“Build more plants, I suppose,” Peters said.
“More problems for the big pots, and the government on them too and should one of those new works not go, their reputations suffer—so why risk it? None of them know the least about manufacturing anyway.”
“Give it to the stockholders then.”
“Just makes the blighters greedy. No, quite seriously now, Peters, y’know what saved me? Potty little Portugal has to be shown in a separate column in the annual report, and we balance out the limousine thing—so I’m permitted to feather my wee nest. Besides”—Tredgold winked—“there are fringes. Here, love.”
A pretty dark-haired girl came on camera. Tredgold said, “Give us a kiss, love, and blow one to the Yank—I say, Peters, your chief is behind you; bet you didn’t know it.”
Lowell Lewis was coming through the door from the large, chair-strewn room beyond. His face, heavy and unexceptional as ever, might have been a trifle drawn. Peters put Tredgold on Hold.
“Can you get me Hastorf on that thing?” Lewis said. He named a steel company and, when Peters still hesitated, added, “Pittsburgh.” Peters keyed the number and got a secretary, who, seeing Lewis, touched a button by which she replaced her own face with the image of a white-haired man of fifty-five or sixty. Peters cleared his throat and slipped out of the console chair; the white-haired man said, “Hi, Lou.”
Lewis nodded and said, “Phil.”
The white-haired man smiled. “Just about to take myself home, but what can I do for you?”
“I don’t want to hold you up,” Lewis said.
“Any time.”
Lewis smiled. “Pittsburgh quieter now?”
“Oh, we’ve never had trouble out here, Lou. We’re twenty-five miles outside the city proper, you understand. What we say is, let them have the damn place for a while and wear themselves out on it. Employees who lived in the central city are free to bed down right here in the offices at night—of course, it’s a bit hard on them.”
“What I wanted to know, Phil, was about the planes. I was just talking to General Virdon, and he stresses the importance of having air support.”
“We’re guaranteeing fourteen fighter-bombers,” the other man said.
“Good. Couldn’t scrape up a few more for us, could you?”
Hastorf shook his head. “Not much in the way of ground crews left now, Lou. We’re sending some of our laboratory people over to the base to help out, but of course they’re mostly metallurgical specialties. Couldn’t spare a few technicians from your outfit, could you? Or some engineers?”
“Would it get me more planes tonight?”
Hastorf said, “I’ll talk to the boys.”
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do. An engineer for every plane over the fifteen.”
“Fourteen,” Hastorf said.
“I thought you said fifteen. In fact, I’m sure of it.”
For the first time Hastorf appeared to notice Peters. “Young man,” he said, “could we hear from you?”
Peters said, “Fifteen.”
Hastorf gave him a wry smile before turning back to Lewis. “I’ve only got fourteen, Lou.”
“All right, damn it, an engineer for every plane above fourteen.”
A
fterward he said to Peters, “Knew him in college. Hastorf.”
Peters nodded.
“Damn funny, isn’t it? He went with them, and of course I went with U.S., and hell, I don’t think—no, I bumped into him at some kind of trade show once. I remember having a drink with him. A machine tool show.”
Peters said, “I guess you talked over old times.”
“That’s right.” The old man turned and walked toward the door, then stopped. “Now here we are working together again.” He shook his head. “For thirty years he’s been with that steel outfit—a whole different world. Our senior year we were both on the dance committee. It’s like you were seeing somebody rise from the dead—you know what I mean, Pete?”
Peters said, “I think so. Does—— [he named the steel corporation that employed Hastorf] have the air force now?”
“Most of it’s with some oil outfit in Texas.”
Lewis shut the door behind him, and Peters touched, for an instant, the spot toward which Tredgold’s dark girl had blown her kiss. Then Peters hit Release, wondering if Tredgold had bothered to wait. Tredgold said, “ ’Lo, Peters. Recovered from my revelations yet?”
Peters smiled. “Not yet. Not quite.”
“Redbrick—did I tell you? We like to put the knife in you toffs when we’ve the chance.”
“I wanted to ask if you’d like to come—yourself—to the party tonight,” Peters said.
Tredgold whistled. “The old chap—did he endorse this bold move?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll say I suggested you drop by to make sure your girls were on the ball.”
“All right,” Tredgold said, “but I should tell you I’ve promised Mum I’ll be home before eight.”
