The Dive Bomber by L. Ron Hubbard Read Free Book Online

man O’Neal to get the plant. Your own men heard you quarreling with him just before he took that flight. So did the people on the field. We preserved the wreckage for examination and three bad pins are still in it, and two are in a wing section I picked up after it broke. These pins—”
    â€œYou’re lying!” cried Dixie.
    â€œThe courts won’t think so. I’ve got witnesses, I’ve got the evidence—”
    â€œYou caused that crash in Washington!” said Lucky.
    â€œThey’ll find nothing in the wreck but good pins… now, ” grinned Bullard. “No, my fine murderer, there is no way out.”
    â€œLucky! He can’t do it!” wailed Dixie.
    â€œI can,” said Bullard. “And, what’s more to the point, I will. Unless, of course, you listen to reason.”
    â€œThat’s blackmail!” said Lucky.
    â€œBright boy,” said Bullard.
    â€œGo to the cops,” said Lucky. “Tell them your lies, produce your perjured witnesses, and see how far you get!”
    â€œI’ll get far enough to see you hanged,” replied Bullard.
    â€œI won’t go through with it! I refuse to violate the Neutrality Laws!”
    Bullard grinned fatly. “Who said anything about violating any laws?”
    â€œBut if you manufacture fighting planes at the O’Neal plant and then export them, the United States will stop you in your tracks. I don’t care what blind you use, it can’t be done! Do you think the Army spends its time playing tiddlywinks? Do you think the Navy sails its boats in a bathtub? And what about the agents of the Treasury Department , the Coast Guard? Bullard, you’re insane. You can’t get away with this thing. You might be able to force me to build the planes, but you’ll never get those same ships beyond the three-mile limit !”
    Bullard lighted up a cigar and gazed at Lucky pityingly. “My boy, you lack finesse. You may be a fine test pilot but you will never make a diplomat. Have I said anything about your building dive bombers for my client? No. Why, you call me insane without knowing any of the facts.”
    â€œI know enough of them,” snapped Lucky. “Three years ago half a dozen pilots tried to get away with this. They got caught in Peru and the US wrecked them for life. One shipment of fighting planes went out to Spain because Congress was slow getting the law through, but none have gone since. I know that China is yowling for US fighting ships. I know that Outer Mongolian warlords will pay anything for them. Take your client British planes, French planes, any planes, but, Bullard, you’ll never get so much as a joystick out of the territorial limits of the United States. The sooner you get that through your head, the better off you’ll be. Nobody can do such a thing with the United States as alert to such a move as it has lately become. Put that in your cigar and blow it up.”
    Bullard was still grinning. “England, you say? France, Italy…? Lucky Martin, you must know that all of those places are using every available factory and every available ship in the present arms race. The only place in the world I can get these ships is right here in the USA. And, Martin, you’re going to build them for me.”
    â€œBut, damn it, I tell you you’re a fool. You’ll never get them out!”
    â€œDo you think that shipload to which you refer,” said Bullard, “would have risked possible confiscation if the reward at the other end had not been enormous? No. You underrate me, test pilot. If you think I am such a fool, I do not blame you for turning down my offer.”
    Bullard looked about him carefully. He was evidently very sure that Lucky could not use the information he was about to impart.
    Bullard hitched forward with a confidential air. “See here, does the new law say anything about private planes? Sporting