"Only we call it People now," she said. "Cheryl heard about how I brought in this fancy new information-systems program to keep track of payroll and benefits, and she invited me to her office to talk. We just hit it off. She asked me to join the Office of the Chief Executive Officer. As her Executive Assistant in charge of Internal Governance, Internal Audit, and Ethics."
I could understand why Cheryl Tobin would have been impressed by Ali. She was not just smart but whip-smart, Jeopardy!-contestant-smart. She had what my dad used to call a "smart mouth," only when it came from him, it was never a compliment. She was quick-witted; her mind cycled a lot faster than most. She always said that came from growing up the only girl in a family with four brothers: she learned to talk fast and to the point in order to get what she wanted. As a guy who tends to be better at listening than at speaking, I always admired her ability to express herself at such lightning speed. If I'd been another kind of guy, we could have had the sort of verbal-sparring relationship that Spencer Tracy had with Katharine Hepburn. Instead, it was more like Katharine Hepburn doing a one-woman stage show.
"Last time I checked, we already have an Office of Internal Governance." I was never sure what the Office of Internal Governance did exactly-I imagined it as sort of like Internal Affairs in a police department. Checking up on the company to make sure all the procedures are followed, maybe.
"Sure. And an Office of Internal Audit. But she wanted me to directly oversee them."
"Meaning she didn't trust them to do their job right without supervision."
"You said it, not me."
I nodded. She smelled great. She always smelled great. At least her perfume hadn't changed-something by Clinique, I remembered. I'm not a guy who remembers the names of perfumes, but I once went out with a woman briefly who smelled just like Ali. It messed with my head, and I'd asked her what it was called. Then I asked her to stop using it. That pretty much ended that relationship.
"Where's your boss?" I said.
She pointed at a set of leather-covered double doors a few feet away. Cheryl's private office, I assumed. "On a call."
"Can she hear us?"
Ali shook her head.
The door to the outside corridor opened, and a flight attendant peered in, a beautiful Asian woman. "May I get you or your guest anything, Ms. Hillman?"
"Landry?" Ali said.
I shook my head.
"We're fine, Ming," she said. "Thank you." Ming nodded and shut the door.
"You like working for Cheryl?"
"I do."
"Would you tell me if you didn't?"
"Landry," she said. She tipped her head to one side, an expression I knew well, which meant: How can you even ask?
Ali never lied to me. I don't think she even knew how to be less than honest. Even if it risked offending me or hurting my feelings. Which was another thing I liked about her. "Sorry."
"If I didn't like it, I wouldn't do it," she said. "Cheryl's one of the most impressive women I've ever met. One of the most impressive people I've ever met. I think she's amazing."
I nodded. I wasn't going to ask her at that point if Cheryl was really as much of a bitch as everyone said. Probably wasn't the best time.
"And yes, I know how all these guys talk about her." She waved in the general direction of the main salon. "You think she doesn't know?"
"It's just grumbling," I said. "They're probably freaked out by having a woman running the show for the first time. Plus, they're nervous they'll get canned, too."
She lowered her voice, leaned in closer to me. "What makes you think she has that power?"
"She's the CEO."
"The board of directors won't let her fire any more senior or executive vice presidents without consulting them. And believe me, all these guys know that."
"You're kidding."
"After her first round of management changes, riots almost broke out on the thirty-third floor. Hank Bodine went to one of his buddies on the board and had a little talk, and the board met in emergency session to limit her hiring-and-firing authority. It's practically unprecedented. And it's outrageous."
"If Bodine has so many buddies on the board, why didn't they make him CEO instead of Cheryl?"
She shrugged. "You can bet he wonders the same thing. Maybe he didn't have enough supporters on the board. Maybe they thought he'd be too much of a bully-a bull in a china shop. Or maybe they wanted to bring in someone new, an outsider, to try to clean up the mess here. But whatever the reason, it wasn't a unanimous vote, I know that. Plus, they all know how valuable Bodine is to Hammond, and they don't want to lose him. Which was a real risk when they passed him over. So a fair number of board members are watching closely to see if she screws up. And if and when she does, they'll get rid of her, believe me."
"Does any of this have to do with why I'm here? Why am I here?"
"Well, Mike Zorn said no one knows more about the SkyCruiser than you. He said you're-how'd he put it?-a 'diamond in the rough.'"
Just then I was feeling more like a golf ball in the rough. "But he didn't recommend me as his stand-in, did he?"
Ali hesitated. "He did say you might be a little…junior."
"Hank Bodine was convinced that Cheryl put me on the list herself," I said. "She didn't, did she?"
"No, of course not," said a voice from behind us. The leather-clad double doors had opened, and Cheryl Tobin emerged. "I'd never even heard your name before. But Alison Hillman tells me you can be trusted, and I hope she's right."
12
She extended a hand. I stood and shook it. Her handshake was excessively firm, her hand icy cold.
"Cheryl Tobin," she said. She didn't smile.
"Nice to meet you. Jake Landry."
I'd never seen her up close. She was better-looking from a distance. Up close, she seemed all artifice. Her face was smooth and un-lined, but unnaturally so, as if she'd had a lot of roadwork-Botox or plastic surgery. Her makeup was a little too thick, masklike, and it cracked around her eyes. She gave me a steady, appraising look. "Alison tells me good things about you."
"All lies," I said.
"Oh, Alison knows better than to lie to me. Sit, please."
I sat down, more obedient than my golden retriever. She took a seat on the couch facing us, and said to Ali, "That was Hamilton Wender."
"And?" Ali said.
Cheryl lifted her head. "We'll talk." Then she turned to me. "I'll get right to the point. I'm sure you read my e-mail."
"Which one?"
She widened her eyes a bit. She was probably trying to raise her eyebrows, too, but Botox had frozen her forehead. "This morning."
"Oh, that. About the ethics. Yeah, it sounded nice."
"Sounded nice," she echoed, her voice as frosty as her handshake. You could almost see the icicles hanging down from her words. "Hmph."
"I always thought that Enron had the finest code of ethics I ever heard," I said, and immediately wished I'd kept my mouth shut.
She looked at me for a few seconds as if she wanted to scratch my eyes out. Then she smiled with her mouth, though not the rest of her face. "Quite the brownnoser, I see."
"Not working, huh?"
"Not exactly."
I shrugged. "I guess that's the advantage to being a low-level flunky. I'm not a member of the team. You know what they say: The nail that sticks up gets hammered down."
"Ah. So you don't stick up. That way you can say whatever you want. Even when you're face-to-face with the CEO."
"Something like that."
She turned to look at Ali. "You didn't tell me what a charmer he is, Alison."
Ali rolled her eyes, and said to me warningly, "Landry."
Cheryl leaned forward and fixed me with an intense stare. "What I'm about to tell you, Jake, is not to be repeated."
"Okay."
"Absolutely no one must know what I'm about to tell you. Is that clear?"
I nodded.
"I have your word on this?"
"Yes." What next: a pinkie swear, maybe?
"Alison assured me you could be trusted, and I trust her judgment. A few months ago I hired a D.C. law firm, Craigie Blythe, to conduct an internal corporate investigation into Hammond Aerospace."