Joseph Finder - Power Play

The lights flickered again.

The others had no idea what kind of trouble we were in.

I'm sure they figured, like I did at first, that this was just rotten luck: a rowdy bunch of hunters, lost and hungry and larcenous, had stumbled upon an opulent lodge full of rich businessmen, miles away from anything else, no cops around to stop them.

But I was sure this was something far more serious. At that point, of course, I was going on nothing more than vague suspicions and instinct.

Still, my instinct hadn't failed me yet.

Russell, the ringleader of the hunters, ordered the crew-cut one, Wayne, to go upstairs and search all the rooms. "I have a feeling we're gonna find laptops and whatchamacallits, BlackBerrys and all that good stuff upstairs," he said. "See what you can find. Anything that looks interesting."

"Yup," Wayne said. He clumped across the floor and thundered up the stairs.

"Bucky, will you please make sure none of our executives here…'forgot'…anything in their pockets? Now, I read something about opening remarks by the Chief Executive Officer. That's the boss, right? Which one of you's the boss?"

He looked around the table. No one said anything. Buck started at the far end of the table, frisking Geoff Latimer.

"Come on now, gotta be one of you guys."

Silence.

Then Cheryl spoke up. "I am."

"You're the Chief Executive Officer?" He looked skeptical, took a few steps in her direction.

Cheryl swallowed. "That's right."

"Chick like you? You're the boss?"

"Chick like me," she said. Her mouth flattened into a straight line. "Strange but true." The slightest quaver.

"A lady CEO, huh?"

"It happens," she said, a little starch returning to her voice. "Nowhere near often enough, but it happens. How can I help you, Russell?"

"So all these guys here work for you? A woman orders them around?"

Her nostrils flared. "I lead," she said. "That's not quite the same as ordering people around."

Russell grinned. "Well, that's a good point, Cheryl. A very good point. I have the same philosophy. So maybe you can tell me, Cheryl, what you're all doing in this godforsaken fishing lodge in the back of beyond."

"We're on an offsite."

"An offsite," he said slowly. "That's like-what? A meeting, sort of? Chance to get out of the office and talk, that it?"

"That's right. Now, may I say something?"

"Yes, Cheryl, you may."

"Please, just take whatever you want and leave. None of us wants any trouble. Okay?"

"That's very kind and generous of you, Cheryl," Russell said. "I think we'll do just that. Now may I ask you something?"

She nodded. Her bosom rose and fell: She was breathing hard.

"A lady CEO gets the same money as a man?" he said.

She smiled tightly. "Of course."

"Huh. And I thought I read somewhere how women CEOs only get sixty-eight cents for every dollar a man CEO gets. Well, live and learn."

Cheryl looked momentarily flummoxed. "They pay me quite well. Not as much as some other CEOs, it's true."

"Still, it ain't chump change. Bucky, what do you take home on your welding job?"

Buck looked up. "Good year, maybe thirty-eight grand."

"You make more than that, Cheryl?"

She exhaled slowly. "If you want me to apologize for the inequities of the capitalist system, you-"

"No, Cheryl, not at all. I know how the world works. I've got no beef with the capitalist system. I'm just saying you might want to spread some of that around." Now he was standing directly in front of her, only the table between them.

"Our corporate charitable contributions last year totaled-"

"That's awful nice, Cheryl. But I think you know that's not what I mean."

She looked exasperated. "I don't carry much cash, and you're taking my jewelry."

"Oh, I'll bet you got plenty more."

"Not unless you plan on leading me to a cash machine at gunpoint so you can empty out my checking account. But I don't think you're going to find an ATM very close by."

Russell shook his head slowly. "Cheryl, Cheryl, Cheryl. You must think you're talking to some rube, huh? Some ignorant Bubba. Well, don't misunderstand me. You run a very big company. Makes a lot of money."

She pursed her lips. "Actually, we haven't been doing all that well recently. That's one of the reasons for this meeting."

"Really? Says in that book there you have revenue of ten billion dollars and a market capitalization of more than twenty billion. Those numbers off base?" His thumb pointed at the long table stacked with loose-leaf binders.

She paused for a few seconds, caught by surprise. "That's not my money, Russell. The corporation's assets aren't my own personal piggy bank."

"You telling me you can't get your hands on some of that money? I'll bet you can make one phone call and send some of those…assets…my way. Right?"

"Wrong. There are all sorts of controls and procedures."

"But I'll bet you've got the power to do it with one phone call. You're the CEO. Right?"

"It doesn't work that way in the corporate world. I'm sorry. I sometimes wish I had that kind of power, but I don't."

He slid his pistol out of its holster and pulled back the slide. It made a snick-snick sound. He raised it, one-handed, leaned across the table, and pointed it at her left eye. His index finger was curled loosely around the trigger.

She began blinking rapidly, her eyes filling with tears. "I'm telling you the truth."

"Then I guess you're of no use to me," he said softly.

"Don't!" Ali shouted. "Don't hurt her, please. Please!"

Tears trickled down Cheryl's cheeks. She stared right back at him.

"Wait." A male voice. We all turned.

Upton Barlow.

"We can work something out," he said.

Russell lowered the gun, and Cheryl gasped. He turned to Barlow with interest. "My friend Upton, with the good taste in wallets."

"Let's talk," Barlow said.

"I'm listening."

"We're both rational men, you and I. We can come to an agreement."

"You think so?"

"I know so," Barlow said. "I have no doubt we can work something out to your satisfaction."

"Kind of a win-win situation," Russell said.

"Exactly." Barlow smiled.

"So you're the go-to guy. You're the man."

"Look," Barlow said, "I just hammered out an offset deal with South Korea on a fighter plane. A coproduction agreement. Everyone said it couldn't be done."

I remembered that offset arrangement. Basically he arranged for Hammond to transfer billions of dollars in avionics and proprietary software to Seoul so they could build our fighter jet for us. Which meant we gave the Koreans everything they'd need to build their own fighter jet in a few years. It was a monumentally lousy deal.

"You sure you got the juice to make it happen?" Russell said. "Your boss says she doesn't, but you do?"

"There's always a way."

"I'm liking the sound of this, Upton."

"And in exchange, you and your friends will agree to move on. Fair enough?"

"Now we're talking."

"So let's get specific," Barlow said. "I'm prepared to offer you fifty thousand dollars."

Russell gave that low husky chuckle again. "Oh, Upton," he said, disappointed. "And here I was thinking you were the man. Guy who makes things happen. But we're not even talking the same language."

Barlow nodded. "Do you have a figure in mind? Why don't we start there?"

"You think you can get us an even million, Upton?"

Barlow examined the table. "Well, I don't know about that. That's a huge amount."

"See, now, that's too bad." Russell strolled along the table, head down as if deep in thought. When he reached the end, he circled around behind me, then stopped. "What if I kill one of your friends? Like this fellow right here? You think that might get us to 'yes,' Upton?"