Continental Attack: Murder and Mayhem in Detroit's Auto Industry
Page 21
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Bob Webster had just walked in to his office, when the phone rang, with Joe on the line; "Bob, Joe Kozcinski here, I have decided to change the advertising strategy, for the remainder of the primary contract period. There is a total spend remaining of somewhere around three hundred and fifty million. remaining in the present budget, and we want a new view of the whole game before we go back into the advertising market. Harry Lassiter will be contacting you formally to suspend the showing of the present series of clips, good though they are; but I want the commercials to stop as from this morning. We will be reviewing the marketing take-up of the Stiletto and Sabre autos, and maybe commissioning new adverts. You still have the contract, so there is no need to worry about the onward progression of your work with Continental. Okay, Bob?"
"Joe, I really can't see why you want a suspension of the clips. You had a full review, at your offices, and you counted yourselves satisfied. If we pull the present run of clips, we will lose the ongoing perspective which has been built up, in the eyes of the bulk of viewers, about the viability and selling points of both ranges. Please, Joe, can't I persuade you to reconsider?"
"No, I want my decision, which is to suspend the commercials until further notice, to be active from this morning. Harry will be in touch when we want to talk about a new view of the advertising strategies, and we can go from there. Things are still not too good at Continental, and the drop in share price, and the suspension, hasn't helped!"
"As a professional in the advertising field, I gotta say the you are making a mistake, but if you want to pull the plug for now, that's no problem. There may be default payments called for with some of the smaller networks, but most of them have so many guys calling for a free slot, that shouldn't happen too often, Okay, Joe, talk to you later."
Webster replaced the phone on its rest, while massaging his chin in indecision. "Why," he mused, gazing out of the window, "why now, if they were happy before, what's changed his mind?" He dialled out, unaware that his line had, at the request of the Commissioner of New York's police, and with the agreement of a judge, been set up with a tap. When the rasping tones of Lazarus answered, Webster spoke, "We got a problem. Joe Kozcinski has just called and suspended the showing of any further commercials on the present series. I don't think he knows or suspects anything, it's just that we might not be able to push the last message through before re-listing! After that, we can send the 'revival' message, and close the play down, but we need that last message on the clips."
Lazarus paused before replying, "You must get it through to Kozcinski that he must allow the resumption of the commercials, so that, as far as you are concerned, the public are reminded that the Continental models are great, just before re-listing the shares. If we get that, and we show the same tape sequence as brought down the price as before, the resultant slump will give us the balance of the shares on offer, at a new low price, and we then have control. Do that, and you will receive a good bonus. Goodbye, Bob."
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The 95th Precinct main interview room had never seen anything quite like the meeting which was taking place, with the Precinct commander, the Commissioner, the duty Lieutenant, Brad Davis and Joe Kozcinski, together with Alois Zeno and John Tynan from the ad. agency. The policemen were all for storming the office, and arresting Webster on conspiracy, and possible accessory to murder charges, and the agency Partner wanted to have him fired and sued, as a first step. Joe had quite a time before he persuaded them all to wait, until some of the damage could be undone. "what I would like to do," Joe continued, "is to find out exactly how he gets this message on to the tapes, because that is what is happening. You all heard the conversation, they want one last crack at dropping the price of Continental shares, before the re-listing takes place, which is gonna be in four days time. Trouble is, we won't have much time in Websters' home, so we gotta switch the tapes. If we let them show the clips, I want to be able to get the 'revival' tape shown, instead of the one which nearly killed Continental on the Market. John, he must somehow have worked out how to put in that stuff you were talking about when you and Allison visited Detroit; you know, the subliminal stuff, you said it was impossible; Well, there is proof that the idea works, and our share price is the result. What say, John?"
John Tynan glanced at his boss, and saw Zeno slowly nod, before he spoke, "If you are right, and he is getting a subliminal message across, it is feasible to believe that a reversal of the process is possible. When we listened to the tape of the conversation between Webster and this other guy, they were both confident that they could influence a good proportion of the population that first, Continental stinks, and everyone should sell, followed by another tape, which would then reverse the trend, and bring the price back to normality once again. Well, I've been in this game a long time, and my boss, Mr. Zeno has been around for longer, but if it is true, it is, at the same time, great and horrible! Great because someone worked out how to beat the percentages, and horrible because it is just brain-washing under another name. The advertising profession has had some godawful things thrown at it, what we don't want is a suggestion that we have thrown in with Pavlov and his dogs!"
"What sticks in my craw is the fact that you are asking us to hold off on the arrest of a felon, one who we can tie to the attempted murder of a policeman!" This interjection came from the Precinct commander.
"Sir, I have already explained, you can arrest him at any time; why not wait, get all the phones tapped on this guy that Webster phoned, and then, after they have made all their calls, and think everything is back in place, then you arrest them, and you will have the proof you need to put them all in the slammer for a very long time. At the same time, you will be safeguarding the livelihoods of thousands of auto workers, whose jobs are threatened by a bunch of cynical manipulators, whose only allegiance is to greed!"
The Commissioner wavered, then finally plumped for Joe's plan, "Remember, he mustn't get away, otherwise my balls will be wrung out tight!"
"I'm gonna need the help of someone who can break in, undetected, and let me at Webster's home. He's got to have all the equipment there, and if we are gonna swap things around, it's as well to do it at the source, before there are any possibilities for losing control," Joe said, "He must have a master tape, because the copying and distribution are done by some Albany firm, Seeton, Seeton Harland, someone like that. If we swap the master, everything will be copied from the new tape, okay?"
The Commissioner nodded slowly, "We will give you a man who can open any door, any safe, bypass any alarm, in the whole world. We have a hold on him, and he does consultancy work for us."
The strategy agreed, the police brass and the advertising executive left the office, and the Marketing VP sat gazing at Patrolman Davis. "How's Ken, Brad?"
"I visited last night, he's still very weak, and mainly sleeping, but the medics reckon they will be ready to operate in about a week's time, to get the second bullet out. Claudia came to for about five minutes yesterday as well; mainly because her mother told her to. Honest, Joe, that is one hell of a woman!"
Joe smiled at the tale, before turning to the burning topic of the adverts; "We need to get moving on this tape, partly because the time to copy and distribute takes up about two days. We are gonna have to go in tonight, otherwise Webster will have their message on the screens instead of ours!"
"Don't worry, Joe. I've heard about this guy that the Commissioner has offered you; he is a genius. All you have to do is walk behind him, and he'll take you straight in, do the job, and walk out again, intruder alarms or not!"
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The team, consisting of Brad, Joe, and the Precinct Commander, sat in an unmarked car, half-a-block distant from the brownstone house where Bob Webster lived. They had been joined by a big, burly man, whose very laugh, as he got into the car, was loud enough to wake the dead; or so Joe imagined. The 'Consultant' had slapped the Commander on the
back, and introduced himself as 'Fred', before saying that he had already scouted the house, and it was only protected by a simple alarm system.
"You've already checked...?" asked an amazed Joseph.
"Wouldn't be doing my job if I hadn't; don't like surprises. Is this guy going out soon?"
"We put a tap on his phone, and he's due away at eight, got a date with some broad. we'll give it ten minutes after that, then we want to go in, do the switch, and get straight back out! We are breaking enough rules without spending unnecessary time in a suspect's home, without a due search warrant." rasped the Commander, who was already feeling the cold winds of second thoughts around his ankles.
The four men quieted as the door to the house opened, and Bob Webster left the house, locked the door and walked down the steps, heading for his car which stood ten yards away. The watchers waited while the car engine started, and the big Olds rolled away from the kerb, followed by an unmarked patrol car, whose driver had instructions only to call if he saw the suspect returning to his home; leaving the area clear, as far as they knew, for their entry. Ten minutes after Webster departed, the big alarms expert got out of the car, accompanied by Joe, and casually walked across the street, and up the stairs. Fred withdrew a card from his pocket, levered it at the lock area for approximately five seconds, and the door swung open. He walked three paces into the hall, and simply tapped out a code on the alarm panel, then turned to Joe, grinned and said, "Nuttin' to it, really. These guys are all the same. I got an override code for every alarm in New York; these clowns spend maybe two, three grand on an alarm system, and because all the technicians have IQ's of around thirty, they have a built-in override code, besides the one given to the owner, who thinks everything is safe and secret. Okay, Mr. Kozcinski , tell me whereabouts you want to go, and then just follow me, some people have secondary systems, but I know how to spot everything; trust me!"
"Er, if you can locate where he has his computers, and possibly a video machine; he will probably have the tapes nearby."
The two walked slowly through the house, and ended up outside the study. 'Fred' examined the door frame, then nodded slowly, "He has got a secondary circuit, but he ain't as clever as me! No way, José!" The big man produced a fine screwdriver, and carefully removed the two screws which held a small cover on to a plastic box recessed into the frame. "See, he has a switch which is activated when the door is opened, probably doesn't sound an alarm, but registers that someone has been inside. This is a very good installation, see how the cover is coloured to match in with the frame. We'll just slip a wire across the connections, then open up, and check if he has any more surprises for us." So saying, he clipped a wire across the terminals, then gripped the handle and gently eased the door open. He knelt down, and gently lifted the rug, searching for any signs of a pressure plate, but nodded in satisfaction when he found nothing. "Looks clear, Mr. Kozcinski , it looks like he has all his video and computer stuff on the desk."
Joe walked forward, and started searching the video cassettes which were racked before him. He saw the titles 'Continental One', 'Continental Two', 'Continental Three', and then 'Continental Revival', stacked together in one shelf corner. He reached for the 'Revival' tape, and gently peeled off the title strip, temporarily sticking it on the desk. He then removed the label from the 'Three' cassette, and placed it on the 'Revival' tape, before lifting up the 'Revival' label and placing it on what was the 'Three' tape. He replaced the cassettes on the shelf, in the same order as he has found them, before stepping back, to satisfy himself that everything looked untouched, then nodded to 'Fred' that he was finished.
The two left the study, closing the door behind them, and the wire bridge was removed from the alarm switch, before the cover was replaced by 'Fred'. The two intruders left the house, with the alarms expert relocking the door behind them. They sat back in the car, with Joe gently mopping his brow, "Jeez, I don't wanna do that again in a long time; must have shorten'd my life span by ten years!", he said, while 'Fred' slapped him on the shoulder. "You did just great! Is that all, Commander?" As the policeman signified the end of the task, the big break-in man said a loud 'goodnight', and left the car, and the three moved off, while swapping notes on the successful entry.
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Harry Mettaliou sat patiently, hidden behind the clothes and sliding door of Virginia Horrigan's bedroom wardrobe. He had been in the house for almost two hours before the Continental VP arrived home, and then had moved to hide in the closet. He was confident that he would not be discovered, as he only had to wait until his target was in the bath, before making his move; watching Virginia through a narrow gap in the door, as she took her clothes off, preparing for that same event. She donned a plastic shower cap, and walked through towards the steaming bath, which she had filled less than five minutes previously.
The big intruder slowly slid the door open, and slowly walked towards the bathroom door, which gave him a view of the back of Virginia's head, as she sat in the almost full bath, soaping her arms. Harry went forward, just placed both linked hands around the woman's forehead, and slammed her skull back against the edge of the bath, knocking her unconscious immediately. He then, with his hands on top of her head, pushed her whole body down into the water, and waited until the reflex motions of the drowning woman's body ceased, and her arms gently floated on the surface of the bathwater. He dried his hands on a small towel, then took that same towel and stuck it into his coat pocket, before heading into the lounge. Pulling on a pair of gloves, he dialled out on the phone, and spoke two words, then rang off. Then he sat at the window, waiting until he saw his retreat being set, with one car driving into another, and the drivers shouting and waving at one another, before opening the front door and swiftly walking away from the entrance steps, unnoticed by the onlookers of the accident.
Chapter 21
Joe Kozcinski arrived back in Detroit in a confident mood, assured that at least one of his Corporation's problems was being resolved. He had contacted Nick Cavalieri, and had briefly told the CEO about the plan to disrupt the price and the sales of Continental autos, and the moves to counter the plot. Nick, predictably, had wanted to have everyone arrested, but Joe had won his argument, the same way as he had in New York. He then contacted Harry Lassitter, and asked him to call Bob Webster in New York, and authorise the commercials to be shown again, starting with the evening before the relisting of the Continental shares on the Exchange. "Just say that we have had second thoughts, and the commercials deserve to be given a chance; okay, Harry?" Once the message was passed, he reckoned that Webster would be straight on to his principals, to give them the good news, and now that all the telephone intercepts were in place, Joe had been assured by the senior policemen that everyone concerned would be incriminated by their own voices.
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Nick Cavalieri had other worries besides the future return to profitability of his Corporation, as he stared at the two paragraphs in the local newspaper. The first gave the news that Drew Garnett had been the victim of a drugs-related killing in a war area of Detroit, and the second was the accidental death, in an freeway auto accident, of Ben Newcomb, pensions administrator from Grand Rapids. Cavalieri was no fool, and he read the death sentence which lay behind the bland news fillers on the page. He would have placed a great deal of money on Virginia Horrigan's death being reported very soon, which left himself as prime target. He called the airport, and asked that the Continental Executive Jet be readied for use, stating that he did not need, this time, the Company pilot to fly the aircraft; as he needed to keep his own flying hours building, in order to keep his licence current. Telling his P.A. that he was going to pay a surprise visit to the California design offices, he left the office complex within fifteen minutes of reading the two items in the news columns. He headed straight for his own home, piled a grip with clothing and toiletries, and made for the airport, keeping a careful scan to his rear in case he was being followed. His
big Stiletto carved it's way through the light mid-morning traffic, and he was at the airport in record time.
Parking his car, he spotted the Ground Crew chief walking away from the little jet. He asked what his fuel load was, while he called the valet to heft his bag on to the aircraft, then he moved off to file a flight plan with the tower. Returning from the Control Room, Cavalieri swung aboard, and walked forward into the cockpit. He gripped the checklist, and swiftly and competently went through the vital list of routine items; finally firing up the two engines, and observing the readouts on the display. Calling the tower, he requested clearance for departure; and being assigned a runway, departure heading and initial altitude, stroked the twin throttles forward to taxi speed. As there was a lull in the usually busy commercial traffic, he was given take-off clearance with almost no delay and, with the throttles forward against the stops, sent the little aircraft racing forward along the runway. The valet was carefully observing the progress of the executive aircraft, but for a different reason to many others. His hand was poised over a small plastic case, fitted with a small lever switch, and with an extended aerial clamped to the side of the case. As the nose of the aircraft rose into 'rotate' position, he pressed the lever firmly over, seeing the 'active' light flash on the box, then retracted the aerial, and placed the transmitter back into his work clothes. Ray Salvatori estimated that the elevator hydraulics would jam in about thirty minutes, putting the little jet into an uncontrollable dive, with no chance of survival for the pilot.