"Yes. Captain Swift thinks you'd had a drink or two before takeoff on the last couple of flights."
"He's a goddamned liar!" Larry snapped.
"Why would he he?"
"Because he's afraid I'll take his job away." There was a sharp anger in Larry's voice. "The son-of-a-bitch is a timid old maid who should have been retired ten years ago."
"You've flown with four different captains," Sakowitz said. "Which ones did you like?"
"None of them," retorted Larry. He saw the trap too late. Quickly, he added, "I mean--they're all right. I have nothing against them."
"They don't like flying with you either," Sakowitz said evenly. "You make them nervous."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"It means that if ever there's an emergency, you want to be damn sure about the man in the seat next to you. They're not sure about you."
"For Christ's sake!" Larry exploded. "I lived through four years of emergencies over Germany and in the South Pacific, risking my fucking neck every day, while they were back here sitting on their fat asses, collecting big salaries, and they don't have confidence in me? You must be joking!"
"No one says you're not great in a fighter plane," Sakowitz replied quietly. "But we're flying passengers. It's a different ball game."
Larry sat there clenching his fists, trying to control his anger. "OK," he said sullenly. "I get the message. If you're through, I have a flight leaving in a few minutes."
"Someone else is taking it over," Sakowitz said. "You're fired."
Larry stared at him unbelievingly. "I'm what?"
"In a way, I suppose it's my fault, Douglas. I shouldn't have hired you in the first place."
Larry got to his feet, his eyes blazing with fury. "Then why the hell did you?" he demanded.
"Because your wife had a friend named Bill Fraser..." Sakowitz began.
Larry moved across the desk, his fist crashing into Sakowitz's face. The blow propelled Sakowitz against the wall. He used the momentum to bounce up. He hit Larry twice, then stepped back, fighting for control. "Get out of here," he said. "Now!"
Larry stared at him, his face twisted with hatred. "You son-of-a-bitch," he said. "I wouldn't come near this airline again if you begged me!" He turned and stormed out of the office.
Sakowitz stood there looking after him. His secretary came hurrying in. She saw the overturned chair and Sakowitz's bloody lip.
"Are you all right?" she asked.
"Terrific," he said. "Ask Mr. Eastman if he can see me."
Ten minutes later Sakowitz had finished relating the incident to Carl Eastman.
"What do you think's wrong with Douglas?" Eastman asked.
"Honestly? I think he's a psycho."
Eastman regarded him with his piercing hazel eyes. "That's pretty strong, Sak. He wasn't drunk when he was flying. No one could even prove that he'd had a drink on the ground. And anyone can be late once in a while."
"If that's all it was, I wouldn't have fired him, Carl. Douglas has a low boiling point. To tell you the truth I was trying to provoke him today, and it wasn't hard. If he had stood up under the pressure, I might have taken a chance and kept him on. You know what worries me?"
"What?"
Sakowitz said, "A few days ago I ran into an old buddy who flew with Douglas in the RAF. He told me a crazy story. It seems that when Douglas was in the Eagle Squadron he fell for a little English girl who was engaged to a boy named Clark in Douglas' Squadron. Douglas did everything he could to move in, but the girl wasn't having any. A week before she and Clark were to get married, the Squadron went up to cover some B-Seventeens in a raid over Dieppe. Douglas was flying at the rear of the Squadron. The fortresses dropped their bombs and everyone headed for home. Coming back over the Channel, they were hit by some Messerschmidts, and Clark was shot down." He stopped, lost in some reverie of his own. Eastman waited for him to go on and finally Sakowitz looked up at him. "According to my friend there were no Messerschmidts anywhere near Clark when he got it."
Eastman stared at him unbelievingly. "Jesus! Are you saying that Larry Douglas...?"