Melissa Good: Tropical Storm

“Who in… Oh, uh, yeah. Right…Monday morning. Who else would be calling me at seven thirty? Hi, Dar.”

“I need Synergenics, Mark.” Dar released her parking brake and eased the Lexus up the metal gangplank, as the dockers washed the car down with fresh water to remove the salt spray from the ocean. “Now.”

“Aw…for chrissake, Dar, it was closed last friggin’ night!”

“I have a meeting there this afternoon, and I need the info, Mark. Get in there and get it, no whining,” she crisply told the manager of Information Services. “They have a bullshit system; it shouldn’t take you more than fifteen minutes to get in, if your reputation is up to it.”

Mark Polenti had been, in his younger years, both a hacker and a cracker.

That is, he raided computer systems and cracked security codes in devices such as long distance boxes. Now, he served as part of Dar’s advance team, which went in and got information on an acquisition, information that the new account usually didn’t want Dar to have. Things like personnel reports, workman’s compensation claims, insurance statistics…things she needed to Tropical Storm 9

base her slice-and-dice decisions on.

Only good, low-maintenance people would be candidates for transitioning, and that kind of information was usually kept back. For good reason. But Dar’s job was to incorporate the new account into the infrastructure as economically as possible, thereby making the account as profitable as possible. It was a simple formula, and relied on her ability to shift work from the new company to existing agencies within the corporation, thereby rendering the newcomers superfluous. They never saw it that way, though. They viewed her swooping in as a shark circling defenseless fish, and tried to hide in any nook and cranny they could to escape her teeth.

They never did.

She had the ability to strip resources to the bone and trim down an operation with a lightning speed that had gained her a justifiable reputation for savage, precise decisions. It was what had landed her the VP position, and what kept her as Alastair’s favorite girl, the one he handed the tough ones to.

She’d never let him down, and had no intention of starting with this one, especially since Synergenics was local. Their offices were right off Kendall Drive, and she could get to them without having to send the team on ahead by air. “Get going, Mark. I need the prelims by the time I hit the office.”

“Where are you?” The MIS chief queried, a rapid-fire clicking transmitting through along with his voice.

“McArthur, about to pass Star Island.”

A definite smug tone floated through the airwaves. “Tch tch tch…you’re slowing down, Dar. I’m in. I got the database. Which printer you want it at?”

Dar chuckled. “Mark the Shark…you are something else. AdminP2 will be fine.”

“Okay, sending. Man, this security is bullshit. No wonder these losers got inhaled.” The mutter was interspersed with clicking. “Oh well, no wonder…Novell. Oh, man, and unsecured gateways. Jesus, Dar, they don’t even have a frigging firewall!”

“Pathetic,” Dar agreed. “Who’s responsible for this mess?”

More ticking and then Mark said, “A…well, I’m assuming here, ’cause you never know, but a lady by the name of Kerry Stuart,” He continued,

“Hmm…hmm, hmm. …Hmm. …Ah. …Yep, bingo assumption. Ooo…hmm.

Hey, Dar, she’s cute.”

Dar rolled her eyes and sighed. “Can it, Mark.”

“Mmm-mmm, nice. Blonde hair, pretty green eyes. Jesus, she’s just a friggin’ kid. Twenty-six, not married, nothing on her medical side. Oh wait, heh…she had a pregnancy test just after Christmas last year. Negative.”

“Mark…”

“All right, all right. IT degree from Michigan State. She’s from somewhere up there in the boonies. Last job was for Edutech as their regional co-ord up in that neck of the woods. Oh hey, her father’s Senator Stuart.”

“Hmm…yeah?” Dar inquired, as she turned onto Brickell Avenue and headed south towards the high rise that housed the company. “He’s been courting the Troy office for some contribs. I remember hearing Lou complaining about it.” She directed the Lexus into the parking lot and up to the security gate, nodding to the guard as he opened it for her. “All right, can 10 Melissa Good you give me a folder on her, too?”

A chuckle sounded from the phone. “Do seagulls crap on your windshield? I’ll be nice and add a color picture to it.”

“Not necessary, Mark,” the executive warned. “That’s more your line.”

“Who said I was doing it for you?” The MIS chief chortled. “Bye.”

Dar chuckled softly as she turned into a spot and shut the car off, grabbing her briefcase, then taking a quick look in the rearview mirror before she got out and locked the car. “Another day, another gutting,” she commented to a passing cat, who gave her a look and dashed off.

“THEY’RE GONNA FIRE all of us,” Charles stated, for the sixth time in five minutes. “My cousin worked for Allied when they took over, so forget it.

We’re toast.” He was sitting on the small desk in his cubicle, his headset dangling around his neck and a Styrofoam cup in his hand.

“You don’t know that,” Elaine protested, glancing at her phone pad, which showed several lights blinking. “Who knows, maybe it’ll be better.

Maybe we can get pencils now,” she jiggled a small barrel on her desk, full of writing implements, “instead of having to go steal them from banks.”

The large room was more than usually noisy, most of the staff being occupied in talking about the merger, which was being referred to as a hostile takeover. Associated Synergenics was a company of about two hundred employees, dedicated to providing software and hardware solutions to the hospitality industry.

They had a core of programmers and engineers who designed systems for restaurants and hotels to manage their points of sale, their accounting, and other areas where computers were used for record keeping and analysis. Of course, they also had a group of support staff to answer questions, and a small department of hardware technicians, who installed the equipment and went out to provide service on it.

They were local, in the tri-county area of Dade, Broward, and Palm Beach, which provided enough customers to result in a slowly growing business. Everyone had been very optimistic about this year, especially after they’d landed a huge contract with Publix supermarkets, the major grocery retailer in the state of Florida. Now this.

Everyone was upset. It was like all their hard work was going to be swallowed up by this monolithic company who didn’t care about them, and certainly didn’t care about the customers they’d been so careful to attract and retain. It didn’t seem fair, really.

Charles sucked down the contents of his cup, then sat down with a grunt and put on his headset. “Guess I’d better at least pretend to work. Where the hell is everyone, anyway?”

Lana, a tall, thin brunette who sat on the other side of his cube, looked up.

“Big meeting. The brass called all of them up there about an hour ago. I guess to give them the bad news.” Her eyes focused on something. “Uh oh, here they come.”

They all turned as the doors to the front of the support center opened, and a group of managers filed in, ranging from the support manager, Ray, to Tropical Storm 11

the lead programmer, Susan. All of them looked grim. The last one in was Kerry Stuart, who leaned back against the closed door for a minute before she straightened her shoulders and nodded for everyone to move on ahead of her.

At twenty-six, Kerry looked hardly old enough to be a junior manager.