Hypersonic Thunder: A Novel of the Jet Age Read Free

arm. “We’ve had such a nice life and my kids have had so much trouble, it doesn’t seem fair, does it? Harry has to be concerned about Anna falling off the wagon all the time; it’s affected his work. You know he rarely flies anymore. Can you imagine that, a Shannon not flying? And Nancy—she’s a marvel in the business, but a bone in Harry’s throat. And her practically running the business will kill Tom. You know how proud he is. He couldn’t take the rivalry from Bob Rodriquez; he’ll never be able to stand Nancy running things, no matter how much he loves her.”
    Jill was stunned. Vance had not commented on the family or the business for weeks.
    Obviously agitated, he went on. “And I haven’t mentioned Bob and Mae! There’s no way that Bob’s going to be able to work with Nancy. I’ve created a monster, and now I’m too old to do anything about it.”
    He looked up at her and smiled. “Fooled you, didn’t I? You thought I was out of it. Well, I am, but I’m not completely senile, not yet, and I can see the handwriting on the wall.”
    Jill nodded. She agreed with him completely, but didn’t want to get him more excited than he was. Funny, here Vance was, pushing eighty, and absolutely right in everything he said.
    “Don’t let it get you down, Jill. We’ve had a good long run, and I may have a few more years, and I’m not going to let this bother me, no matter how it turns out. The main thing is Tom is out of that rotten prison camp, that’s really all that matters to me now.”
     
    March 17, 1973
Niceville, Florida
     
    B OB R ODRIQUEZ SAT in his cramped apartment, staring at the television set, his hands gripping the grubby armrests of his chair as he watched his friend, his rival, his enemy, turn and stumble into Nancy Shannon’s open arms.
    Tears coursed down Rodriquez’s deeply tanned face. He had known the returning prisoner of war for more than twenty years and could not believe that this gaunt, limping shadow of a man was actually Tom Shannon. He spoke aloud to himself, as he did too often nowadays. “God, how happy he must be. And Nancy and V. R., too.” The sight of Tom Shannon’s son reminded him of his own son, Robert Jr.—Rod, as most people called him. Rod was another precious person he had lost to his work.
    Then his thoughts went to Vance, wondering how he was taking this. He wasn’t in the crowd, must be home in Palos Verdes. Thank God he lived long enough to see it.
    “I’ll call him later—he’s probably more choked up than I am.”
    A commercial came on and Rodriquez shut the set off. It was the one possession he prized, built with his own hands, and now carted around the country with him, wherever he went.
    And he went everywhere, carrying the flag that Vance Shannon had planted so many years ago, when he ran a one-man company, flying first flights in new aircraft for a laughably low fee. Shannon’s firm had grown in the post World War II armament boom, and he had brought Rodriquez in as a partner, over the objections of his two sons, Tom and Harry. Both sons were hurt that their father had violated all his previous practice by doing something without discussing it with them.
    Later, neither of them—not even Tom, the more bitter of the two—could deny that Rodriquez had vastly expanded the business, taking it into disciplines that were unknown and even unknowable to the Shannons. Rodriquez combined his knowledge of electronics with an uncanny ability to find partner firms. He developed ideas such as three-axis simulators or precision weapons, built prototypes, got the government interested, and then found a bigger company to partner with. The result was a constantly growing business, with welcome streams of income coming back to Shannon’s firm.
    Vance Shannon had recognized his value early, even though he almost never understood exactly what Rodriquez was doing. Shannon took the firm public, and completed a series of name changes, each one reflecting its