Chapter 40: Taking More Pieces Off The Board

January 16, 1995, Chicago, Illinois

“I’m not sure I like the premise, but it wasn’t too bad,” Jennifer said on Monday night.

“I’ll reserve judgment,” I said. “Being 70,000 light years across the galaxy does make this different from any of the earlier Treks. I’ll set the VCR to automatically record Star Trek: Voyager from now on. We’ll need to remember to change tapes because of Deep Space Nine and ER. Not to mention the races if we can’t watch them.”

“Have you considered switching from cable to that new satellite service?”

“DirecTV? I’ve looked at it. My biggest concern is that during heavy rain or snow it could be problematic. Satellite signals don’t do well through water. Supposedly it’s only an issue during the hardest downpours or if you let snow build up on the dish, but I’m not sure. I may give it a try during the summer. Would you want to climb on our roof and put up the dish?”

Jennifer laughed, “No thanks. Do you think it would be possible to share the service? They don’t let us do that with cable.”

“Maybe. Both properties are on the same lot and we ran underground coax between the houses when I bought the coach house. We just couldn’t use it for cable. When the time comes, I’ll ask them. It’s all my property, so maybe they’ll be cool about it.”

“What did the rest of you think?” Jessica asked.

“I’ll reserve judgment,” Kara said. “It could be good.”

“I don’t get a good vibe from it,” Jessica said. “But I’ll watch at least one more to see.”

“You all know I’m not a big Star Trek fan,” Elyse said. “So far, I don’t find it compelling.”

“I liked it,” Jesse said.

“Me, too!” Matthew added.

“Boring,” Birgit said.

“An entirely mixed bag,” I said. “Let’s watch next week and see.”

“Dad?”

“Yes, Jesse?”

“When are we going to Russia?”

“It looks like the beginning of July. The travel agent is supposed to get me details by the end of the week. I already talked with Tatyana and Karin.”

“Will we see Pia and Marta, too?”

“Yes.”

“Cool! And everyone is going?”

“Yes. The whole family!”

January 18, 1995, Chicago, Illinois

“Hi, Melissa!” I said, sitting down at the table at Ruth’s Chris where she was waiting.

“Hi, Steve. How are things?”

“Busy, as always. How are things at M&M?”

“A bit rocky. Dario seems to be taking cues from Dante.”

“I thought Dante was on his yacht or sailboat or whatever in Polynesia.”

“He’s shacked up in Tahiti at the moment, from what I hear.”

“So what’s the problem with Dario?”

“He’s doing his best to undermine the new policies and badmouthing every decision I make.”

“You did sign a contract with him as I suggested, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“When does it expire?”

“The last day of July of each year.”

“I don’t think talking to Dario is going to make any difference, do you?”

“No.”

“Then I think at this point, if you want to ditch him and Daniela, you’ll need to buy them both out of their contracts. Just pay them the remaining six months at whatever their rate is and ask them to leave. Continue their benefits until they find a new position, or the contract expires.”

“That’s what I thought you might say. It’s going to cause a huge uproar with the long-term staff.”

“Are any of them critical employees? In other words, if they were to quit, you’d be in a bind?”

“Just one engineer.”

“What do you think he’ll do?”

“Probably quit in a fit of pique. That’s what has Mark concerned.”

“Well, I think the best course of action is to have Mark take that engineer to lunch, or whatever, and have him explain what’s happening while you show Dario and Daniela the door. That prevents it from leaking to Dante and them causing any other trouble. You may not be able to salvage the engineer, but I’d come up with some sort of sweetener, you know, a bonus if he stays for some period of time and toes the company line.”

“And if I have to replace him?”

“What kind of engineer?”

“Electrical.”

I smiled, “I might just know someone who would fit the bill. Jesse’s mom is an electrical engineer with experience at TellLabs. She’s been working for a consulting firm in the loop for the past three years. She graduated from Stanford and worked for the same consulting firm Dave and I used to work for as interns.”

“Think she’d be interested?”

“She might. Let me talk to her when I get home and have her call you tomorrow.”

“I knew I chose the right mentor!” Melissa laughed. “You have connections just about everywhere and seem to know just about everyone.”

“I don’t know if I’d go quite that far, but I do have quite a few contacts.”

“You know Mark thinks we’re screwing, right?”

“Mark can think what he wants,” I chuckled. “I’m sure Dante thinks the same thing.”

“You mean because you have a large staff and keep everyone satisfied?” she smirked.

“You did ask me how big it was when we first met!” I smirked. “Don’t you think that was a bit forward?”

“I didn’t MEAN it that way and you know it!”

“True, but Mark and Dante sure had a good laugh.”

“They did,” Melissa smiled. “You know, I WAS tempted just so I could tell Dante.”

I shook my head, “That would be one of the dumbest reasons I can think of to do it.”

“Got any good ones?” she teased.

“What’s gotten into you tonight?” I asked, and quickly caught myself, “DON’T SAY IT!”

Melissa laughed, “See? I CAN tease and joke. Shall we order?”

“I knew you could tease and joke. And yes, let’s order.”

We had a very nice meal, with a good conversation, and only a bit of light teasing. Melissa was obviously very comfortable with me and I felt that was a good thing. Our business relationship generated a lot of revenue for NIKA and I wasn’t going to do anything to mess that up.

When we finished our meal, we parted with a hug and Melissa gave me an ‘air’ kiss next to my cheek. I STILL hated those phony ‘society’ kisses, but given the circumstances, it was probably the best way to handle it. The valets brought our cars and we each drove off.

When I arrived home, I stopped in to talk to Jennifer.

“I’d like you to call Melissa Mascioli at M&M Engineering. You know, Dante’s old firm.”

“Why?”

“She may be in need of an electrical engineer. Dante’s brother is causing trouble and Melissa needs to fire him. They’re afraid one of their top engineers might quit. I didn’t promise anything other than you’d call her.”

I slid Melissa’s business card across the table.

“Why not?” Jennifer responded. “If she’s getting advice from you, then she’s probably running the firm the right way.”

“She is.”

“I’ll call tomorrow.”

“Thanks!”

We hugged, she gave me a peck on the lips, and I headed into the house.

“Steve?” Elyse called out.

“What’s up?”

“How close is Kobe to where you were in Japan?”

“If I recall correctly, about 500 miles. You’re worried about the earthquake that happened in Kobe?”

“Yes. According to CNN, the death toll passed 2500 already, with some estimate of over 6000.”

“Damn. I think Yamagata Prefecture is far enough away that they wouldn’t have had much damage, and the kinds of structures in and around Oguni aren’t likely to take much damage unless the quake is pretty much under their feet. Hiro-san’s compound was all single-story buildings. I’m sure Sensei Jim has called Sensei Robert, and I’ll check with him tomorrow.”

“This quake was around 6.9 on the Richter scale. I’d hate to think what a big one would do.”

“The real issue would be a tsunami. That would cause incalculable damage.”

“Not a pleasant thought.”

“Not at all,” I agreed.

January 20, 1995, Chicago, Illinois

“Steve, there’s a messenger here for you,” Lucas said.

“Can’t you sign?” I asked.

“No, he says it has to be delivered into your hands only.”

“I’ll be right down.”

I got up from my desk and went out to Kimmy’s office where I slipped off my soft-soled shoes and put on my loafers. I walked down the hall and down the stairs, then out to reception.

“Hi,” I said to the messenger.

“I have a delivery for a Mr. Steve Adams,” a kid with a satchel over his shoulder said.

“That’s me,” I said, taking my wallet out of my pocket and showing my driver’s license.

He handed me an envelope with a wax seal. I accepted it, handed him $5.00, and he left. I went up to Elyse’s office and broke the seal. Inside was a single sheet of paper with four words on it.

‘They know. No suspects.‘

I put the paper back in the envelope, then went to Elyse’s cross-cut shredder and fed the envelope through it, turning both the envelope and the letter into tiny confetti that couldn’t be reconstructed even with a concerted effort by Iranian women. Not to mention it would be taken to an incinerator on Friday, as was the usual practice.

“Care to fill me in?” Elyse asked.

I chuckled, “You’re steady with Eduardo these days! Only HE gets to ‘fill you in’.”

Elyse laughed, “Cute!”

“Let’s go get some coffee at Starbucks,” I said.

We went downstairs, put on our coats, hats, and gloves and walked east towards Starbucks, near Union Station.

“That was a note from Joyce saying that Connie and Anthony are aware the money is gone and they don’t suspect me.”

“So now what?”

“Good question. There is no way they can trace it back to me, so whatever happens is going to happen in Cincinnati. My guess is they have to seriously trim the payroll. That’s going to create even bigger problems, and, I suspect, in the end, somebody will completely muscle them out.”

“And Scuderi?”

“There’s nothing to do unless he makes a move. Connie was pulling all the strings.”

“You don’t think they might guess it was you?”

“How? Because of Littleton? The rumor making the rounds is that he high-tailed it because the investigations here got close to him. You know how many lawyers and judges were caught up in ‘Operation Greylord’. I heard from Stan Jakes about several law firms being investigated and there’s some big push against the loan sharks going on as well.”

“Loan sharks? That’s hardly big-time stuff.”

I chuckled, “You have NO idea who is involved in that stuff and what ELSE they’ve done. And you do not WANT to know.”

“Just how much DO you know?”

“Enough to put some bad guys on ice for the rest of their lives. Please don’t ask any more.”

“Mr. Adams, when I’m carrying a fucking locator in my pocket and my boys have them as well, and you’re packing heat everywhere, I think I deserve to know more.”

“That’s about Scuderi which has to do with Connie and Anthony; it’s not about any Chicago Outfit stuff. I’ve told you as much as I can tell you.”

“You’re not involved in anything at all?”

“Nothing. And I haven’t heard from them for a long time, more than two years now.”

I HAD seen Theo at the union hall during a meeting about six months previously, but we hadn’t spoken. And I wasn’t about to approach him.

“I still don’t like not knowing.”

“Elyse, you know me better than anyone on the planet. You know I tell you everything. Well, this is the one thing I can’t tell you, and there is no ‘this one time, Kay’ exception. There can’t be.”

I could tell Elyse wasn’t happy, but there really was no way I could tell her any more than I already had, and I felt I might have told her too much as it was. We arrived at Starbucks, which meant we couldn’t talk openly, and that suited me just fine. We ordered ‘grande’ coffees and took them to a corner table. We drank our coffee and then headed back to the office, and I was happy when Elyse didn’t raise the Scuderi issue.

January 21, 1995, Chicago, Illinois

“Get into the ‘Weaver’ stance,” Clayton instructed.

He was speaking louder than usual, as he, Pete, and I were all wearing hearing protection.

I did as instructed.

“OK. You’re authorized to disengage the safety. Keep the pistol pointed down range.”

I thumbed the safety to the ‘off’ position.

“Good. Now, when you aim, you can’t focus on the rear sight, front sight, and target simultaneously. In a situation where you need to draw and fire, you won’t have time to properly align the sights. The preferable method is to align the front sight and the target. You’re aiming for center mass, which gives you a large target area. I’m less interested in you winning a pistol competition like Marshal Carston, than ensuring you put your man on the ground.

“We’re going to shoot at silhouette targets. Aim for the red in the center, but anything in the 8 or 9 ring is sufficient for our purposes. I want you to fire two rounds, then pause. Remember what we discussed about breathing and squeezing the trigger. Fire both rounds in quick succession. That’s the best technique for you. Two, then assess, then two more, then assess, and so on. And make sure that pistol is pointed down range at all times when the safety is disengaged.”

“Got it.”

“Then fire two rounds.”

I aligned the front sight with the red area and squeezed the trigger, adjusted for the recoil, then squeezed the trigger again.

“You’re low, and to the left,” Clayton said. “Adjust your aim and fire two more rounds.”

I did as he asked.

“Better. Fire two rounds, pause, assess, then two more, then pause, assess, and finally two more. Then safe your weapon.”

I nodded and did as he asked. By the time I fired the final two rounds, I had zeroed in on center of the target, actually getting a round in the red.

“OK. You aren’t adjusting properly after the recoil. That second to last round was in the red, but then you were high and to the right. We’re going to practice this until you can control the recoil. When you’re consistent, we’ll work on drawing, disengaging the safety, and firing. Remember, you NEVER put that pistol in the holster without the safety on.”

“Pete was quite clear about that, as well as not keeping a round in the chamber unless there is some kind of immediate threat.”

“That’s a question of threat assessment,” Clayton said. “The time it takes you to rack the slide might be too much in certain situations. But I’ll leave that for you and Pete to work out. Eject your magazine and put in a fresh one, then fire two rounds the same as before. I’m going to change the target, so ensure the pistol is safed and then set it on the bar in front of you.”

I did as instructed. Clayton stepped forward and pressed the button to recall the target so he could change it. Once it was changed, he stepped back and nodded. I emptied the magazine two rounds at a time, assessing my aim each time. We repeated the exercise two more times and Clayton was satisfied. He had me safe the pistol and put it on the bar.

“This is where I turn you over to the Marshal,” he said. “I don’t teach quick ‘draw and fire’ techniques. Pete?”

Pete nodded, “Your goal here is to be able to draw from your shoulder holster, get into the correct stance, release the safety, aim, and fire in one smooth movement. Let’s simply work on drawing your weapon and aiming. Do not release the safety. Just draw, get into the stance, and point the sight in the direction of the target. The goal is smooth movement.”

We spent about twenty minutes working on the technique, with which my karate training helped. I was used to quickly shifting stances and keeping my balance, as well as moving my arms and hands into proper position. When Pete was satisfied, he and Clayton stepped back about ten feet and Pete asked me to repeat the actions, but this time, to disengage the safety, but not fire. I practiced the added move several times, engaging the safety each time I returned the pistol to the holster.

“OK, next time, fire two rounds, assess, safe the pistol, and return it to your holster.”

I did as he asked, firing at the fresh target which Clayton had hung for me when he turned me over to Pete. Both rounds hit the target, but the first was low and to the left, then second, high to the right.

“Too soon each time,” Pete said. “You fired before you had the sight on the center of the target when you drew, and then when you brought it back down for the second shot. Safe the pistol, return it to the holster and try again.”

We repeated the exercise until the magazine was empty, then inserted another one, and finished when I had both rounds in the 8-ring.

“Not bad,” Pete said. “We’ll see you here again next month.”

“What about chambering the round?” I asked.

“Only you can make that call, Steve. You have a proper holster, your Beretta has a proper safety, and you understand proper trigger discipline. I don’t believe you’ll accidentally discharge your pistol, but there is a risk if you ever fail to engage the safety or don’t exercise proper trigger discipline.”

“I think the extra few seconds are important,” I said.

“OK. There’s also the issue of what you do with the pistol at home.”

“I always eject the magazine and clear the chamber. The pistol goes on a shelf. I figure Elyse’s shotgun is far more effective in the house, should we need it.”

“You keep that out of reach, and unloaded, right?”

“Yes, on a high shelf behind the locked door of Elyse’s room. The shells are close, but not in the same place.”

“We should do a firearm safety talk with your kids, the Jaeger kids, the Kallas kids, and others,” Clayton said.

“Let’s set it up,” I said. “Thanks, guys. I really appreciate it.”

“See you for Guys’ Night next Saturday!” Clayton said.

I shook hands with both of them, and headed for my car for the drive home from Great Lakes.

January 22, 1995, Chicago, Illinois

“How are you adjusting, Doctor Todd?” Jessica asked at breakfast on Sunday morning.

“Well, about half the staff seem to think I speak a foreign language...”

“Because you do!” I chuckled, interrupting. “Just ask Albert!”

Jon laughed, “Well, yes. But other than the silly pranks the first week, everything seems to be coming together nicely. I could do without the gunshot wounds, but otherwise, it’s not all that different from Manchester. The biggest adjustment is all the new colleagues, but so far I’ve not really found much to complain about.”

“Just wait,” Jessica laughed.

“Did you get your Attending offer?”

“Doctor Barton called me yesterday. It seems that the new Medical Director is now the ex-Medical Director. He resigned late on Friday.”

“That man was an arse! I met him and instantly realized he had no business in a hospital. Cronyism is not the way to provide good medical care. We’ve had our fair share of problems with that in the UK. Too many governments think that politicizing hospital boards and trusts is an OK thing. And I’m not so sure putting representatives of large money donors on the Board at UofC is much better.”

“It’s a private hospital,” I interjected. “To raise the kinds of funds we’re talking about - a hundred million dollars for the new ER - you have to do things like that.”

“Cook County desperately needs upgrading,” Jessica said, “but the tax money simply isn’t there. Donations are pretty much the only way to fund that kind of expansion.”