The Tarnished Angels Page #5

I'll turn the screws,

you turn the pylons.

God help us both if...

Choke in.

Throttle back.

- Contact.

- Contact.

- Contact.

- Contact!

(CHUCKLING)

OK, OK.

Your plane seems to be all right.

(CAROUSEL PLAYS WALTZ)

- Come on! Not much time.

- Leave us alone for a minute, huh?

Good luck.

This is the last time you'll have to say

that. I'm kissing the pylons goodbye.

Why?

You, me and Jack will take the prize

money and make a new start somewhere.

All right with you?

Roger, don't make any promises,

or do anything you don't want to.

Burke got the plane. I never

went to Matt Ord, believe me.

I begged for this plane.

Now I'm begging for

your forgiveness.

- I love you, Laverne.

- Let's go!

You're holding up the parade.

There you are, Sonny. Thank you.

All right, Jackie boy. We've got your

favourite ship all set to go. There we are.

- Is everything all right?

- Yes. Everything.

Ladies and gentlemen, the feature

event of the Delta Field air show,

sponsored by Colonel TJ Fineman.

The Bond Trophy race, first

prize money, 500 dollars.

Look for a duel between

war ace Roger Shumann

and Crash Wilson, the favourite,

flying a black high-winged monoplane.

The pilots are now in position, and

we're all set for the racehorse start

of what should be another thrilling

race around the pylon-marked course.

And there they go! Wait a minute,

what's happened to Shumann?

The Diamond white's

having engine trouble,

Shumann may be out of the race!

He's trying to get going.

And he does! He's away!

The engine's roaring now, and

Shumann rounds the first pylon,

but he's far behind

the pacesetters.

Wilson leads, Miller's second,

Bailey third and Kennedy fourth,

and Shumann's last

but moving up fast.

His engine's humming now,

and he's raring to go!

Around the field pylon,

Wilson's still leading,

Miller close behind, and

Kennedy now in third place.

As they round the far

pylon for the second lap,

Shumann's still trailing Bailey,

who holds on to fourth place.

As they swing around the lake

pylon, it's Shumann moving up.

A tight turn on the lake pylon,

moving up the inside track,

he's now passed Bailey and Kennedy

and he's pressing the leaders!

It's Crash Wilson still leading

the pack, Miller in second place,

Shumann now holding third place

as he shaves the far pylon.

Shumann's closing the gap, and

fast, too. He's passing Miller!

He's now in second place. Look

at him go after Crash Wilson!

He's raring to make the big move to push

Wilson as they shoot past the lake pylon.

Shumann's making it real hot for Wilson.

It's gonna be a real race now as...

Wait a minute! Miller's in trouble!

(ENGINE STUTTERS)

His plane's smoking.

He's coming down!

Please, keep off the field! Stay

in your seats, folks, please!

Clear the walkway! Bob Miller in

"Hank's Crank" is gonna crash!

Approaching the far pylon,

it's Wilson and Shumann

fighting for the lead

and for the big money!

They're wing to wing and dangerously

close as they make for the lake pylon.

Look at Shumann.

The war ace is getting on the

inside, and he's out in front.

Shumann takes the lead

for the first time.

Shumann again takes the inside track

as they roar around the pylon,

and Shumann widens his lead.

His tight turns sent him

to the front of the pack.

What flying! Folks, you're

seeing the greatest.

The daring that made him a great war ace

is now paying off on the pylon turns.

There's power in the Diamond Blade.

Looks like another winner for Matt Ord.

But Wilson isn't giving up.

He's hot after Shumann.

Shumann nicked the pylon!

He nicked it!

He can't be caught now. No, Sir.

He's flying the shortest,

tightest and fastest course!

(ENGINE MISFIRES)

Hold it! Shumann's in trouble!

His engine's smoking!

Wait! His plane's on fire!

Stay off the field! Please,

stay off the field!

Clear that field! Give

him a chance to land!

He must have room to land!

Give Shumann room! Please,

clear that field!

Let me out!

He's going to crash! For God's

sake, run for your lives!

(SHRIEKING)

Let me out! Let me out!

- Laverne, don't. Stay here.

- Leave me alone!

Leave me alone!

Let me out of here!

(SCREAMS)

(SOBBING)

Let me out!

All right. Pull it up.

MAN:
No luck. All right,

everybody, go on home.

- What are you doing?

- Shining 'em up.

For the last time.

- The last time?

- Yeah. I'm giving them to Roger.

What for?

I just want him to look

his best, that's all.

Put the boots away!

- Don't you want Roger to have 'em?

- Ohh!

I don't do nothing right, do I?

I'm thinking that about myself.

I didn't want to fix

the lousy plane.

I tried not to, but Roger made me.

He made me!

You don't believe that

I killed him, do you?

No, Jiggs, I don't.

I wish I could tell you that I've

never done nothing to hurt you,

but. I can't.

Me and my lousy pride. I...

I never once tried to kill the

dirty talk, the dirty lies.

Not once.

(JACK SOBS)

You all right?

- You hungry?

- No.

Thirsty?

Why don't you get

yourself a bottle of pop?

Thanks.

They find him?

Only the plane.

They've quit trying?

No.

They're sending a diver down.

- Muddy bottom down there, ain't it?

- Shut up, Jiggs.

- Anything I can get you?

- Get lost.

What's the matter? You blaming

me for getting the plane?

- I'm blaming myself, hating myself.

- Why?

Because of what went on between us?

Yes! Don't you understand?

Before he taxied away,

Roger told me he loved me.

For the first time, he told me.

He told me we'd make a new start

somewhere, just the three of us.

Roger, Jack and me.

I've got my car outside.

Claude Mollet is expecting us.

The restaurant guy?

Hasn't anybody told

him what happened?

He knows.

He's still going ahead

with the party?

Party? No.

Just a chance for some of the boys to get

together and pay their last respects.

Was this your idea, Mr Devlin?

Food's been cooked, the

wine's been chilled.

And the guest of honour's

at the bottom of the lake.

There's an old saying: "Nobody

really dies till he's forgotten."

- Do you want to come with us?

- No.

Good night, Jack.

Good night.

Not a bad party, huh?

Not bad for a wake.

What are you so down

in the mouth for?

You oughta be singing

something, something jazzy.

Why, sure. Now you're gonna have

luscious Laverne all to yourself.

(LAUGHS)

Captain Shumann.

Thank you.

Thank you for coming to the aid of my

beloved native land in it's darkest days.

Captain Shumann, my bread

and wine are yours.

God. Bless your soul.

Nicely put, wasn't it?

Where do you go from here?

You open for a suggestion?

You mean "proposition", don't you?

Don't make a dirty word out of it.

- Then don't make me feel naked.

- I'm sorry.

- I don't want you to get the wrong idea.

- No sad speeches, please.

I want to help you.

Just give it to me

in plain English.

I'm offering you a job,

doing your parachute

stunt for Diamond Blade.

You've got to think of where

your next meal's coming from.

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