by Susan Wolfe
“The paramedics think he had a massive heart attack around four or five this morning.”
“Oh, God, that’s terrible,” Zack said. “I’m stunned.”
“It’s very bad,” Ken agreed. “Rumors are spreading like crazy, and the whole kick-off’s in chaos. I’ve been asked to talk to his wife, so I’m headed over there now.”
“You have to tell his wife?” Zack asked with horror, staring at the phone. Georgia certainly hadn’t meant to involve Ken in the family stuff. She wondered if Glen’s wife knew about the kiddie porn. She rested three fingers against the pulse thudding in her neck.
“Well, I think the police have already told her, but I need to be there to help in any way I can.”
“Of course. How can I help?” He glanced at Georgia, who was now grateful for the small privacy of her tangled hair obscuring part of her face. She had known this was possible, of course, although she hadn’t really expected it. But now that it had happened she felt not only shock, but dread as well. If Ken knew she’d played any part in it, he’d be horrified. He would never think it was okay to wish for the death of another person. More than wish. Facilitate it, really, even though it depended upon Glen’s choosing to behave abominably. She focused on her breath to steady herself for a moment before returning to the conversation in the car.
“. . . thinking about what we announce and when,” Ken was saying. “We’re going to need to say something both internally and externally fairly soon. I’d like to get a first draft ready by the end of the day.”
“Let me handle that with the communications people,” Zack offered. “How old was he?”
“Forty-seven.”
Zack groaned. “Dying by yourself in a Las Vegas hotel room. How lonely is that?”
There was a brief silence. “Actually, Zack, that’s why I want to get started on the internal communication. He apparently wasn’t alone.”
Maggie let Georgia and Zack know that Ken was ready for them that evening just after six. Quan was already with him, and Ken’s tie was undone, hanging in crooked, red ribbons against his creased yellow shirt.
“How’d it go?” Zack asked.
“As well as it could go, I guess.” He closed his eyes in a long blink and brushed his hand across the top of his hair. “Anna Terkes seems to be a pretty strong woman. The sons are flying in tomorrow. The company learned for the first time today that Glen had a hereditary heart disease that killed both his parents—his father in his forties, his mother in her fifties. Glen and Anna have been managing his health together for their entire married life, and Glen’s been taking powerful medication for years. He and Anna certainly knew this could happen. Which makes it even more surprising . . .” He glanced at Georgia and lowered his voice. “Apparently there’d been quite a party in his suite the night before, and he was engaged in activities that he knew were dangerous.” Which was quite an understatement.
“Anna told me she and Glen haven’t had all that close a marriage for a number of years now. I guess Glen always traveled a lot, and Anna went back to school while she was raising the boys and has a PhD in linguistics. They’ve been leading fairly separate lives for a long time.
“She has her suspicions, but I don’t think she knows about the—what?—orgy? Sorry, Georgia, that’s an awful word. Probably more of a party that really got out of hand. I just hope Anna never finds out. Can you imagine an executive of our company participating with his own team in some group sex and drug . . . !” He covered his eyes and waved a hand in the air. “I guess I’m just going to be a naive choir boy all the way to my grave.”
She hoped so. It was one of his finest qualities.
If Ken was that shocked by prostitutes, what on earth would he make of those crotch shots of children? She wondered with a twinge of despair what it meant about her that she was better able to take kiddie porn in stride than big, ex-military Ken Madigan. Well. No point in dwelling on that. Somebody had to take it in stride in order to deal with it.
“I don’t think you’re naive,” Zack was saying. “I’m shocked by it, too, if only because of the sheer stupidity.”
“I gave it 50-50,” she murmured.
“Sorry?” Ken said, looking at her. “You gave what 50-50?”
Dumb. Get a grip. “Oh, you know, just the idea that he’d sleep with a prostitute at a party.” She made herself shrug. “I mean, I would’ve said 50-50 if I’d ever thought about it.”
“Boy, not me. Anyway, Anna’s asked not to have an autopsy. She doesn’t have a lot of illusions, but I think she feels the less focus on his last few hours the better. And the coroner has agreed because of Glen’s heart condition.
“I tell you guys. We really need to cherish the people we’re close to, because we could lose them in an instant. We know that, but it’s always shocking when something like this happens.”
He was silent a moment. “So. There’s going to be a memorial service, but I think we need to get the internal message out tonight if we can. That a draft? Great, let’s take a look.” He took a copy from Zack and read through it. “Let’s add the part about his heart condition, okay? And his parents’ heart condition.” He made some notations and handed it back. “Okay, read it out loud, Zack, will you? Let’s try to focus on this so we can all get home to our families.”
Dear Colleagues,
It is with great sadness that I inform you Glen Terkes has passed away. He died from the hereditary heart disease that claimed both of his parents at early ages. Glen was 47.
As most of you know, Glen was our VP of Worldwide Sales for just over two years. During his short tenure, annual sales grew from $1 billion to $1.2 billion. Glen consistently exhibited the highest standards of leadership and integrity, and we are very lucky to have had him for as long as we did. We’ll miss him greatly.
Glen is survived by his wife, Anna, and their two adult sons. Our sympathies are with them, and I am pleased to report that the company will accelerate the vesting of Glen’s options to assist the family with financial security. Plans for a memorial service will be announced when they have been finalized.
On an interim basis, I have asked Charlie Reebuck to step into Glen’s role. Please give Charlie your full support as he serves the company in this critical temporary capacity. The search for a new VP of Worldwide Sales will begin immediately.
Roy
“Nice email,” Ken said.
“And generous,” Quan added. “ ‘Highest standards of leadership and integrity.’ ”
“True,” Georgia agreed. “Maybe when I die they’ll say I was Mother Teresa.”
“Come on, guys,” Zack protested. “Shouldn’t we be slightly respectful?”
“Glen was a good person,” Ken said. “There aren’t a lot of us who meet the highest standards as often as we should.”
Seemed snarky to ask whether Stalin was a good person. After all, Ken didn’t know what she knew: that Glen was definitely causing the side deals. That he enjoyed kiddie porn, and apparently kiddies themselves. (Had that thirteen-year-old Katie-Ann lookalike in Tulsa managed to escape?) She realized she had put her hand over her mouth and dropped it back onto the table.
“True,” Quan agreed lightly. “Anyway, hypocrisy has its benefits, and I guess this is one of them. It wouldn’t be good for the relatives if you said ‘lowest standards of leadership and integrity.’ ” And he didn’t even know about the porn. She sucked in her lips to suppress a smile, and allowed herself to shoot him a perhaps mystifying look of gratitude.
“Besides,” Zack continued, “they weren’t the lowest. Did you see who’s replacing him?”
“Can you believe that?” Ken rolled his eyes to the ceiling and threw his hands in the air. “How could Roy possibly put Charlie Reebuck in charge? We’re really gonna have to scrutinize the deals now.”
“It should motivate everyone to move quickly on the right replacement,” Quan said. “Ken, can you be part of the interview team?”
“I can try.” He was silent a
moment. “I think all of us should plan to go the memorial service.”
No. No way.
“I don’t think I should,” she said.
“Why not?”
“I think everybody deserves to only have people at his funeral who really cared about him. I didn’t respect Glen when he worked here, and I’d feel phony going to his funeral.”
Ken looked puzzled. “I’m not sure it’s ever phony to express respect and sadness for a person dying.”
Georgia shrugged. “Dying doesn’t turn a bad person into a good one.”
Ken’s look of alarm made it clear she had said something inappropriate. Must be a Catholic thing. Only imagine what he’d think if he knew she’d played a part in it. The feeling of dread returned with a vengeance, and to her astonishment she was suddenly blinking back tears.
“Sorry,” she said in a constricted voice. “I didn’t express that very well. Of course, it’s always sad when a person dies. I just mean we should sincerely respect the person’s death.”
His look of alarm lingered an instant, then evaporated. “We should, Georgia. Absolutely. Then it sounds like you shouldn’t go. I’ll be there for the family, for Anna in particular. The rest of you should only go if you feel right about it. In the meantime, I’ll see if I can get myself onto the hiring committee, like Quan suggested.”
That night she left Katie-Ann bent over an essay and made her way downstairs and into the passenger seat of her car. The air sure was hazy tonight. Was there a wildfire somewhere? She had to search a while to find even the brightest star in Orion’s belt.
It was certainly sad for Glen that he died, but was it sad for anybody else? It wasn’t just the company that was better off without him, it was also his own wife, vulnerable teenagers, and basically the whole human race.
That was so callous. Did she really believe it?
Yes, she admitted a few moments later, she just really did. Ken was a nicer person than she was, but she’d seen some things she couldn’t ever un-see, and that made her more realistic. Or maybe just more cynical. It was confusing. Terkes the pedophile had to be stopped, and he was stopped, impaled on his own vices without tanking the company. But her involvement was something she’d find it unbearable to have Ken know about. Was that her conscience, or just her need for Ken’s good opinion? Were they different? She pressed her fingers against her closed eyelids and focused on her breath.
CHAPTER 24
Georgia sat in the boardroom, her pale forearm resting on the dark, polished conference table as she waited for Roy’s voice to come through the speakerphone so the executive team meeting could begin. He was late, and she distracted herself by leaning over the table and checking different angles to see whether the highly polished surface could be made to reflect her pale, freckled face, or at least the outline of her black, blunt-cut hair. Perhaps in honor of Roy’s physical absence, somebody had located the thermostat and savagely throttled back the air conditioning, so that the bright sunshine streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling window seemed consistent rather than taunting. Ken had draped his suit coat over the back of his chair, and was absent-mindedly rolling up his white shirtsleeves as he concentrated on a document on the table in front of him.
Lumina stock was being pelted daily by analyst reports that ranged from skeptical to scathing in their evaluation of the preannouncement. Although the stock price was now sticking around 17½, rumor had it that Roy’s tour to meet with financial analysts had taken on the hunkered-down feeling of a siege.
So why wasn’t there a feeling of crisis here in the room? Instead, the mood was one of lethargy as they waited for Roy to come onto the speakerphone. The only human sound came from Sally and Giuseppe, who were whispering calmly with their heads together. Andrea was draped over her chair sideways, thumb-typing on her iPhone. Charlie Reebuck, dynamic new head of worldwide sales, was slouched down until his chin nearly touched the table. At one point Georgia felt his eyes on her, but when she looked up his glance skittered away before she could make eye contact. Even having Sally and Andrea in the same room lacked the usual crackle of danger. Were these guys just giving up?
Only Mark Balog radiated his usual high energy. He sat firmly upright, his spotless yellow tie perfectly centered on his starched blue shirt, his fingers flying across his keyboard. She decided to check in with him.
“Hw R U?” she texted.
A minute later he responded. “Horrbl. Thx 4 asking :-)”
“smthing hppnd?”
“15 resignatns this am.”
She glanced up with raised eyebrows. He smiled brightly from across the room and tilted his head to indicate a stack of documents resting under his palm.
“15 n 1 day?”
“15 n 1 hr. nvr seen anthng like ths.”
“!!! Xactly as u predicted.”
Well. This should get the energy pumping.
The speakerphone crackled and Roy called a curt hello.
“Hey Roy,” Ken called back. “How go the analyst interviews this morning?”
“Much better. We’ve turned the corner. I’m finally getting through to these people that the preannouncement was an appropriate and necessary response to what we were seeing in the numbers.”
“Great,” Sally muttered. “Maybe they can explain it to the rest of us.”
Ho, and the big fish swallows the bait!
Andrea’s thumbs froze over her iPhone, and she caught Ken’s eye.
“What was that?” Roy called through the phone.
“That was me, Roy,” Sally called back sweetly, batting her eyes theatrically for the benefit of those in the room. “I just said that’s great. Maybe they’ll retract those nasty analyst reports they’ve been putting out.”
“That’s behind us,” Roy declared. “They just needed to be reassured by talking through the rationale with me.”
“No doubt,” Sally responded with an icy little smile.
Andrea swung her feet around onto the floor and rested her chin on the heel of her hand as she scrutinized Sally. Sally appeared not to notice.
Georgia text to Ken: Whts ths?
Ken text to Georgia: No idea.
“In any event,” Roy continued, “we’re getting momentum around the Calypso acquisition, so we’re in good shape there. All under control. Cliff, take us through the agenda, and make it quick. I have another analyst meeting in half an hour.”
“I realize time is of the essence, Roy,” Mark interjected, “but I do have something I need to bring up.”
“Sorry, there’s no . . .”
Mark shouted, “Fifteen people resigned this morning!”
After a moment of shocked silence, Ken said, “Jesus, Mary and Joseph!”
“Did you say fifteen?” Roy asked.
“One five,” Mark confirmed brightly into the phone through his tight grin. “I guess that’s the silver lining. At least it’s not five oh—yet. They’ve all given two weeks’ notice, so they’ll be gone on the 28th.”
“Sounds like organized insurrection.” The words ‘organized insurrection’ evidently tasted like quinine. “And this mass exodus occurred because . . . ?”
“Nobody’s told me that yet. The letters arrived on my desk just before this meeting. But you know, Roy, these are people who’ve been telling us for months that conditions were intolerable.”
“Yes, your group has always enjoyed whining. You should’ve shut it down a long time ago, and now you’ll have to show some actual leadership to turn it around.”
“I’m certainly hoping to turn it around, Roy,” Mark said brightly. “I’ll need to speak to you about what we can do after I talk with them.”
“Sally needs to become involved now. Sally?”
“I’ll be on it right after this meeting,” she confirmed.
“To be clear, I expect good news on this shortly.”
Georgia text to Ken: Dz he care if its accurat?
Dearest Daddy,
Thanks so much for letting me read the
first installment of the lost diary of Robert E. Lee. General Lee’s handwriting is excellent. I found samples on the Internet, and I do believe it would take some real scrutiny to detect any difference.
Your fascination with the Civil War shines through, and of course I see the appeal of such a challenge at a time when your other opportunities are temporarily unavailable. General Lee certainly has more dimension and personality than has formerly been supposed. His description of the whore with the hornet up her skirt is funnier than a hairpiece on a frog.
But Daddy, isn’t that sort of a problem? I’m pretty sure there are some well-researched biographies of General Lee. Did he ever even make it to Arkansas? A newly unearthed diary could potentially alter more than a hundred years of scholarship, and might attract the kind of attention you’d prefer to avoid right now, especially when your address is so fixed.
I wonder if it would be safer to forge—She couldn’t write that. Too dangerous.—simulate—no, still too dangerous—research somebody slightly less famous while you’re waiting for your parole hearing. I would love to read the diary of General Lee’s favorite cook. You could keep a lot of the local color, and you wouldn’t have to worry about the handwriting. I’ll bet you could get good money for it.
Anyway, those are my thoughts. Katie-Ann and I are doing fine and looking forward to the day we can show you first-hand how comfortable our little apartment has become. Katie-Ann named our new cat Wizard, in the hope that we can retrieve Blizzard one day, and then we’ll have black and white cats whose names will rhyme.
We think of you always.
Your loving daughter,
Georgia
Georgia didn’t know why she’d been called to a 7:30 a.m. emergency meeting in Ken’s office, and Ken wasn’t there to tell them. She and Zack were joking that it must be serious if they were being bribed with scones as well as coffee, when Sally marched in through the open door and seated herself at one end of the table. Zack shot Georgia a look that meant “There goes the neighborhood,” and they lapsed into awkward silence while they waited. Through the window she could see raindrops dotting the parking lot and pattering onto the tops of dusty cars. Her first fall in California. Would Katie-Ann remember to take her windbreaker to school?