Aces (24 page)

“For instance?…”

“Well…” Cooper looked around. “Take Lane Barker, over there.” He pointed to an elderly-looking man with a thick shock of white
hair, dressed in blue pinstripe. “Barker is the president of Pacific Coast Bank.”

Perfect
, Gold thought. “Jimmy, you know everybody,” he said enviously. “Who are those two guys Barker is speaking with?”

“The guy in the tan suit is Collins Tisdale, the publisher of the
Los Angeles Gazette
. The guy in gray is Paul Petersiel. He owns a number of businesses, and he’s involved in local politics.”

“Were they all at the air show this afternoon?” Gold asked.

“Yes, they were.”

“Thanks, Jimmy.”

Gold went over to the three men and introduced himself. “Gentlemen, my name is Herman Gold. I believe you saw me fly this
afternoon? I played the part of the Red Baron…”

“Yes, Mister Gold.” Lane Barker smiled politely. “It was quite enjoyable.” He had a wispy, paper-thin voice, feathery around
the edges, like well-worn currency.

“I’m glad you came over, Mister Gold,” Tisdale said. “I’m in the newspaper business. I’d like to have one of my reporters
interview you. I understand that you really were a German ace during the war?…”

“I was, sir,” Gold replied. “And I’d be glad to speak to your reporter, but right now I have a question to ask all of you.
I was wondering how you gentlemen felt about living in a second-rate city.”

“What?” Tisdale turned red.

“How dare you insult Los Angeles?” Petersiel demanded.

Gold noticed that Lane Barker, his most important target, had said nothing in response to his provocation. The banker merely
seemed amused.

“I’m not insulting your wonderful city, Mister Petersiel,” Gold said. “But the federal government certainly has.”

“What are you talking about?” Tisdale asked.

“The news that the United States Post Office has chosen San Francisco to be the sole West Coast terminus for its transcontinental
air-mail route,” Gold explained.

“Oh, that…” Petersiel acknowledged wearily.

“You must admit that it’s a slap in the face, gentlemen,” Gold said sadly. “What can the world think, if none other than the
United States government has decreed that the City of Angels must take second place to the City by the Bay?”

“We intend to petition the government about this slight,” Petersiel said. “I’m in the process of putting together a committee
of private businessmen and municipal officials to investigate and then challenge the selection process…”

“You should do that,” Gold said reasonably. “Of course, you know how the bureaucratic procedure can drag endlessly, during
which time Los Angeles will be deprived of the benefit of speedy mail deliveries. Commerce and finance will suffer. As we
all know, in business, time is money.”

“Mister Gold,” Tisdale interrupted. “What would
you
have us do?”

“I believe Mister Gold has been waiting for
that
question.” Lane Barker laughed. “Go on, young man—” His pale gray eyes were sparkling. “—Make your proposal. I think you’ll
find this sort of thing only slightly more treacherous than stunt flying.”

“Gentlemen, what I propose is a private air express company to ferry this city’s mail back and forth from San Francisco. Incoming
correspondence could be in Los Angeles within hours of its arrival at the federal terminus. Outgoing mail could arrive in
time to take advantage of the very next post office departure flight from Frisco. The express service I propose would also
be available on an around-the-clock, special-hire basis for important documents for which time is of the essence.”

“It sounds expensive,” Petersiel muttered.

“Priceless in value, but reasonable in cost,” Gold heard himself say, and imagined that somewhere in the room Captain Bob
was sending blessings with a wink and a nod. “Especially considering the beneficial publicity Los Angeles would receive,”
Gold pressed on. The city fathers could no more effectively demonstrate Los Angeles’s hospitable business climate than by
taking the bull by the horns concerning this matter.”

Lane Barker held up his hand to silence Gold. “I suspect you want my bank to finance your prospective endeavor?”

“Actually, my first concern is that I receive a positive response from the business community.”

“Well, I, for one, think it’s a firecracker of an idea,” Tisdale enthused.

“So do I.” Petersiel nodded. “I think the chamber of commerce will also endorse it. It’s just the thing to level the playing
field with Frisco.”

Gold smiled, relieved. “Secondly, the post office would have to cooperate with me on this…”

“Don’t worry about that,” Petersiel said. “I’ve got some influence over there.”

“As for a loan,” Gold turned to Lane Barker. “I have the personal expertise, and the seasoned pilots, to make the operation
a success. I also have the financial capital to commit to prove that I intend to do just that.”

Lane Barker smiled indulgently. “Come see me at the bank tomorrow morning. We’ll talk about it.”

It was after lunch when Erica tiptoed upstairs to her bedroom. She locked her door, pulled down the window shades, and then
got undressed.

She stood sideways, scrutinizing her silhouette in the mirror. She ran her palm over her belly. Her skirts had begun to feel
a little tight, and her breasts were feeling funny, but she hadn’t yet begun to show. She still had time, and thank God the
fall weather had turned brisk. She could buy herself a little more time by wearing bulky sweaters… She needed all the help
she could get in keeping her secret, she thought to herself as she got dressed. It was getting harder every day to keep the
truth from mama.

All her life she’d been polishing off massive breakfasts, so it was understandable that mama would become alarmed now that
even the smell of food in the morning was making Erica ill. She’d panicked when mama had suggested going to see the doctor;
wouldn’t that have been just dandy! She’d managed to talk her way out of that, claiming that all she had was some sort of
cold in her stomach, but now mama was keeping an eye on her.

Erica was surprised that mama hadn’t yet guessed the truth, but upon thinking it through, she supposed it was because the
truth was so disgracefully unimaginable. Erica knew that she would have to go away very soon now. For the sake of her parents
and their position in this stuffy little town that they so dearly loved, she would have to go…

The buzzing coming from the window was faint. Erica cocked her head and listened. It sounded like the persistent buzz of a
hornet that had survived first frost and was now trapped in the room, perhaps between the window and the shade. She went to
the window and pulled up the shade, intending to release the bug. Lately, all life had become very sacred to her.

She found no hornet, but then she realized that what she was hearing was some kind of far-off motor. She opened the window.
The noise was louder now. It was coming from the sky.

An airplane?
She stuck her head out the window and looked up, but the house blocked her view—

She ran across the bedroom to the door, and unlocked it. Downstairs, the storm door slammed as mama stepped out onto the front
porch.

“Erica!” mama called. “Come out and see. I think it’s—”

“I know who it is.” Erica laughed. She realized she was crying, but she didn’t care. She skipped down the stairs, out into
the front yard to see the biplane, glinting turquoise and scarlet, looping and soaring like some enormous butterfly against
the crisp, clear, blue October sky.

Papa had come out of his office in the main nursery building, followed by some of his employees. The plane was coming down.
It landed gracefully in the field fronting the house.

Erica ran to Herman as he hopped out of the cockpit. He saw her coming. She watched him toss aside his helmet and goggles
and reach out for her. She was in his arms almost before his airplane’s prop could stop turning.

“I knew you’d come!” She laughed triumphantly, kissing and hugging him.

“Of course I was coming,” he said as he held her tight. “You’re crying?” he asked, looking alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong!” Erica murmured. She pressed against him, closing her eyes, her cheek against the cold leather of his flying
coat. He smelled like varnish, and sweat and engine exhaust. He smelled wonderful. “Everything’s perfect…
I knew you’d come
…”

She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see her parents approaching. She realized that mama would disapprove of her lewd
behavior—especially in front of papa’s employees!—and tried to step out of Herman’s embrace, but he wouldn’t let her. He gently
kept her at his side by keeping his arm around her waist. She felt weak with love.

“Sir, it’s good to see you and Frau Schuler again,” Herman said. “As you can see, I’m here in my own airplane.”

Erica looked at the airplane. It was a big two-seater. Its fuselage was painted turquoise, with scarlet for the wings, tail,
and wheels. On the side of the biplane, just below the front cockpit, was a large yellow oval on which, in black silhouette,
a centaur reared. In curving black letters, above and below the oval, read the words
GOLD EXPRESS
.

“I have two other airplanes like this one. They’re part of my new business, an aviation transport company, back in Los Angeles,
California,” Herman proudly announced. “I believe that I’m now in a position to support your daughter, Herr Schuler. I’ve
come to marry her.”

That night Gold was the guest of honor at a celebratory supper for the entire Schuler clan. While the grandchildren played,
and the women washed the dishes, Carl Schuler poured drinks for his sons, and future son-in-law, from a jug of sour mash.
Gold was entranced by the warm embrace of this magnificent family; to be made so welcome in this big farmhouse glowing with
love, like a brick and clapboard jewel nestled against the dark velvet of the Nebraskan plain.

Later, Gold and Erica bundled up against the brisk October night and went for a walk. That was when she told him that she
was pregnant.

He listened to her confess to him haltingly, almost fearfully, as if she’d expected him to be angry… Gold guessed that he
would never truly understand women. He was, of course, ecstatic. A family of his own was what he’d always wanted, and the
sooner the better. He only hoped that the child would be a son. The business could always use another pilot.

They walked back to the house arm in arm, hips awkwardly touching, giggling like children and very in love. It was torture
for Gold to part from her, to go to bed alone in the guest room. All night he was plagued with tantalizing dreams. He seemed
to hear her voice in the wind rattling the rafters.

The next morning, while Erica and her mother fussed with the details of the upcoming wedding, Gold borrowed the roadster and
drove into town to see Teddy Quinn.

Thinking about it, Gold realized that Erica’s pregnancy was, in a way, convenient. Now they both had their reasons for wanting
to get the marriage ceremony over with quickly as possible, and get on their way to Los Angeles. Gold could almost hear his
new business crying out for his presence.

He’d put up $5,000 cash against a $15,000 business loan from Lane Barker’s bank. When the money came through he’d paid a thousand
each for the three military surplus, De Havilland D.H. 4 airplanes, along with an inventory of spare parts. He’d put down
seven hundred and fifty dollars on a lease for a hangar at Mines Field, and had arranged to pay a monthly fee for the use
of a turnaround facility in Frisco. For the past month, Gold, along with his two new employees, Hull and Les Stiles, had worked
around the clock to get the airplanes into serviceable condition. It hadn’t been easy. The Stiles brothers were great pilots,
but only passable mechanics. Finally, though, the planes were ready.

True to his word, Petersiel had smoothed things for Gold with the post office, and Barker had used his influence in the financial
community to get a lot of business thrown Gold’s way. The banks were now using Gold Express instead of trains to transport
financial instruments between the two cities. Hull and Les were now making twice-daily hops, carrying full loads of mail back
and forth at the rate of two dollars a pound.

Gold drove slowly through Doreen. He’d been away a long time, and it took him a while to find the alley where Quinn’s garage
was tucked away. He parked around the corner from the garage, and walked the rest of the way, wanting to surprise Teddy. He
peeked in through the doorway and saw Teddy lying on his back, working underneath a tractor.

“I hear you’ve got a motorcycle for sale,” Gold said, stepping inside.

“Huh?” Teddy scuttled out from beneath the tractor. “Well, I’ll be goddamned.” He grinned, getting to his feet and extending
his hand. “It’s about time. I was going to marry her myself!”

“Speaking of which,” Gold laughed, “I hope you’ve got something nicer to wear than those grimy mechanic’s overalls, because
you’re going to be my best man at the wedding.”

“I can handle that.” Teddy grinned. “When?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

“Really?” Teddy said, sounding startled. “What’s the rush, friend?”

“I’ve got to get back to California. I’ve just begun my own business, and I need to be there to watch over things.”

“Come sit down,” Teddy said, and fetched two bottles of orange pop while Gold filled him in on the details of what he’d been
up to in Los Angeles.

“These D.H. 4 airplanes you bought,” Teddy began when Gold was finished. “Are they anything like the machine we worked on?”

“I think the De Havillands are better, but it’s really a matter of personal opinion. They were built as bombers during the
war, so they’re sturdy. They’ve got 400-horsepower Liberty engines, and eventually will be able to haul about five hundred
pounds of mail…”