Bahama Crisis

"Why not come right out and say British?" Frank looked at me unsmilingly.

"What do you say in the Bahamas, Mangan? Headlamps or headlights?" He could not resist needling me.

I shrugged.

"I use them interchangeably. Both usages are valid. We're being penetrated by the American language because most of our tourists are American."

Billy One yawned.

"Since we have time to spare I'm going home to bed.

I want y'all in my office downstairs at ten a. m. Jim, don't forget to have this room debugged. Where are you sleeping tonight, Tom? I don't believe Jack made arrangements. "

"Come home with me," said Billy. He rubbed his eyes wearily.

"Jesus, but I'm tired."

Tuesday morning, early but not very bright. I had had about three hours' sleep and my body felt as heavy as my spirits, and even the forceful shower in the guest bathroom did not help. Knowing Houston I dressed lightly; it's like living in a permanent sauna and it was fairly steamy even so early in the morning.

Breakfast was on the patio outside the house, a low rambling structure of stone, timber and glass. I do not know if Billy's wife, Barbara, knew anything about the kidnapping of Debbie; she made no reference to it as she served breakfast so I concluded that probably Billy had not told her. It is a characteristic of Texans and Cunninghams in particular, not to involve their womenfolk.

Over breakfast we talked of the weather, of baseball, and other mundane matters. A couple of times I caught Barbara giving me a sidelong glance and I knew what she was thinking why was I there and not at Jack's place with Debbie? The gossiping close-knit Cunningham women would know, of course, that the marriage was in trouble, but Barbara was too disciplined to refer to it and hid her curiosity well if not entirely.

After breakfa st I went with Billy to his study where he picked up a red telephone and depressed a button.

"Hi, Jo- Arm; anything I ought to know?" I realized he had a direct line to his office in the Cunningham Building. He listened for a while then said abruptly.

"Cancel all that." Standing ten feet away I was able to hear the cry of expostulation which came from the earphone.

"No, I can't tell you," he said.

"But it'll be a week. Damn it, don't argue with me'Jo-Ann. Here's what you do. I want to see Harry Pearson of Texas Aviation and Charlie Alvarez of ^7 the Gulf Fishing Corporation both this morning not at the Cunningham Building, some place else. Sure, the Petroleum Club will do fine. You can tell me when you see me -half an hour."* He put down the telephone and grinned.

"I have a strong- minded secretary but efficient." He became serious.

"If we want helicopters and fast boats to be used in the way we want them used I'll have to tell Harry and Charlie the reason. No chopper jockey or boat skipper will do what we want without their bosses' say-so we may have to skirt the law. So Harry and Charlie have to know. They'll keep their mouths shut, I promise."

"I don't mind," I said.

"It's my skin you're protecting. Just so you don't take action before you have Debbie safe."

"Right," he said.

"Have you got the clothing Jim wants^ " All packed. "

"Then let's go downtown."

Houston.

Not so much a city as a frame of mind a tribute to the dynamism of American technology. Too far from the sea? Bring the sea fifty miles to the city and make Houston the third biggest port in the United States. Want to produce gasoline? Build seven refineries and produce a flood of fifteen billion gallons a year. Want to go to the moon?

Spend ten years, forty billion dollars, and make Houston the nerve centre of the operation. W^ant to play baseball when it is too hot and steamy to move? Put a roof over a stadium which holds 52,000 people and cool it to a constant 74 F. – cool for Houston using 7000 tons of air-conditioning machinery. The grass in the stadium won't grow? For Christ's sake, man; design a special plastic grass.

The latest proposal was to roof over the entire business quarter of the city much simpler than to air-condition individual buildings.

Houston Baghdad-on-the-Bayou. I hated the place.

We went downtown in Billy's car which he drove with the 138 casual ease which comes to Americans by second nature, through the air they breathe conditioned, of course. We went from his house to his office in the Cunningham Building without once taking a breath of the nasty, polluted, natural stuff outside. Billy's secretary, I was interested to note, was a middle-aged lady with a face like a prune.

As we passed through the outer office she said quickly, "Mr. Pearson and Mr. Alvarez eleven o'clock Petroleum Club."

Without breaking stride Billy said, "Right. Find Cousin Jim might be in security." We went into his office and he picked up a telephone and stabbed a button.

"Pop, we're in and ready to go." He listened for a moment and his expression changed.

"Oh, God, no!" Pause.

"Yeah, I guess so. Okay."

He put down the telephone.