“Oh, it’s gone through my mind,” Terese admitted. “But as I said, they were so confident. I can’t imagine their acting that way if there were any risk.”
“Are we still on for dinner tonight?” Colleen asked.
“By all means,” Terese said. “I have a sneaking suspicion that Jack Stapleton will turn out to be an unknowing fountain of ad ideas. He might be bitter about something, but he’s sharp and opinionated, and he certainly knows the business.”
“I can’t believe how well this is working out,” Colleen said. “I was a lot more drawn to Chet; he’s fun and open and easy to talk with. I have enough problems of my own, so I’m not attracted to the anguished, brooding type.”
“I didn’t say anything about being attracted to Jack Stapleton,” Terese said. “That’s something else entirely.”
“What’s your gut reaction to this idea of using Hippocrates himself in one of our ads?”
“I think it has fantastic potential,” Terese said. “Run with it. Meanwhile I’m going to head upstairs and talk with Helen Robinson.”
“Why?” Colleen asked. “I thought she was the enemy.”
“I’m taking to heart Taylor’s admonition that we creatives and the account people should work together,” Terese said breezily.
“Yeah, sure! Likely story!”
“Seriously,” Terese said. “There’s something I’d like her to do. I need a fifth column. I want Helen to confirm that National Health is clean when it comes to nosocomial or hospital-based infections. If their record is atrocious, the whole campaign could backfire. Then, not only would I lose my bid for the presidency, but you and I would probably be out selling pencils.”
“Wouldn’t we have heard by this time?” Colleen asked. “I mean, they’ve been clients for a number of years.”
“I doubt it,” Terese said. “These health-care giants are loath to publicize anything that might adversely affect their stock price. Surely a bad record in regard to nosocomial infections would do that.”
Terese gave Colleen a pat on the shoulder and told her to keep cracking the whip, then headed for the stairwell.
Terese emerged breathless onto the administrative floor, having taken the stairs two at a time. From there she marched directly toward the carpeted realm of the account executives. Her mood was soaring; it was the absolute antithesis of the anxiety and dread of the day before. Her intuition told her she was onto something big with National Health and would soon be scoring a deserved triumph…
As soon as the impromptu meeting with Terese had ended and Terese had disappeared around the corner, Helen returned to her desk and put a call in to her main contact at National Health Care. The woman wasn’t immediately available, but Helen didn’t expect her to be. Helen merely left her name and number with a request to be called as soon as possible.
With the call accomplished, Helen took a brush from her desk and ran it through her hair several times in front of a small mirror on the inside of her closet door. Once she was satisfied with her appearance, she walked out of her office and headed down to Robert Barker’s.
“You have a minute?” Helen called to him from his open door.
“For you I have all day,” Robert said. He leaned back in his chair.
Helen stepped into the room and turned to close the door. As she did so, Robert surreptitiously turned over the photo of his wife that stood on the corner of the desk. His wife’s stern stare made him feel guilty whenever Helen was in his office.
“I just had a visitor,” Helen said as she came into the room. As was her custom she sat cross-legged on the arm of one of the two chairs facing Robert’s desk.
Robert felt perspiration appear along his hairline in keeping with his quickening pulse. From his vantage point, Helen’s short skirt afforded him a view of her thigh that didn’t stop.
“It was our creative director,” Helen continued. She was very conscious of the effect she was having on her boss, and it pleased her. “She asked me to get some information for her.”
“What kind of information?” Robert asked. His eyes didn’t move, nor did he blink. It was as if he were hypnotized.