Free Top Gun by T. E. Cruise Page B

wood, and antiques. Harrison
     preferred a lighter touch, and eventually intended to have the conference room redecorated, but today he had more important
     matters on his mind.
    The door opened, and Steve Gold entered the room with a thick stack of folders under his arm. Harrison and Steve chaired this
     weekly meeting of department heads and project managers scheduled to begin in twenty minutes, and Harrison felt the lengthy
     meeting progressed more smoothly when he and Steve could take a few minutes beforehand to set the agenda.
    “Good morning.” Steve settled into the chair at the opposite end of the table.
    Harrison glowered. “Why do you always choose to sit down there?”
    Steve glanced up from shuffling papers. “Pardon?”
    “Why don’t you sit beside me for once?” Harrison said irritably. “Say, here on my right?”
    “Because I’m not your right-hand man,” Steve replied agreeably. “I’m your partner.”
    “But it would look better to the others if we weren’t facing each other like opposing forces.”
    “The others care more about how we act together than where we sit,” Steve countered, lighting a cigarette.
    Harrison shook his head. “I still say it speaks volumes the way you insist upon sitting down there, like…”He thought about
     it. “… like an opposing king on a chessboard.”
    “Why think of it that way?” Steve shrugged. “Why not think of us as, say, a pair of aircraft engines? You’re on the starboard
     wing and I’m on the port wing, simple as that. We’re not opposing one another, we’re working in tandem.” He winked at Harrison.
     “At least, that’s the way I see it. Now, can we get on with this?” He glanced at his watch. “The others are going to be here
     soon.”
    “All right,” Harrison said grudgingly. He wasn’t sure how much his perceptions were being tainted by his own foul mood, or
     if Steve was pulling his leg concerning all of that tandem-engine stuff…. He glanced at his agenda sheet. “What’s happening
     with the GXF-66?”
    Steve said, “Well, as you know, the Stiletto suffered a temporary setback last month—”
    “Yes,” Harrison cut in impatiently. “Tell me something I don’t know!”
    “My mistake,” Steve said gently. He was gazing inquisitively at Harrison as if to ask:
What the fuck is your problem this morning?
    “Go on,” Harrison said, regretting his harsh tone as he ducked the unspoken question in Steve’s eyes. Harrison knew he had
     a bad habit of venting his anger on others when the person he was really mad at was himself.
    “As I was saying,” Steve continued, “I was hoping to clinch the deal directly with the Air Force, but the Department of Defense
     intervened, requiring us to enter the Stiletto into the interservice Lightweight Air Combat Fighter competition. My contact
     has since notified me that the DOD has received competing submissions from General Dynamics, Dunn-Brower, Amalgamated-Landis,
     Grumman, and McDonnell Douglas.”
    “How many of those are paper airplanes?” Harrison asked.
    “I know for sure that Dunn-Brower’s and Amalgamated’s are paper, but the others… ?” Steve shrugged. “It’s been no secret that
     the Air Force and the Navy have for some time been looking to fill their niche for a cheaper fighter. Those two branches of
     the military could have been funding research on any number of projects in addition to ours.”
    “So now everyone’s thrown their hat into the ring,” Harrison muttered. “Who knows what the others have up their sleeves? By
     allowing this to turn into a competition, GAT has lost whatever advantage it had in already being able to field a prototype,”
     Harrison accused.
    Steve smiled. “Someone’s gotten up on the wrong side of the bed today,” he said lightly.
    Harrison glared at him a moment, and then sighed. “I suppose… I’m sorry. I’m not angry at you.”
    “For what it’s worth, a little bird at the Air Force tells me they’re