Jakarta Pandemic, The (15 page)

He closed the door and opened the white plantation shutters covering a double window. The room was bathed in direct sunlight, mostly falling on the bookcases. He sat in the leather chair opposite the wall of books, keeping the sun out of his eyes, and dialed his voicemail.

Ted’s message was short, simple and sounded serious. “Alex, please call me immediately.”

Not good.

He auto-dialed Ted’s number; Ted picked up on the second ring.

“Ted Stanton,” he answered.

“Hey, Ted, it’s Alex. I got your message,” he said.

Stick to the basics. Don’t offer information.

“Yes, I had a question that I figured you could resolve. After the teleconference, I logged in to the manager’s database to take a quick look at inventories to gauge how much each of you should pack up for the trip down to Massachusetts. Anyway, I was cycling through each of you, and I saw that your inventory was empty. Something must be wrong with the system again. I just wanted to touch base with you to confirm that this was a mistake, before I call headquarters and start to raise hell with administration. I don’t want the system to create the false impression that we rolled down to Mass. without…you know, the maximum ammo load out.”

He contemplated his options. Lying to Ted would get him off the hook, at least until tomorrow morning, when Ted found out that he didn’t show up in Lawrence. It was also likely that he’d receive an alert message from the samples management division today, exposing the lie. Alex was convinced that all sample transactions would be flagged due to the moratorium placed on giving TerraFlu samples to physicians. Mostly, he didn’t relish the idea of lying, under any circumstance.

Here goes the high road.

“Actually, Ted, the database is correct. I gave my entire sample allotment to the head of the Infectious Disease Department at Maine Medical Center. Dr. Wright, from Maine Coast Internal Medicine.”

Kaboom.

“That’s a…ah, that’s a good one, Alex,” Ted replied.

Alex detected a mix of hope and doubt in Ted’s voice, leaning heavily toward doubt.

“Seriously, Ted, he asked me for samples last Friday, and I couldn’t refuse him. His department is best positioned to distribute those samples for optimal use against the Jakarta flu in the greater Portland area, and probably most of Maine. His argument was convincing, given—”

“More convincing than a direct order from the company to halt all, and I repeat, all sample transactions? Are you goddamn kidding me? Do you know what you’ve done?” he screamed into the phone.

Stay calm. Listen to Kate.

“Yes, it was much more convincing. Morally, a better thing to do with the samples.”

“Morals? This isn’t about morals! This is about failing to follow direct company guidance. My guidance, you…you have no idea how this is going to look. You know what, you know what…I wash my hands of this. You’ve been a pain in the ass from the beginning, goddamn it. Since day one, you’ve made this job hard for me. And I never wanted to hire you in the first place. I’m reporting this immediately to the regional manager. We’ll see how much longer you’re around. I don’t think you realize how important these samples are to the company and to the ongoing negotiations with the government regarding a partnership—”

“You know, I just watched the DHS teleconference, and they announced a sweeping relationship with Roche Pharmaceuticals. I don’t think the government really cares about a relationship with Biosphere, and frankly, neither do I. Is there anything else, Ted? I don’t plan to be on this call much longer,” Alex replied, feeling his face flush.

Back it down.

“Be prepared to answer to the regional manager, human resources, everyone, for this. I’m making a few calls, and then I’m heading to Portland to confirm that your storage locker is empty. I’ll expect you to meet me there to open the locker.”

“I won’t be available for that, Ted. You’re authorized to access my storage locker. You know that, or at least you should. It’s on the rental agreement for the storage facility. I plan to be available by phone, and that’s about it. I don’t want to take any chances with the flu out there, you know. You live a little too close to Boston for my comfort.”

“You will show up when and where I tell you to show up, or I’ll report that too,” he asserted.

He’s starting to lose it.

“That sounds good, Ted. I’ll talk to you later,” he said and started to move the phone away from his ear. He heard Ted talking loudly and put the phone back to his ear. “Sorry, I missed that.”

Don’t want to appear rude.

“I said that you better not fail to show up tomorrow morning in Lawrence,” he barked.

“Or you’ll report me? Sounds good, Ted,” he repeated and ended the call.

He deactivated the ring tone and switched the phone to vibrate. He knew that Ted would probably place several more calls in an attempt to get the last word. He always insisted on the last word, at meetings, teleconferences, phone calls, and holiday parties. Alex figured that Ted felt an entitlement to it as their manager, or that he read about it in one of the dozens of business leadership guru books he sickeningly cited on a regular basis. He could see the chapter in his mind: “Effective leadership tactic #45, Getting the Last Word.” He laughed out loud at the thought and sipped his coffee.

Buzzzzzz.
Here he goes.
He slouched in the chair and held the phone up to eye level.
Yep.
Ted S. For just a moment, Alex was tempted to answer the phone. He stood up, tucked the phone into the front pocket of his jeans, and headed back out into the kitchen where Kate was pouring a fresh cup of coffee.

“How did it go?” she asked.

“Not great, but not bad. He started to flip out, so I cut the call short.”

“I’m sure he appreciated that.”

His phone started to vibrate again. He pulled it out of his pocket, checked the display, and placed it on the granite island.

“Yeah. That’s call number two since I hung up. Did I miss anything good?” he asked.

“Ah, not really. Well, there was one interesting question about their point of entry strategy. Someone asked why they put so much stock into point of entry screening, when the WHO has for years declared this strategy ineffective, as well as several other organizations.”

“Like the ISPAC. I’ve heard Dr. Ocampo say it was a waste of resources three times in the past week alone,” he told her.

“So what do you think will happen with your job now?” Kate asked, shifting the subject.

“Well, I figure they’ll fire me, especially when I don’t show up down in Massachusetts tomorrow, but who knows?”

“That’s asinine. Shifting all of you down there.”

“I know, believe me. The only thing I don’t know is how long it’ll take to get rid of me. I bet it’ll be pretty quick.”

“Well, I’m glad we have some money saved up for this. I feel bad for the people who can’t quit their jobs.”

Alex’s smartphone buzzed again, dancing on the granite surface. He leaned over the phone to check the display. He shook his head as he looked at Kate.

“Again?” she asked.

“You know it. He’ll keep at this for a while. He hasn’t left a message yet, which tells me he really doesn’t have anything constructive to say.”

Chapter Thirteen

Monday, November 4, 2013

Alex sat in his office chair, staring out of the window at the neighborhood. The sun was low on the horizon, slowly creeping into his view from the left, preparing for its rapid plunge below the western skyline, but the day was still bright and warm, carrying a comfortable southwesterly breeze into the office through two open, screened windows. He savored the pleasant draft, knowing that a similar breeze might not push through the house again until mid-May. Several neighbors had returned from work, their cars sitting in their driveways or inside open garages.

He watched as Jamie McDaniels’ white Volvo Cross-Country station wagon pulled into the driveway across the street. She stopped the car short of the left bay door, which started to open as her two girls, Amanda and Katherine, poured out of the right rear door of the wagon. Jamie usually picked them up from after-school care and arrived home about an hour earlier than her husband Matt.

Alex continued to watch as Jamie opened her door and stood up out of the car to shout something at her girls. She was dressed smartly in a white blouse with pointed white collars that extended over a dark blue vest. Her dark brown hair was cut to shoulder length, and he imagined that she would not be difficult on the eyes of the boys in her French class at Falmouth High School.

Her husband would arrive around five thirty, after a series of school administrative meetings. Matt McDaniel was the newly hired principal for the ailing Portland High School. Because of their close contact with the schools, especially Falmouth, Alex and Kate considered the McDaniels’ household to be at high risk. They planned to watch the McDaniel household very closely.

He heard Kate yelling up the stairs. “Your phone is buzzing again. 860 area code. Why don’t you just turn it off if you’re not going to answer it? It’s starting to drive me nuts down here!”

He walked to the top of the stairs. Ryan’s door was shut and the door to the kids’ bathroom was open. He breathed in the warm, shampoo-scented air funneling out of the bathroom as he walked down the stairs.

“I’ll just put it in my office. I want to keep tabs on who’s calling. 860 is Hartford, I think. Shit, that could be the regional office.”

He turned the corner and saw Kate holding his smartphone up to her ear, apparently talking on the phone.

“No, I believe what he was trying to say is go fuck yourself…Yes…Yes, I understand your position, but his hasn’t changed.”

Alex was momentarily stunned, standing at the end of the banister.

“Please tell me you’re kidding,” he pleaded, and she started to laugh, then displayed her trademarked devilish smile.

“You know I would never do anything like that,” she said.

“Uh, I wouldn’t put it past you. Let’s just leave it at that,” he replied, snatching the phone from his wife and giving her a long kiss on the lips.

“Where’s Emily?” he asked.

“She’s out on the picnic table with some books,” she replied.

Alex took a few steps away from the stairs and glanced out into the backyard. Dressed in brown pants and a light blue hooded sweatshirt, Emily sat at the picnic table with an open book.

“Hey, hon, if one of our kids is going to be out of the house, one of us should be with them. At least, really close by. I don’t think it’s a problem right now, and please don’t think I’m picking on you for any reason. I just think they need to get used to the idea of a more restrictive environment, and I’d feel more comfortable if we directly managed their contact outside of the house,” he said, cringing.

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly say that being confined to the yard is not restrictive. I told her she had to stay in the yard, and I explained to her that if any of her friends came over, she needed to come tell me, so I could handle the situation. I think the rules are adequate.”

“I wasn’t implying that her being out there alone is wrong, I’m just saying that when the schools close, every kid on the block is going to be home, with nothing to do, and many of them with parents that still don’t fully grasp what is happening. We’ll need to be all over our kids.”

“I was keeping a close eye on her from the kitchen, but you’re right,” she conceded, looking out at Emily.

“Let’s see who called from 860,” he said and dialed his voicemail.

As he listened to the message, Ryan walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water. He nodded at Ryan, paying attention to the message. Ryan and Kate sat down together at the dinner table and started talking. Alex caught Kate’s glance and shook his head, then headed into the study.

“Regional manager,” he called out across the kitchen, disappearing into the mudroom. He took his favorite seat in the study, facing the bookshelves, sat back deeply in the leather chair, and took in the rich smell of new leather furniture. He closed his eyes for a few moments, centering himself for the call to Michelle Harke. He dialed the number and reached Michelle’s secretary, Anna.

“Hi, Anna, this is Alex Fletcher up in Portland, Maine. I just received a call from Michelle indicating that she wanted me to call her immediately,” he said.

“Oh hi, Alex. Yes, she just let me know. I'll put you through to her,” Anna said, her tone not indicating any knowledge of the issue at hand.

“Hey, Alex, thank you for calling me back so quickly,” Michelle answered.

He could read nothing from her tone, but Michelle had always been difficult to read. On the surface, she projected a warm, semi-casual approach to her job, but her word choice betrayed a business-only hardwiring that he never trusted.

“No problem at all, Michelle,” he responded.

Say as little as possible.

“Ted told me that you depleted your sample inventory on Friday, which baffles me considering the amount of direction sent to representatives regarding the disposition of field samples. I know that all of the district managers communicated the no-sampling policy to their reps, and I know that headquarters reinforced and explained the policy via email. I didn’t think there could be any confusion about the policy, but clearly there might have been a miscommunication. Can you help me with this one?”

Buddy, old pal.

“I’m not sure I’m going to make this any easier for you, or maybe I will. There was no confusion about the direction. I just chose to ignore it and provide all of my samples to the head of the Infectious Disease Department at Maine Medical Center. As I told Ted, I felt it morally imperative to put the samples into his hands, and not let them sit around my storage locker waiting for the next round of doomed negotiations between Biosphere and the government.”

And, I kinda felt like sticking it to Ted.