Michael Crichton - Disclosure

"So what's the deal?"

Fernandez looked at her notes. "You got your whole shopping list. They'll fire Johnson. They'll give you her job, if you want that. Or they'll reinstate you at your present position. Or they'll give you another position in the company. They'll pay you a hundred thousand in pain and suffering and they'll pay my fees. Or they'll negotiate a termination agreement, if you want that. In any case, they'll give you full stock options if and when the division goes public. Whether you choose to remain with the company or not."

`Jesus Christ."

She nodded. "Total capitulation."

"You really believe Blackburn means it?"

You can never trust a lawyer.

"Yes," she said. "Frankly, it's the first thing that has made any sense to me all day. They had to do this, Tom. Their exposure is too great, and the stakes are too high."

"And what about this briefing?"

"They're worried about the merger-as you suspected when all this began. They don't want to blow it with any sudden changes now. So they want you to participate in the briefing tomorrow with Johnson, as if everything was normal. Then early next week, Johnson will have a physical exam as part of her insurance for the new job. The exam will uncover serious health problems, maybe even cancer, which will force a regrettable change in management."

"I see."

He went to the window and looked out at the city. The clouds were higher, and the evening sun was breaking through. He took a deep breath.

"And if I don't participate in the briefing?"

"It's up to you, but I would, if I were you," Fernandez said. "At this point, you really are in a position to bring down the company. And what good is that?"

He took another deep breath. He was feeling better all the time.

"You're saying this is over," he said, finally.

"Yes. It's over, and you've won. You pulled it off: Congratulations, Tom."

She shook his hand.

`Jesus Christ," he said.

She stood up. "I'm going to draw up an instrument outlining my conversation with Blackburn, specifying these options, and send it to him for his signature in an hour. I'll call you when I have it signed. Meanwhile, I recommend you do whatever preparation you need for this meeting tomorrow, and get some much deserved rest. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay,"

It was slowly seeping into him, the realization that it was over. Really over. It had happened so suddenly and so completely, he was a little dazed.

"Congratulations again," Fernandez said. She folded her briefcase and left.

He was back in his office at about six. Cindy was leaving; she asked if he needed her, and he said he didn't. Sanders sat at his desk and stared out the window for a while, savoring the conclusion of the day. Through his open door, he watched as people left for the night, heading down the hall. Finally he called his wife in Phoenix to tell her the news, but her line was busy.

There was a knock at his door. He looked up and saw Blackburn standing there, looking apologetic. "Got a minute?"

"Sure."

"I just wanted to repeat to you, on a personal level, how sorry I am about all this. In the press of complex corporate problems like this, human values may get lost, despite the best of intentions. While we intend to be fair to everyone, sometimes we fail. And what is a corporation if not a human group, a group of human beings? We're all people, underneath it all. As Alexander Pope once said, `We're all just human.' So recognizing your own graciousness through all this, I want to say to you…

Sanders wasn't listening. He was tired; all he really heard was that Phil realized he had screwed up, and now was trying to repair things in his usual manner, by sucking up to someone he had earlier bullied.

Sanders interrupted, saying, "What about Bob?" Now that it was over, Sanders was having a lot of feelings about Garvin. Memories going back to his earliest days with the company. Garvin had been a kind of father to Sanders, and he wanted to hear from Garvin now. He wanted an apology. Or something.

"I imagine Bob's going to take a couple of days to come around," Blackburn said. "This was a very difficult decision for him to arrive at. I had to work very hard on him, on your behalf. And now he's got to figure out how to break it to Meredith. All that."

"Uh-huh."

"But he'll eventually talk to you. I know he will. Meanwhile, I wanted to go over a few things about the meeting tomorrow," Blackburn said. "It's for Marden, their CEO, and it's going to be a bit more formal than the way we usually do things. We'll be in the big conference room on the ground floor. It'll start at nine, and go to ten. Meredith will chair the meeting, and she'll call on all the division heads to give a summary of progress and problems in their divisions. Mary Anne first, then Don, then Mark, then you. Everyone will talk three to four minutes. Do it standing. Wear a jacket and tie. Use visuals if you have them, but stay away from technical details. Keep it an overview. In your case, they'll expect to hear mostly about Twinkle."

Sanders nodded. "All right. But there isn't really much new to report. We still haven't figured out what's wrong with the drives."

"That's fine. I don't think anybody expects a solution yet. Just emphasize the success of the prototypes, and the fact that we've overcome production problems before. Keep it upbeat, and keep it moving. If you have a prototype or a mock-up, you might want to bring it along."

"Okay."

"You know the stuff-bright rosy digital future, minor technical glitches won't stand in the way of progress."

"Meredith's okay with that?" he said. He was slightly disturbed to hear that she was chairing the meeting.

"Meredith is expecting all the heads to be upbeat and non-technical. There won't be a problem."

"Okay," Sanders said.

"Call me tonight if you want to go over your presentation," Blackburn said. "Or in the morning, early. Let's just finesse this session, and then we can move on. Start making changes next week."

Sanders nodded.

"You're the kind of man this company needs," Blackburn said. "I appreciate your understanding. And again, Tom, I'm sorry."

He left.

Sanders called down to the Diagnostics Group, to see if they had any further word. But there was no answer. He went out to the closet behind Cindy's desk and took out the AV materials: the big schematic drawing of the Twinkle drive, and the schematic of the production line in Malaysia. He could prop these on easels while he talked.

But as he thought about it, it occurred to him that Blackburn was right. A mock-up or a prototype would be good to have. In fact, he should probably bring one of the drives that Arthur had sent from KL. It reminded him that he should call Arthur in Malaysia. He dialed the number.

"Mr. Kahn's office."

"It's Tom Sanders calling."

The assistant sounded surprised. "Mr. Kahn is not here, Mr. Sanders."

"When is he expected back?"

"He's out of the office, Mr. Sanders. I don't know when he'll be back."

"I see." Sanders frowned. That was odd. With Mohammed Jafar missing, it was unlike Arthur to leave the plant without supervision.

The assistant said, "Can I give him a message?"

"No message, thanks."

He hung up, went down to the third floor to Cherry's programming group, and put his card in the slot to let himself in. The card popped back out, and the LED blinked oooo. It took him a moment to realize that they had cut off his access. Then he remembered the other card he had picked up earlier. He pushed it in the slot, and the door opened. Sanders went inside.

He was surprised to find the unit deserted. The programmers all kept strange hours; there was almost always somebody there, even at midnight.

He went to the Diagnostics room, where the drives were being studied. There were a series of benches, surrounded by electronic equipment and blackboards. The drives were set out on the benches, all covered in white cloth. The bright overhead quartz lights were off.