Linda, “I’m really enjoying this, especially after all those fancy, stuffy restaurants where we’ve been having dinner since we got here.”
She laughed. “To tell you the truth, I’ve also been getting a little sick of prime rib carved at your table from the trolley, or the British idea of classic French cuisine.”
Gold smiled at her, thinking how pretty she looked. Linda was wearing a dark-blue skirt, a tan, cashmere turtleneck, high brown boots, and the small, gold, hooped earings he’d recently given her. Gold wore cordovan oxfords, brown corduroys, a muted plaid flannel shirt, and a tan tweed jacket. Both of them had new Burberry trench coats purchased the other day on Oxford Street, where Linda had tried without success to convince Gold to buy a derby.
“I’m very glad you decided to come with me on this trip,” Gold said. He reached across the table to take Linda’s hand, feeling that tingle of electricity he always felt when they touched.
“I’m glad, too,” Linda said, her blue eyes very large and serious. “I’m glad you asked me, and I’m glad I could find a way to arrange my schedule to come. For so many years that we’ve known each other, we’ve decided to go our separate ways…. That makes our present time together seem especially delicious.”
“As usual, you seem to be able to say exactly what I’m feeling,” Gold murmured.
She winked at him. “Words are my business.”
Gold relinquished her hand as the waitress arrived with the food and their drinks.
“Steak-and-kidney pie can certainly turn a man’s thoughts away from romance,” Linda wryly observed.
“Can’t help it,” Gold confessed, digging in. “I love this stuff. Do you think you might cook this for me back home?”
“Not a chance, dear heart.”
Gold poked at the crust. “I don’t think they put deer heart in it.”
“Steven, what did you mean when you said it was pride that kept you from accepting Skytrain’s offer?”
Gold took a long pull of stout. “If I’d taken Lord Glass’s handout, GAT’s reputation would have been ruined. GAT would have been forever consigned to second-class citizenship in Skytrain, and in the American aviation industry for that matter.”
“Why?” Linda sipped at her wine. “Skytrain was offering GAT a better profit-sharing deal than your company now enjoys. How could improving GAT’s position have hurt its reputation?”
“A couple of ways,” Gold said. “For one thing, in the aviation business deals are sacrosanct. The tradition stems from the early days of the business, when the sky was still a forbidding place, and aviators had to count on one another for survival.”
“That’s interesting,” Linda said. “Can I quote you on that for my book?”
“Don’t quote me, but you can use it for background.”
Linda laughed. “You’ve been hanging around with me for too long.”
“The best is yet to come.”
“Have you a specific point in the future in mind, dearest?” Linda asked sweetly.
“Now that you mention it, yes, I do,” Gold said, nodding. “I was thinking of later this evening, in the privacy of our bedroom.” He finished his stout and signaled to the waitress for another by holding up his empty glass.
“Where are you putting all that liquid, Colonel?”
“It’s all that steak-and-kidney pie I ate,” Gold explained. “All those kidneys are acting like auxiliary fuel tanks, siphoning off the load. Anyway, you know what they say: Guinness is good for you.” He leered. “It puts the lead in a man’s pencil.”
“Uh-huh.” Linda smiled. “Let’s return to the topic at hand, or later on this evening you shall find yourself with all that lead and no place to write.”
“Okay. As I was saying, in the early days of this business a man’s word and his handshake counted for something. If after the fact you were unhappy with what you negotiated for yourself, you didn’t renege and you didn’t complain. You just bit the bullet and lived with the pain.”
“How macho.”
“I try.” Gold grinned. “Having said that, I have to admit that I still might have accepted Skytrain’s offer, if the deal held out to me had been a better one. As it stood, GAT had little to gain beyond some financial breathing room, and a lot of prestige to lose. To use a phrase from the sixties, the whole world is watching GAT to see how the company is going to weather its first crisis without my father around to lend his hand. Herman Gold would never have countenanced GAT being thrown a bone and then slinking away from the confrontation with its tail between its legs, so neither was I.”
Gold finished the last of his pie and set down his knife and fork as the waitress came with his stout. When she’d cleared away the dishes and left, Linda said, “So, to save face you’ve declared war on Skytrain.”
“You sound disapproving.”
Linda shrugged, taking a package of Salems from out of her purse. Gold held his lighter across the table to light her cigarette for her.
“I just hope that in this case pride doesn’t come before the fall,” she said, exhaling smoke. “No matter how poorly the world might have thought of you and Don if you’d capitulated to Skytrain or Tim Campbell or whomever, the world is going to think even less of you two guys if you let your company be hacked into little pieces by AVG” She paused. “Also, I wonder how wise it was of you to have so rudely stormed out of today’s meeting with the Air Ministry. “
“I wanted to shake them up,” Gold explained. “Make them think I had an ace up my sleeve I hadn’t yet played.” He took a swallow of Guinness, then took out his own cigarettes and lit one.
“Granted, it was a dramatic gesture,” Linda admitted. “But the English put a lot of stock in etiquette and protocol. Your brash behavior mi
ght backfire. Instead of intimidating your partners in Skytrain, you may have insulted them into being your enemies.”
“Well, you might be right,” Gold mused. “I’m just not sure it matters. We’re in the midst of a major battle, one that GAT didn’t start, I might add. We might as well sally forth with our colors flying.”
“You are a wonderful man,” Linda said. “And very strong…”
“Some parts are stronger than others. Later on, I’ll let you feel my best muscle.”
Linda smiled, but Gold could tell by the look in her eyes that she was onto something serious.
“Sometimes I think you might be too strong,” she warned. “Maybe it has to do with the fact that you spent your life in the military, that you’re a warrior, but you tend to see everything as black and white, in terms of winning and losing, in terms of combat—”
“But combat is exactly what this is about,” Gold protested. “GAT is locked in mortal combat with Skytrain and Tim Campbell. And now it looks like AVG is about to gang up on us, as well.”
“That’s exactly what I mean,” Linda said. “You’re seeing what’s happening as some kind of personal attack, but really, what’s going on is just business as usual.”
“Everybody’s saying that to me.” Gold frowned. “Don Harrison said it to me a couple of days ago on the telephone when he called to tell me AVG’s reaction to our plan. Lord Glass said it to me today in explanation of Skytrain and Stoat-Black’s betrayal, and now you.”
“Because it’s true.”
“No, it’s not true.” Gold shook his head. “Maybe the peripheral players in this drama are being motivated by the almighty dollar, but don’t forget who started this rock rolling downhill toward GAT.”
“You mean Tim Campbell,” Linda said.
Gold nodded. “Don thinks that Tim will be satisfied with making a buck off of GAT’s troubles, but he doesn’t know Tim like I do.” He paused. “They say that ‘hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.’”
“Which you’d better not forget,” Linda warned playfully.
