“Don’t you want to stop the people who made your mother into the fiend she is?” Alan said. “I know I do; I want to strike back at them for what they did to Susan. They took the love of my life away. They destroyed my future, my hopes and dreams. They’ve done that to a lot of people, and they’re going to do it to a lot more if we don’t stop them.”
Memories of Alanis popped into her mind; she remembered cradling her dead premature unborn daughter in the hospital alone, mourning her loss with no one there to comfort her because all her friends, her mother and father, were too busy working to come to her aid.
She choked back a sob and took a deep breath.
Do it for Alanis.
Her mother’s words rose in her mind. Get rid of it before it destroys your chance for a future with the company.
She faced Alan, her mind made up completely. She was no longer straddling the fence. “You don’t have to tell me,” she said. “I think I just realized what you meant by that.”
“Do you?”
“I don’t need to know what kind of pleasure it takes,” she said. “All I have to do is put myself in the shoes of every sadistic boss and manager I’ve ever worked under that thrived on controlling his or her subordinates.”
Alan seemed to approve. “You’d think something so simple wouldn’t be in the equation.”
“Yes,” Michelle said. “But that’s exactly what it is. They… it… gets off on the power it feels dominating others. It’s the common thread schoolyard bullies and control freak workaholic bosses seem to share.”
“You forgot power-hungry world leaders.”
“Them, too.”
“So you’re ready?”
Michelle faced him, more comfortable now with her decision and what she was going to do tomorrow than she had ever been. “I’m ready.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
EVERYTHING WENT LIKE clockwork the next morning.
After a restless sleep broken intermittently by visions of an infant Alanis calling her name as she lay on the floor in an empty office surrounded by humming fax machines and computer monitors that sputtered to life, Michelle woke up and quickly got dressed, applied her make-up, then gathered her laptop, purse, and the explosive-laden briefcase and left her hotel room. She left her suitcase behind, not knowing what else to do with her stuff. Her purse was slung over her shoulder and she hoped to at least be able to escape with it if she could. In fact, she would ditch the laptop if push came to shove. She had pictures of Alanis in her wallet; she’d never part with those.
Sam Greenberg and Gary Lawrence were waiting for her in the lobby. Sam smiled and nodded. “Good morning! Sleep well?”
“Like a rock,” Michelle answered.
“Good!”
They made small talk on the drive over. Michelle concentrated on slipping into the role. She’d applied the ear piece before she slipped into her business attire and she could hear Alan whispering to her from wherever he was, telling her he was getting last minute things ready from his location. She met Sam’s gaze in the rearview mirror as he addressed her. “Today is going to be a monumental day, Michelle.”
“It is?”
“We’re expecting sales to reach seventy percent again today,” Sam continued. “Productivity at our client companies is expected to be sixty percent. By week’s end, we’re planning on eighty percent.”
“It would be nice to reach one hundred percent,” Michelle said. Her fingers caressed the leather of her briefcase.
“Our goals exactly!” Sam said. He looked more alive than he’d looked in weeks. If Michelle had just met him for the first time she would think he was a normal human being. “We’re shooting for one hundred percent at the close of Phase Four.”
“When do you expect to commence with Phase Four?” Michelle asked.
“We’re shooting for within two weeks,” Gary Lawrence answered. He was sitting in the front seat this time, looking out the windshield ahead of him as Sam drove.
“Ambitious,” Michelle said.
“We think so,” Sam said.
“Will I still get to be involved with Phase Two?”
“Very much so.” Sam glanced at her again. “I expect you to be ready by week’s end. Thursday at the earliest. How does that sound to you?”
“Sounds great!”
“Will you be willing to travel right away?” Sam asked. “With the way things are moving, it will be prudent for you to jump right into your part in Phase Two and hit the ground running.”
“Absolutely,” Michelle answered. “I can leave from here if I have to.”
“No need for you to go home?” Sam was watching her subtly as he drove. Michelle could tell this question was a test of her loyalty.
“Nope,” Michelle said. “I have my business attire with me. I pay my bills online. My paycheck is deposited into my bank account, and I have somebody checking my mail at home. No need to go home right away.”
Sam smiled. “Good.”
The morning sun felt good on Michelle’s face as the car angled into the driveway of Corporate Financial Headquarters.
THE MORNING WAS going incredibly fast.
Michelle Dowling was in a stall in the women’s bathroom on the fourth floor. She had just placed one of the explosive devices in the toilet tank after waiting five minutes for a woman to leave the rest room. Michelle had sat on the toilet seat motionlessly as the woman did her business and took her leisure time in leaving. The minute the door whisked shut amid clicking heels that receded down the hall, Michelle got up, slung the briefcase up, and quickly got the device in the toilet tank. Then she exited the stall and approached the sink.
She inspected herself briefly in the mirror. I’m not looking too shabby despite everything I’m going through, she thought. She didn’t look like a terrorist, either. Rather, she fit the bill perfectly for a high-level female corporate executive.
Satisfied that her physical appearance was top-notch, she left the bathroom and headed back down the hall, briefcase in hand, back to the meeting in 4H.
It was the second meeting she’d undertaken this morning and things were going well. She’d already planted explosive devices in the bathrooms near the executive dining lounge, the one near Bruce Wellhorn’s office, and the first floor hallway near accounting. Now she’d planted the one in the bathroom by Conference room 4H. She hadn’t seen her mother yet and she didn’t know if she’d get to. It didn’t matter. She was going through with this. She was going to play her part in destroying Corporate Financial Consulting.
She composed herself by taking a deep breath, then entered conference room 4H, ready to do business.
ALAN PERKINS WAS sitting in an empty chair near a computer terminal in the data center, briefcase at his feet, wondering how Michelle Dowling was making out.
It was after twelve p.m. and most of the data center staff were at lunch, which was ironic when he thought about it. Alan had heard through various news sources of some disturbances throughout the country—arrests, spats of violence at the workplace. He had no doubt that workers all over the country were being forced to work through their lunch hour and that those who defied orders were being punished somehow. Of course, Corporate Financial employees, even those who hadn’t yet been immersed, were immune to such treatment since they were the ones orchestrating this massive takeover.