“I don’t think you’re stupid. What does a cough mean?”
“A cough means you’re not involved.”
She raised her eyebrows. “That seems a little extreme.”
“It’s just a fact.”
“I don’t know. My husband has bronchitis. He coughs all the time.”
“Not at the last moment, he doesn’t.”
She paused, thinking about it. “Well, he certainly does right afterward. He breaks out in a fit of coughing. We always laugh about how he does that.”
“Right after is different. But at the moment, right in the intense moment, I’m telling you nobody coughs.”
More images flashed through his mind. Her cheeks turn red. Her neck is blotchy, or her upper chest. Nipples no longer hard. They were hard at first, but not now. The eyes get dark, sometimes purple below. Lips swollen. Breathing changes. Sudden surging heat. Shift in the hips, shifting rhythm, tension but something else, something liquid. Forehead frowning. Wincing. Biting. So many different ways, but
“Nobody coughs,” he said again.
And then he felt a kind of sudden embarrassment, and pulled his plate back, and took a bite of pasta. He wanted a reason not to say more, because he had the feeling that he had overstepped the rules, that there was still this area, this kind of knowledge, this awareness that everyone pretended didn’t exist . . .
Fernandez was staring at him curiously. “Did you read about this somewhere?”
He shook his head, chewing.
“Do men discuss it? Things like this?”
He shook his head, no.
“Women do.”
“I know.” He swallowed. “But anyway, she coughed, and that was why I stopped. She wasn’t involved, and I was very-angry about it, I guess. I mean she was lying there panting and moaning, but she was really uninvolved. And I felt . . .”
“Exploited?”
“Something like that. Manipulated. Sometimes I think maybe if she hadn’t coughed right then . . .” Sanders shrugged.
“Maybe I should ask her,” Fernandez said, nodding her head in Meredith’s direction.
Sanders looked up and saw that she was coming over to their table. “Oh, hell.”
“Calmly, calmly. Everything’s fine.”
Meredith came over, a big smile on her face. “Hello, Louise. Hello, Tom.” Sanders started to get up. “Don’t get up, Tom, please.” She rested her hand on his shoulder, gave it a little squeeze. “I just came by for a moment.” She was smiling radiantly. She looked exactly like the confident boss, stopping to say hello to a couple of colleagues. Back at her table, Sanders saw Garvin paying the bill. He wondered if he would come over, too.
“Louise, I just wanted to say no hard feelings,” Meredith said. “Everybody had a job to do. I understand that. And I think it served a purpose, clearing the air. I just hope we can go on productively from here.”
Meredith was standing behind Sanders’s chair as she talked. He had to twist his head and crane his neck to look at her.
Fernandez said, “Don’t you want to sit down?”
“Well, maybe for a minute.”
Sanders stood to get her a chair. He was thinking that to the Conley people, all this would look exactly right. The boss not wanting to intrude, waiting to be pressed by her co-workers to join them. As he brought the chair, he glanced over and saw that Nichols was looking at them, peering over his glasses. So was young Conley.
Meredith sat down. Sanders pushed the chair in for her. “You want anything?” Fernandez said solicitously.
“I just finished, thanks.”
“Coffee? Anything?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
Sanders sat down. Meredith leaned forward. “Bob’s been telling me about his plans to take this division public. It’s very exciting. It looks like full speed ahead.”
Sanders watched her with astonishment.
“Now, Bob has a list of names for the new company. When we spin it off next year. See how these sound to you: SpeedCore, SpeedStar, PrimeCore, Talisan, and Tensor. I think SpeedCore makes racing parts for stock cars. SpeedStar is right on the money but maybe too right on. PrimeCore sounds like a mutual fund. How about Talisan or Tensor?”
“Tensor is a lamp,” Fernandez said.
“Okay. But Talisan is pretty good, I think.”
“The Apple-IBM joint venture is called Taligent,” Sanders said.
“Oh. You’re right. Too close. How about MicroDyne? That’s not bad. Or ADG, for Advanced Data Graphics? Do either of those work, do you think?”
“MicroDyne is okay.”
“I thought so, too. And there was one more . . . AnoDyne.”
“That’s a painkiller,” Fernandez said.
“What is?”
“An anodyne is a painkiller. A narcotic.”
“Oh. Forget that. Last one, SynStar.”
“Sounds like a drug company.”
“Yeah, it does. But we’ve got a year to come up with a better one. And MicroDyne isn’t bad, to start. Sort of combining micro with dynamo. Good images, don’t you think?”
Before they could answer, she pushed her chair back. “I’ve got to go. But I thought you’d like to hear the thinking. Thanks for your input. Good night, Louise. And Tom, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She shook hands with them both and crossed the room to Garvin. Together she and Garvin went over to the Conley table to say hello.
Sanders stared at her. ” `Good images,’ ” he repeated. “Christ. She’s talking about names for a company, but she doesn’t even know what the company is.”
“It was quite a show.”
“Sure,” Sanders said. “She’s all show. But it had nothing to do with us. It’s for them.” He nodded toward the Conley-White people, sitting across the restaurant. Garvin was shaking hands all around, and Meredith was talking to Jim Daly. Daly made a joke and she laughed, throwing her head back, showing her long neck.
“The only reason she talked to us was so that when I get fired tomorrow, she won’t be seen as having planned it.”
Fernandez was paying the bill. “You want to go?” she said. “I still have some things to check.”
“Really? What do you have to check?”
“Alan may have gotten something more for us. There’s a possibility.”
At the Conley table, Garvin was saying good-bye. He gave a final wave, then crossed the room to talk to Carmine.
Meredith remained at the Conley-White table. She was standing behind John Conley, with her hands resting on his shoulders while she talked to Daly and Ed Nichols. Ed Nichols said something, peering over his glasses, and Meredith laughed, and came around to look over his shoulder at a sheet of figures he was holding. Her head was very close to Nichols. She nodded, talked, pointed to the sheet.
You’re cbecking the wrong company.
Sanders stared at Meredith, smiling and joking with the three men from Conley-White. What had Phil Blackburn said to him yesterday?
The thing is, Tom, Meredith Johnson is very well connected in this company. She bas impressed a lot of important people.
Like Garvin.
Not only Garvin. Meredith bas built a power base in several areas.
Conley- White?
Yes. Tbere, too.
Alongside him, Fernandez stood up. Sanders stood and said, “You know what, Louise?”
“What?”
“We’ve been checking the wrong company.”
Fernandez frowned, then looked over at the Conley-White table. Meredith was nodding with Ed Nichols and pointing with one hand, her
other hand flat on the table for balance. Her fingers were touching Ed Nichols. He was peering at the sheets of data over his glasses.
“Stupid glasses . . .” Sanders said.
No wonder Meredith wouldn’t press harassment charges against him. It would have been too embarrassing for her relationship with Ed Nichols. And no wonder Garvin wouldn’t fire her. It made perfect sense. Nichols was already uneasy about the merger-his affair with Meredith might be all that was holding it in place.
Fernandez sighed. “You think so? Nichols?”
“Yeah. Why not?”
Fernandez shook her head. “Even if it’s true, it doesn’t help us. They can argue paramour preference, they can argue lots of things-if there’s even an argument that needs to be made. This isn’t the first merger made in the sack, you know. I say, forget it.”
“You mean to tell me,” he said, “that there’s nothing improper with her having an affair with someone at Conley-White and being promoted as a result?”
“Nothing at all. At least, not in the strict legal sense. So forget it.”
Suddenly he remembered what Kaplan had said. She was looking in the wrong direction when they fired her.
“I’m tired,” he said.
“We all are. They look tired, too.”
Across the room, the meeting was breaking up. Papers were being put back into briefcases. Meredith and Garvin were chatting with them. They all started leaving. Garvin shook hands with Carmine, who opened the front door for his departing guests.
And then it happened.
There was the sudden harsh glare of quartz lights, shining in from the street outside. The group huddled together, trapped in the light. They cast long shadows back into the restaurant.
“What’s going on?” Fernandez said.
Sanders turned to look, but already the group was ducking back inside, closing the door. There was a moment of sudden chaos. They heard Garvin say, “Goddamn it,” and spin to Blackburn.
Blackburn stood, a stricken look on his face, and rushed over to Garvin. Garvin was shifting from foot to foot. He was simultaneously trying to reassure the Conley-White people and chew out Blackburn.
Sanders went over. “Everything okay?”
“It’s the goddamned press,” Garvin said. “KSEA-TV is out there.” “This is an outrage,” Meredith said.
“They’re asking about some harassment suit,” Garvin said, looking darkly at Sanders.
Sanders shrugged.
“I’ll speak to them,” Blackburn said. “This is just ridiculous.”
“I’ll say it’s ridiculous,” Garvin said. “It’s an outrage, is what it is.”
Everyone seemed to be talking at once, agreeing that it was an outrage. But Sanders saw that Nichols looked shaken. Now Meredith was leading them out of the restaurant the back way, onto the terrace. Blackburn went out the front, into the harsh lights. He held up his hands, like a man being arrested. Then the door closed.
Nichols was saying, “Not good, not good.”
“Don’t worry, I know the news director over there,” Garvin was saying. “I’ll put this one away.”
Jim Daly said something about how the merger ought to be confidential.
“Don’t worry,” Garvin said grimly. “It’s going to be confidential as hell by the time I get through.”
Then they were gone, out the back door, into the night. Sanders went back to the table, where Fernandez was waiting.
“A little excitement,” Fernandez said calmly.
“More than a little,” Sanders said. He glanced across the room at Stephanie Kaplan, still having dinner with her son. The young man was talking, gesturing with his hands, but Kaplan was staring fixedly at the back door, where the Conley-White people had departed. She had a curious expression on her face. Then, after a moment, she turned back and resumed her conversation with her son.
The evening was black, damp, and unpleasant. He shivered as he walked back to his office with Fernandez.
“How did a television crew get the story?”
“Probably from Walsh,” Fernandez said. “But maybe another way. It’s really a small town. Anyway, never mind that. You’ve got to prepare for the meeting tomorrow.”
“I’ve been trying to forget that.”
“Yeah. Well, don’t.”
Ahead they saw Pioneer Square, with windows in the buildings still brightly lit. Many of the companies here had business with Japan, and stayed open to overlap with the first hours of the day in Tokyo.
“You know,” Fernandez said, “watching her with those men, I noticed how cool she was.”
“Yes. Meredith is cool.”
“Very controlled.”
“Yes. She is.”
“So why did she approach you so overtly-and on her first day? What was the rush?”
What is the problem she is trying to solve? Max had said. Now Fernandez was asking the same thing. Everyone seemed to understand except Sanders.
You’re not a victim.
So, solve it, he thought.
Get to work.
He remembered the conversation when Meredith and Blackburn were leaving the conference room.
It should be quite smooth and impersonal. After all, you have the facts on your side. He’s clearly incompetent.
He still can’t get into the database?
No. He ‘s locked out of the system.
And there’s no way he can get into Conley -Whiter system?
No way in hell, Meredith.
They were right, of course. He couldn’t get into the system. But what difference would it make if he could?
Solve the problem, Max had said. Do what you do best.
Solve the problem.
“Hell,” Sanders said.
“It’ll come,” Fernandez said.
It was nine-thirty. On the fourth floor, cleaning crews worked in the central partition area. Sanders went into his office with Fernandez. He didn’t really know why they were going there. There wasn’t anything he could think to do, now.
Fernandez said, “Let me talk to Alan. He might have something.” She sat down and began to dial.
Sanders sat behind his desk, and stared at the monitor. On the screen, his email message read:
YOU’RE STILL CHECKING THE WRONG COMPANY.
AFRIEND
“I don’t see how,” he said, looking at the screen. He felt irritable, playing with a puzzle that everyone could solve except him.
Fernandez said, “Alan? Louise. What have you got? Uh-huh. Uhhuh. Is that . . . Well, that’s very disappointing, Alan. No, I don’t know, now. If you can, yes. When would you be seeing her? All right. Whatever you can.” She hung up. “No luck tonight.”
“But we’ve only got tonight.”
“Yes.”
Sanders stared at the message on the computer screen. Somebody inside the company was trying to help him. Telling him he was checking the wrong company. The message seemed to imply that there was a way for him to check the other company. And presumably, whoever knew enough to send this message also knew that Sanders had been cut out of the DigiCom system, his privileges revoked.
What could he do?
Nothing.
Fernandez said, “Who do you think this `Afriend’ is?”
“I don’t know.”
“Suppose you had to guess.”
“I don’t know.”
“What comes into your mind?” she said.
He considered the possibility that `Afriend’ was Mary Anne Hunter. But Mary Anne wasn’t really a technical person; her strength was marketing. She wasn’t likely to be sending routed messages over the Internet. She probably didn’t know what the Internet was. So: not Mary Anne.
And not Mark Lewyn. Lewyn was furious at him.
Don Cherry? Sanders paused, considering that. In a way, this was just like Cherry. But the only time that Sanders had seen him since this began, Cherry had been distinctly unfriendly.
Not Cherry.
Then who else could it be? Those were the only people with executive sysop access in Seattle. Hunter, Lewyn, Cherry. A short list.
Stephanie Kaplan? Unlikely. At heart, Kaplan was plodding and unimaginative. And she didn’t know enough about computers to do this.
Was it somebody outside the company? It could be Gary Bosak, he thought. Gary probably felt guilty about having turned his back on Sanders. And Gary had a hacker’s devious instincts-and a hacker’s sense of humor.
It might very well be Gary.
But it still didn’t do Sanders any good.
You were always good at technical problems. That was always your strength.
He pulled out the Twinkle CD-ROM drive, still in plastic. Why would they want it wrapped that way?
Never mind, he thought. Stay focused.
There was something wrong with the drive. If he knew what, he would have the answer. Who would know?
Wrapped in plastic.
It was something to do with the production line. It must be. He fumbled with the material on his desk and found the DAT cartridge. He inserted it into the machine.
It came up, showing his conversation with Arthur Kahn. Kahn was on one side of the screen, Sanders on the other.
Behind Arthur, the brightly lit assembly line beneath banks of fluorescent lights. Kahn coughed, and rubbed his chin. “Hello, Tom. How are you?”
“I’m fine, Arthur,” he said.
“Well, good. I’m sorry about the new organization.”
But Sanders wasn’t listening to the conversation. He was looking at Kahn. He noticed now that Kahn was standing very close to the camera, so close that his features were slightly blurred, out of focus. His face was large, and blocked any clear view of the production line behind him. “You know how I feel personally,” Kahn was saying, on the screen.
His face was blocking the line.
Sanders watched a moment more, and then switched the tape off. “Let’s go downstairs,” he said.
“You have an idea?”
“Call it a last-ditch hope,” he said.
The lights clicked on, harsh lights shining on the tables of the Diagnostic team. Fernandez said, “What is this place?”
“This is where they check the drives.”
“The drives that don’t work?”
“Right.”
Fernandez gave a little shrug. “I’m afraid I’m not-”
“Me neither,” Sanders said. “I’m not a technical person. I can just read people.”
She looked around the room. “Can you read this?”