Old Poison (24 page)

Defiance played momentarily in the young
guard’s eyes, and I believe that if he’d still had the rifle, he
would have refused.

“I will have to write this up as a violation
of security regulations, sir.”

James poked pointedly at the name badge that
read Sheppard. “Be sure to write your name legibly so I’ll know who
the hell you are.”

As the kid turned to go out the door, he
hesitated. “Sir, my rifle?”

“You show up at my office later, buckaroo,
and we’ll have a little discussion about your regulations and your
toy soldier attitude, and then maybe you’ll get your play toy
back.”

James returned to his seat and, within sixty
seconds, to his harmless surfer persona.

“Silly damn kid should know better than to
mess with an old man with a hangover.”

One of the members of my internal board of
directors whispered, “Be very careful, Diana.”

* * * * *

The afternoon was excruciating. James walked
me to a two-woman personnel office, manned by Margaret and Polly:
introduced me as a consultant who was going to straighten out the
company files, and instructed the women to get me a security pass
and guest room. For the next four hours I sat on a hard-backed
wooden chair and waited for Blither and Dither to figure out what
the hell to do with a consultant who had no prior security
clearance. I wasn’t even allowed to go to the restroom without an
escort.

In my less lucid moments, I imagined James
had made me right off, and this whole business of hiring me was a
charade to lure me to the middle of the
Selva,
where I could
be killed without anyone knowing. In my more analytical frame of
mind, I decided he must be as ignorant of what he was into here as
he appeared to be. It seemed to me that only complete naivete could
account for the sack of wet brown stuff his actions exploded in
this office. That would prove to be my naivete.

Margaret and Polly began with blank looks
and hesitant questions regarding my credentials, progressed to
whispered consultations in the back office, then to phone calls,
faxes, and emails, and finally to one-at-a-time exits from the
office for outside consultation. When Harriman Woods burst through
the door, I knew all the brown chunks of indecision had found their
way to the top. He spoke to no one, went straight to the phone,
dialed, and barked into the receiver, “Nolan, get your ass down
here to personnel. You obviously need some orientation regarding
security protocol.” He slammed down the phone, and we all waited in
an unnatural and uncomfortable silence.

I continued the activity I had been employed
at all afternoon, playing cards on my laptop. Woods had seen me
once, briefly, when I was disguised as Clara Shimmerhorn and once
from a distance as Tia Tillie. As I played solitaire and tried to
look bored, I could feel his eyes on me and hoped his powers of
observation didn’t penetrate my current disguise.

In about ten minutes, we all heard footsteps
in the hall, lots of footsteps, marching in cadence. Once again the
door opened forcefully and in trooped four young guards, all armed.
Among them was my young friend from the front gate. I noticed he
had his rifle back. The unit came to a halt in front of Harriman
Woods and the guard from the front gate spoke for the group.

“Sir, we have been directed to escort you,
the personnel staff, and the new records management consultant to
Mr. Nolan’s office.”

Woods’s neck and face turned red. In a low,
menacing growl he asked, “Just whose orders do you follow,
Sheppard?”

“Sir, plant manager Nolan, sir.” Then, in
what was almost a whisper, he leaned in close and said, “Mr. Nolan
spoke with me this morning and made corporate chain of command
quite clear.”

“We’ll see about that.” Woods marched out of
the office as he had entered, in long, determined strides. I bagged
the laptop, picked up my suitcase, and with the rest of them,
followed Woods at a more leisurely pace.

By the time we reached Nolan’s outer office,
the shouting match could be heard thundering from his inner office.
Few distinct words escaped the insulated inner sanctum, but the
volume of combat rumbled through the walls like the echo of rams’
horns from a mountain top.

Nolan’s secretary acted busy and deaf while
the rest of us once again waited in an uneasy silence. In the
corner of the office I noticed Muscles from the airport, still
wearing the same clothes and looking tired, unshaven, and rumpled.
I wondered what he had been doing since I saw him last.

The inner office door opened and Woods
strode out, barking an order at Muscles. Muscles rose tiredly.
Woods paused at the door and gave me a long poisonous look. “Ms.
Gomez, we will speak soon. I’ll be handling your security
background personally.”

As Woods and Muscles left, Nolan stepped
quietly to his office door. “Ms. Gomez, I am very sorry you have
been put through such an unpleasant afternoon. Personnel staff, in
my office.”

They were not gone long, but by the time
Nolan walked them back out, the short interview had left Polly
flushed and Margaret teary-eyed. When Nolan excused the troops and
told them to return to other duties, young Sheppard started to
answer with a crisp military salute but saw the critical look on
Nolan’s face. He checked himself and switched from military to
civilian protocol.

“Yes, si– ah, OK, Mr. Nolan.”

Nolan turned to me and the women from
personnel. Once again his personality had undergone radical change.
He had straightened the shoulder slump and stood tall with a
no-nonsense attitude and an unquestionable air of authority. His
face and eyes had lost the bored stare, and his voice had taken on
a new timbre. I wouldn’t have looked twice at the guy I had gone
dancing with last night, but this version radiated a potent,
self-assured allure. Under the circumstances, however, any
attraction I might have felt was arrested by the clear
comprehension of how effectively he had used me.

Ass-kicking time over, he turned on all the
charm. “Now, ladies, this was an unfortunate misunderstanding, but
now that we are all playing on the same team, things will be much
clearer and go much more smoothly. Please take Ms. Gomez directly
to the best accommodations you can find, help her get settled in,
then accompany her to dinner in the company diningroom.”

They mumbled obedient, unquestioning
responses and started toward the door, but I stood evaluating this
third incarnation of James Nolan. With a new understanding of the
true purpose of my employment, I had to both admire and dislike his
methods. Nolan had said that I was just what he needed, but he
hadn’t been talking about records management. I was his pawn in a
game of hardball with the big boys. He had arrived to find that
though he was the titular head of the plant, Woods was covertly in
charge. The son of a gun knew when he dropped me at personnel that
I would just flatten my backside on a hard wooden chair until Woods
took the bait. The verbal trouncing taken by the guards and the
women from personnel was all part of his little game to wrest power
from Woods and establish his command of this plant.

He turned his charm my direction, took both
my hands, and said, “I am so sorry things got off to such a bad
start, but I promise I’ll make it up to you. By the time you have
had breakfast in the morning, personnel will have everything
straightened out and the heads of all the departments will have
orders to cooperate with your survey. I want you to report to me
each day and provide me with a complete outline of what you
discover.” Then, reverting to his boyish innocence, he added, “I
guess if I’m going to run this plant, I better study up on what all
my departments do. Have a good evening and a good night’s
rest.”

I knew it was a mistake, but I couldn’t help
myself. He was so smug. Some childish part of me had to let him
know I wasn’t taken in by his performance. I pulled my hands from
his, drew myself into heel-clicking attention, and said, “Sir, a
good evening and a good night’s rest.” Then with a snappy salute I
added, “Yes sir.”

At first he gave me the same stern visual
reprimand the gate guard had gotten, then a slight smile played on
his lips. His eyes, however, remained hard and critical. In a voice
so low only I could hear him, he said, “I can put him in his place,
Ms. Gomez, but his place is Security and he’s very good at it.”

The deadly serious warning in his voice
wiped the smart-ass smile from my face as I silently considered
what he was saying. His intended use of me was not over. He wanted
to know everything I learned about this plant, and he didn’t want
Woods to nail me. Why? Who was this guy and what was his agenda?
What was the corporate agenda? Why would management employ two such
combative men at this, their most secret plant? Was there a schism
in Blue Morpho command?

To James I said, “OK, thanks for the
warning.”

* * * * *

Rested, showered, and dressed, I stepped
onto the balcony of my cabana and took in the sounds and smells of
the forest that surrounded me. The morning had brought clear sky
and sunshine, and this place was so beautiful it looked like a
Hollywood set for a jungle paradise rather than a research
facility. Monkeys gathered their breakfast in the trees not a
hundred yards from me. There were some bird sounds, though muted,
as if they didn’t wish to call attention to themselves. Flowers
grew in greater profusion than I had seen in the forests on the way
here, confirming my suspicion that this place must have been
carefully cultivated as a resort before Blue Morpho moved in. The
luxurious cabanas were definitely not company housing. They were
well-appointed apartment duplexes set on stilts above the damp
forest floor and connected to the main buildings by a network of
elevated walkways.

I looked longingly at the hand-woven hammock
that hung on my balcony, then reluctantly went back through the
apartment, picked up my laptop and headed out the door. I was
quickly jarred back to reality. Waiting just outside my door was my
old friend Muscles, now clean-shaven, dressed in fresh camouflage
fatigues, and looking much more rested than when I last saw
him.

I forced a smile and eyed his name patch.
“Good morning Mr., ah, Folger.”

“Good morning, ma’am.” Without another word,
he simply fell into step behind me like Pan’s attached shadow.

“Well, I must rate an honor guard. How
nice.”

When we entered the large diningroom, the
buzz of conversation and the comforting clink of dishes and
silverware came to a complete halt. As Folger took up a position
just inside the door, I walked toward the cafeteria line. The only
sound in the room was that of my heels hitting the beautiful
hardwood floor.

Ah, yes. I understood that silence. Having
lived in many small mining camps with my dad, I knew that no high
tech communication system in the world could beat the speed of camp
gossip. There was no doubt in my mind that news of the showdown
between Nolan and Woods had been the main topic of discussion when
I entered the room, and no doubt that everyone knew who I was.

I smiled at the young woman serving
scrambled eggs and noticed that instead of a military-type name
patch with her last name, she wore a pretty butterfly pin on her
blouse that read “Bernice.”

“Good morning, Bernice. Could I have a
couple scoops of those eggs and a little fruit and yogurt,
please?”

“Yes, Ms. Gomez.”

Suspicions confirmed. I was the only one in
the room who wasn’t wearing a name tag.

As I sat down and started my breakfast,
conversation slowly resumed, undoubtedly on a more innocuous
subject. An older woman with short brown hair, a round pug-nosed
face, and coke-bottle glasses stood up. Ignoring the sidelong
glances she received from other employees, and the glare of
hostility she got from Folger, she picked up her coffee cup and
walked to my table.

“Ms. Gomez, I’m Lucille Owens. I was the
company librarian for forty years, and Jim Nolan asked me to give
you a little introduction to our company history. After you finish
your breakfast, I’ll to show you what I laughingly call the
library.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Owens. Won’t you join
me?”

She looked around the room and with a wry
grin said, “I guess it can’t hurt. I’m already retired anyhow.”

I laughed. “If you’re retired, why aren’t
you on the beach?”

“My plane leaves this afternoon.”

As she sat across from me, I glanced around
the room and chuckled. “Reminds me of that old stock-broker’s
commercial where everything in the room comes to a halt and all
ears are tuned in one direction.”

She smiled and sipped her coffee. “Yes, your
arrival has certainly broken the monotony around here.” By unspoken
agreement we kept our conversation to small talk until I finished
my breakfast. Then we bussed our dishes and got two coffees to go.
I couldn’t resist. Raising my voice to be heard across the room, I
asked, “Hey, Folger, you want a coffee to go?”

A few giggles tittered around the room. He
reddened with anger and answered, “No thank you, ma’am.”

Lucille led me outside and down a winding
path lined with flowers. In the distance we could see the monkeys
climbing and swinging from limb to limb. I stopped to watch them.
Folger came to a halt thirty paces behind us. Lucille followed my
gaze toward the monkeys, then looked over her shoulder toward
Folger. “They are cute little critters, but it really doesn’t pay
to tease them. They have ways of getting even.”

I switched my gaze from the monkeys to
Lucille’s face. “Sometimes, Lucille, you have to rattle the cage to
find out what’s in there.”

She smiled and started down the path. “I
guess that works, unless it turns out you’re the one in that
cage.”