Chapter 9
Linden perfunctorily rapped a knuckle on Morgan’s closed office door before proceeding to let himself in without waiting for a response.
A leather briefcase dangled from his hand, and a laptop was tucked under his other arm. He walked toward Morgan’s desk without a word. She just glared at him.
Linden placed the laptop – Morgan’s laptop – on her desk, as if this lone gesture mended everything.
The two locked eyes, and the silence between them swelled. Finally, mercifully, Linden broke he thickening ice.
“Project Renaissance is signed and sealed,” he said, trying on the slightest of pleased smiles. “We got our price. Considering the events of the past twelve hours, it’s a win. A major win.”
Morgan had suspected as much. But the confirmation of her having been cut out of the deal still carried a sting.
“And that’s what this was all about, wasn’t it?” she posed. “Winning. You, winning. Beating me.”
Linden’s lips curled downward. His shoulders slumped. He bent down to relieve himself of his briefcase. And then the gimpy quarterback took a load off in one of the cushioned chairs arranged in front of Morgan’s oaken barge of a desk.
“You sidelined yourself on this one,” Linden gently said. “I did what good teammates do. I picked up the ball and put it over the goal line before this thing blew up in our faces. And it came this close to doing just that.”
Linden held two fingers centimeters apart to emphasize his point.
“And how exactly did I sideline myself and jeopardize the project?” Morgan’s tone was icy and flat. It was as if she were denying herself all emotion. If she allowed even a molecule of her anger to seep in to her dealings with Linden, she feared losing it completely.
“You compromised yourself with a subordinate,” Linden flatly stated. “Lord knows, I am not one to judge, but on the eve of consummating our division’s biggest project ever, your celebration with your assistant got out of hand. No one is adjudicating the details of what might have happened between you two. If this thing is handled correctly – which is what we all should prefer – there will never be an adjudication. But the fact is, you as a manager -- the project leader, for Christ’s sake -- put yourself in this position at an absolutely critical time for this project. And you even used your company credit card to pay for your hotel room.
Just when Morgan had believed herself to be immune to further surprises on this terrible day, another electric wave of shock shot through her system.
The credit card, she thought. That’s why her name was on the room service bill. Darren had used her card to pay for the room.
Morgan knew he held a duplicate card, which he used to make all her travel arrangements. But Morgan had counted on him to be more discrete.
“Not stipulating to any of your absurd allegations, I still don’t see how this presents a threat to Project Renaissance and my handling of the state contract.” Morgan’s even tone never wavered.
“Heretofore, it wouldn’t have,” Linden answered. “Unfortunately, your assistant made an early morning visit to the company’s HR department and requested to file a sexual harassment complaint.” He paused for effect, then added, “Against you.”
Morgan’s system sustained yet another blow. She knew it had to have registered on her face, but she groped for Zen, anyway.
“Just so happens, I have a friendly contact at HR,” Linden continued. “This person placed an off-the-record call to me before any paperwork was field. And I was able to reach out to Darren and reward him with some well-earned time off in order to consider his options. I made it clear to him that he could come back at any time to the equivalent position anywhere in the company. And I suggested strongly that his application for any senior openings would be given serious consideration. He most graciously agreed to delay his filing.”
“So, there’s no case,” Morgan concluded. “Why am I still on the sidelines?”
“There remains the potential for a case,” Linden corrected. “And when you are dealing with state contracts -- even more sensitively, state Department of Education contracts -- just the whiff of scandal is a deal breaker.”
Linden paused, looked down, considered ending things there, then changed his mind. When his eyes returned to Morgan, they glinted with indignation. And when he resumed speaking, Linden’s voice was intoned with a rising note of superiority.
“Here, we have the project director and program’s creator inches away from a sexual harassment beef,” he resumed. “There’s no way that doesn’t leak, should any paperwork be filed. Even worse, this supposedly highly respected executive paid for her tryst on the company dime, money that now would be coming from the state of Pennsylvania. Not just from the state, but from its schools. Money that goes for books, pencils and paper – not one-night stands at the Sheraton Station Square. The only prudent thing to do was to fast-forward the agreement, get the contract signed and move on. I was fully within my fiduciary responsibility to this company in acting in the manner I did. And I was covering your ass in the process.”
Linden let the kicker ring off the walls of the otherwise silent office for a second, then plowed right back in, really piling it on now. Morgan sat stone-faced, taking it all, absorbing every blow. What else could she do? Linden held all the cards, had all the facts. She, in turn, was being blindsided by one devastating surprise after another.
“The least you could do is show a little gratitude that your name and reputation aren’t being kicked around all over the World Wide Web, right about now,” Linden incredulously said. “You are a very high-profile divorcee, by the way. And this little project we are peddling is nothing less than a revolutionary realignment of the Pennsylvania public education system that will have the teachers’ union crying foul from Pittsburgh to Philadelphia. Talk about a target on our backs?”
The ex-jock was practically winded from his diatribe. His boardroom beat-down of Morgan was all but complete. Linden had her right where he wanted her – under his thumb. But it was all too convenient – the timing, the string of circumstances, the devastating results. It all began with Linden’s invitation to dinner. And events just kept cascading until Morgan was left outside looking in at her own project.
She was positive Linden had orchestrated everything. Ever the quarterback, he had called the plays. But Morgan could prove none of this. Not yet. So she swallowed what was left of her pride.
“I guess I should thank you,” Morgan managed in a small, defeated voice. She would play the vanquished rival so that Linden would relax. Perhaps then, she could get to the bottom of it all.
“Hey,” Linden drew out the word in a reassuring tone of sympathy. “Don’t sound so down. So, you’re on the bench for a few plays. That doesn’t mean you’re off the team. All I’m asking you to do is sit it out for a series or two, until this thing blows over. Are you with me?”
“You obviously know best,” Morgan glumly said.
“I hung back and let you run with the ball.” Linden continued with the coach-speak that Morgan so vehemently detested. “And by damned, you scored a big one with that project of yours. So what if I had to come in late in the game and get us over the goal line? You drove us downfield. I’m not going to forget that. No one is. All the things we talked about last night – the vice presidency, heading up your own education technologies division – that’s all still on the table. We just needed to call an audible here. The good thing is, there’s a whole second half of football left. But it’s halftime now, and you need to take a break. Hell, you deserve one.”
Morgan took in a deep breath and exhaled.
“Maybe you’re right,” she allowed. “In that case, can I take a couple of days? You know, get my head back in the game?”
Linden grinned. The coach had worked his magic.
“That’s my girl,” he smiled. “You take all the time you need. Just do me a favor?”
“If I can,” she replied.
“Let this thing cool
down,” he said. “The worst thing you can do is to keep calling this assistant of yours. And for God’s sake, don’t leave any voicemail. All that stuff, it just fits in to a pattern of harassment should he decide to pursue this.”
Morgan cocked her head, considering this. It was good advice. She just wished she had thought of it before she had spent all morning and most of the afternoon peppering Darren’s cell phone with missed calls and voicemails.
“You’re right, Hal,” she said. “When you’re right, you’re right.”
Linden popped up, his bad knee cracking.
“Hey, kid,” he said, lunging down from his briefcase and wincing at the pain. “You showed me something here, the way you handled all this today. Must have stung like a bastard, but you evaluated the situation and what I had to say with your mind, not your emotions. Sometimes, it’s only when we stub our toes do we discover who can grin, bear it and soldier on. You just passed the test, Morgan. It’s like I said last night, you’re earning your Big Boy stripes, one by one. Keep it up.”
Linden flashed his best “Get one for the Gipper” smile, then pumped a fist for emphasis. His creepy condescension, coupled with everything else that happened this day, nearly made Morgan vomit.
Instead, she grinned back at him.
But there was nothing behind her ice blue eyes, except cold calculations.
Morgan's Chase 1 (Power Play) Page 9
