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I had the feeling his life's blood was running out of the golden nib along with the ink。
I turned and looked out the window； thirty stories down into the street。 Down there the people were tiny； they had little dreams； minute plans。 The next day was Saturday。 Their day off。 Maybe they'd go to the beach； or the park。 If they had the money； perhaps they'd take a drive out into the country。 They'd sit on the grass next to their wives and watch the kids having themselves a time feeling the fresh； cool earth under their feet。 They were lucky。
They didn't live in a jungle that measured their worth by their ability to live with the wolves。 They weren't born to a father who couldn't love his son unless he was cast in his own image。 They weren't surrounded by people whose only thought was to align themselves with the source of wealth。 When they loved； it was because of how they felt； not because of how much they might benefit。
I felt a sour taste e up into my mouth。 That was the way it might be down there but I really didn't know。 And I wasn't particularly anxious to find out。 I liked it up here。
It was like being in the sky with no one around to tell you what you could do or couldn't do。 In my world； you made up your own rules。 And everybody had to live by them whether they liked it or not。 As long as you were on top。 I meant to stay on top a long time。 Long enough so that when people spoke my name； they knew whose name they spoke。 Mine； not my father's。
I turned from the window and walked back to the table。 I picked up the certificates and looked at them。 They were signed correctly。 Bernard B。 Norman。
Bernie looked up at me。 He attempted a smile。 It wasn't very successful。 〃Years ago； when Bernie Normanovitz opened his first nickelodeon on Fourth Street on the East Side； nobody thought he'd someday sell his pany for three and a half million dollars。〃
Suddenly； I didn't care any more。 I no longer felt sorry for him。 He had raped and looted a pany of more than fifteen million dollars and his only excuse was that he had happened to start it。
〃I imagine you'll want this； too；〃 he said； reaching into his inside jacket pocket and taking out a folded sheet of paper。
I took it from him and opened it。 It was his letter of resignation as president and chairman of the board。 I looked at him in surprise。
〃Now； is there anything else I can do for you？〃
〃No；〃 I said。
〃You're wrong； Mr。 Cord；〃 he said softly。 He crossed to the telephone on the table in the corner。 〃Operator； this is Mr。 Norman。 You can put that call for Mr。 Cord through now。〃
He held the phone toward me。 〃For you；〃 he said expressionlessly。 I took the telephone and heard the operator's voice。 〃I have Mr。 Cord on the line now； Los Angeles。〃
There was a click； then another； as the call went through on the other end。 I saw Bernie look at me shrewdly； then walk toward the door。 He turned and looked at his nephew。 〃ing； David？〃
Woolf started to get out of his chair。
〃You；〃 I said； covering the mouthpiece with my hand。 〃Stay。〃
David looked at Bernie； then shook his head slightly and sank back into his chair。 The old man shrugged his shoulders。 〃Why should I expect any more from my own flesh and blood？〃 he said。 The door closed behind him。
A woman's voice came on in my ear。 There was something vaguely familiar about it。 〃Jonas Cord？〃
〃Speaking。 Who's this？〃
〃Ilene Gaillard。 I've been trying to locate you all afternoon。 Rina… Rina… 〃 Her voice broke。
I felt an ominous chill tighten around my heart。 〃Yes； Miss Gaillard；〃 I asked； 〃what about Rina？〃
〃She's dying； Mr。 Cord；〃 she sobbed into the telephone。 〃And she wants to see you。〃
〃Dying？〃 I repeated。 I couldn't believe it。 Not Rina。 She was indestructible。
〃Yes； Mr。 Cord。 Encephalitis。 And you'd better hurry。 The doctors don't know how long she can last。 She's at the Colton Sanitarium in Santa Monica。 Can I tell her you're ing？〃
〃Tell her I'm on my way！〃 I said； putting down the phone。
I turned to look at David Woolf。 He was watching me with a strange expression on his face。 〃You knew；〃 I said。
He nodded； getting to his feet。 〃I knew。〃
〃Why didn't you tell me？〃
〃How could I？〃 he asked。 〃My uncle was afraid if you found out； you wouldn't want his stock。〃
A strange silence came into the room as I picked up the telephone again。 I gave the operator Morrissey's number at Roosevelt Field。
〃Do you want me to leave now？〃 Woolf asked。
I shook my head。 I had been neatly suckered into buying a worthless pany； shorn like a baby lamb； but I had no right to plain。 I'd known all the rules。
But now even that didn't matter。 Nothing mattered。 The only thing that did was Rina。 I swore impatiently； waiting for Morrissey to pick up the phone。
The only chance I had of getting to Rina in time was to fly out there in the CA…4。
5
THE BRIGHTLY LIT HANGAR WAS A FRENZY OF ACTIVITY。
The welders were up on the wings； their masks down； their torches burning with a hot blue flame as they fused the reserve fuel tanks to the wings。 The pile of junk beside the plane was growing as the mechanics stripped her of everything that added weight and yet was not absolutely essential to flight。
I checked my watch as Morrissey came toward me。 It was almost twelve o'clock。 That made it near nine in California。 〃How long now？〃 I asked。
〃Not too long。〃 He looked down at the sheet of paper in his hand。 〃With everything stripped off her； we're still fourteen hundred pounds over lift capacity。〃
The Midwest was pletely locked in by storms； according to our weather checks。 If I wanted to get through； I'd have to fly south around them。 Morrissey had figured we'd need forty…three per cent more fuel just for the flight itself and at least seven per cent more for a safety margin。
〃Why don't you hold off until morning？〃 Morrissey asked。 〃Maybe the weather will lift and you can go straight through。〃
〃No。〃
〃For Christ's sake；〃 he snapped。 〃You'll never even get her off the ground。 If you're that anxious to get yourself killed； why don't you use a gun！〃
I turned and looked over at the pile of junk beside the plane。 〃How much does the radio weigh？〃
〃Five hundred and ten pounds；〃 he answered quickly。 Then he stared at me。 〃You can't dump that！ How the hell will you know where you are or what the weather is like up ahead？〃
〃Same way I did before they put radios in planes。 Dump it！〃
He started to walk back to the plane； shaking his head。 I had another idea。 〃The oxygen…pressure system for the cockpit？〃
〃Six hundred and seventy pounds； including the tanks。〃
〃Dump that； too；〃 I said。 〃I'll fly low。〃
〃You'll need oxygen to get over the Rockies。〃
〃Put a portable tank in the cockpit next to me。〃
I went into the office and called Buzz Dalton at the Intercontinental office in Los Angeles。 He'd already left so they transferred the call to his home。 〃Buzz； this is Jonas。〃
〃I was wondering when I'd hear from you。〃
〃I want you to do me a favor。〃
〃Sure；〃 he said quickly。 〃What？〃
〃I'm flying out to the Coast tonight；〃 I said。 〃And I want you to have weather signals up for me at every ICA hangar across the country。〃
〃What's the matter with your radio？〃
〃I'm taking the CA…4 out nonstop。 And I can't drag the weight。〃
He whistled。 〃You'll never make it； buddy boy。〃
〃I'll make it；〃 I said。 〃Use the searchlight blinkers at night； paint the rooftops during the day。〃
〃Will do；〃 he said。 〃What's your flight pattern？〃
〃I haven't decided the pattern yet。 Just have all the fields covered。〃
〃Will do；〃 he said。 〃Good luck。〃
I put down the telephone。 That's what I liked about Buzz。 He was dependable。 He didn't waste time with foolish questions like why； when or where。 He did as he was told。 The only thing he cared about was the airline。 That was why ICA was rapidly being the largest mercial airline in the country。
I took the bottle of bourbon out of the desk and took a long pull off it。 Then I went over to the couch and stretched out。 My legs hung over the edge but I didn't care。 I could grab a little rest while the mechanics were finishing up。 I closed my eyes。
I sensed Morrissey standing near me and opened my eyes。 〃Ready？〃 I asked； l