“Are you sure?”
“What are you worried about?”
Christine rolled her eyes. “What do you think?”
“Why? It's not something we need to pass by Drake.”
“True, but you know he'll find out about it. He always does, then he'll zing us with it at a meeting.”
“Trust me, it'll be money well spent. It'll put a big smile on his old face.”
“Oh? I've never know him to smile over extra expenditures.”
“Or much of anything,” Walt retorted with a laugh. “Now that will be something real special to see. God, I wish I could be with you when you tell him how you managed to hire Maxwell while finding a way to take him away from those religious housemates that are causing him, and us, a lot of heartburn. That's sure to score you some extra points.”
“I suppose.”
“We can also ease up on surveillance, which will more than offset the cost of a short-term lease. You know Drake won't miss that cost benefit. I'd be mostly worried about him injuring himself trying to smile so much.”
Christine's expression shifted. “I see your point.”
“Put Sam up at that short-term residence facility over in Lowell, then connect him with a real estate agent to help find him a nice condo. I think that big place by the river in North Chelmsford still has a number of units under construction. It would be a perfect place for him, far removed from his old circle of church friends.”
“Do you suppose something bad happened between him and his friends? I could have our surveillance team look into it.”
“Who the hell cares? We won't have to watch him anymore. It's an unexpected win for everyone.”
Thursday, June 30, 1994
Bridge House - Lexington, Massachusetts
“So, I decided to accept the offer and I'll be moving out next week,” Sam finished. “I'll be more than happy to pay for July and August because I'm giving such short notice.”
Ron and Tom exchanged bewildered looks.
“Dude,” Ron finally uttered. “What changed your mind?”
“Yeah, you were all set to decline because it didn't feel right.”
“I was just afraid of failing,” Sam started to explain in the most sincere tone he could marshal. “It seems like it was yesterday when the only thing I worried about was my next exam. Now it's time to step up into the big leagues. This offer is a huge step forward into a real career and I guess I was just trying to rationalize a way out of it. Sorry, guys, no offense, but it's just one of those things I had to jump on before it got away.”
Ron smiled and nodded. “I'm glad you did. You would've been kicking yourself for a long time if you let it pass by.”
“They really offered you short-term housing?” Tom asked. “That's amazing. Most companies would only do that for an out-of-state relocation.”
“They really wanted to close the deal.”
“Lexington to Chelmsford wouldn't be that bad a commute,” Tom observed.
“I couldn't turn their housing offer down. I'll have my own place.”
“Well, let us know if you need any help moving,” Ron offered with surprising resignation.
“Thanks, but the package comes with professional movers.”
“Now I'm really jealous,” Tom groaned. “Can you find me a job there?”
“When do you start?” Ron asked.
“July fifth. They should have me moved out of here by the eighth.”
“Wow, it's happening so fast,” Ron commented with a sad tone. “That breaks up the Bridge House band. Two years together.”
“Yeah, it's depressing,” Tom added in an equally sincere tone. “Buddy, it's not going to be the same here without you.”
“I'm sure you won't have a problem finding someone else to take my place. You know Ralph hasn't been too happy with his roommates. He'd fit right in here with you guys.”
“Yeah, but he's not a Celtics fan like you are. He also doesn’t get into Seinfeld.”
Blanchard Corporation - Chelmsford, Massachusetts
“Hi, Ken,” Walt said warmly as he entered the office of Ken Onakea, project manager for the Dignosco project. In his late thirties, Ken looked like his desk job had taken a toll on a once fit body.
“Hi, Walt,” Ken replied with a smile as he turned away from the project management software time line he was studying on his computer. Located in a different building, his office was almost as large as Walt's, but it featured more function than style. “Is this visit what I think it's about?”
Walt dropped a file folder in front of him as he sat down in one of the guest chairs. “Samuel Maxwell, your new quality assurance auditor. He accepted the position yesterday.”
Ken snorted as he reached for the file folder. “Yeah, I read the preliminaries last night.”
“Okay, Ken, I get it. It's a new hiring process that we all have to get used to.”
“You mean the one that didn't allow me to interview him?”
“Look, I know how you feel. I agree it's not ideal, but we need to embrace this new recruiting methodology the best we can. The board voted it in.”
“This is the same secretive board of directors that you sit on?”
“I don't get a free pass because I didn't vote for it.”
“Jesus, Walt, this kid only has a four-year degree from BPI. He's going to get eaten alive out there.”
“Hey, I sat with him for the interview and he impressed me. He might surprise us all. I also studied over the profile reports on him. It's scary how much information they've been able to assemble and analyze. If we believe what the scoring indexes are telling us, we might be working for him someday.”
“That's supposed to help me feel better about this?”
“Sorry. Too soon to joke?”
“Walt, I need someone who can start up quickly and put the fear of God into everyone in the project. You know we're in the home stretch with a couple of strikes against us from the GAO (Government Accounting Office). We start performance tests in a few months and the directors think they can toss a twenty-three-year-old kid in the mix to help me pull it all together? I don't know what you guys are smoking at your Sunday afternoon meetings, but I'd like some.”
“Trust me, you don't want to touch that shit,” Walt retorted with a grin as he stood up and stretched. “Sam starts on Tuesday. I'll send him here first, then we'll put him through the standard orientation spiel. Ken, you need to give him a fair chance. Because if he goes down, we'll all suffer for it. Consider our fates bound up with each other, like it or not. Do whatever you need to do to smooth out the road for him.”
Ken sighed. “Okay, I'll pave the way, but you'll owe me.”
“Box seats the next time the Yankees are at Fenway.”
Ken smiled. “That's a good start.”
“So, are you okay with this?”
“No, but don't worry, Walt. I'll take good care of our new golden boy.”
Saturday, July 2, 1994
Bridge House - Lexington, Massachusetts
“Hey there,” Angela beckoned from Sam's bedroom door, finding him busy packing items into a number of boxes. She stepped further into the room and opened her arms. “Congratulations.”
Sam paused his packing and received a quick embrace from her. “Thanks.”
“So, you're really leaving?”
“Well, not until Thursday, but I'm trying to get a head start on packing. Well, mostly sorting through all the shit I accumulated. I can't believe how much I have after only two years here.”
“This is really going to be sad. You've been a part of this place since it started.”
“Yeah, a lot of memories here.”
“Please, promise you won't disappear up north after you move. You're really as much a part of this group as anyone else.”
Sam tried to hide his smirk. “I'll try to get down here when I can. Besides, the big question is how did it go with Carlos last night? I never heard from him and got a little concerned.”
Angela's smile widened. “It was really good. You're right, he's a really nice guy. We had a great time. I actually came over to thank you.”
“So, he behaved?”
“He was a perfect gentleman.”
“Are we talking about the same Carlos?”
Angela laughed. “I think he was trying his best to impress. Did a good job, too. I'm going to see him again next weekend and he's coming up to our Fourth-of-July bash.”
“That's great. I'm glad it's working out.”
Angela nodded and her expression dropped. “I heard about Laura.”
“Is there anyone in this group who didn't?”
“Look, I'm really sorry it didn't work, Sam. Between you and me, she's always been wound up a little too tight over relationships.”
“She has high standards and I respect that.”
“Oh, please,” Angela blurted in a snide tone. “Don't get me started. There are times I just want to strangle her. That girl needs to actually fall in love to see what it's really like.”
“I got the impression that she's just being careful. Maybe burned by an old boyfriend?”
“News to me. She's always given me the impression that she's never dated before.”
“Ouch. Being a little hard on her?”
“Sorry, but I honestly think she made a mistake.” Angela then finished in a mockingly sweet voice. “But I'm sure she was really nice about it.”
Sam grimaced. “I never knew there was that much friction between you girls.”
“Ha! Now that's funny. You should see us when we're all in PMS. It's not pretty. We're not always as charming when we're on the same cycle.”
Sam cringed. “Now that's a bit more than I needed to know.”
Angela laughed, and then grew quiet as a thought came to her. She turned back to the door as if looking for someone. “Oh, I really think you need to go downstairs. Sues caught a ride over here with me, but I wonder if she even made it into the house. She took your news pretty hard.”
“Shit. I wanted to tell her myself.”
“Come on, Sam, you know how fast the grapevine works around here.”
“Is she mad at me?”
“I think she's more pissed at Laura if you can believe it.”
“I can't imagine Sues being pissed at anyone.” Sam looked down to a photo album he was about to pack. He picked it up and handed it to Angela. “I'll go take care of Sues. You might like to take a look through this. It's a collection of pictures I've taken over the past couple of years. Please feel free to take any picture you want. There are a couple nice ones of you in there.”
“Oh, thanks, Sam.”
Sam headed downstairs and looked around the house for Susan. He couldn't immediately find her, but he finally looked out front and saw her sitting on the steps. He quietly opened the front door and sat down next to her. Sam thought she was incapable of showing strong negative feelings, yet dejection had washed over her. They sat quietly for a minute, looking out over the front lawn. Memories surfaced of long stretches of parked cars down the road from any of the numerous CYA events they had hosted.
Susan finally let out a deep sigh. “So when were you going to tell me?”
“I'm really sorry about that, Sues. I wanted some time to break it to you. The grapevine beat me to it.”
She turned and slowly embraced him.
“It's okay,” Susan said while choking back tears. “I might be pouting, but I'm really happy for you. Congratulations. You really deserve this. I just can't believe you're leaving.”
Sam found it hard not to get caught up in her touching display of affection. “Hey, it's not like I'm moving across the country.”
“Yeah, sorry for the melodrama,” Susan said as she released her embrace. “It's just that I like the way things are.”
“Things change. Sorry we couldn't hold onto this forever.”
Susan leaned her head on the side of his arm. “Do you remember the volleyball game we played out back last year, at Ron's birthday cookout? You spiked the ball down on me so hard that it knocked one of my earrings out. You were so freaked that you hurt me, even though I almost wet my pants laughing so hard.”
“I remember giving you a big welt on the side of your neck.”
“I never cared. It was always so much fun to be here.”
“Was? It still will be.”
Susan paused and frowned. “Please promise me that you'll stay around the group after you move, even if Laura's being a sanctimonious bitch.”
Sam jerked his head around. “Did I just hear you say--”
“I've been known to use bad language, occasionally, when deserved.”
“I didn't think it possible for you to be so angry at someone.”
“She needs to get a grip. You guys should be together.”
“Well, she actually made a lot of sense why it wouldn't work.”
Susan snickered. “Stop listening to her. She always makes too much sense.”
Sam chuckled and put his arm around her. “That's what I love about you, Sues, you're always good at seeing certain things everyone else misses.”
“We need to fix this.”
“You can't force her to date me.”
“Sure we can. Trust me, she's going to die a lonely hoarder with a house full of cats if we don't.”
Sam laughed and gave her a quick kiss on her forehead. “No matter what happens, I hope I'll never be able to get rid of you.”
Sunday, July 3, 1994
Blanchard Corporation - Chelmsford, Massachusetts
A group of twelve impeccably-dressed directors slowly worked through a weekly agenda that should have taken only ninety minutes to complete. At the two and a half hour mark, most were stretching their legs out under the long, solid oak conference table in an attempt to regain some circulation. Even the plush, high-backed chairs couldn't remain comfortable after two hours of intense review. The caffeine buzz from the coffee had waned, and several eyed the door wondering if they could make a quick bathroom break without being missed. Many also had holiday plans they were eager to get started on.
Merrill Drake was always determined to drive his meetings nonstop until they were done, and only he would decide when a meeting would end. The last item on the agenda was finally on the table.
“Please update us on Samuel Maxwell,” Merrill requested from his checklist to Christine.
“Sam will be starting on Tuesday,” Christine replied with a satisfied smile. “His first couple of days will be spent in orientation, after which he'll be passed off to Ken Onakea in the Dignosco project. His office will be set up in Building Two. His government security clearance is still pending, but we should have it by the end of this week. We don't anticipate any complications.”
“Has anything new turned up in surveillance?” Merrill asked before Christine could turn her page.
“As you're already aware, he'll be moving out of his current residence to one of our short-term apartments in Lowell. Analysis of the chatter received by our monitoring assets indicates that once he's out, there's high confidence that his overall involvement in the Lexington church group will quickly diminish.”
Merrill smiled. “That's very good news. Walt, I want to make sure he's got a fair shot for candidacy in the five-year program.”
“I've already talked with several key people about it,” Walt replied with a confident smile.
“Full evaluation monitoring will commence once he gets out of orientation,” Christine continued. “The evaluation will last for the next few weeks. We'll have a much better idea of his candidacy ranking sometime in the fall.”
“Very well,” Merrill said, closing his binder. “I want to be sure we don't get any rude surprises before he relocates. Please keep surveillance in place until he's moved and then step him down to level three monitoring. This young man is starting to look very promising, but we need to keep an eye on him.”
“We will.”
“Alright then, mee
ting adjourned. Have a good holiday.”
Everyone sprang up for the exit. Christine and Walt took their time gathering their papers.
“His opinion of Sam changed rather quickly,” Christine remarked to Walt once the room was empty.
Walt leaned back with a smug grin. “Didn't I say that the short-term housing would pay off?”
“Try not to sprain your wrist patting yourself on your back.”
“Don't worry, I'm far too practiced at it.”
Christine almost laughed. “Now we throw Sam into his new job and hope he endures.”
“I actually looked over some of the surveillance transcripts,” Walt mentioned as he started organizing papers into his briefcase. “Very interesting material, despite all the obnoxious drama.”
“Oh? That's unlike you. Getting a little voyeuristic in your old age?”
“Not much to get excited about. Poor guy got shot down by a female prospect recently, which might explain his hasty exit away from that group. Oh, I remember that age. All the dating, all the complications, all the cheesy melodrama.” Walt paused and allowed a smile. “Oh, to be in my twenties again.”
“Getting a start on your mid-life crisis?”
“Well, it's scary how much he reminds me of myself at that age.”
Monday, July 4, 1994
Campton, New Hampshire
The thunderstorm had cleared an hour earlier and the sun peeked through the menacing thunderheads above. The brief downpour that featured a close lightning strike had done little to stop the day's activities. About seventy people from the CYA group traveled two hours up to Campton, New Hampshire for their annual Fourth of July outing. It was an open property owned by a friend of the church's minister. Situated along the Pemigewasset River, there was enough room for softball, volleyball, and a few grills. Those who weren’t enjoying a lazy float down the river in an inner-tube were engaged in another group favorite: Ultimate Frisbee.
The Initiative: In Harm's Way (Book One) Page 6
