by Peter Parkin
Fenton got right down to business. "You've had the shock of your life— pun intended. It's important for you to know what happened from an anatomy standpoint before you head back home. Your recovery has been wonderful, but I won't sugar-coat it; the worst could be ahead of you."
Cindy looked at Mike and could see his expression change. He was concentrating, but she could tell he didn't like Fenton's opening statement. She squeezed his hand a little bit harder for reassurance.
"Our keraunopathy specialist has examined you and Mr. Upton. I've also talked with your friends as to what they observed when the lightning bolt hit. It appears as if you were trying to tackle Mr. Upton to the ground to protect him. I know you remember that based on the discussions we've had together. Your two other friends report seeing a bright flash where your heads connected, and another one from the golf club upward."
Mike nodded.
"The bolt traveled through Mr. Upton's upright golf club, and slid sideways into his head. When the two of you banged heads, a secondary bolt went from his head into yours and out through your feet. Part of it went along the surface of your body as an 'external flashover.' That explains the burns in your clothing. By the way, as an aside, the reverse path could have just as likely been the case—it is thought by science that the main bolt usually originates from the ground and travels upward to the sky instead of from the top down. However, it doesn't really matter, the effects are still the same."
Mike just shrugged, indicating that he didn't care where the bolt came from.
Fenton got up from his chair and walked around to the front of the desk facing them directly. "It's a mysterious field, keraunopathy, and we don't completely understand yet why some people survive lightning strikes and others don't. We also can't predict the after-effects with any certainty. It's just not understood. The voltage from lightning is so powerful that the effects on the human body can be varied and unknown. Fortunately, and ironically unfortunately, it doesn't happen often enough for us to have a large enough data bank."
He walked over to his credenza. "Would either of you like some coffee?" They both shook their heads. Fenton poured himself a cup and continued.
"I want to share with you some of the after-effects that you might have to deal with. It's important that you see your family doctor as soon as you get home and report to him or her which of these happen to you, and any others that may be strange or different from what you're accustomed to. Don't leave anything out.
"Also, I would like your doctor to send regular reports to me here. E-mail, without your name mentioned, would be just fine. We'll give you a patient identity number on your way out. With your permission, I'll then pass your information along to Dr. Linoczek, our specialist, to be part of an overall study. It may help others who are struck by lightning."
Fenton looked at Mike and raised his eyebrows in a challenge. Mike just nodded in agreement once again.
"Fine, then. Here we go: chest pain, irregular heartbeat, loss of consciousness or blackouts, amnesia, anxiety and confusion, seizures, numbness and weakness in limbs, temporary or permanent paralysis, unexplained pains, shaking, sleep disorder, inability to concentrate, irritability, depression, headaches, fatigue, temporary or permanent deafness, partial blindness—and just general Post Traumatic Stress Disorder."
Fenton paused and waited for reactions.
Mike shifted in his chair. "Doc, I feel fine and I doubt that any of those things will happen to me. I just want to go home and put this behind us."
"I'm sure you do, but you need to know what may happen and that these conditions may occur without any warning, and possibly for the rest of your life. They could be minor, they could be major, or you may experience nothing at all. But you need to be on your guard; not just for your safety, but also the safety of others." Cindy blinked several times at Fenton's last statement.
Mike gave the doctor a wry smile. "Gotcha. If that's all then, we're out of here, okay? Thanks for everything you've done for me, and I mean that sincerely. But I'm sure I'm going to be just fine." Mike rose from his chair and put his hand in the small of Cindy's back, signaling her to do the same. They both shook hands with Dr. Fenton and bid their goodbyes. Cindy could see the worry in the doctor's eyes as he "examined" Mike for the last time.
She was silent as they rode the elevator down. The things Fenton told them had left a lump in her throat, but what really caused her silence was the feel of a gentle twitching in Mike's hand as she held onto it for dear life.
Chapter 4
"...so this brings us to the last item on the agenda today, which is a quick review by management of the foreign real estate holdings currently in play. Mike, do you wish to address, or would you prefer one of your executives to do that?"
Mike could feel the sweat dripping down his shirt, luckily covered up by his Saville Row suit. This was his first Board meeting since returning to work forty-five days after the lightning had laced through his body down in Florida. Forty-five days after one of his best friends had been killed almost instantly as their two heads connected in trauma. Sure, the paramedics had tried to revive him and so had the hospital, but the poor guy was probably gone before he hit the ground. At least he didn't suffer.
The Board had been sympathetic it seemed, but only during the coffee and muffin social before the meeting commenced. Then it was down to business except for the official "Welcome back Mike" from the chairman, Peter Botswait, who also dutifully led the Board and executive in a fifteen second prayer for the soul of Gerry Upton, who would be "sorely missed." This was all for the 'minute book' of course, and Mike always felt that there was nothing more insincere than a "sincerely" planned expression of grief and sadness for the minute book.
"Yes, I'll address the holdings, and my colleagues can jump in any time they feel they would like to add something." Mike glanced over at Troy Askew and Jim Belton, and they nodded back at him encouragingly. Mike felt a bit self-conscious—he knew his friends were fearful for him, hoping he would get through this first Board meeting in his usual fine style. They each wanted the Board to feel confident, and in turn the shareholders, that the company was still in good stable hands.
He began: "Our real estate holdings, as you all know, are substantial. Most of our tracts are in Canada and the U.S.A., but we do hold about forty million in undeveloped tracts in South America, and another twenty-five million in Mexico."
A director by the name of Guy Wilkins interrupted him. Mike knew him to be a senior partner with one of the largest law firms in Canada. "Mike, refresh my memory a bit here. How leveraged are we down there?"
"Those were cash transactions. Our lenders were apparently not too positive about allowing our lines of credit to be used beyond our domestic operations. And we were already leveraged pretty heavily here."
Guy nodded. "Where are we in South America?"
"Exclusively in Brazil. We felt the potential there outweighed any other South or Central American country. We own a large tract just outside the city centre of Rio de Janeiro, which is planned as a housing subdivision, and we purchased another large section in Angra dos Reis which is about 170 kilometers from Rio. That project will be a resort condo/hotel along a beautiful stretch of Juruba Beach."
"And in Mexico?"
"There we own land just outside Acapulco and also down in Huatulco.
Both these areas are planned resort developments for us."
"Is that smart, Mike?" This from the chairman, Peter Botswait.
Mike looked down the table at Peter. "You're referring to the drug wars that are raging down there right now?"
"Yes, and the violence towards tourists."
"I admit, it's a concern, but we don't think it's enough to dampen our investment. Mexico remains a top tourist destination, easily accessible, and Huatulco is far enough south to be rather insulated. Most of the problems have been close to the U.S. border."
"True, but there have been attacks in the Acapulco area, have there not?" Guy posed this quest
ion.
"Yes, Guy, but we don't think those are necessarily going to persist over time."
"How long have we owned these properties in Mexico and Brazil?" Christine Masden, a chartered accountant from one of the "big five" jumped into the conversation.
"We've owned Mexico for about four years and Brazil for only two." Peter got up for some coffee and glanced back from the side table. "When do you plan to begin development in these two countries?"
"Well, we've been holding off on both countries due to the economy. We thought it prudent to conduct new market strategies now as the old ones may have been rendered obsolete by the new economic realities. For example, instead of the high-end resorts catering to the rich, we may decide family resorts are more realistic now. As well, with the subdivision planned outside Rio, it may not be smart to develop an estate golf course community like we had originally planned."
"Wouldn't those revised plans corrupt your original 'return on investment' projections? Wouldn't that mean you might have overpaid for these properties?" Peter asked, between sips of coffee.
Mike had to partially agree. They were asking good questions, ones that he himself had been pondering.
"That could be the case, however higher density subdivisions do indeed retain ROE, and market demand for affordable family resorts could also increase turnover rates and occupancy rates. So in other words, it may be a 'wash.' That's why we need new studies and new proformas."
Christine leaned across the board table. "The sixty-five million you mentioned that was paid for the four properties, that would be book value, correct? In other words, have they been re-assessed yet for current market value? Have you made a provision in the balance sheet for unusual depreciation due to the recession and foreign instability issues?"
Mike looked over at Jim, his Chief Financial Officer.
Jim jumped in without hesitation. "No Christine, we haven't done that yet. We feel that the values have not been compromised and in fact may have actually increased if our plans become more realistic. We're holding off on revaluation until our new strategic plans are finalized. We'll then test the values against those plans."
"So until then, it may be fair to say that some assets on our balance sheet could be overstated." Christine wanted the minutes to reflect her concern.
Mike took exception to this. He looked in Peter's direction. "Mr. Chairman, it's premature to make such a comment and I don't think it's helpful for the minutes to record such unwarranted speculation."
Peter nodded. "Agreed." He tapped his pen on the desk in front of the recording secretary. "Strike Ms. Masden's last statement from the minutes."
Peter took off his glasses and directed his next question back to Mike. "Have you personally seen these properties?"
Mike felt a lump in his throat. "No, I haven't. Gerry handled those transactions. He was in charge of all of our new developments."
Guy then stated the obvious. "Gerry's not here anymore, is he."
Mike didn't know what he could say to that, so he just nodded respectfully.
Peter raised his eyebrows and then closed his binder with an emphatic snap. "So, Mike, can we end this discussion by stating in the minutes that you will report to the Board on this matter at the next meeting, with updates on your revised studies?"
"Yes, that would be accurate. I'll address this again and make sure you are all up to date."
With that, the meeting was adjourned and the Board members hurried away to their next worries of the day. Troy and Jim patted Mike on the back, obviously proud of the way their boss had handled himself. Mike, however, wasn't so sure he deserved those pats. He had just been winging it.
*****
Back in his office, Mike asked his executive assistant, Stephanie, to bring him his usual lunch: sandwich and coffee. When it arrived he thanked her and closed his door. Putting his feet up on the credenza while looking out at the lake, he munched away on his egg salad sandwich and just enjoyed the quiet and privacy. Since getting back to work, he seemed to appreciate his alone time much more than before. Of course, he'd never been away from work that long before, so perhaps he had gotten used to not having the daily interactions. This was different, having his door closed. He had never closed his door before.
He had to admit that he was feeling pretty healthy considering what happened. He sure missed Gerry though. He regretted that he never did have the chance to sit down and chat with him like he'd planned to do. Now he would never know what had been troubling him over the last few years, and why they had begun to grow so distant.
Suddenly he felt a pang of guilt. Why was he thinking this was all about him? How selfish. Poor Gerry had suffered through the murders of Amanda's parents, the hit and run death of her brother, and the drive-by shooting deaths of his own brothers—all within the last five years. Of course that would change someone, dramatically. And here he was concerned that his relationship with Gerry had suffered. It wasn't about him, it was about the burdens Gerry had been carrying in his personal life. Yes, that had to be it, and would Mike have handled those tragedies himself any differently than Gerry had? Was he that devoid of emotion?
Mike finished his sandwich and sipped his coffee. Those questions from the Board today had been a bit mind-numbing, particularly since he knew they were legitimate concerns. And nagging away at him was the knowledge that he was a skillful delegator. Perhaps too skillful a delegator. As the CEO, he knew that he should have had more personal involvement with those projects in Mexico and Brazil. He felt sheepish having to admit to the Board that he'd never even seen the properties. But he had had unwavering trust in Gerry's ability to run his own division and of course his own management style was "hands off " unless something threatened to go off the rails.
Or was it because he and Gerry had been friends? Mike didn't really know. But what he did know was that he, Mike, was a gifted executive with great instincts. He was a visionary and dynamic. He made things happen, and he trusted others to follow his lead. But he seldom followed up on things. It had never really been necessary. Now that Gerry was gone, he felt vulnerable. There were things he just didn't know, and he had to correct that now. He felt that things were slightly off the rails and he had to now get more involved, "hands on."
*****
The phone rang and Mike lurched forward, spilling coffee down the front of his freshly-laundered shirt.
"Baxter here."
"Mike, are you alright?" It was Cindy, sounding concerned for some reason.
"Of course, hon. I just finished the board meeting and had a quiet lunch. But the phone jarred me a bit—now I've got coffee all over me!"
"The board meeting must have gone long today?"
"No, the same as usual. About four hours."
Cindy paused for a few seconds. Then, in almost a whisper, "Mike, it's 8:00 at night. Your board meeting was this morning. And you just finished your lunch now?" Mike finally took notice of the darkness that was enveloping the western sky. He glanced down at his watch and was shocked to see that Cindy was right. He frowned, and rubbed his eyes. Then he rubbed them again, just to make sure.
"Mike, are you still there? Are you going to come home?"
"I'm leaving right now, Cindy. The time just flew by on me today. I must be pretty drained from the board meeting. Keep my dinner warm, okay?"
He heard a sigh at the other end, and Cindy said, "Be careful. We should talk when you get home."
Mike slipped on his jacket, turned off his computer, locked his cabinet— and wondered where in hell the last seven hours had gone.
Chapter 5
"You know we promised Dr. Fenton that we would keep him posted, so that's why I emailed him. You shouldn't be surprised."
"I know, I know, but let's not make a mountain out of a molehill." "Mike, seven lost hours is not a molehill!"
They were sitting at the kitchen table having an early breakfast. Cindy was trying hard to get his attention, but Mike was having a tough time accepting that this inciden
t was a problem. She had whipped off an email to Fenton last night, right after he arrived home and admitted to her that he had no idea where the afternoon had gone. In hindsight Mike knew he should have stuck with the story that he had been so busy that the day had just flown by. When Cindy got her teeth into something, she was like a dog with a bone; a mighty cute dog, mind you, but still a dog.
"Keep your voice down Cindy; we don't want the girls to hear you and get all worried about me. They take after you that way."
"Well, somebody has to worry about you. You certainly don't. You've been through a major ordeal, and I've noticed the shaking in your hands. I know you've been trying to hide that, but I've seen it. Now you have just lost most of a complete day and you don't seem to care."
"I do care. But I also know that stress can just knock you out sometimes. I think that's what happened yesterday. It was my first board meeting since coming back, and I was obviously worried about it. And I had to deal with some uncomfortable questions. I think I just zoned out."
His wife got up from her chair and stomped over to the coffee machine, then whirled around and glared at him. "Zoning out is not normal, Michael, not at all! Not for seven consecutive hours!"
He hated it when she called him "Michael" because it usually meant only one thing—she was seriously pissed.
Cindy poured them both second cups of coffee just as their two little girls came down the stairs. Mike smiled as he saw them. They always had that effect on him; they were so adorable. Kristy was six and Diana was eight, and they were daddy's girls for sure. He jumped up from his chair, grabbed each of them in an arm, and swung them around in a complete circle.
They giggled as they usually did when Mike roughhoused with them. Diana, so mature for an eight year old, said, "Daddy, where were you last night? We had to go to bed without you tucking us in." Kristy nodded in agreement and tried to tickle her dad under the arms.
"I was at work girls. Sorry about that, but it was a busy day for me. I promise I'll be home for dinner tonight."
