Delirious. Daniel James Palmer

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      “I spoke with Arthur Bean,” Harry said. “He decided not to even bother trying to change departments. He’s leaving SoluCent. But he did want to thank you for putting him in touch with your financial advisor.”

      “That’s good news,” Charlie said.

      The look in Harry’s eyes suggested that Bean still harbored a good deal of resentment over his dismissal. Charlie caught something else in Harry’s eyes, too, a look implying a link between his current crisis and karma.

      “Also, I got a good report out of our Albuquerque production plant. The plant manager promises that defect counts are down and within projections. Assembly issues seem to be slowing down, too. I also made an impassioned plea on all our behalves to our silicone provider for them to rush that shipment, with which they complied.”

      Charlie nodded. “Great job, Harry. I’m glad you’re on top of it.”

      Charlie tried to muster some of his characteristic passion for anyone who found solutions to complex problems, but it felt forced. Everything seemed unimportant and permanently tarnished. The idea of punishing Arthur Bean for ineptitude seemed almost comical now.

      “I don’t think you’ll need to go on-site and personally bail out the plant manager anymore. Although I told him that you were planning a trip,” Charlie said, with a slight sadness in his voice that he hadn’t intended.

      “Well…right… I…”

      Harry paused, and the two stopped outside the glass double doors to the office building entrance.

      “What is it, Harry?” Charlie asked.

      “Nothing. Just… Is everything all right, Charlie? We heard things. About yesterday. Mac called us into a meeting.”

      Charlie’s pulse quickened and his face flushed.

      “What did Mac tell you?” Charlie couldn’t hide a quivering undertone of rage. The situation was bad enough, but Magellan was Charlie’s team. They were his leadership council, a select group he trusted with every aspect of the InVision business. Mac had no right interjecting anything into Charlie’s organization without speaking directly to Charlie first. No matter how much trouble Charlie was in, Magellan was still his team to run.

      “Well,” Harry said, “he said there was a bit of a mix-up. Between you and Jerry Schmidt, and that he was going to speak with you about it today.”

      “That’s true,” Charlie said, feeling somewhat relieved. A mix-up was playing the situation down to the point of nonexistence.

      “But he made it sound like we might be working for someone else.”

      Charlie’s hands clenched into fists. He felt his muscles tightening and breathed deep to regain his composure. “He did? What made you think that?”

      Harry looked down at his feet. Charlie appreciated his loyalty and chided himself for the times he’d treated Harry unfairly. It was more times than he cared to remember.

      “He said you might not be well enough to lead the team. He made it sound like you might be really sick, Charlie. We’re all pretty concerned— Nancy, Tom, all of us. What’s going on? Is what Mac said true? Are you sick, Charlie?”

      “I don’t know, Harry,” Charlie said after a moment’s pause. “I guess I just don’t know.”

      Charlie opened the door for Harry and was about to follow him inside when his BlackBerry whistled from within his jacket pocket. Charlie extracted the device and saw an urgent message from Mac. It was a simple line, but it sent a shiver down Charlie’s spine.

      CANCELED MY 10. COME TO MY OFFICE IMMEDIATELY.

      Charlie read the line several times and wondered what had caused the change in plans. In Mac’s previous message, he had said to schedule a meeting through his assistant for sometime after lunch.

      “I need to go see Mac now,” Charlie said to Harry. “Would you do me a favor and tell the others that I’m fine? We’ll work this out. Okay?”

      “Sure, Charlie. Whatever you need,” Harry said.

      Charlie turned and headed across the parking lot toward Mac’s office, located in the same executive building as the Falcon conference room.

      In some respects Mac’s urgent request was a blessing. The last thing Charlie wanted was to be confronted by other Magellan teammates. But it was odd that Mac would cancel a meeting to address the Jerry Schmidt debacle. That damage had already been done. A meeting hours earlier wasn’t about to fix anything. To access the executive floor, Charlie needed to use his security badge. For the first time since becoming a SoluCent employee, he appreciated that access, as though it somehow assured him, for the moment at least, that he still had the life of a privileged corporate executive.

      He exited the elevator on the fourth floor of the four-story building and turned right down a corridor that was home to most of the executive marketing team, including Jerry Schmidt. Thankfully, Jerry wasn’t in his office when Charlie passed. He had enough on his plate without adding another confrontation with Jerry into the mix.

      As in most companies SoluCent’s size, the office buildings were under constant renovation and repair—new carpeting in the Jensen building, air-duct work outside Charlie’s office. It had become so constant that maintenance costs were factored into the company’s 10-Q SEC filings. It was not surprising, then, for Charlie to see much of the corridor leading to Mac’s office draped in green painting drop cloths from the floor almost to the ceiling. The painter, working on his hands and knees, was dabbing his white-tipped paint-brush at a spot near the baseboard and did not look up as Charlie passed. Charlie followed the drop cloths right into Mac’s office, where the same green cloths covered most of the walls.

      “Love what you’ve done to the place,” Charlie said as he crossed the threshold. He took a few steps forward and then went numb. Seated inside Mac’s spacious corner office, around a conference table in the center of the room, were Rudy Gomes, the senior security officer; Leon Yardley; and Mac.

      Charlie knew Gomes from a company user conference he’d attended in Phoenix a year back. An ex-rugby player, sizable but not outwardly intimidating, Gomes had a shock of red hair and a boyish face that often put his targets at ill-advised ease. He had his PI license and was essentially an investigator. He was tasked with rooting out internal corruption, such as expense-account violations, corporate spying, or the more benign but equally career-ending hobby of surfing the Web for adult content on company time.

      Seeing Yardley and Mac together was bad enough. Having Gomes involved escalated the situation way outside Charlie’s comfort zone. Each wore a grave expression.

      “Take a seat, Charlie,” Mac said.

      Simon Mackenzie was a ruggedly handsome man in his early fifties. The worry lines etched in Mac’s face had grown deeper since Charlie had seen him last; the gray in his hair more pronounced. Even seated, Mac’s six-two frame seemed smaller, sunken by whatever burden he carried. Mac had been one of Charlie’s strongest advocates since the acquisition. He believed in Charlie’s business acumen and had said on several occasions that he was starting to put the full-court press on Yardley to get Charlie promoted to a more senior role at SoluCent. The success of InVision would СКАЧАТЬ