INGRID DOWS - AN ALTERNATE STORY PART 3 - THE SPACE AGE by Michel Poulin - HTML preview

CHAPTER 2 – A NEW IDEA

 

10:13 (California Time)

Sunday, March 26, 1950 ‘C’

The Hughes’ Mansion

211 South Muirfield Road, Beverley Hills

Los Angeles, California, U.S.A.

 

‘’Are you sure that you don’t want to go to the beach with us, girls?’’

‘’Yup! We prefer using our pool: the water there is heated.’’ answered Katharine Hepburn, with Hedy Lamarr nodding in agreement with the tall brunette. Ingrid didn’t insist and patted the head of her seven-year-old adopted daughter.

‘’Well, we will have to go to the Santa Monica Beach by ourselves, Hien. Let’s grab our swimming kit and jump in my car.’’ Grabbing the travel bag containing their beach towels, shampoo, soap and spare underwear, Ingrid then led little Hien to the garage of the large mansion which had belonged to the regretted Howard Hughes, who had been killed two years ago by Soviet secret agents who were trying to assassinate Ingrid. Ingrid, who had been wounded in that attempt at her life, had learned in hospital that she, along with Katharine and Hedy, had been put in Howard’s last will as the full beneficiaries of his estate, fortune, commercial and industrial assets. As a result, all three women had found themselves billionaires overnight. Still, the loss of the excentric genius and adventurous aviator had been a painful blow to Ingrid and to her two friends, who would have vastly preferred to see Howard live.

 

After entering the large garage

containing the three cars belonging to the

trio, Ingrid eyed with mixed feelings her own

car, a red 1949 Chrysler Windsor two-door convertible. For its time it was a good, decent car, large enough to carry all

four of them and with a 116-horsepower engine coupled to a four-speed semi-automatic transmission. However, the key words here were ‘for its time’. The sad reality about the American auto industry in 1950 was that no American car manufacturer built what could be called a true sports car. To have what she considered to be a real sports car, Ingrid would have had to buy a European model, like a Ferrari, a Porshe, a Maserati or a Jaguar. However, such foreign models suffered from poor maintenance infrastructures in the United States, which resulted in costly and lengthy repairs in case of accidents or breakdowns. The British sports cars in particular were in her opinion unreliable and cramped, with too often poor workmanship quality, while their interior styling suffered from excessive conservatism and while occupants’ comfort was about nonexistent. In contrast, her relationship with Nancy Laplante during a few months in 1940-41, before Nancy had been killed while fighting the Nazis, had exposed Ingrid to what the technology of 2012 could offer, thanks to the video files which had been contained in Nancy’s laptop computer. Ingrid had also been able to travel many times in Nancy’s 2010 Mitsubishi Outlander, which had been customized by her late adoptive mother with the best the early 21st Century could offer in terms of electronic options. In comparison, her present Chrysler Windsor looked like a dinosaur...like all the other American cars available in 1950. The infuriating part for her was that, only in a few years, the American car manufacturers would finally wake up and start producing real sports car, like the Chevrolet Corvette, the Ford Mustang and the Dodge Charger. Unfortunately, she had to use what was available now in 1950.

 

Opening first the garage door and then getting in her car with Hien, Ingrid backed out of the garage, then went out to close back the garage door before driving out of the Mansion’s property and heading towards the nearby coast. Once on the road, she soon encountered another frustration for her: heavy road congestion, for which Los Angeles was justly infamous for. As she was impatiently waiting to get free from a traffic jam caused by a truck which had broken down and had blocked one lane of the boulevard she was following, she swore to herself.

‘’Fuck! I wish I could simply jump over that traffic. This is infuriating!’’ The words she had used then struck her, with an idea suddenly flashing into her head.

‘’To jump over the traffic... THAT’S IT!’’

‘’Uh, what are you talking about, Ingrid?’’ asked young Hien, using Vietnamese instead of her still imperfect English. Ingrid threw a smile at her while keeping an eye on the traffic around her car.

‘’I am talking about a way to go around Los Angeles while avoiding all this vehicle congestion, Hien. I am an aircraft designer and a pilot and I should apply those skills to this problem, by designing a flying car.’’

‘’A flying car? Does such a thing exist?’’

‘’Not yet, but it may just be the right time for it to become a reality, Hien.’’ Ingrid’s eyes then fell on the sparse, rather bland dashboard of her Chrysler Windsor, making her enthusiasm cool down noticeably.

‘’On the other hand, that would leave me still with this dinosaur. Hell! I will also need to design a true sports car and show these big car manufacturers how it’s done.’’

 

After another half hour of slow driving, she finally arrived at one of the parking lots bordering the Santa Monica Beach and took a spot after paying the parking fee at the entrance control booth. Since she and Hien already wore their bathing suits under their street clothes, Ingrid took out of her travel bag a small fanny pack and belt and opened it, extracting from it a transparent plastic bag with a waterproof opening. She then put in that plastic bag her car keys, her plasticized California driver’s license and some cash before sealing the bag and putting it back in her fanny pack. By wearing her fanny pack while bathing, she would ensure that nobody could steal her things while she and Hien were in the water. The sad truth was that theft on this beach and other beaches around California was far from rare. She then locked her purse and wallet in the glove compartment, along with her Glock 9mm pistol, which she had inherited from Nancy Laplante. Finally, she grabbed her travel bag, now containing only their beach towels, underwear, soap, shampoo and sun lotion, and locked her car before walking towards the shore with Hien.

 

Hien was nearly jumping up and down with anticipation as they approached the water’s edge. Choosing an empty spot near one of the lifeguard’s towers, in order to further prevent theft, Ingrid then undressed Hien down to her bathing suit before undressing herself, putting their clothes in her travel bag and taking out and spreading out on the sand her two beach towels, covering her travel bag with one end of her beach towel. Ingrid, like Hien, wore a two-piece bathing suit which was as small as legally and socially acceptable in the United States of the 1950s. She would have loved to wear the bikini swimsuit she had bought in France but, even in Europe, it still was too controversial and was legally banned in most of the United States. She had thus limited its wearing to the pool of her mansion...when not simply going around in the nude. Once ready, she ran with Hien to the water, splashing in it while squealing. The water was cold and was around seventeen degrees Celsius, a water temperature that was fairly constant year-long on the coast of Los Angeles. However, Ingrid had accustomed Hien to it during their past swimming sessions. Both of them swam around or walked on the bottom while the waves flowed past them, until Hien complained to Ingrid, using Vietnamese.

‘’Ingrid, I’m getting cold. Could we go take some Sun now?’’

‘’Of course we can, sweetie. Let’s go back to our beach towels.’’ Walking out of the water together, Ingrid led Hien back to their towels and was helping the little girl lay down on her towel when a mature woman sitting on her own towel a few paces away shouted at her.

‘’HEY, GO BRING YOUR BROWN GIRL TO THE ‘INK BEACH’1!’’ Ingrid immediately shot an angry look at that woman, who had a man, probably her husband, sitting next to her on their beach towels.

‘’EXCUSE ME?! THIS IS MY ADOPTED DAUGHTER AND SHE IS VIETNAMESE, SO I WOULD COUNSEL YOU TO STOP INSULTING HER AND TO KEEP YOUR RACIST RANTS TO YOURSELF.’’

‘’SHE IS STILL A BROWN GIRL AND...’’

The woman was then interrupted by her husband touching her shoulder and speaking to her in a near whisper, with Ingrid still able to hear what he said thanks to her very sensitive hearing.

‘’Leave her alone, Martha. Don’t you recognize her? She’s General Ingrid Dows, the one who bombed the Kremlin a few days ago and then got her third Congressional Medal of Honor from the hands of President Dewey. She’s a national heroine and deserves respect, so cut it out!’’

The frustrated woman had little choice but to obey her husband and to clam up. She turned on her belly, ostensibly to tan her back, while ignoring Ingrid from then on. As Ingrid lay down on her own towel, Hien looked at her with some worry on her face.

‘’Should we move away from that woman, Ingrid!’’

 

1 Ink Beach: name given during the 1940s and 1950s to a small portion of Santa Monica Beach opened to African-Americans and marked up with a long tape.

‘’No way! We will stay here, whatever other people could say. Let’s forget her and let’s take some Sun. After that, we will go have lunch in one of the restaurants and food counters lining the beach.’’

 

Some forty minutes later, with the warm and intense Californian Sun having dried them out and tanned them, Ingrid and Hien went to a nearby locker and shower cabin, where they washed out the salt on their skin and in their hair before changing back into street clothes and going in search of a place to eat lunch. Ingrid finally decided on a small street food stand and got hot dogs and fries for both herself and Hien, eating them at one of the small tables next to the food stand while washing them down with Coca-Cola. Once finished with their lunch, Ingrid led Hien back to her car and drove out of the parking lot, to return to their Beverley Hills mansion. There, she found Katharine and Hedy sitting on long chairs by the pool side and enjoying cold cocktails.

‘’Taking it relaxed as well, I see! Listen, girls: while driving to the beach, I had this really crazy idea.’’

‘’Oops!’’ replied Hedy Lamarr. ‘’Normally, your crazy ideas end up shaking up things quite a bit, Ingrid. What did you think of this time!’’

‘’A flying car.’’

‘’A FLYING CAR?!’’ nearly shouted simultaneously Hedy and Katharine.

‘’Yes, a flying car. I also made my mind about showing to our big car manufacturers how to make a true sports car.’’

‘’But...we are already stretched thin while producing as many F-9s and B-12s as quickly as we can for the Air Force, on top of satisfying the avalanche of orders for our AIRBUS and AIRBUS 2 airliners.’’ objected Hedy. ‘’Would it be wise to dilute further our production facilities for such new projects? Besides, you are an aeronautical engineer, not a car engineer.’’

‘’Don’t forget that my degree in aeronautical engineering included a minor in mechanical engineering, Hedy. Commanding an air wing in World War 2 also made me deal with plenty of maintenance and repair planning and problems, which involved lots of work on piston engines. The way I see it, I could incorporate an air-cooled aircraft piston engine to a suitable vehicle body which would use the same principle of pivoting rotors than our AIRBUS design, but on a much smaller scale.’’

‘’And what about your sports car idea?’’ asked Katharine, who seemed attracted to Ingrid’s idea. ‘’Would you also use an aircraft piston engine for it?’’

‘’I believe so, Katharine. However, I still have to do some deep thinking about both concepts before starting anything substantial. I also happen to know about a few independent car workshops located around Los Angeles and which specialize in racing car designs and customized car body styles. I could always use one of those car workshops to help design and produce my future sports car.’’

‘’That could help you a lot.’’ agreed Hedy, apparently convinced. ‘’Maybe we could join up efforts with an existing car manufacturer to produce your sports car, once you will have finalized and tested your design. Have you thought about a name for your sports car ?’’

Ingrid answered her at once with a big grin.

‘’Of course I did! How about the Hughes SPRINT?’’

‘’I love it! Sold!’’ exclaimed at once Katharine Hepburn.

 

08:25 (California Time)

Thursday, June 08, 1950 ‘C’

Darrin Motor Car Company’s workshop

Sunset Boulevard, West Hollywood

 

Parking her car in a spot along Sunset Boulevard, Ingrid then got out and locked her car before walking to a large workshop building, entering it through a pedestrian door next to its wide garage door. She was greeted at once with the noise of a few electrical or pneumatic tools and by the smell of various lubricants and chemicals. The door she had used opened directly on a large floor space housing a number of machine tools, a car lift, a car body painting area and racks of mechanical spare parts, sheet metal and windshields and windows. A small man, a bit shorter than Ingrid’s 175 centimeters and who was apparently in his early fifties, came to her as soon as he spotted her from the back of the workshop, eyeing her with curiosity as he got close.

‘’Yes, miss? Can I do something for you?’’

‘’You may, mister. I am looking for Mister Howard Darrin.’’

‘’That would be me, miss. What can I do for you?’’

Ingrid then presented her right hand, which Darrin shook.

‘’Wow! You have quite a strong grip for a woman, miss...’’

‘’Ingrid Dows, owner and chief designer at Hughes Aircraft.’’

‘’Ingrid Dows? General Ingrid Dows, our Ace of aces who bombed the Kremlin?’’ said the man, his eyes opening wide.

‘’In person! I know that this could sound a bit strange but I am planning to design a sports car and I came to get some expertise in automotive design.’’ Darrin then eyed her with incredulity, mixed in with some skepticism.

‘’Hughes Aircraft wants to get into car manufacturing, Miss Dows? You must realize that aircraft manufacturing and car manufacturing are two widely different things.’’

‘’In certain domains like car suspensions and engine power transmission and gearboxes, yes! However, we do work a lot with piston engines, aerodynamic profiling, electrical systems, disk brakes for wheels and dash instrumentation. I came to get your expertise on the domains I am not familiar with about automotive design. Uh, could we go somewhere a bit less noisy to continue our discussion, Mis ter Darrin?’’

‘’Of course! Please follow me to my office: it is at the back of the workshop.’’

 

Following close behind the car designer, Ingrid soon entered a modestly furnished office in which a work desk with piles of documents and car magazines were piled on. Darrin offered her a well-used padded chair before going to sit behind his desk and then smiling to her.

‘’I must say that a visit by such an illustrious combat aviator as you truly honor me, Miss Dows. I myself flew and fought in the air during the last years of World War 1 in France, as part of the U.S. Army Air Corps.’’

‘’Did you? Congratulations for serving, Mister Darrin.’’

‘’Thank you, Miss Dows. So, how exactly can I help you with your sports car project?’’

‘’Well, I am qualified as a mechanical engineer, thanks to my minor degree part in aeronautical engineering diploma, and worked extensively with piston engines during World War 2. What I am lacking is detailed knowledge and experience with car suspensions and gearboxes.’’

‘’What about car body work and styling, which is my specialty?’’

‘’Actually, I intend to take care of that aspect of my sports car project, Mister Darrin: I centered my masters degree in aeronautics on aerodynamics and have some definitive ideas on how my car should look. Before you protest about that, know that my adoptive mother was Nancy Laplante, the Canadian time traveler who died in 1941. Thanks to her, I saw what the future of cars would be like and I also was able to travel many times in her car, which had been built in 2010. To be frank, the vast majority of the cars produced around the World today, and all those produced to date in the United States, look like dinosaurs to me. All those contemporary cars also have interior car designs and dashboard instrumentation that are rather bland, not to say awful-looking, compared to what I saw of future cars from 2010. In that last aspect of dash instrumentation, I will be able to use some of the latest digital instrumentation and displays used in my aircraf t designs.’’

While not showing it, Ingrid already knew that Darrin had been upset by her claim that she would take care of the body styling of her future sports car. The man then confirmed her assessment by replying to her statements with some hardness added to his voice.

‘’Miss Dows, I have designed dozens of custom car bodies and interiors in the past and made my name in that domain. Now, you are telling me that you would need me only where suspensions and gearboxes are concerned?’’ Ingrid sighed with disappointment on seeing that this man would not be the right choice to help her with her sports car project.

‘’Mister Darrin, I saw what the future of cars will be: you haven’t. What I was planning was a revolutionary, futuristic but also practical look for my projected sports car, not a simple evolution from the big whales currently rolling around Los Angeles. I do appreciate and recognize your expertise in car bodies and styling but I am a master in the science of aerodynamics and intend to make my future car as efficient as possible in terms of aerodynamic drag, plus have at my disposition a wind testing tunnel, which I will use to refine my body design. Are you really sure that you won’t accept the solutions I will present to you?’’

‘’Positive, miss! I am not interested in a project that will not bear my finishing touch and style.’’

‘’Very well, Mister Darrin.’’ said Ingrid while getting up from her chair. She then presented her right hand to Darrin, who shook it despite his disagreement with her. ‘’I wish you the best with your workshop.’’

‘’And I wish you the best with your project, Miss Dows. Thank you for considering to use my expertise. Let me accompany you to the exit.’’

 

As he walked with Ingrid towards the front door, Darrin felt a bit bad at refusing to cooperate with her, so tried to make an amend of sort.

‘’Miss, I have a good friend who is a young, talented automotive engineer. He recently approached me while looking for a job. Unfortunately, my workshop is not doing well enough to allow me to support an extra employee. His name is Peter Stoneham and I strongly recommend him to you.’’

Ingrid thought over that for a second before answering Darrin while smiling to him.

‘’I will certainly want to interview him, Mister Darrin. Here is my business card. If you could tell your friend that I would like to see him and talk with him as quickly as possible, then I would very much appreciate it.’’

‘’I will call him today, Miss Dows.’’

 

Once outside on the sidewalk, Darrin pointed at a large neon sign on a building along the Sunset Strip, some distance away.

‘’Miss Dows, I may have refused to work with you but I still respect you enormously for your military service. I would thus like to invite you to that nightclub, the ‘Ciro’s’. It is very popular with Hollywood celebrities and I would be honored if you would accept my invitation.’’

Ingrid looked at the sign, then nodded her head once.

‘’I accept your invitation with pleasure, Mister Darrin. What time of the week would be best in order to meet some of those celebrities?’’

‘’Saturday nights are normally most popular at Ciro’s, miss.’’

‘’Then, I will call that nightclub to reserve a table for four for eight in the evening, this Saturday. Will you mind if we share a table with two good female friends of mine?’’

‘’Not at all, Miss Dows! Please go ahead and invite your two friends. Oh, here is my own business card, so that you can confirm to me for what time you managed to book our table.’’

Ingrid took his business card and slipped it in an inner vest pocket of her female business suit before smiling again to Darrin.

‘’By the way, I am a billionaire, so allow me to cover the bill for my friends. After all, I inherited from Howard Hughes, who was the richest man in the United States.’’

‘’Oh!’’ could only say Darrin, who had not expected that piece of most impressive news. He then exchanged a last handshake with Ingrid before the latter got into her car and drove away, watched by Darrin. Once her Chrysler Windsor was out of sight, he returned inside and went back to his office, to see if he could catch his friend Peter before he would leave his house to go do his job-hunting runs.

19:49 (California Time)

 

Saturday, June 10, 1950 ‘C’

The Ciro’s Nightclub

8433 Sunset Boulevard, West Hollywood

Los Angeles, California

 

Howard Darrin, who had arrived a bit in advance at the main entrance of the Ciro’s Nightclub, had then decided to wait outside and watch for the arrival of Ingrid Dows and her two female friends. He didn’t have to wait long before her red Chrysler Windsor arrived and then parked in front of the club, prompting him to approach it with the intent of gallantly opening the right-side door for one of the three women now visible inside the car. That woman, a tall and lanky brunette, turned out to be no other than the ex-actress Katharine Hepburn, wearing a royal blue long pleated skirt and a matching silk blouse. As for the woman sitting in the rear bench seat and who bent down to come out through the right-side door, Howard could not remember her name but knew that she was an ex-actress, like Hepburn. As for Ingrid Dows, she positively stunned Howard when she stepped out of her Chrysler Windsor: she was wearing a vaporous, semi-transparent pink dress studded with hundreds of tiny, shiny colored beads fixed to her dress, with the beads reflecting the lights from the club. That dress, along with her young and athletic body, made her the image of youthful beauty and caused Howard to involuntarily react physically to her as she walked around her car and approached him with a big smile.

‘’Hello, Mister Darrin! Ready to party?’’ she said while kissing him lightly on the cheeks, allowing him to smell the perfume she was wearing.

‘’I sure am! But please, call me simply ‘Howard’.’’

‘’And you can call me ‘Ingrid’. My friends are Katharine Hepburn and Hedy Lamarr, two ex-actresses who left Hollywood in order to enlist in the U.S. Army Air Force in 1942. They are now my business partners and form with me the triumvirate which owns and directs Howard Hughes Enterprises, which includes Hughes Aircraft, Air Fifinella and the Hughes Tools Company.’’

‘’Wow! That’s a lot of corporate power in the hands of such a beautiful trio.’’

‘’You have a way with words, Howard.’’ replied Ingrid while still smiling to him. As they were speaking, two cars arrived and parked within seconds of each other in separate spots in front of the club, to then disgorge respectively a couple and a single man. Katharine opened her eyes wide on seeing the single man now approaching the entrance of the club and started running towards him, emotionally shouting out to him while the man shouted to her in a happy tone.

‘’SPENCER!’’

‘’KATHARINE!’’

As Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn joyfully hugged and kissed each other, the couple formed by Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall also watched on for a moment the reunion between Katharine and Spencer before walking to the entrance, where Ingrid and Hedy were standing with Howard Darrin. Ingrid and Hedy exchanged kisses on the cheeks with the Hollywood couple as Spencer and Katharine started walking to join their group outside the door of the club. Both Bogart and Bacall, who knew Katharine, also kissed her when she approached them.

‘’My God, Katharine, It has been a long time since you left Hollywood to join the Air Force.’’ said Lauren Bacall. ‘’Are you still in the service?’’

‘’Only as a reserve officer, like Hedy and Ingrid here. I now manage the Air Fifinella airline company as a part of Hughes Enterprises but still routinely flies its helicopters and planes. You do know Ingrid Dows and Hedy Lamarr, right?’’

‘’Of course we do!’’ answered Humphrey Bogart with a smile. ‘’Who could not know our biggest national heroine? You now have received the Medal of Honor twice, correct, Miss Dows?’’

‘’Make it three times, Mister Bogart. I received the third one this last March, after my bombing mission against the Kremlin. Hedy also received the Medal of Honor for that mission: she was acting as the electronic warfare officer of our bomber.’’

‘’Wow! So much gallantry in the service of our nation.’’ exclaimed Lauren Bacall before eyeing with envy the vaporous pink dress worn by Ingrid.

‘’You are downright stunning in this dress, Ingrid. Who designed it?’’

‘’Christian Dior made it for me, making a custom design following my ideas about how it should look. If you want a similar one, then you will have to go see Dior in Paris.’’

‘’I may just do that, Ingrid.’’

Bacall had just said that when another couple arrived at the club, prompting a remark by Humphrey Bogart.

‘’Well, here comes Jimmy Stewart and his wife Gloria. We will decidedly be in good company tonight.’’

‘’Talking of company, I didn’t present to you yet Mister Howard Darrin, the famous car designer, whose workshop is nearby.’’

‘’How do you do, Mister Darrin?’’ said Bogart while shaking hands with Howard. ‘’You have quite a reputation about customizing cars for many Hollywood celebrities.’’

‘’Thank you!’’

Jimmy Stewart and his wife soon arrived next to the group as it was ready to finally enter the club. To the surprise of a few in the group, Stewart came to attention and saluted militarily Ingrid, who saluted him back.

‘’General, it is a pleasure to see you here tonight. Are you still in the Air Force?’’

‘’I am part of the Air Forces reserves, with the rank of lieutenant-general, Colonel. President Dewey allowed me to return to my civilian work after my bombing raid on Moscow. Say, I was due to test-fly on Monday the latest B-12 bomber produced by Hughes Aircraft in Glendale. Would you be interested in jumping in on that flight, along with your wife? I have two free seats in that cockpit for that test flight.’’ Stewart broke into a grin on hearing that.

‘’Hell, how could I refuse such an offer? What about you, Gloria?’’

‘’Uh, is that flight going to be risky, General?’’

‘’All test flights can be risky to various degrees, Madam Stewart, but the B-12 has proved up to know to be a safe, stable and reliable plane.’’

‘’Then, I will gladly accept your invitation, General.’’

‘’Excellent! You may show up at my prototype hangar in Glendale Airport for nine in the morning on Monday. By the way, I plan to go supersonic during that flight.’’ Jimmy Stewart opened his mouth and eyes wide at those words.

‘’My God! When I think that my old B-24E LIBERATOR could barely reach a top speed of 300 miles per hour. And what speed do you plan to reach in your B-12 on Monday, Ingrid?’’

‘’Oh, just a bit over Mach 2, or close to 1,300 miles per hour, Jimmy: I don’t like to push a new plane to its limits on its first ever flight.’’

‘’THIRTEEN HUNDRED MILES PER HOUR?! God! This is going to be the most memorable flight of my entire life.’’

‘’Talking of ‘memorable’, how about we enter this club and have a memorable evening together, folks?’’ said Hedy Lamarr. With the group agreeing with her, they then entered the Ciro’s and paid for their access at the cloakroom service counter before walking into a big open hall lined with small round tables and with a stage at the deep end of the hall. About one third of the tables were occupied at this relatively early hour of the evening, so they had no problems getting two adjacent tables to sit at, with Katharine Hepburn choosing to sit at a table with Spencer Tracy, Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall, while Ingrid and Hedy sat at the nearby table with the Stewarts and with Howard Darrin. It didn’t take long before Ronald Reagan and his wife Nancy showed up and, seeing the group, went to take place at the next nearest table, joined up a few minutes later by the famous actor and ladies’ man Clark Gable, to whom Ingrid threw a most inviting smile as Gable sat at the Reagans’ table.

‘’Hell, with Jimmy Stewart and you here, Ingrid, the talk is liable to veer towards personal air war stories.’’

‘’And what would be wrong with that, Clark? You went aboard one of my B-25 bombers as a cum ‘observer-machine gunner’ when we raided the Japanese base of Rabaul, near New Guinea. As for Jimmy, my fighters once escorted his bombers back to England after they had bombed Germany.’’

‘’Wow! When I think that I was a simple observer aboard a biplane reconnaissance bird in World War One.’’ said Howard Darrin. ‘’The wives here may get bored quickly at hearing our old war stories.’’

‘’Stories about human valor are always worth listening to.’’ replied Gloria Stewart, making the others around her nod in agreement.

 

A stewardess soon came to their tables to take their orders for drinks, with the group ordering a variety of cocktails or wine. Lauren Bacall did eye Ingrid when the latter ordered a non-alcoholic drink.

‘’You are a tea-totaller, Ingrid?’’

‘’No, but I am a moderate, occasional drinker and don’t like getting drunk. I also happen to drive tonight, so will stick to non-alcoholic drinks this evening.’’

‘’A most sensible attitude, Ingrid.’’ said Jimmy Stewart approvingly. ‘’I wish more people would display your common sense: we would have many less car accidents. Talking of cars, may I ask why you came with Mister Darrin to this club tonight?’’

‘’Oh, it is quite simple indeed, Jimmy: I went to see him at his car workshop on Thursday, looking for professional help about designing a new sports car. While that didn’t work out, he did counsel to me one of his friends who is an automotive engineer and also invited me to this club. I just hired his friend, Peter Stoneham, yesterday and will use his skills to help with my sports car project.’’

‘’But I thought that you were into aircraft design, Ingrid, not car design.’’ objected Stewart’s wife, Gloria, making Ingrid nod once.

‘’True, but I find the present state of American sports car design and manufacturing to be, well, about non-existent, and I don’t want to spend big money on European-made sports cars, mostly because their after-sale services in the United States suck or, in the case of British sports cars, they actually suck in terms of reliability, occupants comfort and excessively conservative design. I want to make a true sports car made in the U.S.A., designed with an eye to the future, which I partially saw thanks to my late adoptive mother and involuntary time traveler , Nancy Laplante.’’

‘’And you would take the time and effort to build a new sports car, just for you?’’

‘’The first one will be for me but, afterwards, I fully intend to produce it in modest quantities, to satisfy the needs of the American sports car fans.’’

‘’What do you envision as that sports car design, Ingrid? How would it be different from the models available today?’’

Howard Darrin instantly focused his attention on her as she answered Gloria Stewart’s question.

‘’First, it will look like a car from a few decades in the future. Second, it will be a high-performance car able to leave in its dust any other car on the road today. Thirdly, it will incorporate a whole salad of innovative features, including many items geared towards safety. Fourthly, I will use my expertise and experience in aircraft piloting and manufacturing to add that futuristic touch to my car. For one, my sports car will use an air-cooled piston engine of the kind used in many existing light civilian aircraft. It will also use advanced instrumentation of the kind I use in my aircraft, to make its driving experience truly a world apart from the uninspiring dashboards we find in present cars. You will definitely feel like driving into the next century when in it.’’

‘’Damn! I already am watering at the mouth about your car.’’ said Jimmy Stewart. ‘’Please tell me when your project will have produced its first cars: I may just buy one.’’

‘’I will keep you in the back of my mind, Jimmy.’’ replied a smiling Ingrid.

The arrival on the stage of a group of four young and very sexy dancers who also sang, accompanied by music from the small band at the back of the stage, then diverted their attention from their conversation. While scantily clad, those dancers were not actual strippers and they proved to be fairly good at dancing and singing, earning genuine applauses from the club’s patrons. The four girls were disappearing into the stage’s back area when Ingrid noticed the entrance of three men wearing conservative suits. One of them was rather unremarkable-looking but the two others, who closely followed him on both sides, immediately attracted her attention: they definitely looked and acted like bodyguards. She thus discretely touched Howard Darrin’s arm and designated the three newcomers to him.

‘’This guy in dark blue suit seems to be accompanied by two bodyguards, Howard. Do you know him?’’

One look was enough for Darrin to nod his head and whisper to Ingrid.

‘’Yes! That’s Mickey Cohen, the boss of the Cohen crime family. He owns many businesses along the Sunset Strip and is a frequent customer of this club.’’

‘’Does he behave correctly with other patrons or is he the pushy type?’’

‘’He normally is polite, unless of course you somehow piss him off, in which case you would quickly end up with big problems.’’

‘’And how does he behave with women? Does he take them for granted and pushes himself on them?’’

‘’He is said to be relatively well-behaved in that aspect...for a gangster. However, his head bodyguard is another matter and I saw him handle rather roughly a few stewardesses and dancers who refused his advances in the past. To his credit, Cohen did order his bodyguard to behave in the few instances I saw him at this club. While a tough guy, Cohen is not a madman like some other gangsters are...unless you anger him.’’

‘’Hum, an interesting case, I must say. Mind you, don’t take me wrong: I would have zero interest in him.’’

‘’Well, you may just have earned his interest, Ingrid: he is now looking directly at you.’’

Looking sideways at Cohen, Ingrid saw that the mobster was effectively eyeing her with some insistence as he was about to sit down at a table with his bodyguards. Then, to Ingrid’s mild surprise, the gangster started walking towards her table after telling his bodyguards to stay put. When he arrived near her table, Cohen smiled to her and nodded his head in salute to her.

‘’Excuse me, miss, are you General Ingrid Dows, the one who bombed Adolph Hitler and his minions to bits in Berlin in 1944?’’

Surprised by his unexpected question, Ingrid nonetheless smiled back to Cohen and answered him in a soft, polite tone.

‘’That would be me, sir. May I ask why do you ask this?’’

‘’Because my family is Jewish and because your killing of Hitler and forcing the Nazis to then surrender saved millions of Jews in Europe from death, on top of saving untold millions of other lives, General. I only wanted to thank you for your heroic actions in the service of our country and of the Jewish people.’’

Allowing herself to react on hearing that, Ingrid nodded her head once, while her smile widened.

‘’Thank you very much for the compliment, sir. You may not have known this but my own family was Jewish and lived in Berlin...until a British bomb killed my whole extended family in 1940. However, I no longer practice Judaism, and this since 1941.’’

‘’I am sorry to hear about your loss in 1940, General Dows. On this, have a pleasant evening at the Ciro’s.’’

‘’And the same to you, sir.’’

As Cohen turned around and returned to his table, Ingrid smiled to the Stewarts and to Howard Darrin, speaking to them in a low voice once Cohen was far enough not to hear her words.

‘’Well, this Mickey Cohen is turning out to have at least some redeeming qualities, including hating the Nazis.’’

‘’Talking of the Nazis,’’ said Jimmy Stewart, ‘’do we know how things are going inside Germany these days? There has been very little said about what it is like in Germany since they have signed an armistice in 1944. Very few people also seem to be ready to visit that country, even after six years of peace.’’

‘’The medias effectively have said or shown very little about post-Hitler Germany during the past years, Jimmy. From what I know from military intelligence and State Department reports, the new German government has been concentrating on rebuilding its country and repairing the damage caused during World War 2 by aerial bombing, which was extensive. For reasons which are easy to understand, Germans are still not welcomed as either tourists or business partners in the European countries bordering Germany, as European resentment against Germans in general is still strong. Thankfully, the Germans haven’t tried to rebuild the kind of army they had during the war and instead have concentrated what military capabilities they still have into defending and fortifying their eastern borders in order to counter any possible future attack by the Soviet Union against Western Europe. In that aspect, the German Army has proved to be most helpful to us during the recent crisis, when Stalin was massing his divisions against the Polish and Baltic borders, by strongly holding their eastern border and thus allowing us to concentrate our own units’ attention on the Soviet.’’

‘’And what about the Italians and the Japanese, Ingrid?’’ asked Gloria Stewart.

‘’The Italians folded even faster than the Nazis, getting rid of Benito Mussolini and of his fascist clique before signing a full peace treaty with us. Things are now mostly back to normal in Italy, with Italians being accepted around Europe and the World much more easily than Germans. They even have started to export in good numbers their cars, like the ones from Ferrari, Maserati, Lamborghini and Fiat. As for the Japanese, I must say that what is happening around Japan these days is still wrapped in deep mystery. The radiations from the two British nuclear missiles which destroyed Tokyo and Osaka in 1944 has spread widely through their airborne fallouts and have now severely contaminated much of the main Japanese island of Honshu, plus parts of Kyushu, causing millions of deaths through radiation sickness and famine. Only the island of Hokkaido, to the north of Honshu, and the Ryukyu Archipelago, to the south, have escaped radiation contamination...to date. You of course must know that the Soviets have invaded and occupied Hokkaido Island during the last year and have also tried recently to grab the Ryukyus but were repelled by us off Okinawa last March.’’

‘’And who is in control of what is left of Japan, Ingrid?’’ asked Jimmy Stewart.

‘’In truth: nobody knows, Jimmy. Japanese radio broadcasts have steadily declined since 1944, marking a severe decline in technological systems mostly caused by the total blockade still enforced against Japan and by the resulting starvation of Japanese fuel reserves. Right now, our best estimate is that what is left of Japanese society is now living in mostly isolated pockets governed by local lords, who are probably surviving senior military officers. I thus believe that Japan today probably looks a lot like Feudal Japan did in the early 19th Century.’’

‘’And have we tried to contact those local Japanese lords recently, Ingrid?’’

‘’No! Our State Department is hoping that, as the years will go by, both the radiation levels and those surviving military officers will die out, making a safe contact possible in the medium future. In the meantime, the Japanese will be on their own and under continued naval blockade by us, while we will prevent any further occupation of Japanese territory by the Soviets.’’

‘’Wow! Talk about a bleak picture for the Japanese people.’’ said Gloria Stewart, visibly saddened by Ingrid’s description. ‘’I know that many in the United States still hate the Japanese and for good reasons, but not all Japanese people must be mean, war-mongering types.’’

Ingrid lowered her head as very old souvenirs from her past incarnation as Tsuko, a Japanese high-ranking geisha who had lived in Kyoto during the 9 th Century, came back to her.

‘’I know, Gloria. It is truly sad to see that millions of people are suffering because of a small minority of war-hungry militarists. Maybe I should try to convince President Dewey to send a small diplomatic party to the safer regions of Japan, mostly around Okinawa, in the Ryukyus. However, the members of that party are liable to face grave threats, both from local Japanese lords and from lingering radiations. But enough about war and death! Let’s enjoy ourselves tonight!’’

‘’Right on!’’ said approvingly Howard Darrin, raising his glass for a collective cheer.

 

23:46 (California Time)

The Hughes Mansion, Beverley Hills

 

When Ingrid returned home after her visit to the Ciro’s Nightclub, she found her little Hien deep asleep, with the loyal Madam Nguyen sitting in vigil outside her bedroom. Ingrid hugged the mature Vietnamese woman she had hired months ago as a living-in maid and babysitter for Hien, before slipping her a twenty-dollar bill.

‘’Thank you so much for watching over Hien for me, Madam Nguyen: your help is very precious to me.’’

‘’It was a pleasure, Ingrid. Hien is such a sweet girl. She is a true pleasure to watch over. She also reminds me of my own family, which I lost to the Japanese occupation of Indochina. Good night, Ingrid.’’

‘’Good night, Madam Nguyen.’’

Once the Vietnamese-American maid had walked away to return to her own suite, situated on the top floor of the vast mansion, Ingrid quietly entered Hien’s bedroom, which was adjacent to her own suite, and silently approached her bed before bending down and gently kissing the sleeping girl on her head.

‘’Sweet dreams, Hien. See you in the morning.’’

Ingrid then went to her suite as quietly as she could, in order not to wake Hien up. Once in her suite, she undressed and went to take a shower, having a shampoo as well in order to get rid of the disgusting smell from the tobacco smoke which had floated around the Ciro’s Nightclub and had impregnated her hair and her dress. While she hated tobacco smoke and never smoked herself, smoking in public places was unfortunately still an omnipresent practice in the United States and in Europe, often ruining for her the fun she could have had while going out.