hr.thecarpetbaggers-第89部分

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up。　I　closed　my　eyes。
　I　sensed　Morrissey　standing　near　me　and　opened　my　eyes。　〃Ready？〃　I　asked；　looking　up　at　him。
　He　nodded。
　I　swung　my　feet　down　from　the　couch　and　sat　up。　I　looked　out　at　the　hangar。　It　was　empty。　〃Where　is　she？〃
　〃Outside；〃　he　said。　〃I'm　having　her　warmed　up。〃
　〃Good；〃　I　said。　I　looked　at　my　watch。　It　was　a　few　minutes　past　three。　He　followed　me　into　the　john。　〃You're　tired；〃　he　said；　watching　while　I　splashed　cold　water　on　my　face。　〃Do　you　really　think　you　should　go？〃
　〃I　have　to。〃
　〃I　put　six　roast…beef　sandwiches　and　two　quart　Thermos　bottles　of　black　coffee　in　the　plane　for　you。〃
　〃Thanks；〃　I　said；　starting　out。
　His　hand　stopped　me。　He　held　out　a　small　white　bottle。　〃I　called　my　doctor；〃　he　said；　〃and　he　brought　these　out　for　you。〃
　〃What　are　they？〃
　〃A　new　pill。　Benzedrine。　Take　one　if　you　get　sleepy。　It'll　wake　you　up。　But　be　careful　with　them。　Don't　take　too　many　or　you'll　go　through　the　roof。〃
　We　started　out　for　the　plane。　〃Don't　open　your　reserve　fuel　tanks　until　you're　down　to　a　quarter　tank。　The　gravity　feed　won't　pull　if　she　registers　more　than　that　and　it　might　even　lock。〃
　〃How　will　I　know　if　the　reserve　tanks　are　working？〃　I　asked。
　He　looked　at　me。　〃You　won't　until　you　run　out　of　gas。　And　if　she　locks；　the　air　pressure　will　keep　your　gauge　at　a　quarter　even　if　the　tank　is　dry。〃
　I　shot　a　quick　look　at　him　but　didn't　speak。　We　kept　on　walking。　I　climbed　up　on　the　wing　and　turned　toward　the　cockpit。　A　hand　pulled　at　my　trouser　leg。　I　turned　around。
　Forrester　was　looking　up　at　me　with　a　shocked　look　on　his　face。　〃What　are　you　doing　with　the　plane？〃
　〃Going　to　California。〃
　〃But　what　about　the　tests　tomorrow？〃　he　shouted。　〃I　even　got　Steve　Randall　out　here　tonight　to　look　at　her。〃
　〃Sorry；〃　I　said。　〃Call　it　off。〃
　〃But　the　General；〃　he　yelled。　〃How'll　I　explain　to　him？　He'll　blow　his　stack！〃
　I　climbed　into　the　cockpit　and　looked　down　at　him。　〃That's　not　my　headache　any　more；　it's　yours。〃
　〃But　what　if　something　happens　to　the　plane？〃
　I　grinned　suddenly。　I'd　been　right　in　my　hunch　about　him。　He'd　make　a　first…rate　executive。　There　wasn't　an　ounce　of　concern　about　me；　only　for　the　plane。　〃Then　build　another　one；〃　I　shouted。　〃You're　president　of　the　pany。〃
　I　waved　my　hand；　and　releasing　the　brakes；　began　to　taxi　slowly　out　on　the　runway。　I　turned　her　into　the　wind　and　held　her　there　while　I　revved　up　the　motor。　I　pulled　the　canopy　shut　and　when　the　tachometer　reached　twenty…eight；　I　let　go　of　the　brakes。
　We　raced　down　the　runway。　I　didn't　even　try　to　lift　her　until　my　ground　speed　reached　a　hundred　and　forty。　We　were　almost　out　of　runway　before　she　began　to　chew　off　a　piece　of　sky。　After　that；　she　lifted　easily。
　I　leveled　off　at　four　thousand　feet　and　headed　due　south。　I　looked　over　my　shoulder。　The　North　Star　was　right　in　the　middle　of　my　back；　flickering　brightly　in　the　clear；　dark　sky。　It　was　hard　to　believe　that　less　than　a　thousand　miles　from　here　the　skies　were　locked　in。
　I　was　over　Pittsburgh　when　I　remembered　something　Nevada　had　taught　me　when　I　was　a　kid。　We　were　trailing　a　big　cat　and　he　pointed　up　at　the　North　Star。　〃The　Indians　have　a　saying　that　when　the　North　Star　flickers　like　that；〃　he　said；　〃a　storm　is　moving　south。〃
　I　looked　up　again。　The　North　Star　was　flickering　exactly　as　it　had　that　night。　I　remembered　another　Indian　saying　that　Nevada　taught　me。　The　quickest　way　west　is　into　the　wind。
　My　mind　was　made　up。　If　the　Indians　were　right；　by　the　time　I　hit　the　Midwest；　the　storm　would　be　south　of　me。　I　banked　the　plane　into　the　wind　and　when　I　looked　up　from　the　pass；　the　North　Star　was　dancing　brightly　off　my　right　shoulder。
　
　My　back　ached；　everything　ached　…　my　shoulders；　my　arms　and　legs　…　and　my　eyelids　weighed　a　ton。　I　felt　them　begin　to　close　and　reached　for　the　coffee　Thermos。　It　was　empty。　I　looked　at　my　watch。　Twelve　hours　since　I　had　left　Roosevelt　Field。　I　stuck　my　hand　into　my　pocket　and　took　out　the　box　of　pills　Morrissey　had　given　me。　I　put　one　in　my　mouth　and　swallowed　it。
　For　a　few　minutes；　I　felt　nothing；　then　I　began　to　feel　better。　I　took　a　deep　breath　and　scanned　the　horizon。　The　way　I　figured；　I　shouldn't　be　too　far　from　the　Rockies。　Twenty…five　minutes　later；　they　came　into　view。
　I　checked　the　fuel　gauge。　It　held　steady　on　one　quarter。　I　had　opened　the　reserve　tanks。　The　fringe　of　the　storm　I'd　passed　through　in　the　Midwest　had　cost　me　more　than　an　hour's　supply　of　gasoline　and　I'd　need　a　break　from　the　wind　to　get　through。
　I　turned　the　throttle　and　listened　to　the　engines。　Their　roar　sounded　full　and　heavy　as　the　richer　mixture　poured　into　their　veins。　I　leaned　back　on　the　stick　and　began　to　climb　toward　the　mountains。　I　still　felt　a　little　tired　so　I　popped　another　pill　into　my　mouth。
　At　twelve　thousand　feet；　I　began　to　feel　chilly。　I　slipped　the　huarachos　back　on　my　feet　and　reached　for　the　oxygen　tube。　Almost　immediately；　I　felt　as　if　the　plane　had　just　jumped　three　thousand　feet　I　looked　at　the　altimeter。　It　read　only　twelve　four　hundred。
　I　sucked　again　on　the　tube。　A　burst　of　power　came　roaring　through　my　body　and　I　placed　my　hands　on　the　dashboard。　To　hell　with　the　gasoline！　I　could　lift　this　baby　over　the　Rockies　with　my　bare　hands。　It　was　only　a　question　of　will　power。　Like　the　fakirs　in　India　said　when　they　confounded　you　with　their　tricks　of　levitation　…　it　was　only　a　question　of　mind　over　matter。　It　was　all　in　the　mind。
　Rina！　I　almost　shouted　aloud。　I　stared　at　the　altimeter。　The　needle　had　dropped　to　ninety…five　hundred　feet　and　was　still　dropping。　I　stared　over　the　plane　at　the　mountain　creeping　up　at　me。　I　put　my　hand　on　the　stick　and　pulled　back。　It　seemed　like　forever　until　the　mountain　began　to　fall　beneath　me　again。
　I　lifted　my　hands　to　wipe　the　sweat　from　my　brow。　My　cheeks　were　wet　with　tears。　The　strange　feeling　of　power　was　gone　now　and　my　head　began　to　ache。　Morrissey　had　warned　me　about　the　pills　and　the　oxygen　had　helped　a　little；　too。　I　touched　the　throttle　and　carefully　regulated　the　mixture　as　it　went　into　the　motors。
　I　still　had　almost　four　hundred　miles　to　go　and　I　didn't　want　to　run　out　of　gas。
　
　6
　
　I　PUT　DOWN　AT　BURBANK　AT　TWO　O'CLOCK。　I　had　been　in　the　air　almost　fifteen　hours。　I　taxied　over　to　the　Cord　Aircraft　hangars；　cut　the　engines　and　began　to　climb　down。　The　engines　were　still　roaring　in　my　ears。
　I　stepped　to　the　ground　and　a　mob　surrounded　me。　I　recognized　some　of　them；　reporters。　〃I'm　sorry；　men；〃　I　said；　pushing　my　way　through　them　toward　the　hangar。　〃I'm　still　motor　deaf。　I　can't　hear　what　you're　saying。〃
　Buzz　was　there；　too；　a　big　grin　on　his　face。　He　grabbed　my　hand　and　pumped　it。　His　lips　were　moving　but　I　missed　the　first　part　of　what　he　said；　then　suddenly　my　hearing　was　back。
　〃。。。　set　a　new　east…to…west　coast…to…coast　record。〃
　Right　now　that　didn't　matter。　〃Do　you　have　a　car　waiting　for　me？〃
　〃Over　at　the　front　gate；〃　Buzz　said。
　One　of　the　reporters　pushed　forward。　〃Mr。　Cord；〃　he　shouted　at　me。　〃Is　it　true　you　made　this　flight　to　see　Rina　Marlowe　before　she　dies？〃
　He　needed　a　bath　after　the　look　I　gave　him。　I　didn't　answer。
　〃Is　it　true　that　you　bought　out　Norman　Pictures　just　to　get　control　of　her　contract？〃
　I　made　it　into　the　limousine　but　they　were　still　popping　questions　at　me。　The　car　began　to　roll。　A　motorcycle　cop　cut　in　front　of　us　and　opened　up　his　siren。　We　picked　up　speed　as　the　traffic　in　front　of　us　melted　away。
　〃I'm　sorry　about　Rina；　Jonas；〃　Buzz　said。　〃I　didn't　know　she　was　your　father's　wife。〃
　I　looked　at　him。　〃Where'd　you　find　out？〃
　〃It's　in　the　papers；〃　he　said。　〃The　Norman　studio　had　it　in　their　press　release；　together　with　the　story　about　your　flying　out　here　to　see　her。〃
　I　shut　my　lips　tight。　That　was　the　picture　business　for　you。　They　were　like　ghouls　hovering　around　a　grave。
　〃I've　got　a　container　of　coffee　and　a　sandwich　here　if　you　want　it。〃
　I　reached　for　the　coffee。　The　black　stuff　was　hot　and　I　could　feel　it　reach　down　inside　me。　I　turned　and　looked　out　the　window。　My　back　began　to　throb　and　ache　again。
　I　wondered　if　I　could　wait　until　we　got　to　the　hospital　before　I　went　to　the　bathroom。
　
　The　Colton　Sanitarium　is　more　like　a　hote