by Brown,Dick
“Dammit.” Jack pounded his fist on his desk. “I can’t believe this. What the hell is going on?”
Rod was alarmed by Jack’s outburst. He had never seen him this upset. Walking quietly around behind Jack, he saw what was upsetting him. “When did these come in?” Rod asked.
“They were waiting in my mailbox this morning,” Jack said. “I don’t understand the sudden increase of accidents. We’ve had an excellent record with very few accidents from the very beginning. Look at this one,” he said, holding up a sheet that reported the accidental puncturing of the fuselage of one of the Saudi aircraft with a forklift loading work supplies through a side door. Another one reported that the foam fire retardant was accidentally set off and filled the paint hangar with a Saudi aircraft in it. “That’s forty thousand dollars to reload the foam equipment and hours of downtime to clean the foam off the aircraft and hangar,” Jack said, slamming the reports down hard on his desk.
“Why are we just now getting word of these accidents?” Rod asked. “Our safety engineer is supposed to send us copies of every accident event as soon as it happens. Let’s get Gene in here to explain what’s going on.”
“Good idea, I’ll have him paged right now.”
Facility Safety Engineer Gene Sadler was a Texas A&M graduate who’d played linebacker on the football team. He kept his athletic body in shape by working out three times a week in the RJ Systems gym. Jack favored hiring A&M graduates, but didn’t cut them any slack on performance. Everybody had to pull their own weight and was expected to have no less dedication to the company than their president. Within five minutes, the safety engineer tapped lightly on the office door before he entered.
“Thanks for coming so quickly.” Jack met him in front of his desk and extended his right arm for a firm handshake. The greeting was cordial, but the safety engineer was cautious because he hadn’t been told why he was summoned so urgently. Jack ran a tight ship, but his management style was casual. He ushered Sadler into the conference room where Rod was waiting.
“Have a seat, Gene. Can I get you a coffee or water?” Jack asked.
“No thanks,” Gene said, looking nervously around the room. His eyes met Rod’s and he mouthed, “Why am I here?” He found out soon enough when Jack joined them at the long conference table.
“Gene,” Jack said, “I called you up here to find out why we haven’t been getting these accident reports in a timely fashion. Some of them go back several weeks and are costing the company thousands of dollars. First, I’m upset about the long delay in getting the accident reports. And second, I’m sure as hell upset at the costs in money and lost time on the most important contract we have on this facility. We haven’t had this many accidents in the last five years. I want to know what you’re doing to cut down on accidents now and in the future. We can’t stand these kinds of losses financially. Our customer’s going to lose confidence in our ability to do the job.”
Gene squirmed uncomfortably, avoiding Jack’s eyes after his dressing down. He gripped the arms of his chair until his knuckles were white and then responded, “I put a copy of each accident in priority mailers into my courier out-basket and told Susan to make sure they got to you immediately. I can’t explain the delays, but I’m sure going to find out as soon as I meet with Susan. To answer your second question, I held meetings with all the union employees and their shop steward by trade groups. I impressed on them how badly this reflects on the company’s contract performance reviews to our customer. And to the employees who got demerits on their records, I urged them to be more careful and more safety-conscious in their daily work habits. I was emphatic that these kinds of careless accidents will not be tolerated and can lead to termination. The union steward, George Conrad, assured me of their full cooperation in eliminating the rash of accidents.” Gene sat back in his chair, satisfied that he’d reacted correctly.
“As soon as you get back to your office I want to know Susan’s reasons for the delays,” Jack said. “And I want you walking the floor of those hangars and letting them know they are being monitored. These incidents will stop. Are we clear, Gene? Your job depends on it. Report back to me Friday. I want a full report on the progress of your conversations and observations with all the employees on this flight line. I’m counting on you, Gene. We’ve been together a long time. Don’t let me down.”
“I won’t, sir,” Gene responded. “I guarantee I’ll get to the bottom of this and get it fixed.”
“You do that. Now get on out of here and bring me some good news Friday,” Jack said, and gave Gene a pat on the back as he walked him to the door.
“He’s a good man. Do you think I was too hard on him?” he asked Rod, settling down in his high-back executive chair.
Rod stood in front of his massive desk and thought for a minute, then answered. “I don’t think so. If I’d committed any one of those dozen accidents while I was in the Air Force, I would have been at least busted back in rank. For the more serious charges, I probably would have been thrown in the brig. Or worst case, mustered out with a general discharge under less than honorable conditions.”
Chapter 49
Circling the wagons
All department heads, including the union shop steward, were gathered in Jack’s conference room. Everyone was dressed in a suit and tie except the union steward, George Conrad, a stocky man of six feet with red hair and muscular arms. His work clothes of blue jeans, a western shirt and cowboy boots separated him from the rest. He wasn’t included in the light chatter that filled the air as the men drank coffee or bottled water or soft drinks from the refrigerator. When Jack and Rod entered the room at three o’clock sharp, the conversation chatter stopped.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen, thank all of you for coming. There’s only one item on the agenda today—accidents!” Jack said in an unusually loud voice. “That’s it. We are having absolutely too many accidents on the flight line and I need some answers. The delay in my receiving the accident reports has been corrected, but the number of accidents hasn’t. The accident pattern seems to be happening primarily with the Saudi contract aircrafts. I don’t believe in coincidence, not at the rate they are happening. Closed meetings have been held with all the flight-line workers, warning them of the consequences if these accidents aren’t stopped. But they haven’t stopped. Since the sabotage—” Jack paused, glaring directly at his staff. “There, I’ve said it. Since the sabotage is happening in the Saudi program hangars, we’ll start with you, George.” He quickly added, “I want to be clear, I’m not pointing a finger, but all those men are your rank-and-file union members. As their union steward, what are you hearing from your men and what are you doing about it? You have the floor.”
George Conrad rose slowly from his chair and returned Jack’s questioning stare. “If you aren’t pointing a finger at the union, Mr. Workman, I don’t know what else to call it,” he said in his East Texas drawl with a twisted smile. “I’ll vouch for my men. I can tell you there is no deliberate attempt to sabotage this contract. Yes, sir, mistakes are sometimes made. The person making a mistake is counseled to be more conscientious in his work effort, given demerits and even given some retraining if necessary. We are working under tight deadlines that we can’t meet unless everybody else meets their deadlines,” he said with an obvious glance at the communications engineering manager.
“Engineering needs to make the equipment and systems development deliveries on schedule for installation so we don’t have to play catch-up to save his ass,” George said with another sharp glance toward the engineering manager sitting across the table. “We’ll do our part if everybody else does theirs. That’s all I have to say.” George sat down with the corners of his mouth turned down under his bushy handlebar mustache.
“What about that, Larry?”
Larry Hamilton, the manager under attack, was seething at George’s remark. A short, po
rtly, gray-haired man, he bolted up from his chair, donned a pair of black-rimmed glasses from his vest pocket, and said between clenched teeth, “We have had some design issues that did delay production of some black boxes. But only for a day or two.”
“Last time I looked at a calendar a week had seven days in it,” Conrad responded.
“The black boxes were ready as scheduled,” Hamilton fired back, his voice rising, “but redesigns were requested by the customer for additional capabilities not included in the original contract. The delays were unavoidable and the installers knew as much.” A rumble of voices responded with disparaging comments exchanged.
“Okay, gentlemen, let’s keep this civil,” Jack said, raising his hands for quiet. “I want to know when the customer requests changes so the contract can be renegotiated and extended if necessary. But for the sake of good customer relations, work extra hours if that’s what it takes to keep this contract moving on schedule. We’ll work out the time charges later.”
Each manager took his turn voicing complaints about the language barrier in dealing with the Saudis and their constant requests for contract changes in midstream. By four o’clock, Jack had heard all he wanted from the management team and union representative.
“It sounds like we have some communication problems, not only with our customer, but among ourselves. I am appointing my vice president and executive assistant, Rod Miller, to be the overall program manager. Any communications or changes requested by the customer will be forwarded directly to him, is that understood?” Without waiting for a response, Jack continued. “He speaks their language and played a major role in winning this contract. Rod is intimately familiar with the contract since he helped negotiate most of it. Do not do anything without consulting him. Do I make myself clear? And I want these accidents and delays eliminated, gentlemen. End of discussion. Be prepared to do whatever it takes. That is all. This meeting is adjourned. Now get back out there and get these issues squared away.”
The men filed out of the conference room wearing long faces. Jack and Rod returned to their desks, tired of all the bickering among the managers. Jack opened the cabinet behind his desk, set up two glasses, and poured each of them three fingers of Jim Beam.
“Nectar of the gods.” Jack held his glass up, took a big slug, and dropped heavily into his chair. Rod sat on the corner of Jack’s desk and spoke first.
“I don’t like the sound of the blame game being played. Something isn’t right and it worries me. When program managers don’t get along, it doesn’t bode well for the quality and timeliness of the programs progress,” Rod said, then drained his glass.
“I know what you mean,” Jack said. “I realize I just handed you a tough situation without discussing it with you, but you are the only one I trust to get to the bottom of this. If we don’t get things ironed out soon, the Saudis will be breathing down our necks and the government won’t be far behind. The government’s stake in keeping the Saudis happy is big—they’re our strongest ally in the Middle East. If they are unhappy, so is Uncle Sam. I’m getting a headache. How ’bout we knock off a little early and have a beer at the club?”
“Sounds great. I could really use one after that session.” Rod quickly stuffed the scribbled meeting notes in his briefcase and snapped it closed. The two men left the office with a little drag in their step. A lot was at stake for the future of the company, and they felt the pressure building. They reached their cars parked next to each other behind the guard shack at the main entrance. Rod opened his car door and stopped.
“You know what this feels like? It’s like the pressure situation I was in at the state championship game. Standing a few yards from my own goal line and needing to score a touchdown, with less than a minute to play. Our win at state was a big upset, just like RJ Systems winning the Saudi contract was a big upset over Boeing and McDonnell Douglas, two of the largest conglomerates in the defense industry. We won the prize and are having our fifteen minutes of fame. To stay in this game, we have to pull out all the stops to prove we deserve it, and that means lots of pressure,” Rod said as he leaned on the top of his Mercedes convertible with one foot resting on the doorjamb.
“Yeah,” Jack said, “and it appears that somebody doesn’t want us to stay in the game. Losing this contract would put us back down at the bottom of the heap and could break us. Let’s kick it around over our beer.”
Jack and Rod entered the club’s dining room and headed for their usual table on the far side of the room. The crowd was small because it was Wednesday, church prayer meeting night in Bois D’Arc. Next to Friday night football, it was the best-attended gathering of the week for the dozen churches in town. The quiet atmosphere was welcomed after the contentious meeting they had just finished. The solitude didn’t last long. After ordering two Coronas, Rod heard the dining area door slam shut.
“Oh, shit, look who just walked in,” Rod said as he nodded toward the entrance. “So much for a relaxing beer.”
“What’s his problem? Can’t accept the fact that he’s a loser?” Jack mused out loud. “His daddy didn’t do him any favors by making him a partner in the firm his first year out of law school. I’m thinking that you two letting him off the hook for his assault on Cass just fed his warped ego.”
“You may be right, but I don’t think any of us would have survived the public humiliation of a trial. Here he comes.” Before Eddie Winthrop was within ten feet of their table, Rod met him with his hands palms facing out to stop him in his tracks.
“Hold it right there, Eddie. Have you forgotten the restraining order you’re under?”
“I’m not here to cause any trouble,” Eddie said casually and stopped within a few feet of Rod. He raised his hands in a surrender gesture, mocking Rod’s tone. “I don’t think you would want me to yell my question across the room for anyone else to hear.”
“And what question might that be?”
“Word is going around town that you’re having problems with that big contract with the camel drivers and might lose it. Is that true?” Eddie said enjoying his sick, secret operation to destroy Rod.
The comment caught Rod off guard. He recovered quickly and answered with a forced smile. “Sorry to disappoint you, but we’re doing just fine,” he lied. “Folks in this town really need to worry about something important like building an overpass across the railroad tracks. Then they could get to work on time in the mornings instead of sitting at the crossing and counting boxcars for half an hour,” Rod said, making light of Eddie’s faked concern. Back to a more serious mode, Rod repeated, “This is my last warning, Eddie. Get a life and stay out of ours or I will invoke your restraining order. This conversation is over.” Rod turned his back and walked back to Jack.
“Okay.” Eddie backed away in feigned fear with his hands still raised. “I’m leaving, just thought you’d want to know.” He backed up a few more steps, then turned and walked toward the door mumbling to himself, “You just think everything’s fine, mister big shot.”
When Rod rejoined Jack, he had a worried look on his face.
“Don’t let that jerk get to you,” Jack said, trying to comfort Rod. “He’s still bitter over Cass choosing you over him. He’s just trying to get into your head, that’s all.”
“He doesn’t bother me that much, he’s been like that all his life,” Rod assured Jack. “But I think he may have put his foot into that big mouth of his. How could the accident problems with the Saudi contract be all over town? We just came from the closed meeting with the program managers and all the memos and employee briefings concerning the accidents were confidential and not to be discussed outside of work. He’s either lying, or he has a snitch.” Rod took a big swig of his Corona and looked across the table at Jack, “What do you think?”
“You may have something there. I’ll make some calls in the morning and find out what, if anything, the
downtown rumor mill is putting out. Old man Worthington has his finger on the pulse of this town. If Eddie’s right, we have some damage control to do, and fast. And if he’s lying, it will just be a matter of time before he spreads his vicious lie around town. I personally think the guy is sick in the head,” said Jack. “It’s time to be more aggressive in our investigation.”
Jack looked around to make sure no one was within earshot. He leaned forward and spoke softly. “I’ll have a Dallas security company install cameras all through the hangars and workshops. They can install them and the monitors after second shift has clocked out. The monitors will be mounted in our office for our eyes only. Nobody can know they are there. It’s the only way to guarantee the integrity of the system.” Jack paused for a moment. “I really hate it has come to this. I don’t like spying on my employees. But we have to get to the bottom of these accidents and get this program back on track as fast as we can. Are you up for this? You and I will have to split shifts at night to review the tapes. Will Cass be all right with that? I don’t want to cause trouble at home.”
“She’s a trooper. She’ll be fine. I’ll discuss it with her tonight so we can get started as soon as the equipment is installed.” But Rod was in for a surprise at Cass’s response. She was growing tired of being a workaholic’s widow.
The two men hoisted their Coronas and clicked them gently to toast the success of their plan. They finished their beers and left the club while it was still daylight outside.
Walking to their cars, Rod said, “I think I’ll surprise Cass and take her to the Adolphus for dinner tonight. I’ll ply her with her wine before I discuss our plan.”