Joseph Finder - Power Play

"Roscoe's, for sure," Lummis agreed. "Ever had their candied yams?"

But Rylance wasn't interested. "Anyone seen Hank around?" he said.

"Last I heard, he was hot on Cheryl's trail," Barlow said. "Had something he wanted to raise with her."

"Raise all the way up her ass, I suspect," said Lummis. "So, Jake, you ready to be inspired and motivated by our fearless leader?" He fanned his hands in the air like a preacher rousing his flock. "The symbol of our company is the lion," he said in a falsetto, not a bad imitation of Cheryl Tobin. "And I'm here to make that lion roar."

I laughed politely, and both Rylance and Barlow guffawed loudly, then Barlow leaned in close to the guys and muttered out of the side of his mouth, "It is a goddamned gynocracy around here these days."

The bartender took my order-another Macallan single-malt, only he didn't ask me how old-and Rylance pulled up a stool on Lummis's other side. Then Kevin Bross passed by, wearing black workout shorts and a black sleeveless shirt that showed off his sculpted physique. He was drenched with sweat. The watchband of his heart-rate monitor was beeping rapidly. Bross had broad shoulders and a narrow waist and looked like he spent a lot more hours in the gym than at the office. As he walked behind me, he bumped up against my only good shirt with his slick arm, dampening my shoulder.

"Good workout, Coach?" Clive Rylance said. "Hey, did someone strap a time bomb on you or something?"

"Huh?" Bross said.

"Sounds like you're about to explode."

"Oh, that," Bross said, and he reached under his shirt and tugged at a chest strap. It came off with a Velcro crunch. "Heart-rate monitor. What about you, big guy? Brits don't exercise?"

Rylance hoisted his tumbler of Scotch. "Just my left hand," he said.

"Guess your right hand doesn't need the exercise, huh?" Bross said.

They both laughed.

"We gonna do Zermatt again this year, Kev?" Barlow said. "I want to see you wipe out doing the slalom again. That was a blast."

"Cram it, Upton," Bross said jovially, "or I'll tell them what happened to you at the top of the Blauherd lift."

Barlow tipped his glass and laughed. "Touchй. So, is the sauna coed this year?"

"Clothing optional, I hope," Rylance said, and everyone cracked up.

Just then I saw Hank Bodine-or, to be accurate, I heard him. He was standing in one of the alcoves on the other side of the room, hands on his hips, talking to someone.

No, actually, he was yelling at someone.

As soon as I realized that the person he was chewing out was Ali, I jumped up from my seat and, without thinking, bolted across the room.

Ali was sitting in a chair while Bodine stood right in front of her, obviously trying to intimidate. She'd changed into a white skirt and a peach-colored silk blouse, cut just low enough to emphasize the swell of her breasts, and she looked stunning.

She also looked angry.

I could hear Bodine saying, "You want me to take this up with Cheryl, that it?" He was clearly holding back a great deal of anger and was on the verge of letting loose.

"Obviously I can't stop you from talking to Cheryl," she said. "You can do whatever you want. But not before the meeting starts. Sorry. She's busy."

I stopped a ways off, not wanting to barge in. Ali had put on a fresh coat of lipstick and lined her lips, too. She had gold bangles on her wrists and a necklace of tiny gold beads interspersed with large teardrops of polished green turquoise. Matching gold-and-turquoise earrings.

"This sure as hell isn't the offsite agenda I cleared," Bodine said.

"The agenda changed," Ali said. "You're not the CEO. You don't get to clear the agenda."

"Well, sweetheart, I never heard a single goddamned mention of anyone giving a speech here called 'Hammond and the Culture of Corruption.'"

Ali shrugged. "I'm sorry…Hank." I could tell she was about to counter that "sweetheart" with something acerbic but thought better of it. "That was a last-minute addition."

"You don't make last-minute additions without running them by me first. That's how it's always worked."

"I guess things have changed, Hank." Ali folded her legs. I thought I saw a ghost of a smile flit across her face, as if she were enjoying facing him down.

Bodine rocked back on his heels. He took his hands off his hips and folded them across his chest. "Correct me if I'm wrong, young lady, but isn't this your first year here? So I don't think you know the first thing about how things are supposed to work."

"I know what Cheryl asked me to-"

"Let me tell you something," Bodine said. "You are making a serious mistake. I'm going to do you a favor and pretend none of this ever happened. Because I am not going to have my team demoralized by unsubstantiated accusations and rumors about 'corruption' in this company. And if the board of directors gets wind of the fact that your goddamned boss is trying to throw mud and level charges that have no basis, heads are going to roll. And I don't just mean yours. You hear me?"

Ali gave him a long, styptic look. "I hear your threats loud and clear, Hank. But the agenda stands."

"That's it," Bodine said, raising his voice almost to a shout. "What room is she in?"

"Cheryl's preparing her remarks," Ali said. "She really doesn't want to be disturbed."

I could no longer hang back and watch Bodine talk to her that way. He was really starting to piss me off. I walked up to him, tapped him on the shoulder. "What's that your daddy always told you about how to talk to a lady?" I said lightly.

Bodine looked at me with fury. I said, "I got you the information you wanted. About the E-336."

"You," he said, jabbing his index finger into my chest. His voice rumbled, and his cheeks were flushed. "You might want to watch your ass." Then he strode away.

As soon as he was gone, I leaned forward and extended my hand to Ali. "I'm Jake Landry," I said.

I guess he's just not that into you," I said.

"What'd you do that for?" I could tell she was secretly pleased but didn't want to let on.

"Because I don't like bullies."

"I didn't need your help, you know."

"Who says I was trying to help?"

"You butted in. You shouldn't have."

"I didn't like hearing him talk to you like that."

"Thanks, but I can handle Hank Bodine. I don't need a protector."

"That's obvious."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's called a compliment. You handled him great. Way better than I could have."

She looked momentarily appeased. "Anyway, the idea was for you to get on his good side. Not alienate him."

"I don't think he has a good side. Plus, alienating him is more fun."

"He could get you fired."

"Your boss can overrule him."

"Not if she gets fired herself."

She had a point. "I could always move back to upstate New York and get a job with the cable company again. Maybe the vent-pipe factory."

"The factory's probably out of business by now. Just like every other company there."

"True."

She glanced at her watch. "I think Cheryl needs me. The reception's about to begin." She stood up. "Nice to meet you, Jake. It was really great."

It was really great, the note read. I'm sorry.

One of her cards-ALISON HILLMAN in engraved letters on thick cream stock-propped on the bathroom sink. Where she knew I'd see it when I got up.

It was only a couple of days after she'd first brought the big suitcase over to my apartment. Her toothbrush was missing, her silk panties, her extra set of work clothes.

When I finally reached her on her cell, later that morning, she sounded harried. She said she couldn't talk: She had someone about to come in for a meeting. She said she wasn't angry or anything, she just thought this was for the best. We wanted different things, that was all.