“I think she had plastic surgery as well.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Dorfman said. “So many women do, these days. It is like brushing their teeth, to them.”
“It gives me the creeps.”
“Why?” Dorfman said.
“Because it’s underhanded, that’s why.”
“What’s underhanded?” Dorfman said, shrugging. “She is resourceful. Good for her.”
“I’ll bet Garvin has no idea what she’s doing to him,” Sanders said.
Dorfman shook his head. “I’m not concerned about Garvin,” he said. “I’m concerned about you, Thomas, and this outrage of yours-hmm?”
“I’ll tell you why I’m outraged,” Sanders said. “Because this is the kind of sneaky shit that a woman can pull but a man can’t. She changes her appearance, she dresses and acts like Garvin’s daughter, and that gives her an advantage. Because I sure as hell can’t act like his daughter.”
Dorfman sighed, shaking his head. “Thomas. Thomas.”
“Well, I can’t. Can I?”
“Are you enjoying this? You seem to be enjoying this outrage.”
“I’m not.”
“Then give it up,” Dorfman said. He turned his wheelchair to face Sanders. “Stop talking this nonsense, and face what is true. Young people in organizations advance by alliances with powerful, senior people. True?”
“Yes.”
“And it is always so. At one time, the alliance was formal-an apprentice and master, or a pupil and tutor. It was arranged, yes? But today, it is not formal. Today, we speak of mentors. Young people in business have mentors. True?”
“Okay . . .”
“So. How do young people attach themselves to a mentor? What is the process? First, by being agreeable, by being helpful to the senior person, doing jobs that need to be done. Second, by being attractive to the older person-imitating their attitudes and tastes. Third, by advocacy-adopting their agenda within the company.”
“That’s all fine,” Sanders said. “What does it have to do with plastic surgery?”
“Do you remember when you joined DigiCom in Cupertino?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“You came over from DEC. In 1980?”
“Yes.”
“At DEC, you wore a coat and tie every day. But when you joined
DigiCom, you saw that Garvin wore jeans. And soon, you wore jeans,too.
“Sure. That was the style of the company.”
“Garvin liked the Giants. You began to go to games in Candlestick Park.”
“He was the boss, for Christ’s sake.”
“And Garvin liked golf. So you took up golf, even though you hated it. I remember you complained to me about how much you hated it. Chasing the stupid little white ball.”
“Listen. I didn’t have plastic surgery to make myself look like his kid.”
“Because you didn’t have to, Thomas,” Dorfman said. He threw up his hands in exasperation. “Can you not see this point? Garvin liked brash, aggressive young men who drank beer, who swore, who chased women. And you did all those things in those days.”
“I was young. That’s what young men do.”
“No, Thomas. That’s what Garvin liked young men to do.” Dorfman shook his head. “So much of this is unconscious. Rapport is unconscious, Thomas. But the task of building rapport is different, depending on whether you are the same sex as that person, or not. If your mentor is a man, you may act like his son, or brother, or father. Or you may act like that man when he was younger- you may remind him of himself.
True? Yes, you see that. Good.
“But if you are a woman, everything is different. Now you must be your mentor’s daughter, or lover, or wife. Or perhaps sister. In any case, very different.”
Sanders frowned.
“I see this often, now that men are starting to work for women. Many times men cannot structure the relationship because they do not know how to act as the subordinate to a woman. Not with comfort. But in other cases, men slip easily into a role with a woman. They are the dutiful son, or the substitute lover or husband. And if they do it well, the women in the organization become angry, because they feel that they cannot compete as son or lover or husband to the boss. So they feel that the man has an advantage.”
Sanders was silent.
“Do you understand?” Dorfman said.
“You’re saying it happens both ways.”
“Yes, Thomas. It is inevitable. It is the process.”
“Come on, Max. There’s nothing inevitable about it. When Garvin’s daughter died, it was a personal tragedy. He was upset, and Meredith took advantage of”
“Stop,” Dorfman said, annoyed. “Now you want to change human nature? There are always tragedies. And people always take advantage. This is nothing new. Meredith is intelligent. It is delightful to see such an intelligent, resourceful woman who is also beautiful. She is a gift from God. She is delightful. This is your trouble, Thomas. And it has been a long time coming.”
“What does that-”
“And instead of dealing with your trouble, you waste your time with these . . . trivialities.” He handed back the pictures. “These are not important, Thomas.”
“Max, will you-”
“You were never a good corporate player, Thomas. It was not your strength. Your strength was that you could take a technical problem and grind it down, push the technicians, encourage them and bully them, and finally get it solved. You could make it work. Is that not so?”
Sanders nodded.
“But now you abandon your strengths for a game that does not suit you.”
“Meaning what?”
“You think that by threatening a lawsuit, you put pressure on her and on the company. In fact, you played into her hands. You have let her define the game, Thomas.”
“I had to do something. She broke the law.”
“She broke the law,” Dorfman mimicked him, with a sarcastic whine. “Oh me, oh my. And you are so defenseless. I am filled with sorrow for your plight.”
“It’s not easy. She’s well connected. She has strong supporters.”
“Is that so? Every executive with strong supporters has also strong detractors. And Meredith has her share of detractors.”
“I tell you, Max,” Sanders said, “she’s dangerous. She’s one of those MBA image people, focused on image, everything image, never substance.”
“Yes,” Dorfman said, nodding approvingly. “Like so many young executives today. Very skilled with images. Very interested in manipulating that reality. A fascinating trend.”
“I don’t think she’s competent to run this division.”
“And what if she is not?” Dorfman snapped. “What difference does it make to you? If she’s incompetent, Garvin will eventually acknowledge it and replace her. But by then, you will be long gone. Because you will lose this game with her, Thomas. She is better at politics than you. She always was.”
Sanders nodded. “She’s ruthless.”
“Ruthless, schmoothless. She is skilled. She has an instinct. You lack it. You will lose everything if you persist this way. And you will deserve the fate that befalls you because you have behaved like a fool.”
Sanders was silent. “What do you recommend I do?”
“Ali. So now you want advice?”
“Yes.”
“Really?” He smiled. “I doubt it.”
“Yes, Max. I do.”
“All right. Here is my advice. Go back, apologize to Meredith, apologize to Garvin, and resume your job.”
“I can’t.”
“Then you don’t want advice.”
“I can’t do that, Max.”
“Too much pride?”
“No, but-”
“You are infatuated with the anger. How dare this woman act this way. She has broken the law, she must be brought to justice. She is dangerous, she must be stopped. You are filled with delicious, righteous indignation. True?”
“Oh, hell, Max. I just can’t do it, that’s all.”
“Of course you can do it. You mean you won’t.”
“All right. I won’t.”
Dorfman shrugged. “Then what do you want from me? You come to ask my advice in order not to take it? This is nothing special.” He grinned. “I have a lot of other advice you won’t take, either.”
“Like what?”
“What do you care, since you won’t take it?”
“Come on, Max.”
“I’m serious. You won’t take it. We are wasting our time here. Go away.
“Just tell me, will you?”
Dorfman sighed. “Only because I remember you from the days when you had sense. First point. Are you listening?”
“Yes, Max. I am.”
“First point: you know everything you need to know about Meredith Johnson. So forget her now. She is not your concern.”
“What does that mean?”
“Don’t interrupt. Second point. Play your own game, not hers.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning, solve the problem.”
“Solve what problem? The lawsuit?”
Dorfman snorted and threw up his hands. “You are impossible. I am wasting my time.”
“You mean drop the lawsuit?”
“Can you understand English? Solve the problem. Do what you do well. Do your job. Now go away.”
“But Max-”
“Oh, I can’t do anything for you,” Dorfman said. “It’s your life. You have your own mistakes to make. And I must return to my guests. But try to pay attention, Thomas. Do not sleep through this. And remember, all human behavior has a reason. All behavior is solving a problem. Even your behavior, Thomas.”
And he spun in his wheelchair and went back to the dining room.
Fucking Max, he thought, walking down Third Street in the damp evening. It was infuriating, the way Max would never just say what he meant.
This is your trouble, Thomas. And it has been a long time coming.
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
Fucking Max. Infuriating and frustrating and exhausting, too. That was what Sanders remembered most about the sessions he used to have, when Max was on the DigiCom board. Sanders would come away exhausted. In those days, back in Cupertino, the junior execs had called Dorfman “The Riddler.”
All human behavior is solving a problem. Even your behavior, Thomas.
Sanders shook his head. It made no sense at all. Meanwhile, he had things to do. At the end of the street, he stepped into a phone booth and dialed Gary Bosak’s number. It was eight o’clock. Bosak would be home, just getting out of bed and having coffee, starting his working day. Right now, he would be yawning in front of a half-dozen modems and computer screens as he began to dial into all sorts of databases.
The phone rang, and a machine said, “You have reached NE Professional Services. Leave a message.” And a beep.
“Gary, this is Tom Sanders. I know you’re there, pick up.”
A click, and then Bosak said, “Hey. The last person I thought I’d hear from. Where’re you calling from?”
“Pay phone.”
“Good. How’s it going with you, Tom?”
“Gary, I need some things done. Some data looked up.”
“Uh . . . Are we talking things for the company, or private things?”
Private.”
“Uh . . . Tom. I’m pretty busy these days. Can we talk about this next week?”
“That’s too late.”
“But the thing is, I’m pretty busy now.”
“Gary, what is this?” “Tom, come on. You know what this is.” “I need help, Gary.” “Hey. And I’d love to help you. But I just got a call from Blackburn who told me that if I had anything to do with you, anything at all, I could expect the FBI going through my apartment at six a.m. tomorrow morning. “Christ. When was this?” “About two hours ago.” Two hours ago. Blackburn was way ahead of him. “Gary . . .” “Hey. You know I always liked you, Tom. But not this time. Okay? I got to go.” Click.
Frankly, none of this surprises me,” Fernandez said, pushing aside a paper plate. She and Sanders had been eating sandwiches in her office. It was nine p.m., and the offices around them were dark, but her phone was still ringing, interrupting them frequently. Outside, it had begun to rain again. Thunder rumbled, and Sanders saw flashes of summer lightning through the windows.
Sitting in the deserted law offices, Sanders had the feeling that he was all alone in the world, with nobody but Fernandez and the encroaching darkness. Things were happening quickly; this person he had never met before today was fast becoming a kind of lifeline for him. He found himself hanging on every word she said.
“Before we go on, I want to emphasize one thing,” Fernandez said. “You were right not to get in the car with Johnson. You are not to be alone with her ever again. Not even for a few moments. Not ever, under any circumstances. Is that clear?”
“Yes.”
“If you do, it will destroy your case.”
“I won’t.”
“All right,” she said. “Now. I had a long talk with Blackburn. As you guessed, he’s under tremendous pressure to get this matter resolved. I tried to move the mediation session to the afternoon. He implied that the company was ready to deal and wanted to get started right away. He’s concerned about how long the negotiations will take. So we’ll start at nine tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“Herb and Alan have been making progress. I think they’ll be able to help us tomorrow. And these articles about Johnson may be useful, too,” she said, glancing at the photocopies of the ComLine pieces.
“Why? Dorfman says they’re irrelevant.”
“Yes, but they document her history in the company, and that gives
us leads. It’s something to work on. So is this e-mail from your friend.” She frowned at the sheet of printout. “This is an Internet address.”
“Yes,” he said, surprised that she knew.
“We do a lot of work with high-technology companies. I’ll have somebody check it out.” She put it aside. “Now let’s review where we are. You couldn’t clean out your desk because they were already there.”