“You only have a 9 o’clock with Tim Hunton of
the School of Technical Developments. He wants to discuss the legal
ramifications of adding an extra layer of security in the
classrooms. Oh, and management has requested that we re-use the
coffee cups to cut down on the trash.”
Bill regarded his Styrofoam cup sourly.
“Management suggestion or law?”
“More of a royal decree, complete with capital
punishment for first time offenders,” she replied with a straight
face.
Bill chuckled again. “Cassie, half the time I
can’t tell when you are serious.”
“And I’m not?” she asked seriously.
“We shouldn’t be using disposable cups anyway.”
answered Bill.
Continuing to chuckle, he entered into his
spacious and somewhat lavish office. “I’ll be preparing the briefs
for the Stark case until Mr. Hunton arrives. See that I am not
disturbed.”
“Yes, sir.”
Bill hadn’t even arrange the papers or turned on
his laptop when his desk phone rang. He picked it up. “Yes?”
“Sir,” Cassie said. “I have a man on hold who
insists that he speak to you right away.”
“I thought I said I didn’t want to be
disturbed.”
“I know, sir, but this man is very insistent,
and he threatened to see to it that I get fired if I didn’t get you
on the phone.”
“He what? Who is this idiot?”
“He didn’t say, sir.”
Bill had risen to his six foot two height, his
muscles clenching in anger. He didn’t like it when someone
threatened his staff. “Put the fool on. I’ll take care of
this.”
“Thank you, sir.”
There followed a click and with no semblance of
grace, Bill demanded, “Who is this?”
“Is this Bill Gardner?” a deep, rather gruff
voice, replied.
“You blasted know it is, mister. I want your
name. How dare you threaten my assistant!”
“Calm down, Mr. Gardner. I was only trying to
motivate her. I needed to talk to you without her knowing who I
was. My name is Frank Vellore. I am the CEO of Wastend.”
That caught Bill off-guard some. He paused and
got his anger under control. If this really was Mr. Vellore, no
wonder he wanted to keep this conversation a secret.
Secrets were no stranger to Bill. His military
past had often put him in positions where secrets were as common as
breathing. Several of the operations he had participated in were
still classified as top-secret. Even the mention of the code names
would most likely land him in jail. One such operation had taken
place in Columbia to combat drug trafficking. But that was the
past. Now, he just wanted to focus on his job as a lawyer and deal
with new cases he received every day.
“Okay, Mr. Vellore, you’ve got my attention. But
if you want my cooperation, I suggest that you stop threatening my
staff.”
“Easy enough to do. Look, Mr. Gardner, I will
get right to the point. I wish to retain your services in helping
me end this strike.”
Now, Bill’s heart began to race for a completely
different reason. A job like this could propel his career well into
the next hierarchy of lawyers in the nation. This would be a dream
job, being that it would be so televised and public. “Why me?”
There was a pause, and Bill almost regretted
asking the question. Finally the voice said, “Because you possess
the skills and expertise that we need.”
Something about that answer didn’t seem right to
Bill. Shouldn’t Vellore be more interested in his experience and
success in the court room or at the negotiating table? What skills
and expertise did was he referring to.
Before he could question the Wastend CEO further
on it, Frank asked, “Can you come down here immediately? We have
much to talk about and plan for, and not much time. I need this
strike to end soon.”
Bill thought about it. Finally he nodded, even
though Frank couldn’t see the gesture. “I’ll be there in an hour.
At your main offices?”
“Yes, and please don’t tell anyone where you are
going or who you are meeting with. I need this to be completely
confidential, Mr. Gardner.”
“I understand.”
“Good. Thank you, Mr. Gardner.”
“Don’t thank me yet, sir. I’m on my way.”
He hung up the phone and stood behind his desk
thinking. Why had he been called? He was a good lawyer, if he could
indulge in a bit of boasting, but there were many other high
profile lawyers with much more experience than he had in this sort
of thing. No way was he going to turn down the opportunity, but
still, he had to wonder.
He packed his laptop, stuffed some standard
authorization forms and confidentiality agreements in the case too,
and appeared at his office door. “Cassie? I need you to reschedule
that appointment with Mr. Hunton.”
“Reschedule?” She looked at the clock. “But sir,
he is due to be here in the next ten minutes.”
“Then give him my apologies and reschedule if he
is willing. If he is not…” Bill shrugged. “Oh well. But, I have to
go.”
“Very well. What do I put down on your hourly
logs?”
“That I am in a meeting.”
“Where?”
“Undisclosed, per client request.”
“This is most unusual.”
Bill grinned. “Don’t you know it, sister? Look,
Cassie, I can’t tell you where I am going or who I am meeting. This
needs to be kept confidential. I’m sorry, Cassie.”
Cassie was a pretty girl in her mid-twenties.
She was actively working for her degree in criminal justice and
working part time for Bill. She was very intelligent, so he had to
be careful what he told her.
“How long will you be gone?” she asked.
Bill glanced at his watch. “I don’t really know,
but my guess is all day. I’ll call in when I know more.”
With the essentials out of the way, Bill hurried
out of the office.
General Hynes watched the President’s speech
with a sense of foreboding. “Why is he doing this?” he demanded of
no one in particular. “This project was to remain secret. Now
everyone knows about it.”
“To be fair, sir,” Major Dobb said in his soft
spoken voice, “the Russians and Chinese already knew about our new
TACAIR prototype.” He shrugged. “I would hardly call it a
secret.”
Hynes threw a frown at his aide. “That’s beside
the point. The President doesn’t have the right to go around
revealing military secrets.”
“He is the President, sir.”
“That doesn’t mean much,” Hynes grunted, waving
his hand in dismissal. “The ability to deliver a speech and sway
few masses of ignorant followers does not preclude military
intelligence. I’m telling you, people are not going to gulp down
such crap.”
Dobb wisely decided to change the subject. “What
does this mean to the project?”
The general drummed his fingers on the table
while staring at the monitor. The President was droning on about
his support for the military, his appreciation for all they did,
and so on and so on. Hog wash! The man was a politician, nothing
more. “I don’t know. The President isn’t done yet. I got a feeling
he’s about to blindside us.”
They both turned to the monitor to listen. The
President continued, “As a result of this research, we have
established a climate that has made us few friends across the
globe. The world must enter into a new phase of friendship and
understanding, and the United States should pioneer the way.” The
President paused to scan the room, the camera catching every
movement with startling clarity. Tension built, Hynes could feel it
even though he wasn’t physically there. “Therefore, in a
conciliatory gesture, I am ordering the cessation of all
experimental military projects, including the advanced next
generation tactical aircraft TACAIRs Project. All prototypes will
be dismantled immediately, and a special oversight committee formed
from the international community will oversee the dismantling of
these warplanes.”
“What!” Hynes practically came out of his seat.
“He can’t do that!”
“He’s the President,” Dobb retorted, sarcasm
evident in his voice.
“Doesn’t he know what that will mean to our
national security? Doesn’t he understand the implications?”
Dobb didn’t respond, but turned back to the
monitor. The President’s voice droned on, “We can no longer be a
nation apart. We must embrace the fact that we are a world united
by our humanity, and to think otherwise would be to continue the
cycle of violence that has been the staple of our society for so
long. Things must change, and we will begin that change here and
now.”
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” General Hynes
muttered. “Get me the Sec-Def on the phone, Major. Maybe he can
talk some sense into the President.”
“And what if he can’t? The President just went
public with this, General. To rescind an executive order of such a
magnitude would be embarrassing to say the least.”
Hynes fumed. He completely understood the
ramifications, even if the President did not. Didn’t the man know
that there were people out there who would not play by his rules?
They only wanted power and wealth, and they would be willing to do
anything to get it. “What are our options?”
Dobb looked surprised. “I don’t know that we
have many other than obeying the President’s wishes. If we have to
dismantle the TACAIR project, how are we going to do it?”
The general began drumming his fingers again as
he considered the problem. “Who did we use to get rid of the other
prototypes?”
“The older models?”
“Yes.”
“Most of the material was recycled—I suspect we
will do the same in this case. What we can’t recycle, we need to
destroy and dispose of safely.”
“What can’t be recycled?”
“Some of the equipment is specialized…hardened
titanium meant to withstand a pounding and protect the computer
cores. These will have to be disposed of discretely.”
“Who did we use in the past?”
“Wastend. They hold nationwide contracts as well
as most of the major governmental contracts. They do business
worldwide.”
“Isn’t that the company that is on strike right
now in New York?”
“It is?”
“I don’t want to use them. They’d be more
trouble than they’re worth right now.”
Dobb looked uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, sir, but
they have a proprietary contract with the military. I think we have
to use them.”
Hynes swore. “They did good work before?”
“They disposed of the computer modules of
several of our former aircraft prototypes.”
Dobb listened to the general’s fingers drumming
on the table. Finally the grey haired general stood to his nearly
six foot height. “Fine. If we have to use them we will. Get the CEO
on the phone. Tell him our situation and order him to end this
strike now. If we have to use them, I don’t want to wait.” He
glanced at the monitor that showed the President fielding questions
from the press corp. “I got the feeling that the President will
want immediate action on this.”
“I agree, sir.”
“Call the other joint chiefs. They all have a
stake in this.” The four-star general threw one more irritated
glance at the TV monitor. “Madness. Let’s hope someone can talk
some sense into the President before it is too late.”
Bill paid the taxi driver off, and was just
about to start for the main doors of the Wastend Corporate
Headquarters, when a man wearing a chauffeur’s uniform waved at him
from the door of a long limousine parked just up the street. “Mr.
Gardner?” he called.
“Yes?”
“Please.” He opened the door and indicated that
Bill should get inside.
Shrugging, Bill ducked into the black car and
sat across from a large man, bordering on fat, white hair, and a
long, lined face. Bill recognized him immediately. “Mr.
Vellore.”
“Mr. Gardner.” The man nodded a greeting. “Thank
you for coming.” He hit a button on his console. “Robbie, take us
to the Per Se Restaurant at Columbus circle.” He looked again at
Bill. “I hope you like French.”
Bill shrugged. “It’ll do, although it is a bit
early in the day for lunch.”
“Less people to disturb us.” The
Wastend
CEO hit another button and then gave his full attention to his
guest. “Mr. Gardner. To be direct, I need your help in ending this
ridiculous strike.”
“I gathered as much.” If the man wanted to talk
business, Bill was game. “What do they want—and I don’t mean what
everyone else thinks they want, but what they told
you
they
want.”
Frank spat out a curse. “Those thrice cursed
pigs want to put me out of business, that’s what they want!”
“I don’t understand.”
“They all want a 15% pay increase across the
board, larger pension plans, and better health insurance.”
“Okay. What is the problem with giving that to
them?”
Frank cursed again. “Aren’t you listing, Mr.
Gardner? If I give in to their demands, they will ruin this
company. We can’t sustain a level of cash flow to justify the
increases. We’ll go bankrupt inside of a year.”
Bill saw the problem immediately. In order to
land the huge contracts, Mr. Vellore had to cut the basic prices so
steeply that his margins were barely enough to bring in a profit.
If the employees got what they wanted, he would not be able to
sustain it.”
“Doesn’t the union negotiators understand your
situation?” he asked.
Frank snorted out another curse. “I doubt it.
They demand that we make cuts in other areas…areas that in the long
run would allow a competitor to come in and steal our
contracts.”
“Aren’t you already in breach of contract?”
“Not yet. I had a clause inserted into my
contracts to cover this scenario. But I only have two more weeks,
and then I will lose all of them.” Frank leaned forward, his eyes
intense. “I just got a call from General Hynes office. You no doubt
heard the President’s speech this morning?”