Wings полностью

She never saw Desmond alone again, until the night before the Pacific tour. There had been a huge press conference that afternoon, and she and Billy had gone out for a quiet dinner at her favorite Mexican restaurant afterward.

When they got back, Desmond was waiting for them. He was sitting in his parked car, and when he got out, he let Billy know he wanted to talk to Cassie.

“I just wanted to wish you luck tomorrow. I'll see you there before you take off, but I wanted you to know that… well, I'm sorry things didn't really work out the way we planned.” He was trying to be magnanimous, but the way he did it made her very angry.

“What exactly did you plan? I was planning to have a life, and a husband and children.” He was planning to have a world tour, and a mistress, and a cardboard wife he'd drag out for newsreels.

‘Then you should have married someone else, I guess. I was looking for a partnership. And not much more than that. This was business. But isn't that what marriage is, Cassie?” He tried to make it sound as though things just hadn't worked out, and not as though he had lied to her about everything, including being sterile. She could have lived with that, she could have lived with a lot of things, if he'd been honest with her. But they both knew he never had been.

“I don't think you have any idea what marriage is, Desmond.”

“Maybe not,” he said without embarrassment. ‘to tell you the truth, it's not something I've ever really wanted.”

“So why bother? I would have flown this for you, without all the nonsense, the lies… the wedding… You didn't have to go that far. You used me,” she said, relieved that she had finally had a chance to say it.

“We used each other. You're going to be the biggest star in aviation there ever was two months from now. And I put you there. In one of my planes. It's a wash, Cass. We're even.” He seemed pleased with himself. It was all he wanted. She meant nothing to him. She never had. That was the hard part.

“Congratulations. I hope you enjoy it as much as you thought you would.”

“I will.” He was sure of it. “And so will you. And so will Billy. We all win on this one.”

“If everything goes right. You're assuming an awful lot,” she said cautiously.

“I have a right to. You're flying a remarkable plane, and you're a great pilot. It doesn't take more than that. Except Lady Luck, and some fine weather.” He looked at her long and hard, willing her to do right by him, but offering her nothing in return except glory and money. Love wasn't part of his scheme of things. He didn't have it in him. “Good luck, Cass,” he said quietly.

‘Thanks,” she said, and walked upstairs to Billy's apartment.

“What did he want?” Billy asked suspiciously. He was worried that Desmond might have said something to upset Cassie.

“Just to wish us luck, I guess. In his own way. There's no one in there… I finally figured that out… the man's completely empty.” It was truer than she knew. There was no soul to Desmond Williams. Only greed and calculation, and an unfailing passion (or airplanes, never people. She was just a tool, no different from a wrench to tune the engine. She was a vehicle to success, nothing more, a cog in one of his machines, and in fact, a very small one. He was the puppeteer, the designer, the spirit behind it. In his eyes, she was nothing.

18

The North Star took off, right on schedule, on the morning of October 4, as planned, with a crowd of hundreds watching. The cardinal of Los Angeles blessed the plane. There was champagne for everyone, and she took off into the horizon on a circuitous route that was designed to break distance records, and accommodate the vagaries of world politics at the moment.

They flew south first to Guatemala City, covering two thousand two hundred miles at one gulp, without refueling. And when they arrived, they checked their maps, the weather, and spent some time investigating the area, and talking to the locals. People were fascinated by the plane, and flocked to the airport to see them. Desmond had done his homework well. People all over the world knew of Cassie's journey.

The press were waiting for them en masse at the Guatemala City airport, along with ambassadors, envoys, diplomats, and politicians. There was a marimba band playing, and Cassie and Billy posed for photographs. No one had gotten as much attention since Charles Lindbergh.

“Not a bad life, huh?” Cassie teased him as they took off for San Cristóbal in the Galápagos the next day, a mere eleven hundred miles, which took them just over three hours in the extraordinary plane Williams Aircraft had built them. Desmond had gotten his first wish this time. They had just set a record for speed and distance.

“Maybe we should just stop somewhere for a vacation,” Billy suggested, and she grinned as they were met by Ecuadorian officials, American military personnel, and local natives. There were more photographers, and the governor of the islands invited them to dinner.