He called in Gunderson, who was looking much better, as if some of his own problems had been solved. Montgomery didn’t ask what kind of experiences he’d been having with the Mirror, however. His time was almost gone.
“I’ve got to have some wind-tunnel tests by tomorrow afternoon," he said. “Firestone’s little variable-pressure tunnel is the only one that will do. I’m completely bushed. Will you fly up there and run the tests and get them back by tomorrow?"
Gunderson picked up the model, keeping his face straight. He ran a finger over the contour of the wing. “Is this the thing you talked to me about when we built the Ninety-one’s wing?”
Montgomery nodded. “I know it looks nuts, but I haven’t got time to argue it now. If I’m wrong about it, the Nagle-Berkeley Institute closes as of tomorrow night, and ten years of litigation will probably not get it open again.”
“What are you talking about? Who’s going to close up the Institute?"
Quickly, Montgomery told the engineer why he’d come there in the first place. He told of the country-wide suspicions of the motives behind the Institute, of the approaching visit of Colonel Dodge.
“Dodge will obtain an injunction to close them up. He’ll string out an investigation forever. Nagle and Berkeley will struggle for the rest of their lives to get into operation again, but they won’t have a chance. Opinion will be wholly against them in all quarters of conventional authority.
“On the other hand, if we can swing Dodge to our side when he comes —”
Gunderson shook his head slowly as he looked at the model plane once more. “You think this will do it?”
“Look.” Montgomery turned back to the shadow box. He turned it on and created another image of the Ninety-one. Then he provided a visible air stream. “I’ll vary it now to simulate flight between eighty and a hundred thousand feet.”