Cold War

“David,” Emily started before he could protest, “I know four-engine freighters are more economical, but at the moment most aircraft on the Airlift are Dakotas. They only require one pilot, a navigator, and a signaller. If you resumed flying the ambulance, Kiwi could take command of the Dakota with Dudley’s navigator and signaller, who appear keen to work regardless of captain.”

David turned to Kiwi. “Would you be willing to do that?”

Kiwi shrugged eloquently. “No reason why not, mate. Emily and I have been talking about the need for some form of management presence at the freight hub in Hamburg. Ron and Chips are great with engines, but we can’t expect them to make policy decisions about hangar space, a spare parts depot, liaison with BEA, or a-hundred-and-one other things.”

David frowned slightly. Although what Kiwi said made sense, it bothered him that they had discussed this behind his back. Then again, they were flying together with lots of time to talk, while he’d been spending most of his time in the downtown office. After thinking the situation through again, he tried to explain, “I don’t object to Kiwi taking command of a Dakota and running our office and operations in Hamburg. The problem is, if I’m flying, I can’t keep our finances in order.”

“Then we should recruit another pilot — or two. We need additional staff.” Emily suggested, “And not just pilots. We need people who can spring in if any member of the regular crew falls ill, and — unless the blockade ends in the next couple of weeks — we are going to have to give people time off, too.”

“We aren’t breaking even yet!” David reminded them. “We’re still losing money! Don’t any of you understand that we can only succeed if the company is profitable!” It frustrated him that no one else thought about the financial side of their business. Or, maybe, they just thought his resources were limitless? Either way, it left him alone with all the worries about staying solvent. He was about to complain but stopped himself. He hadn’t hired Kiwi or Emily to watch their revenues and expenses; that was his job. They were doing theirs. It was Dudley who had let him down. As the full weight of what it meant hit him, he felt completely deflated. He looked down at his legal pad with his jotted notes and a sense of pointlessness overwhelmed him. His father had always said he didn’t have a head for business — even while he pushed him into it. As if he’d wanted to see him fail.

“There has to be a way to make this fly, David,” Emily spoke softly into the tension. “Like the Airlift itself, we have to start flying first and work things out on the wing.”

He turned to meet her eyes, still hesitating. He could have pointed to a dozen factors illustrating how precarious their situation was. But if they didn’t try, then his father would win. He shook off his father’s ghost and nodded solemnly. “You’re right. We can only succeed by keeping our eyes on the stars, not the ground.”