- •Part one
- •Instinctively, Mel did. It was three quarters of an hour since he had left Danny Farrow at the Snow Control Desk. Getting up from the table, he told Tanya, "Don't go away. I have to make a call."
- •In the elevator going up, he remembered another good thing. The flight to Rome would be an easy one.
- •Vernon Demerest did too. On several occasions Anson Harris had heard Demerest speak disdainfully of the company's shirts and point to the superior quality of his own.
- •In a second echelon, farther to the right, were two more plows, a second Snowblast.
- •It was done; on the radar screen, blips were changing direction.
- •It was also the last day of his life.
- •It would be simpler if Mel didn't. Keith felt unequal to the effort, even though they had been as close as brothers could be all their lives. Mel's presence might be complicating.
- •I won't be home for a few days. I'm going away. I expect to have some good news soon which will surprise you.
- •In two strides the lieutenant was beside him. "You heard me! Right now!"
- •It was said so casually that at first the words failed to register. He reacted blankly. "You're what?"
- •In return for all this, the airline asked three assurances from the stewardess---hence the Three-Point Pregnancy Program.
- •It was the reason that Keith Bakersfeld had decided on suicide tonight.
- •It was the only time Natalie had hinted at the possibility of their marriage breaking up. It was also the first time Keith considered suicide.
- •It took a dozen rings, then several minutes more of waiting, before the Avis manager's voice came on the line. "Ken Kingsley here."
- •Vernon Demerest seemed not to notice. "Now, madam and gentlemen, we come to the most significant, the vital point."
- •Vernon Demerest flushed. He was accustomed to command, not to being questioned. His temper, never far below the surface, flashed. "Madam, are you normally stupid or just being deliberately obtuse?"
- •In the spectator section, Captain Demerest shot to his feet. "Great God!---how many disasters do we need to have?"
- •In the corridor outside, Vernon Demerest was waiting for Mel.
- •It had not always been that way.
- •It occurred to Cindy that perhaps she could manage both.
- •Vernon Demerest grinned. "I guess your manuals are okay, Anson. I've changed my mind; I won't inspect them."
- •It was Gwen Meighen who met the three pilots as they came aboard the aircraft. She asked, "Did you hear?"
- •Inez could see the drugstore clock. By now, it was nearly five past ten.
- •Inez began, "Isn't there any way..."
- •Ignoring the snow, which swirled about him like a scene from South with Scott, Patroni considered, alculating the possibilities of success.
- •Ingram grunted. "They're aboard. The goddarn captain and first officer."
- •It was the opening Demerest had been waiting for. He said carefully, "It needn't be shattering. What's more, we don't have to be parents unless we choose to be."
- •It was Guerrero, appearing hurried and nervous, whom Captain Vernon Demerest had seen arrive there, carrying his small attaché case which contained the dynamite bomb.
- •Vernon Demerest, who had just copied their complicated route clearance, received by radio---a task normally performed by the absent First Officer---nodded. "Damn right! I would too."
- •Is there something else; that you've never told?"
- •It was Keith's turn to nod. "I'm going to."
- •Instead of telephoning the Snow Control Desk, Mel walked down one floor of the control tower and went in. Danny Farrow was still presiding over the busy snow clearance command console.
- •In the taxi, Cindy opened her eyes and mused.
- •It was over now. Both knew it. Only details remained to be attended to.
- •It was Lieutenant Ordway. He entered, closing the door behind him. When he saw Cindy, he said, "Oh, excuse me, Mrs. Bakersfeld."
- •It was Mel's turn to see the reporters' pencils racing with his words.
- •In the cockpit, the pilots completed their checklist.
- •It was what Joe Patroni had feared.
- •It was when the agent had gone and Inez realized that despite the press of people around her in the terminal, she was utterly alone, that she began to cry.
- •Issued a policy. Are you people
- •Inez nodded slowly.
- •Inez shook her head. "Only, that... If you knew how to handle them... They were safe."
- •Inez whispered, "They were gone!"
- •Vernon Demerest regarded her searchingly. "I don't have to tell you that this is important. If you've any doubt, go back and make sure."
- •Ignoring him, Gwen gave Mrs. Quonsett a shove which sent her staggering. "You heard me! Sit down and be quiet."
- •In the unlikely event... And... Government regulations require that we inform you.
- •In the drill for explosive decompression one rule was fundamental: the crew took care of themselves first. Vernon Demerest observed the rule; so did Anson Harris and Cy Jordan.
- •Vernon Demerest was clambering over the smashed flight deck door and other debris outside. Hurrying in, he slid into his seat on the right side.
- •It was this effect which d. O. Guerrero had not allowed for. He had blundered and miscalculated from the beginning. He bungled the explosion, too.
- •It was then that Lieutenant Ordway and Mel Bakersfeld came down together from the administrative mezzanine.
- •In front of Mel a broadcast microphone had joined the hand mike he was using. The tv lights were on as he continued.
- •Vernon Demerest's voice came calmly on the cabin p.A. System a few moments later.
- •Vernon Demerest, his face paler than usual, had been steeling himself to copy the doctor's information onto the flight log clipboard. Now, with sudden shock, he stopped.
- •Vernon Demerest reasoned: So far as Gwen was concerned, he might just as well make a decision now.
- •It would also pose the question: just how far would Sarah go?
- •Isn't there?
- •Inside the car the reporter, Tomlinson, whistled softly. Tanya turned toward Mel, her eyes searching his face.
- •It almost did, at the news of Mel's intention.
- •Inside the car, the reporter asked again, "Mr. Bakersfeld, could you name a few of those people---the most imaginative ones about airports and the future?"
- •In smooth succession, engines four, two, and one followed.
- •In the hope of rocking the wheels free, Patroni slackened engine power, then increased it.
- •In the worst way, though, he needed a cigar. Suddenly Joe Patroni remembered---hours ago, Mel Bakersfeld bet him a box of cigars he couldn't get this airplane free tonight.
- •In mel Bakersfeld's car, on the runway, Tanya cried, "He's done it! He's done it!"
- •It was the speed at which they must pass over the airfield boundary, allowing both for weight and the jammed stabilizer.
- •If it does, Demerest thought, at a hundred and fifty knots we've had it...
- •Vernon Demerest clicked his mike button twice---an airman's shorthand "thank you."
- •I'm glad we had our ration With love and passion.
- •It would still take time, though, to adjust.
In the taxi, Cindy opened her eyes and mused.
She wouldn't make any firm decision until she had talked with Mel. Cindy didn't like decisions, anyway, and invariably put them off until they could be delayed no longer. Also, there were still imponderables involved: the children; memories of the years with Mel, which hadn't all been bad; and when you once cared deeply for someone, you never shook it off entirely. But she was glad she had decided, after all, to come out here tonight.
For the first time since leaving downtown Cindy leaned forward, peering out into the darkness to see if she could determine where they were. She couldn't. Through misted windows she could see snow and many other cars, all moving slowly. She guessed they were on the Kennedy Expressway, but that was all.
She was aware of the cab driver's eyes watching her in his rear-view mirror. Cindy had no idea what kind of man the driver was; she hadn't taken notice when she got into the cab back at the hotel, which she and Derek left separately since they decided they might as well start being discreet immediately. Anyway, tonight all faces and bodies merged into the face and body of Derek Eden.
"That's Portage Park over there, madam," the driver said. "We're getting close to the airport. Won't be long."
"Thank you."
"Lotsa traffic going out there besides us. Guess those airport people must have had their problems, what with the big storm and all."
Who the hell cares?, Cindy thought. And didn't anyone ever think or talk of anything besides that cruddy airport? But she kept quiet.
At the main terminal entrance Cindy paid off the cab and hurried inside to avoid wet snow which gusted under canopies and swirled along sidewalks. She threaded the crowds in the main concourse, moving around one sizable group which seemed to intend some kind of demonstration because several people were helping assemble a portable public address system. A Negro police lieutenant, whom Cindy had met several times with Mel, was talking to two or three men from the group who appeared to be leaders. The policeman was shaking his head vigorously. Not really curious---nothing about this place really interested her---Cindy moved on, heading for the airport administrative offices on the mezzanine.
Lights were on in all the offices, though most were unoccupied and there was none of the clatter of typewriters or hum of conversation, as during daytime working hours. At least some people, Cindy thought, had sense enough to go home at night.
The only person in sight was a middle-aged woman, in drab clothes, in the anteroom to Mel's office. She was seated on a settee from where she seemed to be looking vacantly into space, and took no notice as Cindy came in. The woman's eyes were red as if she had been crying. Judging by her clothes and shoes, which were sodden, she had been outside in the storm.
Cindy gave the other woman only a mildly curious glance before going into Mel's office. The office was empty, and Cindy sat down in a chair to wait. After a few moments she closed her eyes and resumed her pleasant thoughts about Derek Eden.
Mel hurried in---he was limping more than usual, Cindy noticed---about ten minutes later.
"Oh!" He appeared surprised when he saw Cindy, and went back to close the door. "I really didn't think you'd come."
"I suppose you'd have preferred me not to."
Mel shook his head. "I still don't think there's anything to be gained by it---at least, not for what you seem to have in mind." He looked at his wife appraisingly, wondering what her real purpose was in coming here tonight. He had learned long ago that Cindy's motives were usually complicated, and frequently quite different from what they appeared to be. He had to admit, though, that she looked her best tonight; positively glamorous, with a kind of radiance about her. Unfortunately, the glamour no longer affected him personally.
"Suppose you tell. me," Cindy said, "what you think I have in mind."
He shrugged. "I got the impression that what you wanted was a fight. It occurred to me that we had enough of them at home without arranging another here."
"Perhaps we'll have to arrange something here; since you're hardly ever home anymore."
"I might be home, if the atmosphere were more congenial."
They had been talking for just a few seconds, Cindy realized, and already were sniping at each other. It seemed impossible nowadays for the two of them to hold a conversation without that happening.
Just the same, she could not resist answering, "Oh, really! That isn't usually the reason you give for not being at home. You're always claiming how all-fired important it is for you to be here at the airport---if necessary, twenty-four hours a day. So many important things---or so you say---are always happening."
Mel said curtly, "Tonight they are."
"But not other times?"
"If you're asking if I've sometimes stayed here in preference to coming home, the answer's yes."
"At least this is the first time you've been honest about it."
"Even when I do come home, you insist on dragging me to some stupid stuffed-shirt affair like tonight's."
His wife said angrily, "So you never did intend to come tonight!"
"Yes, I did. I told you so. But..."
"But nothing!" Cindy could feel the short fuse of her temper burning. "You counted on something turning up to prevent you, the way it always does. So that you could weasel out and have an alibi; so you could convince yourself, even if you don't convince me, because I think you're a liar and a fake."
"Take it easy, Cindy."
"I won't take it easy."
They glared at each other.
What happened to them, Mel wondered, that they had come to this?---squabbling like ill-bred children; dealing in pettiness; exchanging vicious gibes; and in all of it, he himself no better than Cindy. Something happened when they quarreled which demeaned them both. He wondered if it was always this way when things were sour with two people who had lived together for a long time. Was it because they knew, and therefore could probe painfully, each other's weaknesses? He had once heard someone say that a disintegrating marriage brought out the worst in both partners. In his own and Cindy's case it was certainly true.
He tried to speak more reasonably. "I don't think I'm a liar, or a fake. But maybe you have a point about my counting on something turning up, enough to keep me away from the social things, which you know I hate. I just hadn't thought of it that way."
When Cindy remained silent, he went on, "You can believe it or not, but I did intend to meet you tonight downtown---at least I think so. Maybe I didn't really, the way you said; I don't know. But I do know that I didn't arrange the storm, and, since it started, a lot of things have happened that---for real this time---have kept me here." He nodded toward the outer office. "One of them is that woman sitting out there. I told Lieutenant Ordway I'd talk to her. She seems to be in some sort of trouble."
"Your wife's in trouble," Cindy said. "The woman out there can wait."
He nodded. "All right."
"We've had it," Cindy said. "You and me. Haven't we?"
He waited before answering, not wanting to be hasty, yet realizing that now this had come up, it would be foolish to avoid the truth. "Yes," he said finally. "I'm afraid we have."
Cindy shot back, "If only you'd change! If you'd see things my way. It's always been what you
want to do, or don't. If you'd only do what I want..."
"Like being out six nights a week in black tie, and white tie on the seventh?"
"Well, why not?" Emotionally, imperiously, Cindy faced him. He bad always admired her in that kind of spunky mood, even when it was directed at himself. Even now...
"I guess I could say the same kind of thing," he told her. "About changing; all that. The trouble is, people don't change---not in what they are basically; they adapt. It's that---two people adapting to each other---that marriage is supposed to be about."
"The adapting doesn't have to be one-sided."
"It hasn't been with us," Mel argued, "no matter what you think. I've tried to adapt; I guess you have, too. I don't know who's made the most effort; obviously I think it's me, and you think it's you. The main thing is: though we've given it plenty of time to work, it hasn't."
Cindy said slowly, "I suppose you're right. About the last bit, anyway. I've been thinking the same way too." She stopped, then added, "I think I want a divorce."
"You'd better be quite sure. It's fairly important." Even now, Mel thought, Cindy was hedging about a decision, waiting for him to help her with it. If what they had been saying were less serious, he would have smiled.
"I'm sure," Cindy said. She repeated, with more conviction. "Yes, I'm sure."
Mel said quietly, "Then I think it's the right decision for us both."
For a second Cindy hesitated. "You're sure, too?"
"Yes," he said. "I'm sure."
The lack of argument, the quickness of the exchange, seemed to bother Cindy. She asked, "Then we've made a decision?"
"Yes."
They still faced each other, but their anger was gone.
"Oh hell!" Mel moved, as if to take a pace forward. "I'm sorry, Cindy."
"I'm sorry, too." Cindy stayed where she was. Her voice was more assured. "But it's the most sensible thing, isn't it?"
He nodded. "Yes. I guess it is."