Chapter 9: Planning a Counter-attack

The presidents and their assistants rode together in a van from The Ritz-Carlton to the offices of Media. They arrived at approximately 7:45 which gave them fifteen minutes to get to the executive conference room. When they entered they found a spread of bagels, fruits, juice, and coffee.

With small plates of food and drinks they took their normal seats around the table.

At precisely 8:00 Richard entered the room. He saw the breakfast and took a detour to collect a bagel and coffee. He took his seat at the table and eyed his subordinates.

“Good morning,” he said affably.

There were nervous responses wishing him a good morning and asking about his flight. Banal chit-chat followed until everyone finished their food. Richard stood and collected the empty plates, and then made a pass to refill coffee cups as needed. He topped of his own and then retook his seat.

Without raising his voice, but with a stern timbre, Richard said, “Argonne is getting fucking hammered. I left the last meeting by giving all of you instructions to get your shit figured out and fix it. We’re now in a worse position. Across the board. Not one of your fucking companies is without issue.”

He paused and the presidents tried their hardest to maintain eye contact with Richard and not to glance at one another.

“I don’t fucking care if we have to stay in this room until we die of starvation – those bagels won’t sustain us more than a day or two – we are going to get this ship righted.”

Richard pointed to his immediate right. “William, Oil and Gas, the Fibbies are sniffing around you again for killing Senator Atkins. We know it’s bullshit, but why the renewed interest? And how are you going to get them off your tail?”

“My investigators have found the shooter. It was, as we expected, Darth Vader. Unless it was you, we are not sure who was responsible for putting out the contract. However, we have reason to believe that the contract did come from within Argonne. Shortly after talking with Vader, he disappeared. The party who hired him may have had him killed to tie up a loose end, or he may have gotten spooked and went into hiding.”

Richard came to the obvious conclusion. “And even if Vader was given to the authorities, there would still be the question of who hired him, which would not necessarily get you cleared. And if we told them we had suspicions about an internal actor, then the FBI would be completely focused on Oil and Gas and who knows what happens next?”

William nodded.

“What’s next? How does this get resolved?” demanded Richard.

“Last night before falling asleep, I gave this matter serious contemplation. There may be a way to set a trap for our internal mole.”

“Speak the fuck up, what’s your grand plan?” Richard spat, getting frustrated at William’s pacing.

“With respect, I would like another day to consider the details before communicating my idea. I will call you first thing tomorrow morning.”

“You want me to fucking wait until tomorrow?” asked Richard disbelievingly.

“Yes,” answered William without saying anything else. He kept an even gaze with Richard without flinching.

Richard glared at his most senior employee. They had worked together for years, and while they did not always see eye-to-eye, Richard knew that William never bullshit him. He called a straight game, and if he said he may have a lead, then he probably did have something substantial.

“Tomorrow. I expect my phone to ring at 8:00 AM. Sharp!”

William nodded his agreement.

Richard next turned his focus to Sarah and Hotels. She took the worst of Richard’s foul-mouthed tirade since her problems were airing regularly on the nationwide news channels.

“Yes, pay the fucking pay hike and get those assholes back to cleaning rooms and making beds. Fuck! We’ve lost over twenty-four hours and they are still considered breaking news.”

Sarah was nodding vigorously. “Of course, I’ll have them off the sidewalk by tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!” yelled Richard. “I want them off the street by the end of today. Tonight’s breaking news should be that the striking workers have gone back to work and they are happy to work for such a wonderful, caring, generous employer.”

“Yes, sir,” Sarah said.

Before Richard could target someone else, William spoke up. “If I may,” he started, “if my idea works, it may be helpful for the issues that we are all facing. What would you think if we were to schedule another meeting next week? Maybe a week today?”

Richard was ready to unload on someone else and was not really happy to hear William’s suggestion. He also knew yelling at everyone in turn would not help solve Argonne’s problems any faster. Instead of targeting his next comments he addressed the group as a whole, including the assistants.

“Whoever is responsible for food, cancel anything that is scheduled for later today. And you,” looking to the assistants at the far end of the table, “get tickets booked back to your offices. Now! Nothing else to accomplish here this afternoon.”

“You all have shit to get done. This time, I highly recommend you get something done and clean up this mess. You don’t want me to intervene. We, presidents only, will meet in three days, this Friday, in Chicago.”

No one at the table missed the subtle dig. Clearly, William would have added, “in Houston,” to his request. Richard’s message was that he was still in charge and chose instead to have everyone meet in Chicago.

Before Richard stormed out of the meeting, he looked back to William. “Tomorrow, 8:00 AM,” was all he said.

Everyone packed their computers and notebooks. Those that had time decided on a lunch outside the airport, while some needed to get to the airport for flights leaving in the early afternoon.

“Want to go get something?” asked Joseph of Sarah.

“Can’t. Dennis got me a flight at 1:30. I need to get to the airport now. We can talk tonight later tonight or tomorrow morning.”

Joseph leaned closer. “I wasn’t talking about talking. Or eating. Well, eating food.” He smirked as he slicked his hair back with his palm.

“I know what you were talking about, but right now is not the time. I’m on the hottest seat of the bunch. I don’t know why Richard didn’t ream you out earlier after the soccer deal went bust. I guess a lack of a positive is less problematic than an outright negative, and a negative that’s on every TV station around the world.”

Dennis approached. “You ready, Sarah?” he asked.

“Yes, just wrapping up. We’ll talk in the morning,” Sarah said to Joseph as she slung her bag over her shoulder and followed Dennis out of the conference room.

On the way to the airport, Sarah called the lead negotiator in Vegas and told him the requests from the picketers were green-lit. Her demand was the same as Richard’s: Get them off the street by end of day. After getting through security, Sarah debated her next move, but finally relented and reached for her phone. She looked up the number JJ had given her and dialed.

“Hello?” a male voice said.

“JJ, this is Sarah Ooverest.”

“Ahh, Ms. Ooverest. I expect you’ve been a busy lady.”

“Why would you say that?”

JJ laughs. Sarah can hear what sounds like an deep inhale on his cigar, followed by an extended exhale. She can picture the plume of smoke swirling about him as he sits as his desk.

“Other than the obvious? You’ve got staff from two hotels protesting on the street. Word on the street is that there was to be a high-level pow-wow this morning. Hence, a busy time. I assume you have a solution in play?”

Sarah paused to consider how much she should tell JJ. She finally thought she’d play it straight since the news would get out within an hour anyway. “We’re going to play ball. Give the staff what they are asking for, and frankly, what they need for us to remain competitive in the marketplace.”