Escape Velocity

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Escape Velocity Page 17

by Susan Wolfe


  “Wudjya need?” he asked warily.

  “I’m taking this medicine to my grandfather at the nursing home, and I forgot to put in one of the bottles.” She flashed her Motrin bottle. “I only have this one envelope. Do you think you could hold the flap over the steam for about 15 seconds so that I can reuse it?”

  He glanced up at the blinking computer screen of pending drink orders. “I guess so. Yeah.” He reached for the envelope.

  “Just count slow to fifteen. Wrap your hand in a towel, now, so you don’t get burned.”

  He glanced at her curiously as he took the envelope. A minute later he handed it back. “That do it?”

  “Oh, I’m sure it does. Did you count slow? Grandpa and I sure do appreciate it.”

  Back in her car she laid the envelope flat on her copy of Crazy in Alabama, took the knife from her Salvation Army box and slid the blade gently under the flap. She used a Kleenex to lift out the bottle. Cordarone. What was that for? Maybe if she was still bored when she got back, she’d look it up. She wrote the name, dosage, and prescription number of the bottle in her spiral-bound pad. Then she pulled a glue stick from her purse, dabbed very lightly along the gummed edge of the envelope, and realigned the signature precisely along the former glue line. The whole procedure had taken less than five minutes, and her boredom was pretty much cured. She felt almost perky as she pulled onto the freeway and headed for the airport.

  “Done and dusted, as Gramma Griffin would say,” she reported to Maggie later. Ken wanted to see her.

  “Hey, Georgia, come on in. Zack and I need your help with a new problem.” Ken was wearing a long, red tie today, and she didn’t like it at all. She didn’t like having a new drain on her time with Katie-Ann starting school, either. But the new problem might not be urgent. Zack was leaning back comfortably in his spring-back conference chair, his fingers intertwined with palms down on top of his head, and his elbows spread wide to either side.

  “But first,” Ken said, “I want to let you know there’s going to be a personnel announcement in a few hours. Archibald Moss is leaving the company.”

  Archie undone.

  “He is??” Zack dropped his hands and leaned forward. “Wow. So maybe there is a God.”

  “Zack, you’re all sentiment,” Ken snorted.

  “Because of the patent?” Georgia inquired. So this really was wrapped up. She pursed her mouth to prevent her smile from expanding into a slightly loony grin.

  “The announcement is going to say he has health problems that need to be addressed immediately.”

  “‘The announcement is going to say . . .’” Zack repeated. “So does that mean we never find out the real reason?”

  “Actually, it is a kind of health problem. Nothing life-threatening, fortunately.”

  “That is fortunate.” Zack’s laughing eyes contradicted his solemn tone. “So, is he just on sick leave then, or is he really gone? I need to manage my optimism.”

  “He’s definitely gone for good. His replacement will report to me, so I’ll lead the search.”

  Zack grinned. “So, at the risk of sounding heartless, don’t we need champagne?”

  “This is certainly going to make it easier for us to do our jobs,” Ken agreed, “but Archie was a good person, and this isn’t very good for him. He was popular with the programmers and oddly enough with a lot of nice women in this company who seemed to enjoy taking care of him. We might want to keep our enthusiasm to ourselves.”

  “Will do,” Georgia responded, dutifully wiping the smile from her face.

  “Point taken,” Zack agreed.

  “Okay, now the new problem. Georgia, you know what a side deal is?”

  “No.” She picked up her plastic pen and wrote ‘side deal.’

  “As a publicly traded company, we file quarterly public reports called the 10-Q, so that investors can decide whether to buy our stock.”

  “Catchy name.” She wrote it down.

  “A more descriptive name would be ‘Let’s Reveal Our Crooks and Dirt,’ ” Zack offered, returning his hands to the top of his head.

  “Really?” Georgia asked.

  “Well,” Ken said, “let’s just say that we report our sales numbers in these 10-Qs, and they have to be 100 percent accurate. If they’re wrong, we have to file a public correction, which invites a shareholder lawsuit, and then all hell breaks loose.

  “Which is why there are strict rules. One rule is that you can only count revenue for a software sale if you’ve delivered every single thing the contract says you’ll deliver. If you promise software and a stick of gum, then you’d better deliver the gum before you count the revenue for the software. You follow me?”

  “Yep.”

  “And the only way our controller knows what’s been promised is for every single promise to be right there in the contract. If you’re the sales guy, you can’t write a separate letter promising a stick of gum, and you can’t promise even one lousy stick of gum in a phone call, either. In other words, no side deals. Every single salesperson acknowledges in writing that if they do a side deal they’ll be fired.”

  “Okay.”

  “And we really do fire them. Every single time. Consequently, side deals are rare. To give you some perspective, in the five years I’ve been here, there’ve been exactly two. So imagine Zack’s surprise . . . Zack?”

  “Three days ago I got a call from the controller in the San Francisco office about a possible side deal. A customer called up and said he’d like to return the software he’d purchased. The contract explicitly said he couldn’t return the software, so of course the controller said no.

  “But the customer insisted he’d been promised the right of return over the phone, by a sales guy who left our company about a month ago. We’re investigating it now.

  “So far, so bad,” he continued cheerfully. “The total value of the contract is under $200,000, which isn’t enough to require a public correction even if we do have to reverse the revenue. But then this morning I got another call from the controller. In the last 24 hours, she found three more side deals.”

  “Ouch.” Georgia winced.

  “Now, in all likelihood,” Zack reassured them, “the controller just got spooked by the first side deal, and is being overly cautious. But we need to do some digging to make sure of that.”

  “No kidding,” Ken agreed. “If all four of these deals turn out to be bad, how likely is it that we happen to have found the only four? We have to move quickly on this one.”

  Georgia had planned to spend this evening getting Katie-Ann settled into her new homework routine. Of course, Katie-Ann was only here at all because of Ken Madigan.

  “Just tell me how I can help,” she said.

  She was still preparing binders for the side deal investigation in her cube that night at 9:30, working just by the light of her computer screen and trying to ignore voices down the hall near Roy’s office. She hated to leave Katie-Ann eating a sandwich by herself for dinner. She hoped she wasn’t going to start feeling pulled between work and home like this all the time.

  Somebody knocked on the metal rim of her cube. She swung around to see a man in his thirties with dishwater-colored hair that touched the collar of a polo shirt stretched tightly across his belly. She’d seen him somewhere before.

  “Oh hi,” he said. “I’m Joshua, and I met you in Archie’s office a few days ago?”

  “Oh, right. Now I remember, though I could hardly see you through the cigar smoke.”

  “Really? I could see you just fine, so maybe my vision is slightly better than yours. Although I’m sure your vision is good, also.”

  “Right. So what’s up?”

  He scratched his forearm and gazed at her right shoulder. “Well, I was just wondering if you’d like to get a beer together sometime down at the Saloon.”

  No, she would not. Good grief.

  “That’s very kind, Joshua, and I appreciate it. You know what, though, my little sister just moved here to
live with me, so I can’t really do stuff outside of work right now.” Nice to have a completely genuine excuse.

  “Oh.” He paused a moment and scratched his forearm again. “Then we can have lunch instead.”

  She shook her head with regret. “Wish I could, but I pretty much have to work through lunch so I can get home to my sister for dinner. You can see even that didn’t work today, since I’m still here. Thanks, though. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” She gave a friendly wave to signal the conversation was over, and turned back to her binders. Poor guy. Poor herself. Stupid fucking Deke.

  Those voices down the hall were still at it. One of them was Roy, but she couldn’t place a second male voice that sounded . . . terrorized, really. She set her computer on sleep mode and crept silently down the hall to listen.

  “You’re asking me to get on board with no longer reporting to you, and you don’t want to tell me who I will be reporting to?” Ah. Mark Balog, that fanatically groomed customer service guy with the hyper-alert blue eyes. She ducked into a dark cube a few feet from Mark’s office.

  “Can’t say who you’ll report to, because I haven’t decided.”

  “If it isn’t decided, why tell me anything?”

  “You’re leaving on vacation tomorrow, and I want to announce it before you get back.”

  Mark squeaked with horror. “You’re going to announce my demotion to the whole world while I’m in Hawaii, and you won’t tell me who I’m reporting to? How can I agree to this?”

  “You don’t need to agree to it, Mark. My mind’s made up. But I do expect you to be cooperative. I expect you to position it well with your team.”

  “If I’m not here, how can I position it with my team at all? Can you at least tell me why this is happening? Aren’t I one of the best performers in the company?”

  There was a brief silence. “What do you want me to say, Mark? It’s happening because I’ve decided it’s in the best interests of the company. That’s why reorgs always happen.”

  There was a long silence, and then Mark seemed to acknowledge defeat. “You know I’m a team player, Roy. I’ll be as enthusiastic about this with my team as I possibly can be.”

  “Then I won’t keep you any longer. Have a good vacation.”

  Mr. Cuddly the CEO had struck again.

  She stopped by the Mail Boxes Etc. on her way home, and found she already had a response from her father. She sat in her car and tore it open.

  Dearest Georgia,

  It puts my mind at rest to know that Katie-Ann is there with you, and out of the clutches of our Most Reverend. Encourage her to lose a bit of her southern accent if you can. For reasons of out-and-out prejudice, I find a southern accent sometimes creates an impression of stupidity that can be inconvenient in many circumstances, (though of course a decided advantage in others).

  As to your confrere at work (does this paragon have a name?) I have met genuinely good-hearted people twice in my life, and find they make excellent marks. There was a third person, who over a period of several months convinced me she was good-hearted, and then cleverly conned me out of $10,000. Sexual attraction was a factor there, so I encourage you to be self-aware.

  As for me, I am keeping my spirits up by writing a little fiction. Of course this isn’t where my primary talents lie, but I’m striving for an air of authenticity, and believe I am making headway. I may have something to show you soon.

  Take care, Georgia. I am so proud of you.

  Love,

  Daddy

  Georgia smiled and shook her head. Like she would ever give him Ken’s name. Daddy was losing his subtlety there in that prison with his talents going to waste. At least he had his new fiction project to keep him out of trouble.

  She read through the letter again. Her father would be even prouder if he could see how his teachings were being put to use. Holly Foxx had just been a nuisance, but Archibald Moss really mattered, and she’d pulled it off without a hitch. Now that Archibald was gone, the new Ingenious Tricky Countersuit had a chance. ‘I did it, Daddy,’ she thought, gazing up through her windshield at a tree whose lightly swaying branches etched a black lace pattern across the moon. ‘First I observed him with my open mind, and then closed my eyes and visualized his fault lines, like I was looking at a map, exactly the way you taught me.’ Pride is a dangerous emotion, she knew, but after months of feeling overwhelmed every single day, surely she could luxuriate in this moment of out-and-out competence.

  CHAPTER 14

  Georgia was dashing from one perimeter shelf to the next in the diligence room, snapping documents into binders at lightning speed. She filed the last document in her hand, turned back for more, and almost shrieked with fright. Bland Burt was standing in the basement gloom less than two feet away from her.

  “Oh God, Burt! Didn’t hear you come in.” Fucking jerk! She moved her palm from her mouth to her collarbone. “Here, can I get you some coffee? How’s the board presentation coming?”

  “Almost done, but I need a few more documents.”

  “Great. Have a seat, let me move those for you.” She was determined not to let her thudding pulse cause her to miss an opportunity. “So, are you going to present to the board?”

  “No.” He seated himself under the hanging light and reached both hands up to take the steaming cup from her. “I talked to Roy about it, but he wants to do it himself. I really had to push just to get myself invited into the meeting. You were right about Andrea, by the way. The Board wants to hear from her on the intellectual property.”

  She could feel her heart rate slowing to normal, and her gasping was already just little puffs of exhalation. “Well, but isn’t this a big success? Now that you’re in the meeting, you can step in to make sure the board gets an accurate picture. I’m sure that’s what Roy expects.”

  Burt frowned, then nodded. “Yeah, I can’t just sit there and let Andrea confuse people. I’ll have to jump in if they need me.”

  “It’s your duty as an officer of the company, isn’t it? I know Ken always feels that way. Once the board sees how much you know, they’ll probably ask for you explicitly from now on. You’ll be an executive vice president in no time.” Was it possible to go too far with this guy?

  “I should’ve been one a long time ago. Put some milk in this coffee, will you? Not too much.” Georgia smiled sweetly and stirred it for him.

  She rapped her knuckles on the frame of Ken’s open door. He wheeled back from his computer and stretched his arms above his head. His butter yellow shirt was crisp as always, but he looked a little groggy this morning. “Hey, Georgia, what’s up?”

  Something she hoped would seem like her business.

  “I saw Mark Balog in the hall this morning. Isn’t he supposed to be on vacation?”

  “Yeah, I think he is.” He rubbed his hand across his eyes and blinked. “Something must be going on in his part of the company.”

  “I might know what it is.”

  “Really?” He yawned, and stretched his eyes open. “What’s that?”

  “I overheard Roy the other night, telling Mark he’s going to start reporting to somebody else.”

  He stopped yawning and sat up straight. “No kidding. Who’s he reporting to now?”

  “Roy wouldn’t tell him.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Roy’s going to announce the change while Mark’s on vacation, but hasn’t decided who his new boss is.”

  “That’s ridiculous. No wonder Mark’s upset.”

  “Now I think he might be too freaked out to take his vacation. Is there any chance you could talk to him?”

  He cocked his head, his green eyes studying her face. “You’re afraid he’ll quit.”

  “Well, and wouldn’t that be bad? He seems like one of the people around here who does his job.” She felt herself flush under his

  friendly gaze.

  “He is. Absolutely. I could try, Georgia, but Mark and I don’t really talk about personal matters. He might be upset t
hat I know anything about it.”

  “I bet he won’t be. Everyone likes to talk to you, remember? It’s an accident of birth.”

  He snorted softly and drummed his fingers on the desk, considering. “Okay, I’ll try it. Don’t know what good it’ll . . .”

  “Ken?” Mark poked his head in the door as if on cue. “Can I come in and hide?” His smile was so tight it looked like his skin would split.

  “That bad, huh? Come on in. Should I ask Georgia to step out?”

  “Hi, Georgia. Don’t leave. Nikki told me you overheard the bomb being dropped. You told Ken?” He sat stiffly on the edge of his chair. “This morning I talked to him again, and it got worse. He’s decided I’m reporting to Glen Terkes. Can you believe that? I told him it won’t work, because Glen doesn’t respect customer service and he doesn’t respect me. He never returns my calls, and my attempts to collaborate are always rejected.” Painful, really, to hear those sounds of anguish issue through those tight, smiling lips. Made her jumpy just to watch.

  “Roy says I’m making too big a deal about it,” Mark continued. “He says there are lots of job opportunities, and in six months if I’m not happy, I can just move into another job.”

  “Interesting,” Ken said. “Like what?”

  “So I said exactly that, ‘Like what, Roy? Tech support and maintenance is what I do.’ And Roy said, ‘Don’t worry. Maybe you can have Andrea’s job.’”

  Ken stiffened. “He said what?”

  Mark leaned toward Ken, his blue eyes glittering ominously, and repeated more slowly, “He said, ‘Maybe you can have Andrea’s job.’ Does that make any sense to you?”

  “None whatever. Jesus, Mary and Joseph!!”

  “So I said, ‘Roy, how could that be? I don’t even have an engineering degree.’ And he just laughed. And Ken, I’m telling you, it was a pretty weird laugh. Either he’s losing his marbles or I’m losing mine. Is he really thinking of replacing Andrea?” Stop smiling, Mark.

  “Hard to tell what it means, ’cause it makes no sense.”

 

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