“Atlanta airport in Boston? I don’t understand.”
“It’s boring,” I said. “Trade show.”
It was the big Information Display trade show at the Bayside Expo Center. I didn’t have to work the show, thank God-I’m sure it would have been a regular laff riot-but some of my guys did. When I heard the Atlanta folks were going to be in town for the Information Display show, I invited them all out for dinner, told them it would be a great opportunity to “celebrate” our agreement. Translation: I wanted to try to nail down the huge Atlanta airport deal.
A man can hope.
“Where are you taking them?”
“I don’t know the name of it. Some fancy restaurant in the South End that Franny likes. But if you need to reach me, I’ll have my cell with me.”
“I’m not going to bother you.”
“In case there’s a problem. Don’t hesitate, babe.”
I hung up the phone, and then I noticed that Kurt was standing in the doorway to my office.
“Missed you at the gym this morning,” Kurt said.
“Had to fly to Chicago early.”
“So, you were talking to Scanlon.”
I nodded. “A background check that HR doesn’t seem to be able to do.”
“You can always ask me, you know.”
“Thought it might be better to separate the business from the personal.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” he said, closing the door. “So if you have a problem with my work, you should take it up with me. Not with my boss.”
I swallowed. “I don’t have a problem with your work.”
“Really? Then why’re you trying to get me fired?”
I looked at him for a few seconds. “What makes you say that?”
He advanced into my office. Stood directly in front of my desk. “My suggestion to you-my strong feeling”-his eyebrows shot up, and he began speaking archly-“and, again, it’s of the utmost importance that this conversation remain strictly confidential…” He smiled. “…Is that if you have issues with me, you take them up with me. Mano a mano. But don’t sneak around. Don’t go behind my back. Because I will find out. And you will regret it.” His stare was icy. “Are we clear?”
I was freaked out: He knew what I’d said to Scanlon, word for word.
I didn’t know how, but it had to be some surveillance device he’d placed in my office. He sure had the technology.
Now I wondered what else he’d heard me say in the office. I’d been concerned about Scanlon being indiscreet, saying something to Kurt. But I realized that Kurt didn’t need to hear it secondhand.
And now that he knew I was trying to have him terminated, there was going to be trouble between us. Things could never go back to the way they used to be.
In the car on the way to South End, my phone rang. I was back to my bad habits, using the cell phone in the car, but I had no choice. I had to be reachable at all times.
It was Dick Hardy. “What’s your take on the Atlanta airport?” he said.
“I’m feeling good about it.”
“Then I’m feeling good about it. If this comes through, this may do it. This may save the division.”
“All I can do is my best.”
“I’m counting on it, Jason. Everything’s riding on this. Everything.”
I handed my keys to the valet and entered the restaurant with a nonchalant grin plastered on my face. Unfortunately, it was one of those restaurants with an open kitchen, which always made me nervous, maybe because I was subconsciously afraid I’d have to do the dishes after we ate.
Jim Letasky was already at the table, studying a file. We were fifteen minutes early. I’d invited Jim Letasky to join me at dinner. I wanted to bring him in on the biggest deal I had going. I needed his wattage. He’d gotten us a table far away from other people, and he’d tipped the waiter to leave us alone as much as possible, because this was a business dinner.
I had an ulterior motive, too, but he was a smart fellow, and he’d figured it out.
“I know why you wanted me here,” he said.
“Besides the fact that you’re great at what you do?”
“Because you’re afraid that our main competition is NEC.”
“Who, me?”
“I’ve just spent nine years telling the world how much better NEC’s products are than anyone else’s, and now-”
“Now you’ve found God.”
“I feel bad about it, you know.”
“Not too bad, I hope.”
“Not too bad. It is war, after all.”
“That’s the attitude.” I looked over the wine list, trying to figure out which wines to order. My Queeg Memo had instructed all Entronics salespeople to make sure they always ordered the wine at a customer dinner and not leave it to the customer.
“But listen, Jason. I think you’re wrong about NEC.”
“Don’t tell me we’re going head-to-head with Royal Meister again?”
He shook his head, squeezed lime into his Pellegrino water. “I dug deep into the Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport website. There’s a company called AirView Systems, based in Atlanta.”
I nodded. “I met the CFO at TechComm. Guy named Steve Bingham.” I remembered the silver anchorman hair, the deep-set eyes.
“Biggest provider of flight information display systems. They put in the system for Atlanta last time. So my big question is, how come the airport isn’t going with them again? Why change horses in midstream?”
“Maybe that horse was too expensive.”
“AirView just sold them a bunch of portable LED signs.”
“News to me. All I know is, they’ve been negotiating hard.”
“You’ve been negotiating directly with Duffy, right?”
“You do your homework,” I said. Tom Duffy was the Aviation General Manager of the airport. Mister Big. Lorna Evers, our other dinner guest, was the Deputy Procurement Officer for the City of Atlanta in the Aviation Division.
“The workday starts the night before.”
I smiled. “Duffy’s the decision maker. Lorna I’ve never met, but she’s basically a rubber stamp.”
“They’re not just in this for a free dinner, right?”
“I think they want to close the deal.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“The power of negative thinking,” I said, and then I saw our two dinner guests enter the restaurant. “Let’s knock ’em dead, Letasky.”
Lorna Evers was a buxom blonde of that indeterminate age that could have been early fifties or maybe hard-living forties. She’d also obviously had work done: Her eyes had a slight Asian tilt to them. She had big bee-stung, cosmetically enhanced lips-trout pout, I think it’s called. Her face was a deeply tanned mask. When she smiled, only her overstuffed lips moved. Someone had overdone the Botox and the collagen injections.
“So you’re the new Gordy,” she said, adjusting the gold silk scarf around her neck.
“You could say that.”
“Don’t let this man have any Scotch,” she said, and she threw back her head and gave a raucous, openmouthed laugh. Her eyes didn’t move.
Tom Duffy was an affable, moon-faced, burly man with a double chin and a gray crew cut. He wore a bow tie and a loose navy blazer. He laughed quietly.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, extending a hand. Her fingernails were pink and dangerously long. “So there’s been a hell of a lot of turnover at Entronics, I hear.”
“I just joined Entronics from NEC,” Letasky said. “I figured it was time to join the championship team.”
Score one for Letasky. Give this man a raise.
“I’m talking about layoffs,” she said, settling into her chair. I held it for her. Not that I’m such a gentleman, but I wanted to make sure she sat so that she and Duffy couldn’t make eye contact without our seeing it. A basic sales meeting trick. Duffy sat where we wanted him to as well. “You guys going to be there next year?”
“Entronics was founded in 1902,” I said. “Back when it was called Osaka Telephone and Telegraph. I think it’ll be around long after we’re gone.”