Chapter 11: A Fresh Start

Tom was leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes for a few seconds to relax after a meeting with the line managers. Most of them were eagerly pulling their weight now, encouraged by a system of performance-related bonus payments that Peter and Tom had instituted. The five line managers also went through a monthly rotation as deputy head of production, giving them work experience at a higher level, again work that carried a bonus, either in cash or in additional leave. One level down, the assistant line managers did a parallel rotation as acting line managers, giving them experience for their next career step.

Already, the plant was exceeding the performance goals for the current year, and Tom expected a rather generous bonus himself. According to Pete Salieri, the Di Rosa were happy with their returns so early in their ownership, and they were contemplating additional investments. It felt good to be seen as a success.

He had also followed Hiram Gunderson’s trial for embezzlement, theft and tax evasion. Of course, being a white guy with a fine house in the suburbs, a church elder, and — admittedly — a first time offender, he’d gotten off with a suspended sentence and a hefty fine. A civil suit for damages to the tune of $1,6 Mio had been filed by Villier Pharmaceuticals, and Tom knew from Iris that Gunderson’s lawyer was trying to reach a settlement. He’d also lost his country club membership, apparently under the pressure from Tilda Darlington. Life as Gunderson knew it was over.

Gunderson’s son Earl was a rookie in the NFL and he was coerced to use his signing bonus to bail out his father. Tom pitied him a little. There was a daughter, too, but she’d been cut off by the Gundersons for the unspeakable crime of having a baby out of wedlock, reenforcing Tom’s view of Gunderson as an asshole of the highest magnitude. Apparently, she was doing quite well being cut off from the Gundersons. If the rumor mill was correct, she was engaged to the son of retail magnate Tyler Westbrook. The inquirer had shown a picture of the two young people dancing at a charity ball, and they looked happy. Tom knew Gunderson’s wife, of course, but in his eyes, she was just as bigoted as her husband and beyond Tom’s pity.

He was torn from his brief musing when his phone vibrated. It was Iris and he accepted the call with a smile.

“Hey, Darling! How’s your day?”

“Pretty great! Listen, Tom, could you come over to our cafeteria for lunch? I promise you an entertaining hour and a pleasant surprise.”

“Will Excel-Boy commit public seppuku?” Tom asked hopefully. “I could be talked into doing the beheading for him.”

Tom knew that Moran had been sidelined by Iris and Maggie, the latter being slated as his successor a year hence when his contract would expire.

“No, but it’ll be nearly as good for you.”

“A blowjob under the table, right in the cafeteria?”

“My blowjobs are better than a seppuku,’ Iris shot back. ‘Let me surprise you. I promise, you’ll enjoy it.”

“The things I have to do to satisfy my wife’s whims,” Tom sighed. “Okay. When?”

“Be there by eleven-fifty. You don’t want to miss the show.”

———

It felt strange to park his car in the visitor parking area, but he was still five minutes early when Maggie sent him through to Iris. Maggie was sporting a conspiratorial grin. Iris jumped from her desk chair and gave Tom a kiss.

“Let’s go! Weeks of devious planning will come to fruition today. By the way, I’ll spring for your lunch!”

The cafeteria was slowly filling when they arrived. They stood in the main food line and Tom noticed that the management section was gone and replaced by normal seating. Iris noticed his look.

“You should have seen Walter pout when I implemented that cost cutting measure. I thought he’d cry!”

“Good for you, and good for the company,” Tom nodded. “So everybody mingles with the unwashed masses now?”

“Pretty much,” Maggie said from behind them. “They have to pay for their lunch, too.”

“And Tilda calls me a communist,” Tom laughed.

“Those management perks, together with the serving staff came to over 200 Grand per year. We can hire an R&D scientist for that money.”

“Still cleaning house, aren’t you?” Tom asked with a grin. “Speaking of the moron, there’s Moran.”

“Oh, goody!” Iris beamed. “Maggie, can you make the call?”

“Sure thing, boss,” Maggie grinned. She produced her smartphone and pressed a speed call icon. “Yes, Darlington here. He arrived. — Yes. — His usual table. — See you!”

“Alea iacta est!” Iris announced. “Let’s sit over there!”

They took their food trays to a table 20 feet away from where Moran was sitting. He looked up and seeing Tom, pressed his lips together and gave him a glare. Tom waved back lightly, enjoying Moran’s annoyance. Sitting down, they started with their entree, when two men in dark blue suits entered the cafeteria and, after a look around, approached Moran’s table.

“Agent Tomlinson, U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Are you Walter Morgan, a.k.a. Walter Moran, Sir?”

Moran looked like a deer in the headlights. His mouth moved, but no sound came out.

“Please stand up, Sir!”

Moran still did not move.

“Sir, you are under arrest for illegal immigration, falsification of official documents, and making false statements on your application for citizenship. Please stand up!”

The second man spoke up them. “Special Agent Redondo, Federal Bureau of Investigation. We have an arrest warrant for Walter Morgan, a.k.a. Walter Moran, for extradition to the United Kingdom. The charges are theft, embezzlement and cyber crimes. Are you Walter Morgan?”

Moran looked around for a way out, but none materialised. He wet his lips briefly and then nodded. He stood on shaky legs, and the FBI man cuffed his hands. Iris stood up.

“Agents, I am Iris Verkade, president of Villier Pharmaceuticals Incorporated. Mister Moran is our chief financial officer. Can you please explain the charges to me?”

Tomlinson nodded. “His real name is Morgan. He falsified his name and his university diploma when he immigrated eight years ago. That’ll make his deportation automatic. Besides, the British CID want him for theft, cyber crimes and embezzlement, and his extradition was approved by the State Department and a federal court. His wife recognized him when she saw one of your company flyers. He left her without warning after maxing out their credit cards. I suggest you call in auditors.”

“I guess I’ll do just that.” She looked at ‘Moran’. “Walter, if these accusations are proven, your contract will be terminated for cause. Meanwhile, you are suspended from your duties. Please hand over your transponder card.”