Michael Crichton - Disclosure

"Fine. But equality means no special breaks," Sanders said. "Equality means treating people the same. You're asking for inequality toward Meredith, because you won't do what you would do to a man-fire him."

Garvin sighed. "If it was a clear case, Tom, I would. But I understand this particular situation isn't so clear."

Sanders considered telling him about the tape. Something made him hold back. He said, "I think it is."

"But there are always differences of opinion on these matters," Garvin said, leaning across the bar. "That's a fact, isn't it? Always a difference of opinion. Tom. Look: what did she do that was so bad? I mean, really. She made a pass? Fine. You could have decided it was flattering. She's a beautiful woman, after all. There are worse things that could happen. A beautiful woman puts her hand on your knee. Or you could have just said, no thank you. You could have handled it any number of ways. You're a grown-up. But this… vindictiveness. Tom. I have to tell you. I'm surprised at you."

Sanders said, "Bob, she broke the law."

"That really remains to be seen, doesn't it?" Garvin said. "You can throw open your personal life for a jury to inspect, if that's what you want to do. I wouldn't want to do it, myself. And I don't see that it helps anybody to take this into court. It's a no-win situation, all around."

"What're you saying?"

"You don't want to go to court, Tom." Garvin's eyes were narrow, dangerous.

"Why not?"

"You just don't." Garvin took a deep breath. "Look. Let's stay on track here. I've talked to Meredith. She feels as I do, that this thing has gotten out of hand."

"Uh-huh…"

"And I'm talking to you now, too. Because my hope, Tom, is that we can put this to rest, and go back to the way things were now hear me out, please go back to the way things were, before this unfortunate misunderstanding happened. You stay at your job, Meredith stays at hers. You two continue to work together like civilized adults. You move forward and build the company, take it public, and everybody makes a pile of money a year down the line. What's wrong with that?"

Sanders felt something like relief, and a sense of normalcy returning. He longed to escape from the lawyers and from the tension of the last three days. To sink back into the way things were seemed as appealing as a warm bath.

"I mean, look at it this way, Tom. Right after this thing happened on Monday night, nobody blew the whistle. You didn't call anybody. Meredith didn't call anybody. I think you both wanted this thing to go away. Then there was an unfortunate mix-up the next day, and an argument that needn't have happened. If you'd been on time for the meeting, if you and Meredith had been in sync on the story, none of this would have happened. You two would still be working together, and whatever happened between you would remain your private business. Instead, we have this. It's all a big mistake, really. So why not just forget it and go forward? And get rich. Tom? What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," Sanders said, finally.

"Good."

"Except it won't work," Sanders said.

"Why not?"

A dozen answers flashed through his mind: Because she's not competent. Because she's a snake. Because she's a corporate player, all image, and this is a technical division that has to get out the product. Because she's a liar. Because I have no respect for her. Because she'll do it again. Because she has no respect for me. Because you're not treating me fairly. Because she's your pet. Because you chose her over me. Because…

"Things have gone too far," he said.

Garvin stared at him. "Things can go back."

"No, Bob. They can't."

Garvin leaned forward. His voice dropped. "Listen you little feringi pissant. I know exactly what's going on here. I took you in when you didn't know bulkogi from bullshit. I gave you your start, I gave you help, I gave you opportunities, all along the line. Now you want to play rough? Fine. You want to see the shit come down? Just fucking wait, Tom." He stood up.

Sanders said, "Bob, you've never been willing to listen to reason on the subject of Meredith Johnson."

"Oh, you think 1 have a problem with Meredith?" Garvin laughed harshly. "Listen, Tom: she was your girlfriend, but she was smart and independent, and you couldn't handle her. You were pissed when she dropped you. And now, all these years later, you're going to pay her back. That's what this is about. It has nothing to do with business ethics or breaking the law or sexual harassment or any other damned thing. It's personal, and it's petty. And you're so full of shit your eyes are brown."

And he stalked out of the restaurant, pushing angrily past Blackburn. Blackburn remained behind for a moment, staring at Sanders, and then hurried after his boss.

As Sanders walked back to his table, he passed a booth with several guys from Microsoft, including two major assholes from systems programming. Someone made a snorting pig sound. "Hey Mr. Piggy," said a low voice. "Suwee! Suwee!" "Couldn't get it up, huh?" Sanders walked on a few paces, then turned back. "Hey, guys," he said. "At least I'm not bending over and grabbing my ankles in latenight meetings with-" and he named a Programming head at Microsoft. They all roared with laughter. "Whoa ho!" "Mr. Piggy speaks!" "Oink oink." Sanders said, "What're you guys doing in town, anyway? They run short on K-Y jelly in Redmond?" "Whoa!" "The Piggy is pissed!" They were doubled over, laughing like college kids. They had a big pitcher of beer on the table. One of them said, "If Meredith Johnson pulled off her pants for me, I sure wouldn't call the police about it." "No way, Jose!" "Service with a smile!" "Hard charger!" "Ladies first!" "Ka-jung! Ka-jung!" They pounded the table, laughing. Sanders walked away.

Outside the restaurant, Garvin paced back and forth angrily on the pavement. Blackburn stood with the phone at his ear.

"Where is that fucking car?" Garvin said.

"I don't know, Bob."

"I told him to wait."

"I know, Bob. I'm trying to get him."

"Christ Almighty, the simplest things. Can't even get the fucking cars to work right."

"Maybe he had to go to the bathroom."

"So? How long does that take? Goddamn Sanders. Could you believe him?"

"No, I couldn't, Bob."

"I just don't understand. He won't deal with me on this. And I'm bending over backward here. I offer him his job back, I offer him his stock back, I offer him everything. And what does he do? Jesus."

"He's not a team player, Bob."

"You got that right. And he's not willing to meet us. We've got to get him to come to the table."

"Yes we do, Bob."

"He's not feeling it," Garvin said. "That's the problem."

"The story ran this morning. It can't have made him happy."

"Well, he's not feeling it."

Garvin paced again.

"There's the car," Blackburn said, pointing down the street. The Lincoln sedan was driving toward them.

"Finally," Garvin said. "Now look, Phil. I'm tired of wasting time on Sanders. We tried being nice, and it didn't work. That's the long and the short of it. So what are we going to do, to make him feel it?"

"I've been thinking about that," Phil said. "What's Sanders doing? I mean really doing? He's smearing Meredith, right?"

"Goddamn right."

"He didn't hesitate to smear her."

"He sure as hell didn't."

"And it's not true, what he's saying about her. But the thing about a smear is that it doesn't have to be true. It just has to be something people are willing to believe is true."

"So?"

"So maybe Sanders needs to see what that feels like."

"Like what feels like? What're you talking about?"

Blackburn stared thoughtfully at the approaching car. "I think that Tom's a violent man."

"Oh hell," Garvin said, "he's not. I've known him for years. He's a pussycat."