Howard Engel - The Cooperman Variation

“Mr. Cooperman!” It wasn’t a greeting, a sign of recognition, but a command to stand still. I did that. When I turned around, I could see three men in uniform coming along the corridor after me on the double. For a moment, I thought of running for it, but I gave up the idea. This wasn’t my own briar patch. I was certain to find a deadend corridor or try to cut through a broom closet. If I was to get the better of these three, it would have to be through other means.

“Mr. Cooperman, you’d better come with us.” The trio in uniforms marked NTC Security blocked my passage. There was nothing to do about it but to shrug and go with them. At least they weren’t the Horsemen. I tried to engage them in chat, but it didn’t work. One guard pushed the elevator button with a deeply concerned brow, as though it signalled the destruction of civilization as we know it. Inside the elevator, I got no answers to my many questions. I made a reference to Mr. Dunkery, which made one of them blink. So, I was guessing right about who wanted to see me.

They led me down a trail of turns and ins and outs until we entered a room clearly marked SECURITY on the door. At least they weren’t trying to keep that a secret. I was left seated on the civilian side of a counter for about five silent minutes-I was getting used to silence-and then I was told that Commander Dunkery would see me now. My three playmates saw me to the door, where they were dismissed by a nod from the man behind the desk.

Dunkery’s office was designed to intimidate. It was part war room and high-command post. I thought of officers being briefed, and smoking if they liked, and synchronizing their watches, and not having any questions. There were more photographs of Dunkery shaking hands with well-known figures than you’d ever want to see. Citations and diplomas covered what was left of the wall space that wasn’t given over to floor plans of the NTC building. A big brass globe with the network’s owl on top sat on a shelf near his right hand, so he could stroke it maybe if he started feeling insecure. An abridged Bible, not printed on smokable paper, lay open on the desk blotter. Several of the texts were underlined in colour. I thought of George trying to get past the Commander. Dunkery sat behind his desk, which was lifted up on a platform of some kind, so that I sat below him looking up. For a moment I thought I’d try the play from The Great Dictator and sit on the edge of Commander Dunkery’s desk, staring down at him, but I decided against it.

“Well, Mr. Cooperman! So, we finally meet. You should have come to me a week ago.”

“I didn’t know you were looking for me. You know where I work?”

“Yes, and we know who you’re working for and why.”

“That makes it unanimous, I guess. What can I do for you?”

“You can get the hell out of here and let professionals deal with what is clearly none of your business.” I nodded at this, as though giving it serious thought. On the subject of my getting out of town, this silly network was a bloody theme park.

“What gives you the monopoly at NTC? I saw local cops on the twenty-first floor last week. Maybe there are Provincial Police on the third or Mounties on the sixteenth. Are you planning to tell them to shove off too?”

“I won’t answer that or any other foolish questions. I want to see the back of you, Cooperman, and I want you gone this afternoon.”

“Sure you do. And when Vanessa Moss gets shot because you won’t put a man on her door, you’re going to look terrific. Especially when they find out that you chased away her babysitter. I can’t see that I’m queering your pitch, Commander.”

Commander Dunkery was a brown man. I’m not talking about skin pigmentation, I mean he was wearing a brown suit with a military cut to it, his sparse hair was brown, and his shirt and tie looked brownish as well. A brownish moustache tried but failed to underline his authority. His face was florid. I guessed that he was having trouble with blood pressure as well as with unwanted private investigators. “This afternoon!” he repeated.

“Just how are you going to arrange that? I’m working on the staff of Vanessa Moss, head of Entertainment. I guess she can hire whom she wants. Or are you going to limit her to the grandsons of Desert War veterans?”

“You’re being irrelevant, Cooperman.”

“Sorry. Ms. Moss wields a lot of weight on the twentieth floor. She usually gets what she wants.”

“Not for much longer. She’s nearly finished at this network.” I got the feeling that he wanted to go thwack with a swagger stick against the side of his boot.

“But, alas for you, not quite yet. I understand that she will be back in the building within the hour with all of her titles intact. If that’s so, why don’t you tell me what’s really on your mind. You must have seen rent-a-cops before? You probably have hired quite a few in your time.”

“You have been insulting to my staff on several occasions. It has been reported to me, and I will not stand for it!”

“I don’t like wearing stick-on labels, Commander. They’re hard on my clothes.”

“You were told to get proper identification.”

“I’ve been too busy trying to stop Vanessa Moss from getting murdered.”

“Nobody’s trying to kill Ms. Moss.”

“Can I quote you? What about Renata Sartori? Were you looking after her too?”

“That happened off the premises. I’m not responsible-”

“That does sum it up, doesn’t it? Now, if you’ll-”

“Listen, Cooperman! You don’t get to this office without building a network of trust. There isn’t anybody here who doesn’t owe me. I’ve been a useful fellow to know for the last ten years. I’m owed favours on the twentieth floor. If they don’t start flowing by themselves, all I have to do is rattle their chains. Do you follow me?”

“And you’d call in all these favours just to get rid of me?”

“I have broken better men than you, Cooperman. You make me sick. I’ve got a good system going here, and it works as long as everybody plays the game. You and your sort never play the game, do you? Not in my experience. Can’t stay in line. So, my advice to you-”

“Before you break some important blood vessel inside your head, Commander, I’d like to report a breach in your system.”

“What are you talking about? My system?”

“Yeah. A couple of thieves have just driven off with a truckload of recording equipment belonging to NTC, if I’m not mistaken. Looked brand new. But what do I know? That comes under your responsibility, doesn’t it? Your people were holding the doors open for them when I came in here half an hour ago. The crooks were wearing shopcoats, and the truck was unmarked, except for the licence. Do you let that happen often, Commander? All part of the system? A man could get wealthy on that sort of thing with just one or two truckloads a month. Of course, there might be criminal charges if anyone was caught in the act. There were at least two witnesses besides me. Maybe they got the truck’s licence number too.”

“Why you …!” He stood up at his desk. It was the first time I’d seen him standing. He was right to place his desk on a riser. He was shorter than I am by two inches. I would have got up myself just then, only I had never been asked to sit down. I turned and walked out of the office of the head of Security and caught an elevator back to my office on the twentieth floor. I left the Commander sputtering behind me.

I could tell that Vanessa was back. There was a crackle of static electricity as I rounded the corner to her office. She did something to the way people moved by her door. My suspicion was confirmed when I saw Sally: trade papers and draft schedules in sight, no coffee mug sitting near her.