A moment later, the whoops-and-beeps returned and continued. And continued. Jimmy was now scribbling furiously. 'I ain't gonna be able to translate for a while-this is gonna be a long message, I can tell-'
Slowly, Rebecca lowered herself into a nearby chair and perched herself on the edge of the seat. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap. Gretchen, too tense to sit, went back to the window and pressed her nose against the pane again. Below, she could see lights in the windows of The Hague's nearby houses. The lights were steady, not flickering. Not much, at any rate. Holland was a wealthy country-the wealthiest in Europe, in all likelihood-and even common burghers could afford the best lamps and tapers.
Somehow, those odd noises seemed ominous. Gretchen suddenly found herself wondering how much longer Holland's complacent citizens would be able to enjoy good lighting in their homes.
'I think all hell's gonna break loose,' muttered Jimmy. He pushed the first completed sheet across the table toward Rebecca. She picked it up and began to read. 'Things don't sound good in England neither.'
Gretchen turned from the window and looked at Rebecca. The beautiful face was growing tighter as her eyes moved down the page. Her lips seemed to thin with every sentence.
A motion in the doorway caught Gretchen's eye. Jeff was standing there, gazing at her. 'Bad?' he asked.
She shrugged. 'Not sure yet, but-I think so.'
He nodded, not seeming overly concerned. 'So be it. Our kids'll be safe enough.'
For a moment, husband and wife exchanged simple looks of love. Then, looked to Rebecca. Jimmy had handed her a second page, which she was studying as he kept transcribing yet another.
'Yes, bad,' she said. 'Rita and Melissa-the whole delegation-is essentially imprisoned. Wentworth's in charge-Strafford, rather, and that's a sign in itself. From everything they can tell, the English fleet
She and Gretchen looked at one another, two pairs of brown eyes filled with the same bitter surmise.
Jimmy finished, and pushed the third page over. Then, after keying a few short phrases which Gretchen assumed were some kind of 'sign off' message, swiveled in his chair.
'You got anything you want to sent to SK-1?'
Rebecca sighed. 'Oh, yes. But stretch a moment, Jimmy. Get a glass of water, whatever you need. It is going to be a long message.'
Which, indeed, it was. But it began with only three syllables.
Chapter 15
Jesse waited patiently for Hans to recognize the situation and react.
Jesse had always been a mild-mannered instructor, a reaction to one of the flight instructors all the way back at Purdue. That worthy had been a real 'screamer,' seeming to take delight in making an already nervous student miserable and prone to even more mistakes. Jesse thought the method was stupid. He preferred a more calm approach, giving students plenty of time to catch errors on their own. But he'd seen enough. Hans was obviously pleased with his earlier performance on this, his fifth training flight, and hadn't noticed his potentially fatal error.
'Hans! Airspeed!' Jesse said sharply.
Hans jerked his eyes back into the cockpit where the airspeed indicator was slowing below fifty knots. The throttle lever was back at idle where he'd placed it for the long descent to traffic pattern altitude.
Hans gasped, and cobbed power to the dependable VW engine. The monoplane gained speed quickly and Jesse noted with satisfaction that Hans, despite his surprise, hadn't throttle burst or lost altitude control.
He had, however, by now flown considerably past the final turn point. Jesse tapped the young German on the arm.
'Son, I believe the airfield is back thataway,' he said with a jerk of the thumb, as his student searched for the large tree, now far behind, that marked the normal spot to 'come off the perch.'
'Uh,' Hans grunted and banked left, pulling off the power he had added only a few seconds earlier. Descending quickly, he looked at the field and made his turn to final, using too much bank and failing to compensate for the additional distance to the field. As a consequence, the aircraft, though safe, was lower than it should have been, giving Hans a flatter than normal approach and an unusually shallow view of the landing zone.
Jesse, knowing what was coming, waited patiently for his student to make one of the two usual rookie mistakes. He nodded as Hans avoided the first by not descending at the usual rate and compounding his error.
'That's right, Hans. Level off and catch the normal glide path. Put your touchdown point about one third up the windscreen, just like always. Give it a touch more power.'
The young man followed instructions and, momentarily swapping hands on the stick, wiped his sweaty right hand on his jacket. The feeling of well-being that had been with him only two minutes ago was obviously long gone and, in his nervousness, he committed the second mistake Jesse was expecting. Approaching the field from an unfamiliar angle, at a higher than normal power setting, he failed to catch the proper glide path. Suddenly, he was too high as he crossed over the small trees at the field boundary.
'Gott!' Hans exclaimed, as he pulled the throttle to idle and dove for the grass beneath him.
'Easy, easy,' Jesse said. 'Let it settle. Put some power in.' Not for the first time, he regretted not installing dual throttles. While he could just reach the throttle across the narrow cockpit, now wasn't the time to stretch across his student to do so.
Hans flared too early, twenty feet or so above the ground. The aircraft slowed as he raised the nose and felt for touchdown.
'Too high! Lower the nose. Power!' Jesse pushed the heel of his palm against the back of the stick in front of him.
Feeling the instructor's pressure against the stick, Hans obeyed, adding power and leveling off ten feet in the air.
'Copilot's aircraft,' Jesse said as he shook the stick and took control. 'Set climb power.'
Hans shakily set the throttle and sank glumly back in his seat.
'Not so good.' He grimaced at his mentor.
'No, not very good,' Jesse agreed. 'Take a rest for a minute, Hans, and let me fly for a while. Tell me what you did wrong.'
Jesse studied his student as he methodically recounted his own errors. Jesse was pleased to see that Hans knew exactly where he had erred, explaining what he should have done at each misstep. By the time he finished, Hans was calm and ready to try again.
'Okay, pilot's aircraft. Take it in for a full stop landing.' Jesse smiled at his student. 'We'll talk more about it on the ground. This time, try not to screw the pooch.'
His student smiled back. 'Roger that, no screwing of the pooch.'
Once on the ground, and the airplane secured, Jesse and Hans walked toward the control tower. The structure had been erected hastily as soon as Mike Stearns had rammed through the new aircraft production policy after Jesse's first successful flight. There hadn't been much opposition, once the people backing the two alternate designs were assured that they'd get some of the funds being allotted.
Jesse smiled, as he did almost every time he looked at the control tower. 'That has
'What is a Konset hut?'
'Stick around, Hans. In a couple of years or so-advance of progress, all that-you'll probably be seeing 'em popping up all over the place. Maybe sooner, if Jerry Wright and his partners can make good on their boasts about sheet metal.'
Jesse started to explain the design, but broke off when he saw that Hans' attention had suddenly become completely distracted.
Sharon Nichols had emerged from the door leading to the upper floor of the control tower and was striding toward them. Behind her came Mike Stearns.
'I didn't know
As she drew nearer, and the expression on Sharon's own face became clear, Hans' pleasure vanished. Sharon seemed both angry and apprehensive.
'I didn't think it was
But Jesse had been watching Mike, as he approached, and suddenly realized that Sharon's expression had nothing to do with the flight.
'The shit's hitting the fan, Hans. If I don't miss my guess.'
Mike's first words were: 'How soon can you have combat airplanes ready? And how soon can you have the pilots for them?'
Sharon didn't say anything. She just clutched Hans, her eyes wet, and started whispering something to him. 'I don't want you to
Jesse took a deep, almost shuddering breath. 'Four to six months, for the planes. That's the test flight, you understand. We'll probably need some more time after that to work out the bugs and get all the other equipment up to snuff.' He glanced at the young couple embracing next to him; then moved his eyes away, took Mike by the elbow and led him off a few paces.
'The pilots'll be ready by then. Hans, sooner than the rest of them.'
