you think you’ll hear any more?”
“If they meet again, I will. I’m going to stay awake next Friday and see if they do. It seems like a regular thing, because my mom had sandwiches and all that ready.”
Billy kicked at a stone. “Will you tell me?”
“Of course, but remember, it’s got to be our secret, otherwise I’m sure my mom could get into trouble. And I know I would.”
“You can trust me, Robbie. It’s our secret.”
Three
Robbie wasted several good nights of sleep for the next three Fridays before discovering on the fourth Friday that the meetings obviously only happened once a month. He rubbed his eyes again, trying to stay awake. It was lucky they always had their meetings only on Fridays, or he would have had a hard time getting up for school the next morning. Robbie had been on the landing, listening for close to an hour, but had heard nothing except technical stuff, which probably was the real reason for his sleepiness.
“Think we’re going to stay on schedule with all these alterations for the new engine, Bob?”
Robbie came fully awake when he recognized the voice of Joe Wilkie, a man who had been at the previous Friday get-together.
“It would have been a lot easier if the Pratt & Whitney people hadn’t decided to scrap the J-67 engine in favour of the J-75,” said a chubby man who had been introduced earlier as Bob Jenson, an engine expert. He was slouched in one of the deep armchairs by the fire.
“Of course, but they insist this is a better engine, and I doubt it’s the last time we’ll have to deal with sudden changes,” Joe said.
“It’s a shame we can’t get the Iroquois engine online faster,” Jenson said. “We’d have a much better engine than even this new one and, best of all, we wouldn’t be hogtied to the Americans.”
“Unfortunately we’re a couple of years away from that, and since we’ll have the first plane ready before then, we’ll have to rely on the Americans for a while yet,” said a man Robbie now knew was Jack Fowler.
Gosh, they’re even building their own engine for the plane. I’ll have to tell Billy that for sure, Robbie thought as he crawled back into bed and fell asleep almost instantly.
“Robbie!” Emily called out, shaking her son. “Billy’s downstairs waiting. Why are you so sleepy Saturday mornings lately?”
Robbie woke with a start, rubbing his eyes.
Emily stared at her son, concern furrowing her brow. “Are you sick, Robbie?”
“Sorry, Mom. Don’t worry. I’m fine. I...I think all the bike riding I’ve been doing has really tuckered me out.”
“Hmm... Well, I suppose that might be it. Anyway, you better get moving. I’ll see if I can interest Billy in a bit of breakfast or something.”
“I guess you were up again last night,” Billy said. “Anything more on the plane?”
Billy and Robbie had just skidded their bikes to a standstill by a drink fountain in High Park. Robbie wiped his mouth after quenching his thirst and said, “They’re building their own engine for the plane, and it’s going to fly even faster when they get it.”
“Wow, it’s going to be some kind of fighter. When’s it going to be finished?”
“I don’t know. Sounds like it might be a while yet. The engine could take longer, ’cause they said they have to use an American one in the meantime and that might be a problem, since the Americans changed its design. That means they have to modify the plane so the engine fits.”
“I guess the sooner they get their own engine the better.”
Robbie took another swig of water and swatted a fly. “That’s what one of the men said. C’mon, let’s ride.” Robbie’s last words were drowned out by the roar of an overhead jet.
“Wow!” Billy cried. “I wonder what kind of plane that was.”
Robbie smiled knowingly. “It’s a CF-100 Canuck. And I can tell you for sure, when the CF-105’s ready, it’ll make that plane look like a snail in the sky.”
Four
“After all that blather about missiles replacing fighters, now the Yanks are saying they’re developing a long-range supersonic fighter of their own,” Crawford Gordon said to the CF-105 engineers assembled in his office. “Can you believe it?”
“Where’d you hear that, Crawford?” Jim Floyd asked.
Gordon grinned. “I have my little eyes and ears down there. Take it from me. It’s true. The project is code-named LRIX, Long-Range Interceptor Experimental, so, everyone, if you hear any more about this, let me know.”
“Well, in one way it might make our government a bit more confident about what we’re doing,” Joe Wilkie said.
“Maybe,” Gordon replied thoughtfully, “but it might also scare the devil out of them in case the Yanks get their long-range supersonic plane off the ground first.”
“I think we can expect more heat about our timetable and all sorts of unrealistic demands to speed the project up,” Floyd grumbled.
Gordon thumped his desk. “You can bet on it! Never knew a politician who didn’t have a knee-jerk reaction to everything. Anyway, men...and, Emily, let’s keep things moving as fast as we can. That’s it for today.”
The meeting broke up and everyone headed back to their various offices.
At the next Friday assembly in November at the Carter home, Robbie didn’t hear anything more about the CF-105 that he could understand. Feeling very drowsy, he was thinking of giving up when the next words he heard made him instantly alert.
“Jack, what do you think the Yanks are up to with this LRIX, the new long-range supersonic fighter they’re developing?” Robbie recognized Joe Wilkie’s voice.
“Who knows?” Jack Fowler said. “One thing’s sure, though. They’re bound to have a weight problem no matter what they build, because we have all the titanium supplies locked up.”
“Which means they’ll have to use steel,” added Emily, who had just come in from the kitchen with the sandwiches.
Fowler smiled. “Right you are. And that means weight, which means more power to achieve the same speed as the CF-105.”
“Which brings me back to the same question,” Joe piped up. “What are the Yanks trying to do? Surely they can’t have an engine up their sleeves
