TROUBLE AHEAD AND BELOW.
We wasted about five minutes talking the thing over. Al Rodgers and
Dave Simmons joined us. Charlie Ryan and Duke Conroy came up. It was
Conroy who hit on the idea.
“Russ is a good guy, boss,” he said. “He gets heated up easily--but
he’s all right. I’m not going to stick over here and see him kill
himself for the chance of showing you up, and getting fifty bucks. I
know this fellow Conant. As long as he shoots the crash--he won’t care
about Russ. When that fellow Donnelly, who made a living by pulling off
crashes for the film gang, got his, did they do any prolonged weeping?
They did not. Just business--and he’d signed a paper releasing them
from any responsibility, of course. I won’t let Russ get hot-headed and
bump himself off that way!”
“How,” I asked, “are you going to stop it?”
“Not _me_,” Conroy said. “_Us!_ I could lick Russ if I hadn’t just
come out of the hospital, maybe--but there would still be the movie
gang. There’s only one thing to do. We’ll _all_ fly over there--and
raise merry----”
“Great!” I interrupted, and grabbed Bob Brooks by the arm. “But first
let’s call the Mammoth Film Company--and make sure they’re working on
air stuff today. They’ve been shooting some mild flying, even if they
couldn’t get the crash stuff.”
Bob nodded excitedly. “Get the ships out! You call up, Mac. We’ll fly
five ships over--I’ll ride with you, Mac. Hurry it up! They might just
happen to be set for the stuff.”
There was a gas station about a half mile down the road which ran past
the field, and I trotted toward it. The other boys were moving toward
the hangars. I chuckled. Russ would be sore, furious--when we flew in
and busted things up. And six of us could do it.
It was the only thing to do. I’d heard about Conant. He was an
aggressive chap, and he knew his air. He’d flown during the war, and
then he’d quit, which showed me that he had brains. It was his job
now to get crash scenes for “War Aces”--and he was up against it. It
isn’t easy to crash a ship, and get away cheerfully.
Donnelly had done it--for about three crashes, wing-overs and stalls.
And then the engine had come back on his chest--and he was through.
“War Aces” was a thriller--I knew, because I’d read it. It wasn’t
exactly highbrow, and it wouldn’t take much acting, but it would take
some crashing, and some bang-up air stuff. If the movie bunch were
working--and I had a hunch that they were--Conant would grab Russ and
the Old Lady. And Russ was so sore that he’d forgotten all about
himself. That was a cinch. He was like that.
It took me five minutes to get somebody at the picture outfit that
knew about the shoot. And they gave me a straight answer. Conant had
five cameras out at the field, in the hills back of Hollywood. He had
two ships. He was shooting stuff. And the company was still looking
for a thrill-man. Did I know of one?
I groaned and hung up. When I got back to the dead-line the ships were
out, and being tested at the blocks. I gave Bob the cheerful news. He
swore a couple of times.
“When we hit the field we’ll set our ship down,” he explained. “Look out
for holes--they may have been doing some war-time shell-hole stuff. Mac
and I will go after Russ--and hang on to him. You fellows get down as
soon after us as you can, in case this fellow Conant gets rough with us
for breaking up the party. I’ll do the talking. If things look tough,
you ease up to the Old Lady--and break a connection, Duke.”
Duke Conroy grinned. “I’d rather talk with this Conant, but you’re the
boss.”
“Well--let’s get up and over there!” Bob said. “I started this mess and
I’ll finish it! And believe me, when I get Russ Healy back here----”
“I’ll feel a lot better!” I interrupted--and meant it.
Then we climbed the five ships, and taxied out. Sixty seconds later
we were off the earth--and heading for the field from which they
were shooting the “War Aces” stuff. As the D.H. climbed, and I held
the joy-stick back a bit from the neutral position, I shook my head
slowly. Knowing Russ Healy as well as I did, I could figure trouble
ahead and below.
“Unless we wreck things generally,” I thought to myself, “the Old Lady
flies!”