The Dinosaur Club

by William Heffernan

  The lie was so blatant Fallon wanted to grab him by the throat and slap him silly. He fought back the temptation and simply glared at the man. His voice became unnaturally soft, and that seemed to frighten Chambers even more. “Then you find out, Willis. Because if this is some attempt to humiliate the man, then you’ve got one pissed-off executive on your hands, and you better be ready to deal with it. If it’s not, then I want an explanation, in writing, about why things keep happening in my division, at your direction, without me knowing about it.”

  Chambers sputtered again. “Fine, Jack, fine. I’ll find out.”

  “You better, Willis,” Fallon snapped. “And you better do it today.”

  Two hours passed before Bennett made his way to Fallon’s office. Fallon wasn’t certain if Bennett had been tied up and had just learned about the outburst, or if he had been wise enough to give Fallon time to cool down. He entered the office with a broad gesture—hands out at his sides, head cocked in apparent disbelief. He was in shirtsleeves, just another working stiff.

  “Jack, what’s going on? I just had Willis Chambers in my office, and the man was really shaken.”

  Fallon sat back in his chair. His tongue was pressed to the inside of his cheek. “In case you haven’t noticed, Carter, Willis is an incompetent ass. I think we should fire him. In fact, I may make a formal request for his immediate dismissal.”

  “Now wait a minute, Jack. Willis was just doing his job. Maybe there was a little slipup here. Maybe Willis didn’t touch all the bases he should have. But I can’t support any talk about dismissal, and I won’t.”

  Fallon faked sudden surprise. “I didn’t realize I needed your permission, Carter. Last time I checked the organization chart, I thought we were equals.”

  Bennett seemed to bristle at the idea. His eyes hardened momentarily, then relaxed. “I don’t want to fight you on this, Jack. It’s too petty. Besides, I thought we had an understanding.”

  Fallon kept his voice calm. “Not about this, we didn’t. This is about people going around me and fucking with my division, and with my people. That’s not going to happen, Carter.”

  Bennett’s jaw tightened, and he stared at the floor. Just letting you know he’s controlling himself, Fallon thought. Letting you know how difficult it is for him to do it. It was a cute act, by an even cuter actor.

  “Jack, this is just what we talked about the other day,” he said at length. “About not letting personal friendships stand in the way of the company’s needs.”

  “I thought we were talking about your downsizing plan,” Fallon said.

  Bennett seemed horrified that the word had been spoken, and he turned abruptly and closed Fallon’s door.

  Fallon was suddenly amused. He repeated the statement. “As I said, Carter, I thought we were talking about downsizing. Is this part of it? If it is, why don’t we just fire Malloy, instead of humiliating him?”

  Bennett let out an exasperated breath. “We’re not firing anybody, Jack. We’re redecorating offices, just as Willis explained. I can’t help it if Malloy is taking it another way. He shouldn’t, even though his recent performance has been poor enough to warrant that view.”

  “I think his performance has been just fine, given the circumstances.”

  “Well, then we disagree,” Bennett snapped. “But let’s leave that for another time.”

  Fallon’s instincts kicked in. An all-out battle would not serve him well. Not now. “So Jim sits in the hall?” he asked instead.

  “I’m afraid it can’t be helped,” Bennett said. “It will happen to all of us in time. Hopefully, some of us can schedule our vacations while it’s going on.”

  “Maybe Jim can do that,” Fallon said.

  “I don’t think this is the time for sales executives to be taking time off,” he said. “In fact, I’ve directed Willis to withhold vacation approval for all key personnel until further notice. The company is in a rough economic position, Jack. And Mr. Waters feels we need everyone pulling their oars.”

  Pull this, Fallon thought. He leaned back farther and gave Bennett a cold smile. “Maybe Willis should consider those oars when he pulls secretarial help and office space,” he said.

  Bennett returned the chill. “That’s a good point, Jack. I’ll speak to him about it. But in the meantime, let’s you and me stay on the same wavelength. I don’t think it would serve either of us well if we worked at cross-purposes.”

  Fallon let the warning slide. If Bennett wanted to threaten him, he’d force him to abandon subtlety.

  “That’s exactly what I want, Carter.” Fallon offered up a warmer, falser smile. “Wavelength-wise.”

  Bennett stared at him, trying to gauge his sincerity. “I’m glad to hear that, Jack,” he said.

  Fallon picked up a pen, toyed with it. “I hope our minions stop screwing that wavelength up,” he said.

  When Bennett returned to his office his assistant handed him a message. “That Mr. Nagy, who called yesterday from the Plattsburgh plant, called again. He left the same message. He said it was very important that he speak with you.”

  Bennett tried to remember who the man was. Nagy. Nagy. Then it connected. The testing lab. The drone he had asked to keep watch on Robaire.

  “Call him back. Tell him I’m in a meeting. Just ask him if Robaire has done any unauthorized testing.”

  Bennett entered his own office and slid into his chair. He picked up a report Chambers had prepared, then put it down again. Dealing with Fallon was becoming burdensome. The man was still playing his little dinosaur game, still protecting his fellow incompetents. What they should do is get rid of the lot of them immediately—Fallon, Malloy, and Green. Chop the head off sales management and then deal with the rest. No, he told himself, not Malloy. Malloy at least was serving a purpose. He let out an exasperated breath. And not the others either. Waters won’t allow it. Not now, at least. He’s running scared. And you know why.

  Bennett’s assistant knocked lightly on his door, then entered. “Mr. Nagy says there’s been no testing at the plant. But he reiterated it was important that he speak with you. He said he couldn’t explain, that he had to speak to you.” She raised her eyebrows and offered up a small, dismissive smile.

  Bennett waved a hand reinforcing that dismissal. “I’ll get to him when I can. If he calls back, tell him that.”

  Fallon left the office early, got his car from the company parking garage, and headed out to Jim Malloy’s home on Staten Island. He dreaded what lay ahead, and as he drove across the Verrazano Bridge, he tried to formulate the words he would use. His mind seemed as cluttered as New York’s harbor, with its scattering of tankers and cargo ships lying at anchor as they awaited berths.

  He had called Samantha before leaving to let her know he’d be late. Then he’d talked to Wally, told him he’d be missing their session at the company gym, and filled him in on what had taken place with Bennett. He had decided not to tell anyone about the preliminary tests at M.I.T., and had told Annie to keep mum as well until the final results were in. Finally, he’d telephoned Malloy’s home, spoken with his wife, and explained he needed to stop by. Betty had sounded fearful, and he had tried to put her mind at ease. Years earlier, he and Trisha had been close to Jim and Betty. They had gone out to dinner and to Broadway shows together. They had always arranged to sit together at company functions. Then they had drifted apart. Betty had returned to school for her master’s degree, and had found less time to socialize. Then she had begun teaching, and time, between family and work, had become even more restricted. So she had stopped going to company functions, which she had always despised, anyway. And the friendship had drifted, had been left between the men, and as such had been limited to company matters and occasional lunches and dinners. They had simply grown apart. Fallon regretted that they had.

  Jim Malloy’s house was in an Irish-Catholic enclave, one of many ethnic bastions on the island. Malloy had grown up in the neighborhood and had remained—had purchased his first hom
e there, shortly after his marriage, and had provided his children with the same upbringing he had received.

  Fallon climbed the steps that crossed the small front yard and approached the modest, sturdy, brick barbican. Betty opened the door almost immediately, almost as if she’d been standing watch for him behind a front window.

  “Jim’s downstairs in his rec room,” she said, after accepting a kiss on the cheek.

  “How are you?” Fallon asked. “It’s been a long time.”

  She seemed uncomfortable. “I’m fine, Jack. I was sorry to hear about you and Trish.”

  Fallon shrugged. “I was, too. But those things happen, I guess.”

  She hesitated, momentarily uncertain, he thought. She had always been a strong, self-confident woman, but now she seemed haggard. There were worry lines around her mouth that came from more than age, and her once vibrant blue eyes seemed dulled.

  “I’m worried about Jim,” she said. “What they’re doing to him is tearing him apart, Jack.”

  “I’m worried about him, too,” Fallon said.

  “I told him to quit,” she said abruptly. “Just tell them all to go to hell, and walk away.” She lowered her eyes. “He said he can’t do that—that we can’t afford it.” She looked at Fallon imploringly. “But we can, Jack. If we have to we can. I’d rather have less money than watch my husband die a little each day.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Those bastards. They’re killing him, Jack.”

  Fallon’s stomach tightened. Jim, all the others, were depending on him, waiting for him to do something that would resolve their lives. But there wasn’t a damned thing he could do, except keep playing pattycake with Carter Bennett.

  He took Betty’s hand. “I’m doing everything I can to work this out,” he said, silently praying it was true. “Right now, I don’t know if I can.” He paused a beat. “I guess he’s told you about this downsizing crap.” He watched her nod. “Well, there’s a pot of money at the end of it. But only for the people who are still there. If those bastards find a way to force Jim out—to force any of us out—they can cheat each one of us out of it. And I don’t want that to happen.”

  “What good is the money if he’s dead, Jack? Or if he’s back spending his nights with a glass of bourbon in his hand? He’s just as good as dead that way.”

  Fallon drew a long breath. “Look, Betty, I’m not asking this as his boss. But if Jim’s drinking again, we’ve got to find a way to make him stop. I know he was drinking last night, and I don’t know a lot about this. But if he has a sponsor in AA, or anybody else, let’s reach out for him. Let’s do whatever has to be done.”

  Betty closed her eyes, shook her head. “He’s been drinking for weeks, Jack. Ever since this whole thing started.” She drew another breath, almost a gasp. “It wasn’t very much at first, and I told myself not to worry. Then yesterday happened. He went into that damned office and found his desk in the hall. Jesus Christ, Jack. What do they expect him to do? Just sit there and be publicly humiliated? Be a joke for everybody, for the whole office?”

  “They want him to quit, Betty. It’s that simple. They want him to quit so they can cheat him out of what they owe him. And they want to do it to enough of us, so that when they drop the ax on the rest, there won’t be enough of us left to fight them.”

  “Then let them win, dammit,” she sobbed. “It’s not worth it.”

  Fallon suddenly understood the truth of what she was saying. It probably wasn’t worth it. The money would never assuage the toll of human misery. But neither would quitting. And maybe living with defeat you hadn’t struggled against was worse.

  “I can’t argue with you, Betty. Or with Jim. I think you both have to do what’s best for you.” He squeezed her hand. “But if he decides to fight them, I promise you he won’t go down in flames alone. And we’ll all be there to pick each other up when it’s over.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want him in flames, Jack. That’s a male thing, and it doesn’t make any sense to me. I want him whole, and I want him happy.”

  “I won’t push him, Betty. I’ll support him in whatever he decides.”

  She seemed momentarily uncertain, then reached up and touched his cheek. “I hope so, Jack. He’s in the basement. Go talk to him.”

  Fallon had started away, when she reached out again and touched his arm. He turned back to face her.

  “There’s one thing I’ve got to tell you, Jack. I never liked Trisha. I’m glad you’re rid of her.”

  Fallon laughed. It was the first bit of pleasure he had felt that day. “You know what, Betty? I’m glad, too.”

  Jim was in the basement recreation room just as Betty had said. He was seated in a leather recliner, his feet propped up, and as Fallon had feared, there was a tumbler of amber liquid on the table beside him. Bourbon, Fallon guessed.

  A small color television set was on, and Jim was staring at it. The picture on the screen was flipping—some malfunction with the vertical hold—but he didn’t seem to notice. He also failed to notice the intrusion. The man was far away, rummaging among brooding fears.

  The recliner sat next to an old plaid sofa, and between it and the stairs sat a full-sized pool table. It was an antique, maybe seventy or eighty years old, with ornately carved legs and woven pouches at each pocket. Fallon picked up a stick, lined the cue ball up with the nine, and shot at the far corner pocket. He missed. The sound of balls clicking brought Malloy’s eyes to the table.

  He stared at Fallon, blinked several times. “When the hell did you get here?” he asked.

  Fallon raised his chin toward the table. “I used to be pretty good at this,” he said. “My father warned me off pool halls when I was a kid, but I was fascinated with them, and all the badasses who hung out there. Then one day—I guess I was fifteen—this black kid took me for all my paper-route money. Didn’t even leave me with carfare. I can still hear all the badasses snickering when I headed for the door.”

  Fallon seemed to recall he’d been asked a question. “I just got here a few minutes ago. I’ve been upstairs, talking to Betty.” He grinned across the table. “She just told me she never liked Trisha, that she thought it was good I was rid of her.” He laughed, still enjoying that small tidbit. “She doesn’t know what the lawyer is costing me.”

  “Yeah, I know. She told me the same thing,” Malloy said. “She always thought Trisha sat on a bit of a high horse, liked to play the boss’s wife a little too much.”

  Fallon hesitated, thought about it. “I never noticed. Did you?”

  Malloy shook his head. “Can’t say I did. But maybe it was a woman thing, something we didn’t see. She also thought Trisha liked to flaunt the material stuff you guys had, that that’s what really mattered to her.”

  Fallon considered it. He could certainly see it now, wondered how he had missed it for twenty-four years. “That’s a good lady you’ve got upstairs,” he said.

  Malloy nodded. “I’ve been finding out just how good the past few weeks.” He picked up his drink and took another swallow. “Betty deserves better than she’s getting.”

  “She tells me she has what she wants, Jim.”

  Malloy eyed Fallon with suspicion. “You here to give me the bad news, Jack?”

  Fallon shook his head. “Just to tell you about the crap we’re all standing in.”

  “You talked to Chambers?”

  “Chambers and Bennett. It’s all a big misunderstanding. Redecorating does not equal downsizing. Chambers was horrified we thought so. And Bennett? Well, Bennett was Bennett.”

  “So when do they drop the ax?”

  “They don’t, Jim.” He raised his chin toward the glass in Malloy’s hand. “Unless you give them an excuse they can’t pass up.”

  “I’ll come to work sober, Jack. Don’t worry.” He put the drink down, as if that confirmed the fact. “You want a drink?” He said it almost defiantly.

  “No thanks, Jim.”

  Malloy seemed momentarily embarrassed, then pushed it a
way. “So I guess I just sit in the hall and play whipping boy, huh? That the game plan?”

  “You could take some sick leave.” Fallon said. “Tell your doctor what’s going on. He could back you up with a letter if you need it.”

  “Maybe I’ll take a vacation,” Malloy said. He let out a disgusted breath. “We won’t go anyplace, of course. We’re not about to dip into the vault at a time like this.”

  “No vacations,” Fallon said. “Our boy Carter put a freeze on them. Seems the company can’t afford to be without us now.” The words dripped sarcasm, but had a more horrific effect on Malloy. His face fell, became pale—he looked like a man who’d been told about a death in the family.

  “Go with the sick leave, Jim.”

  Malloy shook his head. “Won’t work, Jack. Our family doctor retired last year and moved out west. We haven’t found anybody new. There hasn’t been any reason to.” He picked up his drink again. “You think some new doc is gonna pass out written excuses for some guy who walks in off the street. Hell, it could be some insurance scam for all he knows.”

  “So just stay out, Jim. Until they push it.”

  “How long do you think that’ll take? A week? What’s the use, Jack? They want me there. They want to piss on me so everybody can see it. Shit, if they force me to quit, maybe some other guys will decide to walk—before the same thing happens to them. Besides, my department has too much going right now. And I’m involved in it up to my neck. I take off, we’ll just be in worse shape when I get back. Then they’ll say I’m incompetent. Or negligent. Either way I’m screwed.”

  He seemed to think about it, his face becoming even more haggard. Fallon had never seen him look beaten before. “So what happened at M.I.T.?” he asked. “I was so screwed up this morning I didn’t even ask.”

  “Nothing definite yet. Annie’s contact gave it a preliminary look, but we’re waiting for the results of another test.”

  “So Robaire sucked it up and gave you sample cable. At least that’s a plus.”

  Fallon nodded. “Yeah, he did. But he’s scared. He knows his head’s on the block, too.” He raised his eyebrows, his own uncertainty clear. “Hell, he might even call Bennett and turn me in.”