Monahan 01 Options

by Rosemarie A D'Amico

  chapter twenty-four

  Harold was on the phone when I walked into his office to retrieve the pile of papers in his out-basket.

  “This is a voice message to Chris Oakes and Rick Cox,” he was saying into the phone.

  Now this was priceless. I put my purse on the guest chair in front of Harold’s desk and thumbed through the pile of papers to do a quick check of what was in the out-basket in case I had any questions. Actually, I was eavesdropping.

  “Rick,” Harold continued. “I’ll have a first draft of the board materials by eleven this morning and I’d like to go over them with you. Especially the numbers for the stock option grants. Chris, I’d like your feedback on the draft agendas.” He punched a series of numbers into the phone to send the message and hung up his phone. I grabbed the pile of papers and my purse and headed out the door.

  “I don’t think Rick’s in yet,” I said over my shoulder. “And Chris is in New York.” Ha! Gotcha. Harold had no idea that Rick had been fired. Ha! Serves the little prick right.

  But the sick feeling started deep in the pit of my stomach when I thought of the ramifications of Harold not knowing that Rick had been fired. He had been siding with Rick in the corporate feuding and if no one had told him about the firing, maybe he was the next to go. And if he went, what happened to me? Shit. Time to set the little guy straight. I tossed around the idea of keeping Harold in the dark for a while longer but thought better of it. Besides, I couldn’t wait to see his reaction.

  I poured us both a cup of coffee and sat down in front of him. He was looking a little uncomfortable and I waited for him to speak first.

  “Kate, I hope you understand my point about the hours of work,” he started.

  I interrupted him because he obviously wasn’t going to apologize. “Forget it Harold. I have no problem with the hours of work. I do have a problem with the fact that you felt it was necessary to point them out to me. Have I ever left you to fend for yourself? Have I ever complained about working late on all the deals we do? Have I ever bitched about the traveling and serving coffee and arranging haircuts for those prima donnas on the board?”

  He must have thought those were rhetorical questions because he didn’t answer me. I continued to stare at him for a few moments and when he didn’t answer, I said disgustedly, “Forget it. But I meant what I said about work to rule. Anyway, I thought you’d like to know that Rick Cox was fired. They’ve issued a press release that went out before market opened.”

  I watched his face for a reaction. It was slow in coming but it came. A look of absolute shock. And a little bit of terror.

  “I guess you’re reporting directly to Oakes now?” I asked. (Thought I’d rub it in a little.) He flicked his hand at me as if he was brushing away smoke or something in his face.

  “When did this happen?” he asked me. I thought about how much I knew and how much I was going to tell him. He had little beads of sweat on his forehead. I gave in. I had my loyalties and as usual, I couldn’t stay mad for long. Harold had been a good teacher to me over the years and usually he was fair to me. About as fair as making sure you feed your dog at least once a day.

  I told him. “There was a board meeting on Saturday night. After I finished with Grace, Oakes cornered me and had me poll the directors for a conference call. He told me only outside directors and specifically said not to include you. Harold, you can’t be surprised about this. You knew what Grace was going to find in that audit.”

  Harold was thinking and I didn’t interrupt him. He got up and stood by the window and stared out.

  “They called Cleve Johnson over after the board meeting. He must have done up the termination documents,” I told him. Harold didn’t visibly react to this and I picked up my coffee to leave.

  “Close my door will you? And hold my calls,” was all he said.

  I spent the next hour mechanically dealing with the documents I had picked out of Harold’s out-basket. He had marked up all of the draft documents I had given him for the upcoming board and committee meetings, so I made all of the changes on the computer and proofread the documents for mistakes. I printed clean copies and got everything ready to return to him when he opened his office door. Most times I don’t let a closed door keep me out but I thought it’d be prudent to stay out of his way this morning.

  Vee called me around eleven and let me know that her phone had not stopped ringing. Shareholders, analysts and the media had been calling steadily. I asked her what the stock price was doing.

  “Down one and a half, so far. Trading at seven and five eighths,” she said.

  “Much volume?” I asked her. Sometimes if there weren’t a lot of shares trading the stock would flatten out and the price would hold for a while.

  “About a million shares so far,” she said.

  That wasn’t good. On a typical day, not more than 100,000 shares traded. If the stock market had been open for an hour and a half and a million shares had traded it could get worse.

  “Small or large blocks?” I asked her. Maybe someone with a million shares dumped them but then again, it could be five hundred shareholders holding 2,000 shares each. Five hundred shareholders dumping their shares could be a very bad sign.

  “I didn’t ask. But a lot of mom and pop shareholders have been calling. One old lady called to say she was sorry that nice man Mr. Cox decided to leave the company. She said he helped her up the stairs at the last shareholders’ meeting and she thinks he’s a prince. Too bad he had to resign she said.” Vee chuckled. “And then she wanted to know why he didn’t have to give two week’s notice like everyone else so we could find a replacement. Little old lady shareholders should take their hard-earned money and put it in government bonds. Not this shit-hole,” she said.

  “You know Vee, since last week the shares are down over three bucks. Last Friday there was no visible reason for the shares to go down. Now there’s a reason. I’d say the slide isn’t over yet. They’re trading now at just under eight dollars. Keep me posted if you hear anything.”

  My phone rang again as soon as I hung up.

  “Kathleen Monahan.”

  “Katie, it’s Cleve. How’re you doing today?” he asked me.

  “Well, Mr. Johnston. I could only be better if you were here talking to me in person. Listen, sorry about Saturday night. Something came up and I had to leave. Sorry if I left you in the lurch.”

  “No problem. As it turned out I had to go back to my office to use my precedents for one of the documents I had to create. I felt bad about keeping you waiting around so long. Anyway, I spent most of yesterday here at the office with Rick Cox doing up the termination documents and I need to find out if they’re all right by Harold. I got his voice mail when I called his line. Is he in?”

  “Yeah, he’s here. In a meeting,” I lied. “Where’re the documents?”

  “You should have them by now. I sent them over by courier first thing this morning. And Kate, can you have a look at the schedule attached to the agreement? We’ve set out what we think are Rick’s stock options and he said you’d be able to confirm all the numbers and exercise dates. He didn’t have a current stock option statement to verify the numbers.”

  Rick would be able to cash in on his stock options if the bottom didn’t fall out of our share price. If someone leaves our company and has stock options that are exercisable they have ninety days to exercise them. It was standard to outline the available options in any termination documentation and also standard to set out what options were not available to them. The executive would acknowledge all of this information in the agreement so there would be no questions after the fact.

  I thought it was odd that Cleve was dealing directly with Rick and not Rick’s lawyer. Cleve was acting for us.

  “All right, I can do that. I can get a current statement from Evelyn’s file. I’ll make sure Harold reviews the other stuff too.”

  “Is Evelyn the lady who died last week?” Cleve asked me.

  “Yeah.”r />
  “We were really sorry to hear about that. Should our firm send some flowers or something?”

  “I’ll let you know. They’re still doing the autopsy as far as I know. No funeral arrangements have been made. But thanks for asking Cleve. She was a good friend of mine. You know she looked after our computer system for the stock options.”

  He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah, I know all about that. Chris told me.”

  “Did Chris tell you that someone got in to her system after she died and changed some numbers?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he tell you they think it was Rick Cox?”

  “Of course, Katie. I didn’t know how much you knew and I’m not at liberty of course to divulge that information. I wasn’t certain you were up to speed.”

  “Right,” I snorted. “Listen, can I ask you something in confidence?”

  He hesitated. “Uh, sure. As a friend or as the company’s counsel?”

  “Cut the crap Cleve. As both. As my friend and as the company’s lawyer. Can you wear both hats?” He didn’t answer so I continued. “Is Rick Cox denying he made those changes to the system?” I knew I was on very shaky ground here.

  “Yes, Rick is maintaining his innocence in this matter.”

  “Shit, Cleve. You sound like a defence lawyer. Maintaining his innocence,” I mimicked. “Did he tell you he fired someone else in the company for making the changes in the system?”

  “Yes. He told me the circumstances,” he said.

  “Can he do that?”

  “You mean fire someone for the screw-up?”

  “Yes. The person he fired happens to be a friend who needs his job. And his reputation. I want to know how the board can accuse Cox, and fire him, and then Cox turns around and accuses someone else. Wouldn’t my friend have a case for saving his job by proving that the board of directors of this company had proof that Rick Cox did it and fired him for it? How can Cox pass the blame and fire someone else? I could see it if they did it together or if the company had proof they did it together. But the board is firing just Cox for this fuck up.” I was out of breath.

  “Kate, Rick Cox is resigning,” Cleve said slowly. “The Board is not firing him.”

  I was shocked.

  “You fuck,” I yelled into the phone. “You know damn well that a lynching occurred on a conference call on Saturday night and all of the board members were made aware of what Rick Cox did. They all agreed to fire him.”

  “Kate, I’m aware of no such thing. Chris Oakes made it clear that Rick Cox was resigning to pursue personal business. I met with Rick to ask him for his resignation. The company records will show that Rick resigned.”

  “Save it for the press you miserable shit,” I yelled and slammed down the phone.

  Jay was going to fry along with Rick.

  chapter twenty-five

  I had to get out of this place. The morons weren’t only running the zoo, they were being advised by professional morons who they paid handsomely for their moronic advice. Rationally, I supposed, if I thought about it, I could understand where Cleve was coming from. Irrationally though, I wanted to spit in Cleve’s face.

  I forwarded my phone to voice mail and picked up the board documents that I’d been waiting to give back to Harold. I saw that his office door was still closed so I went into the bullpen where the legal assistants sat and headed for Jackie’s desk.

  She was bent over an open file drawer trying to jam a file folder into the already packed filing cabinet. She looked up at me helplessly.

  “I know, I know,” I said. “I promise we’ll go through these drawers soon and get rid of all the dead stuff. Give you more room.”

  “Why don’t I make a current list of everything in the cabinets and you can just mark on it which files I can dead store. That’ll make it easier for you,” she said. The girl was always thinking. Jackie had been in the department for about a year now and she was worth her weight in gold. She was keen and had a great work attitude.

  “Great idea. And I promise I’ll look at the list. Listen, I’m going out. Harold wanted these documents revised,” I said. I handed the pile to her. “He doesn’t want to be disturbed and I’m sure as hell not going in there. If and when his door opens, put these in his basket. And keep an eye open for a courier package from Scapelli’s. Cleveland Johnston’s sent over some urgent documents and Harold needs to look at them right away. In fact, if the package arrives, send Harold an e-mail telling him it’s here. He might be checking his messages in there. Either way, wait until his door opens. And if anyone asks, I’ll be back when I’m back.”

  “Uh, sure Kate.” She hesitated a moment. “You will be back this afternoon won’t you?”

  “Don’t worry Jackie. I won’t leave you to be eaten up by the wolves. Yeah, I’ll be back. I’m just going out for a walk. Clear my head.”

  “A walk? You’re sure? But you don’t walk Kate.”

  “Maybe I’m starting. See you later.”

  I came out of the office and stood at the corner of King and Bay Streets. I was confused about which way to go. I’d never deliberately gone for a walk. Sure, I’d walk to get something to eat, or walk to my doctor’s office four blocks over. But to walk for the sake of walking was something new to me. I turned left and hiked south on Bay Street. At Front Street I looked right and left. Nothing interested me either way and the looming Union Station just depressed me even more. I continued down Bay through the underpass towards Lake Ontario and Queen’s Quay. I mentally patted myself on the back as I passed two sidewalk vendors selling hot dogs. I dodged a few homeless people panhandling for money. My pace was by no means brisk, but I walked as fast as my short legs could carry me, although walking briskly wasn’t something easily accomplished at lunchtime in this area of the city. The sidewalks were teeming with people and I managed to hit every red light. The road was torn up as usual at the entrance to Lakeshore Boulevard, and I stepped carefully over the construction debris littering the street.

  There was less traffic noise and things were more peaceful when I finally reached Queen’s Quay. The sun was bright and the reflection on the lake hurt my eyes. I found an unoccupied bench facing the lake and I sat down heavily. I rummaged in my purse for sunglasses and cigarettes. I wasn’t out of breath and felt good. I wasn’t sure if the walk could be considered aerobic exercise because I hadn’t worked up a sweat. But I had walked. And I reminded myself as I lit a cigarette, that I hadn’t walked for exercise, I had walked to get away from the office.

  I leaned back on the bench and tilted my face to the sun and thought about quitting. The job. The so-called career. I wondered if there were places to work out there that treated their employees like people. Places that realized that the workers were people. I laughed out loud when I realized that those types of places only existed in brochures describing working conditions in communist countries. I knew I was cynical but I had earned the right. I had been watching grown men play at being powerful executives now for so many years it was a joke.

  How important was it all, I asked myself. In the whole scheme of things, how important was the business our company was in? In two years, we’d be selling customers something completely different because technology changes so quickly. Our executives clearly didn’t care about our customers. Look at how many of our former customers have us tied up in litigation. We weren’t working on a cure for cancer. We were selling technology. Big fucking deal. I flicked my cigarette butt into the grass.

  So Kate, if you quit, what’ll you do? I had always been cocky enough to think I could get a job anywhere. Enough people had told me they wanted to hire me. I could make a list as long as your arm of the number of high-powered executives in this city who had patronizingly told me what a fantastic job I did. “Hope they pay you well, Kate,” several had said to me.

  Right. I made excellent money for a secretary and I had surpassed the salary ceiling for that field of work. But you’re not a secretary Kate, I reminded myself. You’re a p
aralegal. And paralegals make less money than secretaries. There was no way I could go to a law firm and make the money I was making at TechniGroup. I was making more now than many junior associates in law firms.

  I mentally kicked myself for not going to law school when I had the chance. I had the applications filled out and had taken the LSAT exams and was ready to take the plunge. There was enough money saved to get by and Mom and Dad had promised to help if things got rough. But then I met Tommy. Whirlwind romance. Every time he’d kissed me, the thought of law school got further and further from my mind. By the time the dust had settled and we were divorced I had no more ambition. I’d quit the law firm and started doing temp work in the city. There was a different job each week and I had started to really enjoy not getting attached to the people I worked with. Like a homeless person wandering the streets, only I wandered the offices of Toronto. It was a great healing time for me.

  I was ready to settle down again when they offered me a full-time job at TechniGroup. And now I had the seven year itch. Seven years at TechniGroup. I knew there wasn’t anywhere else for me to go in the company in terms of advancement. But who was I kidding? There’s only so far you can go as a secretary or for that matter, a paralegal. You work with one of the top dogs and you do all their dirty work. Day in and day out. Most times the work was interesting but after a while, it was the same. If I went to another company I’d be doing the same thing after six months. Working for one of the senior people and as soon as I got the hang of the company and all the inner workings, I’d be back in the same boat. What a vicious fucking circle. Maybe it was time to get into a whole new field.

  I put my elbows on my knees and cupped my face in my hands and stared out at the lake. Shit, this was depressing. I felt my shoulders getting heavy and knew that if I didn’t shake out of this mood I’d be in sad shape by the end of the day.