Susan smiled and continued in a mock husky voice. “So spill it, dude.”
Sam laughed. “We're getting along fine. I really love having her around.”
“Fights?”
“A squabble or two, nothing big.”
“And the sex?”
Sam paused for a brief moment before he started to open his mouth to reply, but Susan cut him off.
“Ah ha!”
“Sues, you might be a few steps above Carlos, but there are still certain things I can only share with another guy.”
“Oh, quit deflecting and spill it.”
Sam grew flustered. “Did Angela say something?”
“Ew, we don't talk about stuff like that. It's embarrassing.”
“What? So you're more comfortable talking to me about it?”
Susan giggled. “What's the matter? Is the sex not as stellar as it was at first? It happens.”
“How would you know about stuff like that? Do you have some sort of secret lurid past you're not telling me about?”
“Yeah, right.” Susan laughed. “People just look at me and think lurid past. But really, anyone who watches Oprah knows that the thrill tends to fade.”
“No, no, it's not that.” Sam paused, carefully considering his next words. “It's just that I woke up the other morning and got to thinking. Angela was still asleep next to me. You know she doesn’t snore? She just sleeps so quiet and peaceful. I watched her and got to thinking of, well, the way things were back at the beginning of summer. You know, before everything changed. Then I started wondering if I really made things better for her. Does that make sense?”
Susan nodded. “Two months ago, Angela was a single Christian woman who'd been living by strict moral standards since her wild times in high school. Today, she's shacked up with her boyfriend and doesn't go to church anymore. That's a lot to live with as the guy who made that happen. How's that sound?”
“Terrible. Like I'm a total douche-bag.”
Susan shrugged her shoulders. “I warned you this option would come with its own set of challenges.”
“Have I screwed up her life?”
“Did she tell you that?”
“No.”
“And yet you think you've screwed it up.”
“Isn't that what you just told me?”
“I gave you the cold facts. You made the conclusion.”
Sam shook his head. “You're getting confusing in your old age.”
“Exactly.” Susan smiled and got up to walk to the front door. “So, are we going to dinner or not?”
“If you promise to explain yourself.”
Susan smiled. “That's going to be hard when I can't even explain myself to me.”
Tuesday, September 6, 1994
Blanchard Corporation - Chelmsford, Massachusetts
Sam finished typing an email reply and glanced to a small clock on his desk. There was still time to finish up one last task before he had to leave. As he pulled out an envelope from his in-box, he stopped and looked at a small picture of him and Angela. He then looked around his office and leaned back in his chair. A smile surfaced as he allowed the reality of his new job to sink in. He finally had his own office with a window and a nice new desk. It was something he had always envied while wallowing in tight cubicle work-spaces at his old company. No longer would he have to endure the annoying sounds of his neighbors slurping at their morning coffees.
“Weren’t you heading out to Burbank?” Ken asked Sam when he noticed him in his office.
“I'm catching the red-eye tonight,” Sam replied. “The dealership had to postpone from Saturday, so I have to pick up my car this afternoon.”
“Is this the new one?”
“Yes,” Sam replied with a satisfied smile.
“Did you go with the Legend?”
Sam nodded. “In black.”
“Nice. New condo. New car. What's next? Maybe a ring?”
“Ah, no. Not for a while. I'm financially tapped out, anyway.”
“Hey, when you get to Burbank, go easy on Marcus. We're old buddies and he's always run things by the book. Do your job but leave your Dirty Harry persona here.”
“I have a persona?”
“Yeah, the one I've been helping you craft.”
“Dirty Harry?” Sam chuckled. “That's so 80's.”
“More 70's than 80's. God, I feel old.”
“Oh, I did have one question about the prelim. I noticed you dropped a sub-project from the audit. Something called Raptor-Eye?”
“Oh, that was the Air Force tie-in for their F-22. We terminated it last month. DOD ceased budget funding.”
“I'm surprised. Wouldn't the Air Force be beating down our door for this technology?”
Ken laughed. “You'd think so, but logic never applies when it comes to government procurement.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Wednesday, September 21, 1994
Waltham, Massachusetts
“Happy Birthday, Sues,” Sam announced as he arrived at their monthly dinner, planned to coincide with her birthday. They sat in a booth at an upscale steak and seafood restaurant in Waltham.
“Why, thank you, Sam. I also appreciate you keeping it close to home this month. I just don't like to travel too far anymore. I'm turning into an old fart that way.”
“But you're looking great for an old fart,” Sam said as he raised his glass. “Twenty-two today.”
Susan raised her glass and gently tapped it against Sam's. “Thanks.”
“Is anyone else doing something to celebrate?”
“The girls are taking me out somewhere on Friday night. It's supposed to be a surprise, but I'm sure it's dancing. Then there's a party at the Bridge House on Saturday night. You and Angela are invited.”
“Um, really?” Sam said with a polite smile. “You do remember we're still on their shit-list? We wouldn't want to spoil your party.”
“Emphasis on being my party, which means I get to choose who's there,” Susan insisted.
“Seriously, how do you expect us to show up and not trigger a tsunami of awkwardness?”
“Do you think I'd do that to you?”
“Well, no, but,” Sam paused and noticed a knowing look in Susan's eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Susan allowed a coy smile. “That maybe the ice is starting to melt.”
“Really?” Sam skeptically asked.
“Yeah, I think our group is finally starting to come to terms with how poorly they handled things with you guys.”
“Oh, praise the Lord,” Sam replied with a roll of his eyes.
“Sam, I know you're still pretty steamed at them, but they're trying. Laura hinted that it would be nice if Angela came so they could find an opportunity to talk. This could be the start of a reconciliation.”
“Are we all still in high school? Why doesn’t she just pick up the phone and give Angela a call?”
“Strategy, Sam. You've got to stop thinking like a male in these situations.”
“And what makes you think she's interested in reconciling with them?”
“Come on, Sam, we both know Angela misses them. She needs her friends. You do want to help make her happy, right?”
“So, it's all just about Angela?”
“It's a step forward for both of you, even if their motives are a bit exclusive to her right now.”
Sam sat in silence with a skeptical look in his eyes.
“Hey, I wouldn't have brought it up if I didn't think it was worth a try.”
Sam sighed. “I'll have to talk it over with Angela first.”
“Fair enough.”
“So, how's it going at work?”
“I think I've had about enough of that place,” Susan replied with a pout. “I'm starting to look over the want-ads for a new job. But one of the sales guys actually hit on me a couple of weeks ago. He's basically a creep, but it was nice to get noticed in that sort of way. I guess my new dress-for-success thing is getting me some attent
ion.”
“I could try to find something at Blanchard. Things are still a little slow, but there's got to be something. Maybe in the Waltham offices? That would be pretty close to your apartment.”
“Thanks. Laura also got me an interview at her company.”
“Well, good for her,” Sam retorted in a sharp, sarcastic tone.
“Wow, still not too happy with her, are you?”
Sam replied with a smirk and roll of his eyes.
“Why, exactly?”
Sam hesitated to answer. “What do you mean by exactly?”
“I sense that maybe this loathing goes beyond the pressure she put on Angela.”
“Maybe I just never got over how fast she turned on her.”
“Well, to be fair, you two did do something pretty radical. How did you think they'd react?”
“Better?”
Susan chuckled. “Seriously?”
“I might not have gone to your bible studies very often, but I listened when I was there. I learned that Christian tolerance is full of hypocrisy. Makes me wonder how Ron and Tom put up with me for as long as they did.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
Sam hesitated. “Nothing, sorry.”
“Okay, what aren't you telling me?”
“What makes you think I'm--”
“Sam, do I need to grab a fire extinguisher to put out your pants-on-fire? Please stop treating me like this and talk to me.”
Sam paused and sighed. “Okay, remember when we were sitting out back at my going away party?”
Susan nodded.
“Remember how you were trying to get me to tell you about what really made me want to move out?”
“Yes, and you'll note that I've never bothered you about that since.”
Sam again paused and took in a deep breath. “I really moved out because Ron and Tom stabbed me in the back.”
“What?” Susan blurted. “How?”
“After Laura turned me down, I saw her drive off from our house as I was coming home later that night. Ron and Tom tried to act like she was never there. At that moment I put it all together. They must have convinced her that I wasn't worth dating.”
“She could have been over for something else.”
Sam smirked. “Come-on, I've lived with these guys for a couple of years. I know them. I'm not saying I'm upset over the way it turned out. It's the way I was treated that hurt the most, like I was an outsider. Carlos always thought that they saw themselves as a little too good for me. He even thought Ron was trying to steer Laura away from me so the road was clear for him to make a move on her.”
Susan suddenly looked like she was on the verge of crying. “Ron asked Laura out a couple of weeks ago. They're dating now.”
“God, how pathetic is that? Carlos was right about everything.”
“Oh, Sam,” Susan whimpered as tears started to flow. “Everything we've done has pushed you away. I'm so sorry.”
“What do you mean we've done? You had nothing to do with it.” Sam reached for a napkin and handed it to Susan. “Sues, you've been the absolute example of everything that group should be. None of this is on you.”
“I still feel like I'm clueless to what's really going on.”
“Maybe I should have told you all this earlier, but I didn't want you to put this on yourself. You sort of have a tendency to do that.”
Susan smiled as she dabbed her tears away. “You're always so protective, Sam.”
“Sues, you're totally worth it. You're like family to me.”
“Great, now you're going to make me cry again.”
“Sorry, I seem to do that a lot.”
“You're the only one who does it, mister.”
Sam's Townhouse – North Chelmsford, Massachusetts
“I don't think we should go,” Angela concluded to Sam. They were lying in bed after Sam told her about his talk with Susan. “I love Sues to death, but it would be much too uncomfortable for everyone. It would make the party about us instead of her.”
“I agree, but I feel bad about it. She's trying so hard to be a peacemaker.”
“I know, but I don't think it's right for her to sacrifice her party for us. There's an easier way to handle this. I'll just give Laura a call tomorrow and see what's up.”
Sam turned to her with a baffled expression. “I thought that was just a male solution.”
“Whatever, I'm just tired of the games.”
“Good luck,” Sam said as he turned on his side and pulled the covers up.
“I just hope I don't change my mind in the morning.”
Friday, September 23, 1994
Blanchard Corporation - Chelmsford, Massachusetts
“So there it is,” Christine solemnly reported to Walt in his office. They both read over a weekly wiretap transcript report on Sam. “She initiated contact with her old roommates.”
“That doesn't mean anything,” Walt protested. “It's all an assumption that it will somehow have an influence on Sam.”
“It involves his girlfriend who he's been living with since July, and they were both involved with that group. You know Drake will see it the same way.”
“Of course he will,” Walt replied in a frustrated tenor. “That's what makes this all bat-shit crazy. Sam's evaluation is due in a couple of weeks. It looks like he's going to score higher than anyone else has in a long time. How the hell would it be useful to have something utterly trivial like this torpedo all of our work?”
“What are you suggesting?”
“Get rid of it. Make this report go away.”
“Seriously? I can't make it disappear! They expect to see weekly reports.”
“Then we need to do some editing. Trim out this wiretap, and any others that might come up that involve the same issue.”
Christine paused in thought. “It hasn’t hit central records yet, so Ross hasn't seen it. I suppose we could do an edit and mask the file revision. Ross probably won't be looking over the details anyway.”
“Let's do it, then.”
“Highly unethical,” Christine grumbled as she opened up the file editor on Walt's computer.
“Which is more unethical? Our doing this to save a good employee or Drake's firing him because of illegal discrimination based on illegal wire-taps?”
Sunday, October 2, 1994
Blanchard Corporation - Chelmsford, Massachusetts
“The next item on the agenda is the evaluation period outcome of Samuel Maxwell,” Merrill called out while checking the item off his list. He then looked to Christine. “I trust you have something good to report?”
“Observations and evaluations are complete,” Christine reported as she opened a blue folder. “As we anticipated, Sam ranked high in the scoring index. Ninety-eighth percentile overall. That's one of the best we've seen in a couple of years.”
“He's been doing very well in his position,” Walt added. “Ken thinks he's top-shelf.”
“Surveillance?” Merrill asked in an uncharacteristically anxious tone.
“Clean,” Christine answered with a convincing smile. “No red flags.”
Merrill smiled as he leaned back in his seat. “Then the next order of business is to take a formal vote on his acceptance into the five-year program. Upon completion of the program, he'll be read into The Initiative. Before we take this vote, I'm opening the floor to any discussion of concerns.” Merrill paused and looked around the table. No one offered to raise a hand to start a discussion. After a few seconds, Merrill continued the formality. “Discussion is now closed. All those in favor, please indicate.”
Everyone around the table raised their hand almost at once.
“It's unanimous, then.”
“I concur,” Christine added in order to satisfy the voting procedure guidelines.
“Samuel Maxwell is hereby accepted as a recruit into the five-year program,” Merrill declared. “It's my intention to keep him on the Dignosco project until Phase Three is successfully tested
. At this point, the test flight has been pushed back to May of next year because of delays with the X99B. More problems have come up with the thrust vectoring control system.”
“Sorry to violate order of agenda,” Walt interrupted, “but is it absolutely necessary to push the test back again? This is the third delay tied to the X99 program and I'm having trouble keeping my people busy. Can't the Air Force lend us a couple of F-15s for security?”
“We can't be too safe about this,” Merrill replied with a hint of irritation. “The Air Force wouldn't stand a chance if we ran into trouble. I don't want to explain to the Joint Chiefs how we lost two expensive fighter-jets and their pilots.”
“That's a big if, Merrill.”
“Walt, when you're CEO you can make that call. I'm personally not ready to risk two Air Force pilots and our flight crew.”
Monday, October 3, 1994
Blanchard Corporation - Chelmsford, Massachusetts
“What's the 9-1-1 all about?” Walt asked Christine as he charged into her office. He stopped cold upon seeing a familiar presence. Colin Ross was the director of security for Blanchard. He stood at a stout five-six and sported a high tight haircut that shrieked military. His folded arms and stern demeanor instantly sent waves of apprehension through Walt.
“Walt, good to see you. Please close the door.”
“What's going on?” Walt nervously asked as he shut the door.
“I was just here reviewing a few things with Christine. One being about file tampering of some computer transcripts from last month. It seems some edits were done on Samuel Maxwell's files.”
“Oh? How do you know it was tampered with?”
“Shit, Walt, do you really think I was hired for my looks?”
Walt sighed, looked at Christine and then back to Colin. “How did you know?”
“There are certain markers only I know about. Then there's the redundancy records you also don't know about. In fact, Walt, there's a hell of a lot you don't know about when it comes to our corporate security measures.”
The Initiative: In Harm's Way (Book One) Page 11
