Awakening, 2nd edition (4 page)

“In other words, somebody knew in advance that I ’d be going?” concluded Michael.

Todd slowly set the envelope on the desk in front of him.

“No,” he said with a nearly invisible smirk. “But they knew somebody would. You said it yourself ; there ’re many like you. And they needed just one.”

Chris

“ . . . therefore the proposed reorganization will save over twenty-three percent on our operational expenses during the first year alone. Once we add to that the savings I ’ve already described, we, ladies and gentlemen, are looking at a very attractive package.”

Chris flashed a bright smile at the audience.

“And now I’ll be glad to answer any questions you might have.”

Arthur Summers would have nodded in delight had he had an option to raise even the faintest of suspicion s . He had been happy listening to his protégé. Great sales pitch. Crisp and clear, with the right mix of numbers and emotion, with bright prospects and that thoughtful touch of reality that is absolutely necessary to make people believe this kind of speech. Well done, my boy. Well done. That ’s precisely what these old morons need in order to approve the proposal.

He grinned to himself. Who is he calling
old morons? Many of them are younger than he is. But even the youngest ones, those who are in their late forties, even they overlook what he can clearly see at sixty-one. They just don ’
t get it. They are too euphoric, too delusional to pay any attention to the dark danger that ’s been looming over the corporation for the last few years. Changes? What changes? We don’t need any changes, you old worrywart. It ’s working! It ’s a cash cow! Take a look around. Are you blind? We ’re making more money than any other guys ou t there. We ’re number one . Don ’t you know that?

Blockheads. Narrow-minded, shortsighted blockheads. They won ’t see the wall until they hit it. Sure, we ’re number one. Sure, it ’s a cash cow. No argument ; the giant mechanism is working flawlessly, producing more and more money for the happy shareholders. There ’s one problem though. We ’re damn old. Our ways of doing things are old. And what ’s even worse, our ways of thinking are at least a decade old. And this, ladies and gentlemen, means that we won ’t remain the kings of this hill for very long. Heck, we may not even be around for much longer if we don ’t come to our senses immediately. The new approaches are making their ways through the herds of slowly moving , life-enjoying grazing dinosaurs .

The youth, the dangerous bloodthirsty youth is coming this way, ladies and gentleman. And it will stomp over us, trample us into the ground and move on—just like we stomped over some old-fashioned enterprises when we were young and restless. By not acting , we ’re signing our death warrant—one that calls for a slow and painful death.

And yet they don’t understand. They don ’t want to understand. Any significant change means risk. It means less immediate profit. It means going outside the comfort zone. And doing that just to mitigate an unproven threat from some youngsters who are only recently out of diapers doesn ’t sound right . . . Who cares that these youngsters hold all the keys to the future ? There are too many skeptics. And they ’re seated too high up .

Ten years ago, he would ’ve had a good chat with Phil . He would have understood . He had always been quick to understand and that ’s why he managed to turn the company into the crown jewel of its industry. But it ’s been eight years already since Phil left these walls. And two years since he left this world. As for the driver ’s seat, it ’s been occupied for quite some time by a seasoned nobody, who ’s only interested in keeping the ship afloat. He completely lacks a basic quality of a true leader—that intuitive, animal ability to feel the danger long before anyone else notices it. And while the machine that Phil had built and fine-tuned over the years rushes madly towards a steep canyon, nobody gives a damn.

But an experienced warrior always has a few tricks up his sleeve. Take, for instance, this little reorganization. An insignificant scale, low risk, great prospects. And no connection of any kind to the dark and vague prophecies of the old worrywart. Plus, it ’s a brainchild of such an impressive, confident and unmistakably bright young man. It will take them some time to connect the dots and realize that this rather minor project , along with three or four similar ones , is a part of a bigger plan. A plan that will inevitably demonstrate the need for change. Everybody—well, almost everybody —will finally get the urge to act. But they will need the right man to run this humongous effort. And who is better suited for this role than someone who ’s been advocating this very change for the last three years? We ’ll see then who is best qualified to run this company . After all, the board of directors has the final say in this matter , and their opinion can be influenced. And this is where Chris and people like him enter the play.

“Cutie pie,” said Barb when he first introduced them to each other at the company party. And that he was—a cutie pie. As cute and charismatic as they come. Women melted in his presence. Tall, well built, with this open and trustworthy face, confident and energetic, with that toothpaste commercial kind of smile . . . He could ’ve had great success as a model. But it wasn ’t Chris ’s charm alone that attracted Summers ’s attention when he was looking for his own right—hand man. After all, there wasn ’t a shortage of cutie pies to be found in the right circles in the company. And at least half of them were able to put on a nice show like the one Chris was hosting now. But most cutie pies lacked an invaluable asset that Chris had. Brains. Sharp, pragmatic brains not clogged by dogma and respect for authorities. It took Chris minutes to understand issues that would take others days to digest. He was great at picking up on hints and always did what Summers wanted him to do even if there was no direct order involved. He was a perfect man for the job. He reminded Summers of himself twenty years ago. And for that very reason Summers never forgot to remind his cutie pie of the huge distance that lay between them. He knew too well that without these reminders, Chris could very quickly become dangerous.

“Well done,” Summers told Chris when he left the podium and made his way to him through the crowd of excited executives.

“Nice job delivering the message. You probably scared them with the tax es bit , but it ’s not a big deal. I ’ll take care of that. Otherwise, very impressive. By the way, how big is your team these days?”

“Hundred and twelve, ” Chris replied immediately.

“All right . . . good . . . And how long have you been with the company?”

Chris thought for a second.

“I got here in February . . . Four years and six months.”

“Good. Did you come here as a manager?”

“No. Individual contributor over in Klutsky ’s group. Marketing.”

Summers went silent. Chris waited patiently. The art of not asking unnecessary questions was among the skills Summers valued in him the most.

“I’ve been informed about an interesting workshop that you might find useful, ” Summers said finally. “We need somebody just like you. It ’s a bit unconventional, but sounds quite attractive. Takes a week. Would you be interested?”

His question sounded very casual.

This time it didn’t take Chris even a second to respond.

“Of course,” he said. “I appreciate your support and your trust.”

Summers nodded.

“You can pick up the paperwork from my office tomorrow. Cindy knows. And now you ’ll have to excuse me. I need to talk to these folks. Want to make sure they don ’t get any wrong ideas about these taxes.”

Chris smiled politely.

“Certainly. See you tomorrow, Arthur.”

“Take care.”

That was a good choice
, Summers thought as he went towards the mingling “blockheads .”
He ’s definitely the right man for the job .

Taxes
, thought Chris as he left the conference room.
Like I don ’t know that you ’ve just made that up. There was nothing wrong with these taxes and we both knew it. But if the old guy wants to remind me who ’s in charge here , so be it. For now I need him more than he needs me. For now. . .

Alex

“Seven! Ei-ight . . . Ni-i-ine . . .. Go! Go! Go! Push! Push! Ten!”

With a loud bang that rolled across the vast gym, the barbell returned to its place. Alex sat up on the bench, catching his breath and feeling the blood pumping up the muscles. He liked that burning sensation after the last set when it felt as if the over-hardened enlarged muscles would tear apart the stretched skin.

“Nice job,” commented Dan, with a rare note of respect in his booming voice. “Didn ’t think you ’d make it with th o se two weights.”

Alex looked over at the mammoth barbell. A guy at the next bench stared at it with eyes full of astonishment. It wasn ’t clear , though, whether his astonishment was directed at the barbell itself or at the two massive figures next to it.

“That was close, ” Alex replied, slowly rolling his immense shoulders. “Maybe not enough though. We ’ll add more next time.”

Dan nodded.

“Sure thing. Pity it ’s a lost cause.”

“Again?”

“You bet, again. What do you need this for with your hissy -pissy job?”

Alex grimaced.

“Hissy-pissy . . .”

“You bet,” Dan began counting his sausage-like fingers. “A manager? A manager. Gotta be nice to everybody? Gotta be nice. Gotta please a client? Gotta please. Can ’t punch a thing? Can ’t punch. So, no use for all these muscles you ’ve got. You ’d be better off at my place.”

“Doing what? Breaking up drunken fights every night? No, t hanks.”

“Who said they need to drink for that? These folks sure know how to pick a fight , even with no booze. You get more fun this way. Say, last night—good action, no booze. Three boys and a chick, that ’s all. The chick . . . man you should ’ve seen her. Eleven out of ten, ” Dan kissed tips of his fingers and rolled up his eyes in a hopeless attempt to describe what an eleven out of ten girl might look like.

“But you’re not allowed to touch them.”

“Sure can’t. But who said I can ’t watch?”

Alex smiled—that was typical Dan.

“She came with a boyfriend. Business as usual—some dancing, some kissing, some schmoozing . . .”

“And you watching . . .”

“That’s right. Why not? I sure do. And then there ’re these two boys. Big serious fellas, a bit like you. Eh . . . close , anyway. I had my eye on those two ever since they showed up. That kind, that ’s what they come for to places like ours. Didn ’t take them long to get too excited about the chick. One asked for a dance, she said no, so the second one got curious with his hands . . . But that boyfriend—he was something, you know. Didn ’t think for a second. I ’m telling you—you rarely get to see a punch that good. And you know what happens after a good punch.”

“So what did you do?”

“What do I do? I just walk over there, take ‘em . . .” Dan extended his right hand with its huge hilly palm and abruptly curled his fingers into a huge fist. “The boyfriend was a quick thinker, no problem with that guy. These two . . . they were kinda slow. Just what I need. So when my guys got there, the fellas were ready for an ambulance.”

“Impressive, ” Alex said seriously.

“You bet. That ’s where all this stuff comes in handy. And you—you ’ve got to be bored to death at your place.”

“No. Not really.”

“So what do you need all this paraphernalia for?”

Dan liked interjecting exotic words occasionally though he didn’t always know their exact meaning.

“First, just for the sake of it. So I don ’t get bored to death. Second , it helps at work.”

“What do you mean, it helps? Helps with what?”

“Helps being a manager.”

“Helps being a manager? Don ’t you all just talk? What difference does it make?”

“It doesn’t matter what you do. It still helps.”

“No way.”

“All right. You ’re like a manager for your guys, aren ’t you?”

“Yeah. So?”

“Do they respect you?”

“You bet. They better.”

“Would they still respect you the same way if you were half the size you are now?”

Dan laughed. The guy at the next bench shuddered and stopped exercising.

“I’d be out of work if I was that small.”

“Not literally half the size , ” Alex elaborated patiently . “Just significantly smaller. But with all kinds of martial arts training. Karate, aikido, you name it.”

Dan scratched his chin.

“That may work. But you gotta be really good at that. Or they ’ll smash you into a wall along with all your kicks and blocks. I ’ve got this guy on the team, name ’s Randy, he ’s like that. This tall , ” Dan put his palm next to his shoulder, “but does the job. Saw him taking out some big guys.”

“So if you were just like him, would that be good?”

“What’s good about it? It ’s so much better if they wet their pants as soon as they see me coming.”

“This Randy, do the other guys respect him?”

“They sure do.”

“Just like they respect you?”

“Are you kidding again? I ’m the boss. Plus he ’s got no presence.”

“No paraphernalia?”

“Yeah. Now you ’re getting it.”

“So it helps a boss to have presence?”

Dan snorted.

“But I’m a bouncer. Not one of them talkers. Man, you ’ve got it all mixed up again.”

Alex smiled.

“Forget it. Let ’s go do squats.”

They stood up. Even at this place full of ripped muscles, people looked at them as they paced slowly to the opposite side of the gym.

“Why don’t you drive by this Friday night?” asked Dan while they were stacking weights. “It ’s been forever. We ’ve got new tables. Plus chicks, music, you know . . .”

Alex shook his head.

“I’d love to. But not this week. Got a workshop to attend.”

“What workshop?”

“Some management strategies.”

“Sounds like boring crap. Is it any use to you?”

“Not really. But I ’m going anyway. Some important people want me there.”