my secretary on the phone,” Don said, breaking through Gold’s reveries. “She’s got Jack Rosa on the line. Rosa is the
president of TransWest, a smaller airline operating west of the Rockies. The Pont is the perfect airplane for TransWest, and
the airline would be the perfect launch customer for the Pont. I’ve been working on Jack for months to get him to put in an
order. I told my secretary to cancel our meeting with the department heads, and that I’d take Rosa’s call here. I’ll use the
speakerphone so that you can listen in. “
Gold watched Don fiddle with some buttons on the telephone console. There was some crackling as the small rectangular speakers
and omnidirectional mikes built into the walls came to life, and then the secretary’s voice was clearly broadcast into the
conference room: “Mr. Harrison? Here’s Mr. Rosa.”
“Jack,” Don said in conversational tones, returning to his chair.
“Hello, Don,” Jack Rosa’s hearty voice came booming through the wall speakers.
“Jack, how are you?” Don said.
Gold listened idly as the two men proceeded to exchange pleasantries concerning the weather, current events, and their current
golf handicaps. The sound of Rosa’s voice had jogged his memory. Gold remembered that he’d met Jack Rosa at the 1ATC trade
show back in November. Rosa was short, fat, and in his late fifties, with white hair and a beard. Gold recalled thinking at
the time that Jack Rosa looked like Santa Claus in cowboy boots and three-piece glen plaid.
“Don, I called to talk to you about the Pont deal.”
Gold nervously lit a cigarette. Don looked at him, holding up both hands and crossing his fingers.
“I hope you’ve got good news for me,” Don said jovially. Gold had to give Don credit: he sounded relaxed and on top of the
world about the whole thing, as if it didn’t really matter one way or the other.
“Well, it’s good news all right, Don, but for us, not for GAT.”
Gold’s heart sank. He heard Don say, “Oh? Tell me about it.” Don’s voice was calm, but he was leaning back in his chair and
his eyes were closed, a man in pain.
“It’s like this, Don,” Rosa was saying. “TransWest and the other airlines have received an offer from a new outfit on the
block: Agatha Holding Company.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of them,” Don said slowly.
“Like I said, they’re new….”
Rosa was sounding evasive, Gold thought. Don must have sensed Rosa’s unease as well, for he smoothly changed his line of questioning.
“You said they made you an offer?” Don began. “I’m not sure I understand. They sure can’t be manufacturing air planes?”
“No, not planes,” Rosa answered. “Engines. Agatha Holding contacted us representing the British engine firm of Payn-Reese
in regards to our power plant choice should we go with the Pont—”
“Wait a minute, Jack,” Don interrupted. “What do you mean by
choice
of engines for the Pont? You know she was designed to hang Rogers and Simpson’s new fan jet?”
“Come on, Don. “ Gold heard Rosa’s laugh hiss forth from the wall speakers. “We’ve both been in this game too long to be jerking
each other around. You know as well as I do that most airplanes can be equipped with a choice of engines. Take Boeing’s 747:
it comes with a choice of GE, Pratt and Whitney, or Rolls-Royce power plants.”
“But the Pont was designed for the Rogers and Simp son…” Don was repeating icily. Gold frowned. Don was beginning to lose
his composure.
“Maybe,” Rosa said noncommittally. “But the engineering representatives from Agatha Holding made quite a convincing presentation
to my own engineers about how the Payn-Reese power plant could be fitted to the Pont.”
“But it’s all bullshit!” Don exploded. “Jack, get it through your head that GAT is licensed by Skytrain Industrie to be the
exclusive supplier of the Pont in the United States. You buy it
president of TransWest, a smaller airline operating west of the Rockies. The Pont is the perfect airplane for TransWest, and
the airline would be the perfect launch customer for the Pont. I’ve been working on Jack for months to get him to put in an
order. I told my secretary to cancel our meeting with the department heads, and that I’d take Rosa’s call here. I’ll use the
speakerphone so that you can listen in. “
Gold watched Don fiddle with some buttons on the telephone console. There was some crackling as the small rectangular speakers
and omnidirectional mikes built into the walls came to life, and then the secretary’s voice was clearly broadcast into the
conference room: “Mr. Harrison? Here’s Mr. Rosa.”
“Jack,” Don said in conversational tones, returning to his chair.
“Hello, Don,” Jack Rosa’s hearty voice came booming through the wall speakers.
“Jack, how are you?” Don said.
Gold listened idly as the two men proceeded to exchange pleasantries concerning the weather, current events, and their current
golf handicaps. The sound of Rosa’s voice had jogged his memory. Gold remembered that he’d met Jack Rosa at the 1ATC trade
show back in November. Rosa was short, fat, and in his late fifties, with white hair and a beard. Gold recalled thinking at
the time that Jack Rosa looked like Santa Claus in cowboy boots and three-piece glen plaid.
“Don, I called to talk to you about the Pont deal.”
Gold nervously lit a cigarette. Don looked at him, holding up both hands and crossing his fingers.
“I hope you’ve got good news for me,” Don said jovially. Gold had to give Don credit: he sounded relaxed and on top of the
world about the whole thing, as if it didn’t really matter one way or the other.
“Well, it’s good news all right, Don, but for us, not for GAT.”
Gold’s heart sank. He heard Don say, “Oh? Tell me about it.” Don’s voice was calm, but he was leaning back in his chair and
his eyes were closed, a man in pain.
“It’s like this, Don,” Rosa was saying. “TransWest and the other airlines have received an offer from a new outfit on the
block: Agatha Holding Company.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of them,” Don said slowly.
“Like I said, they’re new….”
Rosa was sounding evasive, Gold thought. Don must have sensed Rosa’s unease as well, for he smoothly changed his line of questioning.
“You said they made you an offer?” Don began. “I’m not sure I understand. They sure can’t be manufacturing air planes?”
“No, not planes,” Rosa answered. “Engines. Agatha Holding contacted us representing the British engine firm of Payn-Reese
in regards to our power plant choice should we go with the Pont—”
“Wait a minute, Jack,” Don interrupted. “What do you mean by
choice
of engines for the Pont? You know she was designed to hang Rogers and Simpson’s new fan jet?”
“Come on, Don. “ Gold heard Rosa’s laugh hiss forth from the wall speakers. “We’ve both been in this game too long to be jerking
each other around. You know as well as I do that most airplanes can be equipped with a choice of engines. Take Boeing’s 747:
it comes with a choice of GE, Pratt and Whitney, or Rolls-Royce power plants.”
“But the Pont was designed for the Rogers and Simp son…” Don was repeating icily. Gold frowned. Don was beginning to lose
his composure.
“Maybe,” Rosa said noncommittally. “But the engineering representatives from Agatha Holding made quite a convincing presentation
to my own engineers about how the Payn-Reese power plant could be fitted to the Pont.”
“But it’s all bullshit!” Don exploded. “Jack, get it through your head that GAT is licensed by Skytrain Industrie to be the
exclusive supplier of the Pont in the United States. You buy it
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