Kill on Command (22 page)

VI

Let’s roll up our sleeves

Boston
− May 3, 2011

Dr. McFarland and his team arrived promptly at 7:00 A.M., and began setting up in the situation room and in the lab on the floor below.  The doctor went straight to Robert Waters’ office, knocked once and entered.

“Robert, the day is here!”  McFarland said, clapping his hands together.

“Yes.  It certainly is.  Are you comfortable with everything?”

“Of course, once we have the profiles of each of the candidates, we will select the finalists in short order.  It is quite easy to get them to our private facility here under the guise of a sudden sickness that will manifest itself once they are here in Boston.”

“Then get moving.”

“The team will be set up before 9 A.M. and we will start contacting the men as we discussed.”

The plan was set in motion and the lives of fifteen men would never be the same.

VI
I

New Opportunity

Pittsburgh − May 3, 2011

Sean woke up late, excited about his day of doing nothing.  He looked up at the ceiling and threw the comforter off and rolled out of bed.  He walked over into the bathroom to brush his teeth and looked in the mirror as he brushed.  He had five days worth of beard going and needed a haircut.  “I’d make a great hobo,” he said to himself.  He put on an old pair of khaki cargo shorts followed by the same sweatshirt he had worn the day before.  Bailey was still lying on the bed and he patted her on the head as he walked by.  Naturally, she followed him downstairs and into the kitchen.  He let her outside and immediately went to the pantry looking for some sort of junk cereal.  He grabbed the first box he found, took a bowl out of the dishwasher and a jug of milk out of the fridge.  He sat down at the counter and poured the cereal in the bowl followed by the milk.  He sat there chewing and staring into space, when his iPhone caught his eye.  He picked it up and went to his Yahoo Mail account. 

“Hmmm.  Two emails from recruiters,” he said aloud.  He took a look at both emails.  One was easy to toss.  It was an energy company promising a rich and fulfilling life selling energy contracts to businesses.  It looked like a scam.  He deleted it.  The second email was intriguing. 

FROM:  Thomas Hass

TO:  Sean Garrison

RE:  Marketing Consulting Opportunity – International

May 3, 2011, 9:01 A.M.

Sean:

I ran across your profile on LinkedIn and would like to discuss an exciting opportunity with my client, Global Marketing Research.  I feel your background is a perfect match for the position.  Your strong restaurant marketing/advertising experience is what I am looking for in this role.

This is an international position, which will require travel to Europe and Asia.

There is a strong compensat
ion package including a sign-on bonus, quarterly bonuses and an annual bonus based on performance.

Please let me know when you have time to discuss.

Regards,

Thomas Hass

SVP, Talent Acquisition

Global Talent Partners

617-567-0978

[email protected]

Sean read the email twi
ce.  A bonus?  Bill Voxx didn’t know how to spell the word, unless it was a bonus for himself.  Sean immediately dialed Thomas Hass’ number.

“This is Thomas Hass,” the voice with a slight Boston accent answered.

“Mr. Hass, this is Sean Garrison.  I received an email from you this morning regarding a marketing position.”

“Yes, Mr. Garrison.  Thank you for getting back to me so quickly.  We have a client looking for someone with your background to help conduct research overseas.  You have a strong restaurant marketing background, which is a requisite for this position.  Do you have a couple minutes to go over your background?”

“Sure.  This is a good time.”

“Fantastic.  You have been working for Voxx and Voxx since college correct?”

“Yes and no.  My last day was last week.  I also interned for an agency in Dallas, Texas, before joining Voxx after graduation.”

“I am sorry to hear you are no longer with them.”

“Thank you.”

“Why did you leave?”  Hass asked.

“I had a disagreement with the agency principal over a client service matter.”

“What was it?” asked Hass, following up on the last question.

“Great!  Just great!”  Sean thought to himself.  He decided the truth was the best path to take.

“He told me to raise the fees of the clients I worked for and if I didn’t he was going to dock my pay and everyone else’s,” Sean answered

“How did you respond?”

“I asked if he was taking a cut, too.”

“And I assume he had not planned on that?”  Hass asked, slightly amused with the story.

“No.  He was not.  He said I was insubordinate and asked me to leave the agency immediately.”

“His loss, Sean.”

“Thank you.”

“What made you answer him back like that?”  Hass asked, the psychologist in him rising to the surface.

“He’s a bully.  That’s probably the best way to describe him.”

“He sounds like it.  I like the background, but let’s keep this just below the surface if you meet with my client.  Just don’t bring it up,” Hass advised.  He loved the answer Sean provided.  It was very telling.  Sean obviously had a very strong sense of right and wrong.  It was a trait that could be manipulated.

“Sound advice Mr. Hass,” Sean said, relieved this line of questioning was behind him.

“Can you briefly outline your most recent responsibilities?”  Hass asked, as he made some brief notes regarding the exchange.

“Since college, I worked my way up to account supervisor, was the youngest account supervisor at the agency.   I managed a five-person team and was responsible for all media, marketing, merchandising and promotions in my assigned DMAs.  All marketing decisions were based on consumer insights and financial analysis.  In addition, I was expected to understand every aspect of my client’s business, from operations, P&Ls and product mix to staffing.”

“Good.  Good.  I assume your communication skills are solid.”

“Yes they are.”

“What about your foreign language skills?”  Hass inquired.

“Non-existent,” Sean answered.

“I appreciate your honesty, thank you,” Hass replied, trying to mask a laugh.

“You’re welcome.” 

Thomas Hass paused.

“Sean, I am going to submit you as a candidate to my client.  They have a tight timeline to fill this position.  How soon are you available?”

“I am available right away.”

“Excellent.  I will be back in touch.  In the meantime, feel free to take a look at my client’s website.  It will give you all the details on the company.  I will send you the address.  Enjoy your day Mr. Garrison.” 

McFarland had planned everything down to the last detail.  Websites, press releases business cards.

“And you as well, Mr. Hass,” Sean said, as he hung up.  He smiled as he let Bailey back into the house.  He went back to his seat at the counter and looked at his cereal.  It had gotten soggy and pretty nasty looking.  He didn’t care.  He had a good feeling about this job.  The email from Hass popped up in his mailbox and Sean clicked on the link to the company’s website.  He reviewed their mission statement and read the bios of the key people at the company.  They also had an impressive client roster.  Sean spent nearly ten minutes going through the site.

“I think this calls for a walk over to Starbucks,” he said to Bailey.

At the same time, five hundred miles away in Boston, Thomas Hass rolled back in his chair and handed his notes to Dr. McFarland, who was standing directly behind him listening in on the call.  The room had been transformed into a call center, as McFarland’s team was busy reaching out to potential candidates.

“I think we have him, Doctor.  He lost his job last week,” Hass said to McFarland.

“Sorry for him, but good for us.  Get back to him in the morning and set up a meeting in Pittsburgh for this Friday,” McFarland directed.

“You got it,” Hass replied.  He flipped to the next name on his list.  He doubted they would all be as easy as Garrison, who had reached out to him.  To hit the aggressive timeline, he was going to start calling people.  The next name on his list was a man from Detroit named Oscar Pasco.  Hass dialed the Detroit number.

“Pasco,” the man answered.  Oscar Pasco at the moment was walking out of a pawnshop on 8 Mile Road.

“Mr. Pasco, my name is Thomas Hass.  I am with Global Talent Partners.”

“What do you want?”  Pasco snarled while spitting onto the sidewalk outside of the pawnshop.

“I want to talk with you about a job.”

“Doing what?  And how did you get my number?”  Pasco said a little warily.

“Research.  Mainly in Europe.  I understand you used to work for Merrill Lynch?”

“I don’t anymore, and I’m not interested,” Pasco said, ready to hang up.

“This pays six figures,” Hass added, hoping to save the call and secure the candidate.  He knew most of these guys might see one or two paychecks before being sent to meet their maker, so he did not mind throwing out big numbers.

“Hello?  Mr. Pasco?”

“Yeah.  I’m listening,” Pasco answered, suddenly interested.

“Good.  Let me tell you a little bit about what my client is looking for.”  Hass went through another phony job description and asked a few insignificant questions.  He could tell Pasco was more skeptical than excited, but he didn’t care.  He also didn’t care why he was no longer with the brokerage firm.  He promised to follow up with Pasco before hanging up.  Pasco really didn’t care either.  He was off to another casino.

V
III

Things Move Fast

Pittsburgh − May 5, 2011

Sean did not change his routine after the call from Thomas Hass, but he did decide to keep his phone with him.  He was rewarded with a second call from the recruiter.

When he saw the Boston area code, Sean picked up the call on the second ring.

“This is Sean.”

“Good morning Mr. Garrison.  Thomas Hass here.”

“Good morning,”

“Good news!  My client was impressed with your background and wants to set up a meeting.”

“That is good news.”

“Great.  How does Friday work for you?”  Hass inquired.

“This Friday?”

“Yes, he will be in Pittsburgh and would like to sit down and talk with you.”

Sean felt his face and the beard covering his chin and then thought about his shaggy hair. 

“That’s no problem.  No problem at all,” Sean said without much hesitation.  “I have a couple of questions.”

“Fantastic.  He will meet you at noon in the lobby of the William Penn.  I am sure you know where it is.  What are your questions?”

“Yes, I know where it is.  What is the salary range for this position?”

“The starting salary is $85,000, plus a fifteen percent signing bonus,” Hass replied.  Again, he didn’t care about the money.

Sean was speechless for a moment; $85,000 was more than double his agency salary.  He realized he didn’t have any more questions after hearing about the money.

“That sounds great!”  Sean answered.

“I will let my client know you will see him at noon on Friday.  His name is Walter Mathis.  Thanks again for your time Mr. Garrison.”  Hass hung up.  This one was too easy.  Hass, posing as Mathis would fly out to Pittsburgh the next morning.  He wanted to meet Sean Garrison.  Sadly, he would also have to meet with that asshole Pasco later that night.

Sean hung up and started scrambling.  He needed to make sure his old, navy suit was clean, that he had a clean shirt and his shoes didn’t have holes in them.  He also needed a haircut.  Before making a move, he sent Brian a text.

SEAN:  Interview on Friday.  I think I have it in the bag.

BRIAN:  Congrats dummy!  I can’t wait to jack up your rent.  Catch up tonight.

SEAN:  Thanks dummy.

Sean put his phone down and went upstairs to find the clothes he needed.  The dry cleaning gods were smiling on him as he had one clean white shirt and his suit would pass.  He grabbed his wallet off the dresser and headed off to the barber down on Walnut Street.

Thomas Hass dialed Oscar Pasco, trying him three times before he picked up.

“Yeah,” Pasco answered, between drags on a Camel.

“Mr. Pasco, this is Thomas Hass.”

“I hope this is good,” he said, looking back at the craps table at the Greektown Casino.

“I think it is.  My client, Walter Mathis, would like to meet with you this Friday.  Will that work?”  Hass was certain he could hear slot machines.

“When?” 

“At 7:30 P.M. in the lobby of the Westin Cadillac Book,” Hass replied.  He felt dirty just talking to the man.

“He buying me dinner?”  Pasco asked, picking at his fingernails.

“I am certain I can arrange it,” Hass answered, thinking that he would rather dine with wharf rats.

“Good.  I will be there,” Pasco said and abruptly hung up and returned to the craps table.

Hass assembled his notes, passed them on to McFarland and got back to the phones.  It was going to be a busy two weeks for the team as they ran down and vetted all of the candidates.

Sean passed on going out with Brian and his buddies on Thursday night, preferring to stay in and get some rest.  He worked
a little bit on his resume, printed it out and placed it in a tan Rawlings portfolio that a major league baseball team had given him.  It was nice.  It was subtle with no logos on it, made out of the same leather they use for their baseball gloves.

Oscar, however, was on a hot streak and played cards through the night at the Motor City Casino. 

Sean woke up at 9 A.M., anxious to get going.  He wandered around the house for an hour before jumping in the shower and getting dressed.  He found a suitable tie to finish off his interview get up and headed out.  Bailey watched him from her spot on the bed.  For once the weather was on his side; the sun was out and the temperature was in the mid sixties.  It was a good thing, since his Jeep no longer had a real top.  He had fitted the bikini top to the Jeep, but that only kept the sun off his face.

Sean left the house at 11:25.  His Jeep started on the first turn of the key, which he took as a good omen.  He backed out of the driveway, headed up to Fifth and downtown towards the William Penn.  He arrived fifteen minutes early, but as usual he had trouble finding a parking spot downtown.  He ended up springing for valet parking at the hotel.  He pulled the Jeep up to the valet stand and was not really surprised to see the valets less than excited to jump in his nearly fifteen-year-old Jeep. 

“Morning guys,” Sean said to the valets as he climbed out of the Jeep. 

“You checking in?” the valet said, without returning the greeting.  He was tearing a ticket off to hand to Sean.

“Just here for a meeting.”

“$15.”

“Sure.” 

“What a rip off,” Sean thought to himself, as he reached for his wallet and handed the valet a $20.  He also loved the way the guy made him feel like it was such a chore to park a car.  The valet handed him his change and Sean walked towards the entrance to the hotel. 

“That must be my guy.  The Jeep is an expected vehicle,” Thomas Hass, posing as Walter Mathis, said to himself from the window and made a note in his folder.

Sean walked through the doors of the hotel and into one of his favorite spots in Pittsburgh.  The hotel was built in 1916 and is a reflection of Pittsburgh’s place as one of the fastest growing cities in the early 20
th
century.  The lobby is especially opulent with a soaring ceiling and rich period touches.  The marble floor is original and shows the character and history you would expect from a building that has aged well.  A tuxedoed man playing a baby grand in the lobby set the tone for the hotel.

Sean stood in the middle of the lobby and looked at his watch.   He was about ten minutes early.  He looked around the lobby trying to locate Walter Mathis.  He didn’t have to wait long as Hass found him.

“Sean Garrison?” Hass, asked as he approached Sean.  Hass had used the Mathis alias for years and the name was second nature now.

“Mr. Mathis?” Sean said extending his hand.

“Good to meet you.  Is it acceptable if I call you Sean?”

“Of course.” 

“Please call me Walter.  Let’s grab a seat near the windows,” Hass said gesturing towards the front of the hotel.

‘Thanks,” Sean sat in an old wing back chair and Hass on a couch across from him.  A mahogany coffee table separated the two.  Sean was a little uncomfortable in the chair, but he figured he could manage through the interview.  Hass placed a file folder on the table and a pen on top of the folder.  He was about 5’11” with light brown and closely cropped hair.  He had on a gray suit and a light blue shirt with a pale yellow tie. 

“I have a copy of my resume if you need one to review,” Sean offered to get things moving.  Frankly, he didn’t know why people even brought hard copies of resumes with them anymore.  Everyone always had a digital copy. 

“I have one, Sean.  Thanks.  I really wanted to talk a little bit about your restaurant experience, specifically how you handle yourself when you visit one unannounced.  I also have a handful of those psychobabble HR questions everyone loves.   If you have time, I would like for you to take two quick tests for me.”

Sean walked Hass through the ins and outs of his approach to restaurants.  Sean felt Hass looked satisfied.  Hass opened up his folder and flipped through a couple pages of notes, arrived at a typewritten sheet, removed it and set it on top of the folder.

“Very good, Sean. I have a handful of HR type questions. They may seem a little weird, but I find them insightful.”

“Fire away.”

“Sean, what’s most important to you, money or the work?”

Sean answered without much thought.  He didn’t need it for this question.

“The work.  I need something to believe in.  Something to get behind.  Of course, we all need money, but if you have talent and passion, the money will come.”

Hass made some notes and looked back up at Sean.

“How do you work under pressure?”

“I like to think I process a lot of information quickly and don’t agonize over the decisions.  I make a decision based on the available facts and move on it.  I love pressure.  It’s what makes things interesting.  It’s one thing that is never missing from the restaurant business.”

Hass nodded, but did not respond. 

“Sean, what do you see as your blind spots?”

“Walter, if I could see them, they would no longer be blind spots.”

Hass laughed.  He was right.  One of the goals of the questions was not so much what Sean said as much as how he said it.  The tests would give McFarland all of the answers he needed.

“Ok.  Another question.  Give me a weakness.”

“I can be overly competitive, but it can also be seen as a strength.”

“True,” Hass replied.

“Ok, Sean.  Last one.  What is your favorite book?”

“
The Fountainhead
and
To Kill a Mockingbird
,” Sean replied without hesitation.

“That’s two.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”  Hass said leaning forward.

“It is two books.  I have two favorite books.”

“I asked for one,” Hass said, interested in where this was going.

“I can’t choose one,” Sean replied.

“Then you didn’t answer my question.”

“I guess I didn’t,” Sean said, smiling.

Hass looked at him for a moment without speaking and then leaned back and made a couple of notes.  Not only were the two books very telling, but the way he answered the question was as well.  He refused to budge on what he believed and he knew McFarland would be intrigued.  Waters would no doubt be alarmed with
The Fountainhead
, but Hass knew the reasons behind the answer would actually be to their benefit, making Sean easier to manipulate by hitting on his passions and what motivates his actions.

“Sean, I have a couple forms for you to fill out and then the tests we discussed,” Hass said, standing up.

“Do you want me to take them here?”  Sean answered, standing as well.

“I have reserved a conference room.  Please follow me.”  Hass and Sean walked across the lobby, down a hall to a medium-sized conference room.  The room had a conference table for fourteen people and featured a screen on the far wall.  Everything, down to the drinking glasses on the table were in keeping with the style of the hotel.  Hass gestured towards the far end of the table and closed the door behind them.  Sean took a seat at the head of the table where there was an iPad. Hass followed and took a seat to his left and typed in a password on the iPad and slid it over to Sean.