The Order of the Redeemed

by Warren Cain

  “Now we need to find out who at Wentworth is putting together the bid and what his background is,” Jeff stated with a knowing nod to Sam.

  “I’ve got our man on it.”

  Jeff watched him walk out of the room. Don’t get caught, thought Jeff with a gleam in his eyes.

  Chapter 8

  Mike Hollister sat at his desk in his small office infested with rolled-up plans in boxes bound only by rubber bands. A three-foot-wide path from his door was the only means of accessing his desk.

  Mike enjoyed his work. Thirty-three years old and single, it was all he had. He often brought his work home to give himself something to keep him from going nuts from the emptiness of his sparsely furnished, lifeless house.

  “I got some more plans for you to add to your pile,” said a well-dressed attractive woman who appeared to be in her early forties.

  Mike glanced up from his computer.

  “Good morning, Gloria. I hope that’s the Plymouth Dam plans we ordered.”

  “It sure is. Make sure you take a good look at ’em. A project like that would be good for Wentworth and probably wouldn’t hurt your resume or paycheck either. If you get the project, I might treat you to lunch sometime,” she said with a smile as she left the room.

  Mike disregarded comments such as those because they did not contribute to the process of completing any work task he had on his mind and therefore he viewed them as a waste of time.

  He cleared his desk to allow room to roll the plans out for better viewing.

  Can’t believe I’m this excited about bidding a job. Feels almost like the first one I ever bid. Darn sure is the biggest, he thought, barely able to contain his excitement enough to focus on any single part of the plans.

  Mike had been hired by Wentworth construction two years before and until now had only been allowed to manage smaller construction projects, even though at his previous company he had been on larger jobs. Now, Tim Wentworth took the company over from his father and was looking to expand. Tim, who did not have the construction sense of his father, was a keen enough businessman to know he needed to hire someone who understood the construction business and could bid the bigger projects they would need if the company was to expand.

  After about ten minutes of wildly looking through the plans and not retaining any of the information he viewed, Mike sat down with a notebook and began the tedious task of converting what he read on the plans into man-hours, equipment, and materials plus profit.

  Don’t blow this one, Mike ol’ boy. This is what you’ve been waiting for. If you can pull this off, you’re going to be in a very good position with one of the fastest growing construction companies in the country.

  Focus on the plans, he thought to himself, trying to pull his dreams back into reality.

  Chapter 9

  Jeff sat at the bar in the conference room at J&R. It was 10:30 in the evening. Wonder what Sam wants now. Must be important to have a meeting this late.

  Jeff knew a late meeting meant something was happening that as few people as possible at the company needed to know about. He poured himself a scotch and water, and out of habit poured a rum and Coke for Sam.

  It’s funny. We both hate each other, but if he got here before I did, he would have a drink ready for me, Jeff laughed as he thought about his relationship with Sam. No matter how much things had changed, they were both men of habits they had started a long time ago when they used to respect each other. Some old gestures still continued.

  Robert, how come people liked you so much better than me? This company would still be stable if you were here. You got the employees to do what we needed them to do, while I was better at dealing with the people outside the company.

  “He’s clean,” announced Sam, bursting into the room.

  Jeff jerked, startled by the sudden interruption.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Mike Hollister with Wentworth. He’s our bid man.” Sam threw a manila folder down on the bar.

  “This is all our P.I. could come up with?”

  “He could only come up with dirt on one employee in the whole company. Hollister’s squeaky clean. Minus the missions to third-world countries, this guy’s a saint. Goes home after work. Eats out of the microwave, watches old re-runs, then goes to bed. He seems to want to get in on the ground floor of Wentworth and float to the top as they grow.”

  “No chance of bribing him into messing up his bid?”

  “The guy would be stupid to mess up his perfect bid record. He’s yet to mess one up. Pays attention to the small details and understands the contract documents. The guy worked ten years as a laborer, three as a foreman, has taken every class there is that has anything to do with construction from legal aspects to construction management, and has been involved with numerous bids. I’m really not sure why the guy never started his own company,” Sam stated almost as though he admired him.

  “Mike Hollister,” Jeff read from the file.

  “He’s got a history of good bids. Gets the project, makes a profit.”

  “What would it take to get him to work for us?”

  “The P.I. indicated that was unlikely. He talked to some people who know Mike. He’s motivated by his worth to a company. Wentworth is small. They need him if they’re going to expand. He wants to see them grow. He feels like he would be lost in our corporate world. We just need to turn in our bid and hope for the best,” said Sam, finishing his drink. “That’s all we can do. I’m heading home. It’s been a long day.”

  Jeff watched Sam as he walked out the door.

  “I think we can do more,” he whispered as he opened the detailed file from the private investigator. “You give up too easy.”

  Chapter 10

  Sam walked toward the ten-story federal building in Nashville with his bid packet in hand. The sun was shining on the south side of the glass front of the building. The windows appeared to be free of any dirt as though they had been cleaned that morning.

  Must have known I was coming, thought Sam. Guess I know better than to think they cleaned the place up for me, but I can’t help but feel good about this bid. I hope $35.1 billion will work. Wentworth might be able to beat that.

  Sam walked through a metal detector manned by a security guard he would have guessed was old enough to retire but probably didn’t want to or couldn’t afford to. The room beyond was large with marble floors, and a huge chandelier hung from the center of the dome-shaped ceiling he estimated must be twenty-five feet to the highest point. He always stopped to admire the construction when he walked into a building.

  Marble was laid well, level corners come together nicely. The walls look like they might have been out of square by nearly three-quarters of an inch judging from the way the pattern of the marble did not run parallel to the trim at the wall. Happens sometimes, I guess. Good thing the inspector didn’t know what he was looking at.

  “Third floor,” Sam read from the advertisement he’d been sent. “Tuesday January 15 at 1:00.”

  Sam looked at his watch. Right place. Thirty minutes to spare . . . on time. Might as well head upstairs and see if anyone else decided to show up. Might want to raise my bid if I’m the only one here, he thought to himself amusingly.

  Sam walked into the large conference room. They did it again. They build these new buildings and they furnish them with the oldest, ugliest furniture they can find, he thought, looking at the old table in need of refinishing surrounded by chairs that would have looked more fitting in a building that was closer to fifty years old.

  “Guess they’re saving me tax money,” he said to himself, giving his brain permission to stop critiquing the construction and the furnishings of the building and to introduce himself to the two people sitting at the table.

  “Sam Grisham,” he said, holding his hand out to the man across the table.

  “M
ike Hollister, Wentworth Construction.”

  Sam had intentionally left out the fact that he worked for J&R McCarry. I remember when my name was Sam Grisham, J&R McCarry, but I’m not so proud of that fact any more. I’m just so tied up in bad dealings with Jeff I feel trapped.

  “Sam Grisham!” declared the middle-aged man sitting across the table. “Pleasure to finally meet you. I’m Jim Levell with Concord.”

  “Nice to meet you,” responded Sam who was modestly accustomed to being recognized by his peers.

  The room began to fill up with people ranging from officials with the governor’s office to an elderly looking woman Sam was sure didn’t have anything better to do than nose into the bid opening.

  “I believe the official time is 1:00,” announced Jim, looking for an approving nod from the governor’s aide.

  “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Jim Levell with Concord Engineering. I would like to thank all of you for showing up. We have two bids at this time and can no longer accept more. If there are no objections, I will open the bids.”

  He handles himself pretty well, thought Sam.

  “The first bid is from J&R McCarry. Sam Grisham is here today to represent the company. Sam, good to have you with us.”

  “Good to be here, Jim.”

  Jim began to open the tightly sealed package from J&R. The opening was sealed with several layers of shipping tape.

  “A sealed bid doesn’t mean you need the keys to Fort Knox to get into it. It just means they have to be closed, gentlemen. You know I can’t get my pocket knife through the metal detector downstairs.”

  The comment initiated a small wave of laughter.

  “Thirty-five billion, one million, one hundred thousand dollars and zero cents. From J&R McCarry INC.”

  “Thirty-five billion, one million, one hundred thousand dollars and zero cents,” repeated the woman in her late twenties from the governor’s office after she wrote the figure down in her notes.

  We lost it, thought Sam, noticing the subtle change in Mike’s expression that indicated he was pleased.

  Jim laid the packet down and grabbed the sealed envelope from Wentworth Construction.

  “I’m glad to see you didn’t wrap yours up so tight.”

  Mike’s expression showed his true feelings as he seemed to enjoy the comment that allowed him to visually express the excitement he was feeling. Jim pinched the metal clips together and opened the folder.

  “Thirty-six billion, five million, five hundred thousand dollars and zero cents. From Wentworth Construction Incorporated.”

  Sam watched Mike’s expression change as though this was the first time he had heard the bid from his own company.

  “Thirty-six billion, five million, five hundred thousand dollars and zero cents” was repeated.

  “That’s correct.”

  Mike looked like he was about to jump out of his seat and protest but thought better of it.

  “Jim, can I take a look at that?” asked Mike.

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Just want to see it.”

  “Is that okay?” Jim said, looking at the governor’s representative.

  A slight nod from a well-dressed, arrogant-looking man gave the approval. Mike took the bid.

  He’s going to have a stroke. He’s never even seen the bottom line of that bid, thought Sam, noticing the change in Mike’s expression.

  “Is there a problem?” asked Jim after several uncertain seconds.

  Mike looked around the room. He had been so wrapped up in looking over the bid form he had forgotten he was sitting in this room with people waiting on him.

  “No. It’s all in order.”

  He knows if he says something’s wrong he’ll never be able to find a job in this line of work. Hope he doesn’t say anything. Looks like he might pass out. Gotta be Jeff behind this.

  Chapter 11

  Jeff’s office was quiet. He had not heard anything from Sam yet but felt reasonably certain J&R was the low bidder on the Plymouth River dam project.

  “Mr. Levell on line two.”

  Jeff picked up the phone.

  “This is Jeff.”

  “Mr. McCarry, I would like to congratulate you on your low bid for the Plymouth River dam project. Pending the funding agencies’ and attorney approval, I look forward to working with you.”

  “Well, this is the first I heard we were the low bidder. Sam hasn’t made it in yet, but I do appreciate the news.”

  “I’ve heard a lot of good things about your company, Mr. McCarry.”

  The door to the office opened quickly. Jeff could tell from past experience that Sam was in a bad mood and was about to tell him why. Jeff raised his hand and pointed to the phone to let Sam know he should wait until the call was done.

  “Call me Jeff, and the same goes for Concord. I’ve heard a lot of good things,” Jeff remarked, growing tired of these formalities that preceded every construction job he could remember.

  “I just wanted to touch base with you and let you know the attorneys are reviewing the contract documents and we will be in touch with any comments or concerns they have.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “We’ll be in touch. Take care.”

  “See ya.”

  “You son-of-a-bitch. How the hell did you change his bid?”

  Jeff took a breath to shift gears from the pleasant formalities he had exchanged with Jim to the anger he was hearing in Sam’s voice.

  “What the hell are you talking about? We got the bid square.”

  “You don’t have to lie to me, Jeff. I know you got to him.” Sam poked his finger hard into Jeff’s chest.

  “If I did get to him, why would that make you so mad? It wouldn’t be the first person we got to.”

  “It would be the first clean one we got to. We didn’t have jack on him.”

  The realization that he was so mad about getting to Mike because he was clean sunk in.

  “Well, I’ll keep our P.I. on him until he does something wrong if it’ll make you feel better.”

  “He had us, Jeff. He had us fair and square. I don’t know how you did it, but it was wrong. You crossed a line I can’t make myself cross. He was clean. You can take your dam and build it yourself.”

  Sam grabbed Jeff’s drink and threw it across the room, shattering it. A flash of anger crossed Jeff’s face, turning his normally pale cheeks, bright red.

  “You son-of-a—” Jeff quickly decided to hold his words as he could tell from Sam’s steely glare and slight tremble in his hands that he wasn’t going to back down on this one.

  “He was clean. Like I used to be before you got to me. You’re a virus, Jeff. You infect everyone you come into contact with.”

  “Think about your workers, Sam. They need you to pull them through this.”

  “You can find some other foreman to handle the job.”

  “I don’t think you’ll find another job with the information I have on you.”

  Sam walked out the door. Jeff was certain he would be back in the morning.

  Chapter 12

  Mike Hollister walked into his office and turned on the light. It was ten o’clock in the evening.

  The office seems haunted this time of night.

  A glazed look came to his eyes as he played back the events of the past twenty-four hours in his mind, trying to figure out who switched his bid form.

  Had to be while I was out to lunch. I had the bid ready, came back, and it never left my side after that. Someone in the company. Has to be.

  The thought had been in his mind that it was an inside job, but he wanted to make certain there wasn’t another possible scenario before pointing fingers in the direction of his co-workers.

  I need to check the computer, see if the electronic version is
the old one. Don’t know why I didn’t think of that before. He logged on to his computer. Start menu. Recent documents . . . Bid info. He clicked the document open.

  They changed it. They changed it on the computer and erased the old one. Wanted it to look like it was my mistake. Damn it. Why the hell did they do this? Who did it?

  The backup on the server. Why didn’t I think of that before?

  The company used to have each computer set up individually but had decided that having a mainframe everyone was hooked into would pay for itself in time spent sharing folders. The automatic backup every night was icing on the cake after the loss of a couple of bid forms that had to be filled out by hand at the last minute on the way to the bid opening.

  Mike went to a small room towards the rear of the office to a computer sitting on a small table, which made it impossible to use the computer comfortably.

  Let’s see now, I’ve seen our computer man, Jim, log on and look at the backup files a dozen times.

  Mike viewed the folders that had been backed up from the day before. He surfed around the files until he came to the Plymouth dam folder at the same location he had found it on his computer, only here it was under a folder named “Backup.”

  “Bid info. Come on, be the right one,” he said as he clicked to open the document.

  Bingo.

  It was the original document.

  Now what am I gonna do with this information? I can save it to a disk, print it off, or maybe leave it here and show Tim, but what’s that gonna prove? I could have changed my mind about the amount at the last minute. It would look better if I just said I bid too high than to try and blame someone else for this.

  Mike walked back to his office and sat at his desk. He had been up for nearly twenty hours, and he was feeling overwhelmingly alone and frustrated.