Executive

by Leslie Wolfe

  Alex easily remembered those heartwarming days, as she kept their memories in a safe place in her heart. What she could neither remember nor explain was where and when it all had gone away. Slowly, creeping among her family, came misery, sorrow, and pain, uninvited guests whose appearance she had never been able to pinpoint in time. It was as if, over time, everything had turned bad.

  The first sad memory she had about her childhood kept coming back to her, as an early clue for things to come. It was Christmas morning, and she had rushed from her bed directly to the living room to check under the tree and open her presents, but there were no presents for her to open. Her father sat quietly at the dining room table. Her heart sinking, she turned to him and said, "Daddy, where are my presents?"

  He stared into emptiness for a few seconds, and then pulled a fifty-dollar bill out of his pocket, and said, "Here, why don't you go out and buy yourself something nice, all right?" She remembered crying herself to sleep that Christmas day. She remembered crying herself to sleep many days after that.

  As things changed for the worse, her parents constantly argued, uttering unspeakable cruelty to each other, their voices filled with hate and contempt. Just a few years later, when Alex was thirteen, they took it to the next level. Her father told her one day that she was the only reason he was not divorcing her mother, blaming Alex for all the abuse he was enduring. From helpless and scared, she now became guilty of everything.

  Soon her mother also blamed her for siding with her father. They would drag her into their arguments, and, on occasion, join their forces against her. Nothing she would do or say would make any difference. Nothing would buy her some peace. She soon gave up and put all her strength in trying to survive, to stay sane. To do that, she turned to her books and learned how to cope with hardship from her favorite authors. She dragged herself through school; nothing took her mind off her family issues anymore.

  One day, it was over. She turned eighteen and had two more weeks to finish high school. As her parents briefly halted their daily disputes to wish her a joyless, happy birthday, she broke the news to them.

  "I am out of here," she said, with a cold determination in her voice. "I already have a job and a place to stay, and my bags are packed. As of today, as I am sure you already know, I have become of age, and this is my first decision as an adult."

  After the initial shock, both her parents attempted to turn her decision. Her father said, "We had dreams for you. You were going to college. This is what you wanted, right?" He looked confused and suddenly older by ten years.

  She explained in a softer voice, "I can't do that while living here, Dad, I really can't. Maybe I will be able to go to college later, after settling in on my own."

  Then her mother's intervention came as a painful shock. "Well, if that's your decision, then learn to live with it. You may not take anything with you on your way out. You haven't paid a dime for any of the items you call yours. Therefore, you will leave here with nothing. I expect the clothes you are wearing to be returned by tomorrow. You have one minute to leave this house. Oh, and don't you ever come back."

  Alex was speechless, as she opened the front door. She closed it behind her, and, as she was walking away, she heard her father yell at her mother, "How could you do that to your own child?"

  Her mother opened the door and called Alex back. She was stupidly hoping for an apology, or kind words, or good-luck wishes. Her mother said, "You forgot to leave your keys!"

  ###

  Time had started its healing process.

  At first, she lived in a small, one-bedroom basement apartment in Mt. Angel, constantly afraid she'd run into her parents on the street or at the mall. She feared that her landlady would one day judge her for leaving home or talk to her parents about her. She worked as a customer-service representative, barely making enough to cover her rent and expenses. She graduated from high school and forged her mother's signature on a change-of-address notice to the school, allowing her to receive all documents and transcripts at her new address, without having to ask her parents for them.

  Neither of them showed up at her graduation ceremony. She kept looking for them in the crowd, but they weren't there. Naturally, she would have liked to show her parents she could still go on.

  She had saved some money before leaving home—money she had earned in secret while tutoring young children in math and science. That money turned out to be useful in helping her get the bare necessities for her new life.

  She hadn't found any logical reason to comply with her mother's demand to personally return her clothing by the next day. She couriered them instead, underwear included, saving herself from more pain and aggravation.

  Then she started the systematic rebuilding of her life. She filed for a copy of her birth certificate, changed the address on her driver's license, and then started looking for a way to move to the big city. There were more job opportunities in Portland. She could make more money and meet more people—people who didn't know her family. Her only friend cynically argued that she wanted to put more distance between her and her parents to decrease the risk of running into them.

  Of all the things she left at her parents' house, she missed her computer the most. She was able to find an older computer that she could afford and bought it. Later, she upgraded it herself. Once she had that problem solved, she started looking for a job and a new apartment in Portland.

  When she moved away from Mt. Angel, all her possessions fit loosely in a rental sedan. Two years later, she was halfway though her college degree, and a beat-up blue Chevy was making her life a lot easier. She was gaining confidence in her abilities, and she was drawing strength from her achievements. She was ready for her next move: San Diego.

  On occasion, she received phone calls from her father, who wanted to know how she was. She could barely endure the conversations; there was nothing left to say. She had never again spoken to her mother, and her last memory of the woman was of that moment when she had handed her the house keys.

  She was healing slowly. For a long time, she had felt a sort of suffocating anger, waking her in the middle of the night, making her want to pick up the phone and ask her parents how they could have done that to her. She resisted that impulse. After a while, it disappeared, replaced with feelings of deep loneliness. She fought those feelings by reading, working, studying, and then one day she realized she had become comfortable on her own. She rarely cried anymore. Her only tears appeared on the rare times when she watched a movie in which a happy family was gathered around a Christmas meal.

  ...13

  ...Friday, April 23, 9:05AM

  ...The Agency HQ—Corporate Park Building—Third Floor

  ...Irvine, California

  Steve Mercer had been with The Agency for more than ten years. He enjoyed the practical applications of his extensive knowledge of human psychology. He could function equally well in customer service or human resources leadership. With bright, almost translucent blue eyes and a tall, proud posture, he instantly captured the attention of everyone in the room. His voice was melodious, while assertive and strong. He was persuasive and liked to hear himself speak, carefully constructing the messages he conveyed, in both content and feeling. He was Alex's assigned trainer for the day, and he was enjoying every minute of it.

  "Companies can be like countries. You can find every possible political struggle tearing up the guts of a company. Fights over power, coups and counter-coups, opposition and dissidence, political imprisonment, espionage, sabotage, or even commando-type actions can take place, with the sole purpose of shifting power toward one or another of the players."

  Alex was all ears, listening with an interest she never thought she would have for a training session. Usually, training had been boring and too slow for her fast and analytical mind. Her expectations were high, from both the course material and the training facilitator. With an IQ of 164, her patience was highly volatile, and her tolerance for mediocre materials was limited. This trainin
g session was different. All the information was new to her, concentrated and free of all unnecessary detail, and served by Steve as fast as she could absorb it.

  He was continuing the fast-paced presentation, supported by images projected from a Dell laptop to a white screen on the wall.

  "In such companies, you will find the darkest traits of modern society: corruption, theft, deceit, blackmail, fear, and worse. Sometimes, the reasons for these actions are downright unbelievable. In these specific environments, you have to be prepared for anything, no matter how absurd. You have to learn to see things through the eyes of different people. Expect things that are not worth doing, based on your system of values, to be well worth it for someone else. For instance, if you wouldn't consider stealing two dollars from someone else's unguarded desk, don't imagine that everyone else thinks the same."

  Steve was slowly pacing the floor, but Alex wasn't letting him out of her sight.

  "Your success in this line of work will depend on the accuracy of your diagnosis. In most cases, there is also a time factor. Your best ally is modern psychology. You will learn to read people, to assess their states of mind in just seconds, and then to decide if they have a role in your play, if they are simply ignorant bystanders, or innocent victims caught in a game they don't even comprehend. You will learn to find the real motives behind actions. You will learn to hide not only who you are, but also what you think and how you feel. And I have to say, there is a lot of work to be done in that respect," Steve continued with a smile. "Your face is like an open book, Alex."

  She felt the blood rush to her cheeks.

  Steve clicked the small remote control he was holding. A new slide came up, its title reading, "Surviving the Jungle of Corporate America."

  "Do you want to stop for a break?" he asked. She signaled no without a word, eyes on the intriguing title.

  "You have to remember, most of the people we are exposing have a lot to lose. Few of them are small-timers, who are only risking their jobs. Most of them are risking serious financial losses and jail time and will not go down without a fierce fight. Please take this job as seriously as you would take police work. It comes with all the risks, but unfortunately without the Kevlar vest, gun, or badge. And there is usually no way of knowing, before we actually take a position inside the client company and start the investigation, if we're dealing with a small time, non-dangerous case, or if there's a serious felony being committed. I have to repeat: your best ally in the field is psychology."

  The following slide was a list of book titles with comments.

  With a cynical smile, Steve continued. "Weekend is coming." He tapped on the pile of books on the table beside him. "You'll be busy."

  Another slide.

  "Always think Means—Motive—Opportunity. This is the base for any human action, criminal or not. The first book on the list will explain some unusual motives you might encounter."

  The following slide was projecting a book's cover, People of the Lie.

  "Written by a psychiatrist, who is also a man of the cloth, the book addresses issues of parental abuse. You might think, what's that got to do with anything? Well, two things actually. One is that I find this book to give the best descriptions of human evil I ever came across."

  Alex blinked in surprise.

  "Sometimes all we have to do to fix a company's problem is to identify and remove the evil person who is doing harm, without any material or professional gain whatsoever. This book will help you grasp the concept of evil and will give you some examples of evil people posing successfully as nice, pleasant people. The second reason for my selection is that the way we act and react is forever marked by our experiences as growing children. Parental abuse is unfortunately common in our society, and those abused children grow up and get jobs, so keep an open mind when you are assessing motivations in the corporate world."

  The following slide was another book title, The Truth about Burnout: How Organizations Cause Personal Stress and What to Do about It.

  "In other cases, corporations are to blame for causing the harm. The executives become too focused on profits and cost reduction, while neglecting the realities and limitations of their staff. Therefore, their actions are harmful in the long run. Read it, and let me know what you think. On the same topic, I have added another two titles."

  The book list was quite long, a comprehensive selection of titles varying from Freud's Totem and Taboo and Civilization and Its Discontents to Organizational Behavior, including books dedicated to emotions, stress management, and crisis management.

  "Wow," she whispered.

  "For all these books, I made notes on the sections you should absolutely go through. That is because we are in a bit of a hurry. However, feel free to hold onto the books, and read the ones you like from cover to cover, when you have a bit of time. On Monday, we will proceed based on this homework. Oh, you have to finish all the books by Monday."

  "But . . ." She stopped protesting, when he smiled encouragingly.

  "Didn't Tom tell you? We're never bored at The Agency." He leaned forward and powered down his laptop. "Now, could I ask you to have lunch with me? It's been a long time since I had the privilege of sharing a meal with a beautiful, smart woman."

  Alex was walking on a cloud.

  ...14

  ...Tuesday, April 27, 10:52AM

  ...The Agency HQ—Corporate Park Building—Third Floor

  ...Irvine, California

  When people looked at Brian Woods, they all thought he had to be rich and extremely powerful. He radiated power in a manner that most people found intimidating. When he walked into a room, everyone felt the urge to stand up and greet him with respect, despite the fact he was only in his mid-forties. If he were to be seen driving an average, full-size sedan, everyone would agree that it must be a rental, because he just had to own a Mercedes S 600 customized by Brabus, or at least a Bentley.

  Tall and slim, with deep black eyes and beautiful, yet masculine, features, Brian was turning heads ever since he could remember, but without becoming arrogant about it. A combination of class and charisma was making him successful in his work with The Agency. When Brian joined an organization as a vice president or CEO, one look and no one doubted that he belonged in a top executive role.

  With his tie loosened and sleeves rolled up, he sat casually at his desk.

  "We met briefly last week. I walked you to Tom's office for your interview, but we haven't had the chance to talk. Welcome aboard, Alex; it's a pleasure."

  Alex took the hand he extended and gave it a confident shake, trying not to show how intimidated she felt. She couldn't help wondering why these remarkable people had chosen her to be a part of their team. She didn't feel all that special. Now, after one look at Brian, she felt like the ugly duckling.

  "The pleasure is all mine," she said, and sat down.

  "I will be training you on systems, communications, procedures, and emergency protocols. I will leave all the psyche-and-soul-related topics to Steve. Tom will come toward the end of your training to tell you a few things about observing things, clues and other stuff like that. Any questions so far?"

  "None whatsoever." I didn't think men like these existed in reality. I thought you only saw them in movies.

  "Then let's proceed." Brian turned toward the wall and projected the image of a small electronic device, photographed in the palm of someone's hand. "This is a communications device. It's usually in your car, therefore, you have to make sure the spot where you're parking isn't too deep underground, or it won't work.

  It comes disguised in the climate control panel of your car. The reading for the temperature doubles as a reading showing the strength of the signal at a point in time and place. Let's say, for instance, you have the bad guy in the car, and he's getting talkative. All you have to do is start the heating or AC in your car; press and hold the fan button for two seconds; and we're receiving, monitoring live, and recording at the same time.

  Meanwhile, the car's
heating or AC will also be working. If the temperature reading shows two dashes instead of digits, your coverage is zero, and you need to get out of that spot in order for the system to work. If the temperature is blinking, you barely have any coverage; so you'll need to drive around until those degrees stop blinking."

  "So, if my AC is off, the device does not communicate with you and does not record."

  "It does not communicate with us," Brian said, "but it will record any noise it senses in the car. At the end of each day, you have the option to decide if those recordings are to be saved or discarded. If you have an emergency, and you need to get our attention to the communication in the car, turn on the air recycling after turning on the AC and holding the fan button for two seconds. That will ping our pagers with an emergency code. Any other questions?"

  "Only one small detail," Alex said, feeling a little embarrassed, "my car has no climate control."

  Brian gave her an all-knowing smile. "Oh, yes, it does."

  ...15

  ...Wednesday, April 28, 3:15PM

  ...The Agency HQ—Corporate Park Building—Third Floor

  ...Irvine, California

  "How do our clients find us?" Tom Isaac actually expected an answer. He leaned forward, making inviting gestures with his right hand.

  "Through advertising, maybe?" Alex volunteered.