Armageddon_ A Novel of Berlin - Leon Uris [234]
“I read it”
“It can be done, then. We can supply Berlin by air.”
Crusty Stonebraker did not answer.
“Well, what do you think?” Hansen asked.
Crusty stared at his old friend. “I think you’re out of your friggin’ mind.”
Hansen handed Stonebraker his orders from the President recalling him to active duty. He said he knew Crusty all along would do it and told him a plane and crew were at his disposal.
“I’m going to have to have my own people and I don’t want any interference.”
“You’ve worked with Barney Root. He’s a good troop and all for you. The President has given this mission top priority and I’ll damned well back you up.”
“Chip, I’ll do my best to hold things together, but you’ve got to make a political settlement or we’re going to fall flat on our ass.”
“Have you told M.J.?”
“She smelled a rat the minute you phoned from Washington. I’ll follow you to Germany in a couple of days. I’ve already prepared a list of people I want transferred to Wiesbaden. I want to stop off in New York and see if I can get a particular man for production control... and I’ve got to call my daughter-in-law and see if she can come out and keep this place running.”
That same day Crusty gave instructions to his lawyer and went over everything with the maintenance couple. He was in his study going through the last of his papers.
Chip Hansen sat in the kitchen with M.J. grabbing a sandwich, and avoiding her eyes, for she was frightened and on tenterhooks.
“Isn’t there someone else?” she blurted.
Chip saw her on the brink of tears.
“No one in the world knows more about air transport than Crusty. We have our backs to the wall.”
She sat opposite him, gripped his wrist. “He has a heart condition, Chip.”
“I know. I hope you can get to Germany as soon as possible and take care of him.”
She got up and tried to work at the sink. He gave up on eating his sandwich. They could hear the car coming down the road.
“Chip, I don’t blame you. Don’t make this your responsibility. You’ve got enough to think about. Anyone in your place would have come for his help and he would have agreed.”
“Thanks, M.J.”
“All right,” Crusty Stonebraker bellowed, “let’s get the goddamned show on the road.”
The driver loaded their bags.
Hiram Stonebraker pushed out his leathery face, looked around the corral and the orchard, and for a long time at the sea. “Don’t worry, M.J.,” he said, “we’ll clean up this mess in two months and we’ll be back here when the yellow tail begin to hit.”
Chapter Seven
CLINTON LOVELESS’S SWIVEL-HIPPED SECRETARY entered his office. “General Stonebraker has arrived,” she said.
Clint sprung from behind his desk, walked the long deep-carpeted corridor hastily, and pushed through the double mahogany doors that led into the plush reception room.
“General Stonebraker! What a wonderful surprise to have you in New York, sir.”
“Hello, Clint.”
He grabbed the general’s arm, led him down the sumptuous corridor to his office. “By golly, I can’t get over how fit you look. How’s Miss Martha Jane?”
“M.J. is fine. She sends you her warmest regards.”
He led Hiram Stonebraker into an office that reeked of prosperity. The general studied its oversimplified elegance that looked down on Madison Avenue from a height of thirty stories.
“You’re looking pretty prosperous yourself, Clint.”
“Not much like the old field shacks on the forward bases of the CBI?”
J. Kenneth Whitcomb III had been alerted to the arrival of General Stonebraker and burst into Clint’s office at that instant. Pudge Whitcomb was an incurable celebrity collector and the acidy old general would be a great name to drop at his club or a cocktail party.
(My good friend, General Hiram Stonebraker, you know ... the boy who engineered the Hump ... well, anyhow, he was just saying to me the other day ... Pudge, I like your new product.)
“General, meet Pudge Whitcomb, president of our firm and my new boss. Pudge, my old boss, General Stonebraker.”
“A pleasure and an honor to meet you, General. Clint told me you were dropping by. Anything we can do for you while you’re