The Snare

by David A Ogunde

  Strike one. James cringed inwardly.

  “You may sit.” The woman turned back to her computer screen and typed some more.

  James strode across the unusually thick vanilla carpet and sat on the hard chair in front of the desk. Inadvertently sweeping his eyes across her working surface, he immediately noticed a silver nameplate showing holographic words:

  Cyndi L. Pale

  Executive Director - Special Operations

  “Ms. Pale,” he began, “I apologize. I—”

  “No matter,” she interrupted brusquely, still looking at the screen. “Now, what kind of job title have they come up with for you…? Oooh…it’s a good one: International Strategy Executive. Sounds pretty fancy to me.” Her thick sarcastic tone inviting no response.

  “Well,” she looked over at James expectantly, “you’re an ISE. How does that make you feel?”

  Throughout his career, James had never had a problem with handling professional workplace pressure, but he was thoroughly stumped with how to respond to Cyndi Pale. What did she really want from him? Was this some kind of test? His instinct was to analyze, but he knew he didn’t have the time. She wanted an answer now; so, he just had to give her one.

  “Well…,”he donned an affable smile, “I’ve always wanted to be an ISE.”

  Her eyes narrowed at his light tone.

  Strike two.

  “I see here that you’re a bit of a family man. Is that correct?” she pushed on.

  The question took James off guard. Why would the company have information on his family life, and how would they have obtained it?

  “Yes…That’s correct,” he answered tentatively.

  “Hmm. Delightful. We’ll just see how long you last.” Cyndi’s eyes continued to read the screen in front of her while an uncomfortable feeling started to settle upon James.

  “Are...are you looking at some kind of dossier on me?” James slightly craned his neck to see if he could catch a glimpse of anything on the computer.

  “Just part of it,” she said bluntly before suddenly switching off her screen and rising to her feet. She moved swiftly toward the office door, opened it, and was almost out before James’ mind was able to register the sudden change. He jumped from his chair and followed, making it out just as the door was closing again.

  “I’ve got no time for explanations, I’m afraid. I’ve got a press conference in five minutes.” Cyndi’s smooth gait matched her even smoother words, yet, James felt he was struggling to keep up with her fast pace. Instead of walking back down the way he and Sonya had previously come, Cyndi made a sharp right into the labyrinth of dividers.

  “My private elevator is this way,” she stated. “But since your fancy new office is just there…” She pointed to a set of doors on their right which looked identical to the sliding doors of her office. “…you’ve been given authorization to use it, though my movements get priority, understand?”

  “New office?” James looked over at Cyndi questioningly.

  Her cold, green eyes looked hard at him in return, and with a sinking feeling, James got the message loud and clear:

  No more questions, or you’re out of here.

  James kept the rest of his thoughts to himself. Maybe they just wanted him to have a permanent office here that he could work out of whenever they called him to make the trip over from time to time. That seemed reasonable enough.

  They took the elevator down to almost the ground floor, and walked briskly through a sparsely-occupied spacious hallway lined with shiny, steel doors. Waving the back of her hand against a silver reader, Cyndi barely waited for the sound of the latch unlocking before grabbing the curved handle and nimbly flinging her chosen door open. Immediately, a handful of people burst forth and surrounded them, pulling them deeper into the room. Several had papers in their hands while some had brushes and makeup sponges; and almost all of them were raising their voice to grab Ms. Pale’s attention. She snatched a couple of papers from an assistant, allowed her face to be powdered. Then, after giving a few responses and commands, grabbed James’ wrist and navigated through the crowd toward a polished wooden door at the opposite end of the room. Turning the knob, she met James eyes with a cold smile.

  “Welcome to the deep end,” she said with a smirk, then thrust them through the open doorway.

  Chapter 30

  James was momentarily blinded as a storm of flashing lights assaulted his vision. And it took him a moment to grasp where he was. But the clues came together extremely fast as he noticed the platform on which he stood and the single podium to which Cyndi was now walking. The babbling crowd of eager people holding open notepads and standing on their toes raising their hands to gain attention made it all the more obvious.

  Cyndi had brought him to the press conference.

  James felt an involuntary jolt of anxiety course through him at this unexpected turn, but kept his face smooth as he stood his ground and forced his posture to expressly confirm—to himself as well as the crowd— that he was certainly meant to be there.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, quiet please.” Cyndi’s commanding yet alluring voice echoed into the farthest corners of the open room. She stood at the podium like a carved marble statue, her bare arm raised to enforce the edict of silence. “Thank you for coming. Before we begin, I’d like to introduce GED’s new International Strategy Executive, Mister James Mode, who will be taking your questions today. James?” She turned her head slightly to meet his eyes—demanding him to step forward with her own.

  A brick of ice dropped into James’ stomach, and a light sweat broke out over his skin. Cyndi was throwing him another curve ball. And this time, she was going to strike him out. But as he walked toward her with heavy steps, his mind voluntarily clicked into a new gear, and James was instantly reminded of who he was. James Mode was no stranger to giving addresses or even talking to the press. He was a professional and ample businessman who knew his way around basic company positions and procedures. Somehow, throughout the morning, he had allowed this Ms. Pale to exercise her corporate weight on him to a debilitating point. But now, it was time to show her what kind of man she was really dealing with.

  “I own this business,” James whispered to himself under his breath, setting up an imaginary mental stage. “I am the owner of this company and I am going to talk to these people about it. Own it!”

  Stepping up to the plate, James rested his hands on the edges of the podium and looked directly into the crowd as Cyndi took the liberty of calling upon the first reporter.

  “Yes, François?”

  A thin man with oiled, black hair and small glasses quickly adjusted his frames before reading his notes. “Is it true that GED pulled its investment out of the Indian-based company, Sajit Holdings, just to damage the rupee after your subsidiary Tricorn Limited was refused a permit in the country?”

  Without skipping a beat, James leaned forward to the microphone.

  “That’s not how we do business,” he stated simply. ‘That’s not how my company would do business,’ he affirmed to himself.

  Seeing he was going to get no more from that angle, François goaded a little farther.

  “Then, what do you make of the e-mails that have surfaced from the Tricorn director suggesting that—”

  “I don’t really read alleged ‘leaked emails,’” James interrupted, “so, I couldn’t comment on them.”

  Before François could counter, Cyndi called for the next question.

  “Lee Ling, go ahead.”

  “A report came out yesterday,” began a mature-looking woman in a smart suit, “that shows the connection between your financial services innovation and market turmoil. Can you clarify the role GED has played in this global market collapse?”

  “Well, madam,” addressed James, “that might take a few hours of mathematical discussion. Bottom line is we don't live in a separate world from everyone else. When the world suffers, we suffer.”

  “And yet with many world economies cur
rently in ruin, GED continues to expand.”

  “Yeah, just think how we'd be doing if the markets were healthy!” James quipped.

  Although a faint, ruffled laugh rolled from the crowd, James could tell that the idea of amusement was far from most of the faces. He wondered if making light of things was the best policy to engage here. Just stay focused, he decided. This is no time to start analyzing.

  “Robert.” Cyndi picked the next reporter from the swarm.

  “Mister Mode, is it true that a GED subsidiary called The Haleham Institute has been campaigning for birth control to be distributed in West Africa because GED is concerned about recovering its loans in that region and doesn't believe it can make sufficient payments while supporting the burgeoning population?”

  The question struck James deeper than the rest, almost to a point of causing offense; not at the inquiry, but at the fact that people could believe GED—his company that was doing so much good and trying to save the world—would be involved in this kind of evil and scandalous plan.

  “GED is for humanity, not against it.” James’ strong voice punched out the words more pointedly than his previous answers. “The alleged promotion of birth control by subsidiaries would have nothing to do with their business relationship with GED but with the thoroughly researched social needs of a particular country. The repayment of GED’s supplementary loans to countries in need has never been this company’s goal or agenda. We loan because we want to help. We loan because we can.”

  “Then why not just give money to countries in need? Why loan it?” Robert piped up.

  “When your neighbor asks you for a hammer,” James answered, “do you give it to him or loan it to him? If he doesn’t bring it back, you can no longer use it. And no one else would be able to borrow it from you. It’s the same thing. If GED just gave away its money, we’d lose our tools. But in loaning, the money that gets paid back can, then, be loaned out to another hand in need, thus, creating a perpetual cycle of assistance.”

  “But some say the debt burden placed on these countries deprives them of necessary services and drives their people deeper into poverty. Why isn’t GED doing anything to prevent that?”

  Before James could answer, harsh shouts unexpectedly erupted from the back of the room, followed by the raising of two badly handwritten placards. Almost as one, all heads turned from the podium to see what was going on, like a school of fish changing directions in the current.

  “Oh, great.” Cyndi whispered so only James could hear. “How did they get in here?”

  “Bring down capitalism!” the uninvited protestors began to yell.

  “G-E-D profits from the Rigula virus!”

  “Value human life!”

  The protesters were only able to chant another few lines before security flocked to their sides and swiftly hauled them out.

  “Sorry about that, Ladies and Gentlemen.” Cyndi gained the journalists’ attention back from the distraction. “I think we’ll bring this session to a close for today. Thank you.”

  Now it was the press’s turn to explode in protest as Cyndi deftly stepped away from the podium and glided back through the wooden door. James was quick to follow, but he couldn’t help but look back at the roiling multitude shouting and practically climbing over themselves in attempts to gain her back. It was a pitiful sight, and James was somewhat saddened that their level of intensity and energy wasn’t being put to better uses. If they’d spend more time supporting GED rather than picking it apart like vultures… But, ah well, it was over now.

  He hoped.

  Chapter 31

  Clacking down yet another cavernous hallway in her designer heels, Cyndi remained one hurried step ahead of James, who was at a loss to know how she managed to move so quickly and so smoothly. Since they had exited the press room, she had not spoken a word to him about what was next on the agenda; and by now he knew better than to ask. Instead, he let her lead him onto the next obscure task, traversing through more hallways, foyers, and floors. James felt as if he had already walked several miles throughout the building since his arrival this morning—less than two hours ago. Funny, it felt like he had been there for days.

  The hiss of a door sliding open alerted him to their next bend in the path, and he swiftly strode after Cyndi into the room. Automatic lights flickered on, revealing a huge, polished oak conference table surrounded by, at least, thirty high-backed leather swivel chairs. Behind the head chair was a large blank screen; Cyndi grabbed a remote resting on the table and powered it on. The GED logo immediately popped up. James casually milled about the conference room— looking around and waiting for others to enter. He assumed, after all, that they had finally gotten to the task which he had flown over here for, in the first place: to discuss his initial analysis of developing a Sub-Saharan African Union with some of GED’s major players. They would probably be arriving any moment. Then they could get started; and he would be back on his way home probably tomorrow morning. So much the better, he thought. This place was overwhelming, and he already missed his own London office and colleagues.

  “Take a seat, James.” Cyndi gestured toward the chairs before occupying one herself. “There’s been a change of plans.”

  James chose the chair on her right and sat down warily. To his knowledge, she had not spoken remotely with anyone since they had met a couple of hours ago. What had changed? And who had she talked to about it?

  Confused—and admittedly tired of being kept in the dark—James watched as Cyndi pressed an obscure button within the wood of the table. A panel slid back, and a screen and keyboard rose to the surface. Cyndi waved the back of her hand across a sensor on the screen to turn it on.

  “Okay…” She browsed the screen and tapped on it several times. “New itineraries seem to be in order. Congratulations, James.” As she turned to look at him with a sardonic smile she said, “It seems the deliberation stage of your report review has been unanimously bypassed in favor of a more…hands on assessment.” James didn’t miss her pointed glance at his hands resting on the table, and he began to feel even more uncomfortable. What exactly was he going to be dragged into here, and just how long were they expecting him to be gone from London and his family?

  “We’re going to be visiting one of the countries listed in your report,” Cyndi continued. “The Ukadan Republic. We’ll leave first thing in the morning. It should only take a couple of days. You can handle that, can’t you? And I’ll need you firing on all cylinders with those economic projections of yours while we’re there so we can get this ball rolling.”

  “Wait.” James shook his head slightly in confusion. “Do you mean we’re going to actually start implementing my theory into reality? With a real country? But none of my projections have even been tested yet—”

  “Numbers don’t lie,” offset Cyndi. “And your numbers are good. The boss doesn’t see any point in spending years testing something when we can just get right to it and work out the kinks as we go along. And who is better to begin implementing it than the one who created it?”

  “Well, I suppose…” James said, kind of, seeing the path of her logic.

  Sensing his hesitancy, Cyndi laid it out plain. “Look, I’m not sure what kind of company you think we are, but around here we don’t sit on our hands. We look for opportunities and take them. Just this morning, the CEO of the Trans Global League for Petroleum Engineers—which is a GED subsidiary—and our group of seismologists and geologists submitted a report concerning the Ukadan Republic. A vast oil deposit has been discovered in the delta region of the country, and we’re already working with their government to get the door opened for us as fast as possible before someone else swoops in—someone whose intentions for the world may oppose what GED is working so hard to accomplish.”

  “I understand,” James acknowledged sincerely. “GED is a company of action, not just talking. And I understand that things can take fast turns of events.” He risked ruminating over her words for another moment while im
patience grew in her eyes. All in all, this kind of work is what he signed up for. He figured he’d better pick up the pace, or he’d miss the train entirely. “All right,” he said. “So what do you need from me on this?”

  “Use the relevant information from your Sub-Saharan report to make an economic projection for the Ukadan Republic which will justify their immediate acceptance of an international loan from GED. It must lure…no, wrong word. It must convince the country’s leaders to become part of our global network and loyal GED allies by projecting for them incredible financial advantages in partnering with us.”

  “What if the data doesn’t predict financial advantages for the Republic?”

  The room seemed to drop 20 degrees in temperature as the familiar look of warning descended upon Cyndi’s face. “I can see no reason why the data wouldn’t predict an advantage. Every nation that works with us has the potential to gain financially. This one will be no different.”

  “Of course,” James merely said.

  “Now,” she continued, clearing the air, “we’ll be working in here for the rest of the day. The large screen and table will give you more space for shifting through your documents than what your new office can provide at the moment.”

  Seeming to have been waiting for these words, a knock on the door announced an office currier with a cart filled with not only copies of James’ Sub-Saharan Africa report, but piles of other relevant documents, maps, books, and data on the Ukadan Republic. The currier swiftly placed the materials at neat intervals upon the table and asked if anything else was needed before being dismissed.

  “You also have access to our online information database concerning the Republic and, of course, our secure Internet server.” Cyndi pressed the remote again, and a computer screen similar to hers came up from another slit on the other side of the table. James couldn’t help but notice the hint in that she didn’t bring up a screen where he was already sitting—right next to her.