The school was at the edge of town on a low bluff overlooking the ocean. It occupied a set of old California-Spanish style structures that once housed an unsuccessful summer resort. Heavy foliage screened it from the road. The interior court had been landscaped to a Mediterranean garden — with only a slight touch of Hollywood. It formed a kind of “campus” on which numerous students lounged in the shade as Montgomery and Gunderson walked toward the administration building. Montgomery could not help staring as he recognized at a distance the features of men whose brains literally controlled large segments of the aircraft industry.
In the office, a secretary took their names and announced their presence over the interphone.
“Dr. Berkeley will see you, Mr. Gunderson,” she said, “and Dr. Nagle will see Major Montgomery.”
Montgomery felt a spasm of apprehension. The success of his whole operation here depended on the next few minutes. He managed to grin back at Gunderson as the engineer held up a circled forefinger and thumb. Then he was gone.
A door opened to Montgomery’s left and the girl ushered him into the presence of a pleasantly sharp-eyed man in his middle forties. “Dr. Nagle,” said the girl, “this is Major Montgomery.”
“Come in, major,” said Dr. Nagle. “We already know something of your background, and it was indeed a pleasure to receive your application.”
They sat on opposite sides of a large, mahogany desk and surveyed each other a moment. “One of the first things we like to know,” said Dr. Nagle, “is why a man chose to apply for admission to the Institute in the first place.”
Montgomery’s face sobered. He paused a long moment, both for the hoped-for effect of impressing Nagle — and to collect his own full quota of reassurance. He had rehearsed this to himself for the last six weeks. Now to see if he could put it over.
“As you may know,” he said, “Soren Gunderson and I have worked closely together during the past four years in building the XB-91.” As Nagle nodded, Montgomery went on. He borrowed as closely as he dared the bitter objections Gunderson had made to the Ninety-one. He modified and embellished, adding items of his own, all the while watching carefully the reactions of Nagle’s expression.
“Soren and I have felt there ought to be some answer to this inadequacy of our engineering. When he began hearing about the Institute, I was immediately interested also in the possibility that some solution had been found. Of course, I was frankly dubious,” he said with a smile. “You can’t expect a man not to be — but I decided I wanted to find out for myself.”