The Other Side of Midnight

"I have." He gave Larry a wintry smile. "That's my business--people. The great majority of people hate what they're doing, Mr. Douglas. Instead of devising ways to get into something they like, they remain trapped all their lives, like brainless insects. It's rare to find a man who loves his work. Almost invariably when you find such a man, he is a success."

"I suppose that's true," Larry said modestly.

"You are not a success."

Larry looked up at Demiris, suddenly wary. "That depends on what you mean by success, Mr. Demiris," he said carefully.

"What I mean is," Demiris said bluntly, "you did brilliantly in the war, but you are not doing very well in the peace."

Larry felt the muscles of his jaw begin to tighten. He felt that he was being baited, and he tried to hold back his anger. His mind raced frantically, trying to figure out what he could say to salvage this job he needed so desperately. Demiris was watching him, his olive black eyes quietly studying him, missing nothing.

"What happened to your job with Pan American, Mr. Douglas?"

Larry found a grin he didn't feel like. "I didn't like the idea of sitting around for fifteen years waiting to become a copilot."

"So you hit the man you worked for."

Larry showed his surprise. "Who told you that?"

"Oh, come, Mr. Douglas," Demiris said impatiently, "if you went to work for me, I would be putting my life in your hands every time I flew with you. My life happens to be worth a great deal to me. Did you really think I would hire you without knowing everything about you?"

"You were fired from two flying jobs after you were fired from Pan Am," Demiris went on. "That's a poor record."

"It had nothing to do with my ability," Larry retorted, anger beginning to rise in him again. "Business was slow with one company, and the other couldn't get a bank loan and went bankrupt. I'm a damned good pilot."

Demiris studied him a moment, then smiled. "I know you are," he said. "You don't respond well to discipline, do you?"

"I don't like being given orders by idiots who know less than I do."

"I trust I will not fall into that category," Demiris said dryly.

"Not unless you're planning to tell me how to fly your planes, Mr. Demiris."

"No, that would be your job. It would also be your job to see that I got where I was going efficiently, comfortably and safely."

Larry nodded. "I'd do my best, Mr. Demiris."

"I believe that," Demiris said. "You've been out to look at my planes."

Larry tried to keep the surprise out of his face. "Yes, sir."

"How di

d you like them?"

Larry could not conceal his enthusiasm. "They're beauties."

Demiris responded to the look on Larry's face. "Have you ever flown a Hawker Siddeley?"

Larry hesitated a moment, tempted to lie. "No, sir."

Demiris nodded. "Think you could learn?"

Larry grinned. "If you've got someone who can spare ten minutes."

Demiris leaned forward in his chair and pressed his long, slender fingers together. "I could choose a pilot who is familiar with all my planes."

"But you won't," Larry said, "because you'll keep getting new planes, and you want someone who can adapt to anything you buy."