Chance Encounter Ch. 07

As he neared the alcove where the elevators were, he heard the loud click of a hotel room door opening. He stepped into the alcove and turned and looked back down the hall he had just come from, expecting to see the call girl coming toward him on her way to the elevators. The woman exiting the room went the opposite way. Paul couldn't mistake recognizing Allison Greene. She was dressed, but carried her pantyhose and heels instead of wearing them. Paul went downstairs to the bar and nursed a scotch. When he was done he called Allen Richardson on the house phone, who said that he was on his way down to meet with him. While he waited he hoped the bracing amber fluid would soothe him. It couldn't, and Paul knew the 'why' of his debacle with the Ethics Committee. Paul would say nothing about what he had seen upstairs, and he would tell Richardson about Greene's connection to Hopkins, although he couldn't explain to himself what good it would do.

He lifted his glass in a mock toast. "To the Ethics Committee!"

**************

Summer had nearly given way to Fall. In the City of Chicago, at Northwestern University School of Law, Glenda Mahoney sat at her desk her desk that guarded the Dean's office. She had acquiesced to save her position, serving her unjust imprisonment at the hands of Arthur Hopkins, and his minion, Dean Judson. She had made no attempt to escape, or to venture out of the confines they laid down for her. Each passing week was a step closer to the end of her sentence.

She had once been proud to be Confidential Secretary to the Dean. It had been the fulfillment of her career dreams. She had pulled herself up by her frayed bootstraps over the course of decades, after starting out life in the hole. Now, as pawn in Arthur Hopkins' game of revenge she plodded day-by-day in unsatisfying service to a man she despised

Glenda had given up on ever renewing her relationship with Paul. At first, her instincts told her to save what she had worked so hard for. Later, she regretted that she didn't have the courage to stand up to her tormentors. She knew that many women had sued—and won—over less. It was too late for courage now. It would be natural for Paul to move on. He had no stake in her and she knew that Paul would be in demand for many single women looking for a man. Glenda knew that most of the pursuers would be younger and much more beautiful than she was She couldn't see the point in fighting when there was nothing to win. There had been, of course, the shame of surrender. Perhaps, after her pension credits were filled, she would try for something better.

She was on the phone dealing with an insistent caller badgering for an audience with the Dean.

"Dean Judson doesn't see anyone without an appointment. You'll have to give me your name and state your business. I'll call you later if he wants to meet with you." Glenda was sure that it was a salesperson, or the parent of a rejected student looking for special consideration.

"If I could just drop in," pleaded the female voice on the other end of the line. "I'm in town today."

"No, that's not possible," Glenda repeated impatiently. "The Dean is out of town this week, anyway. You'll need an appointment. Now if you would just give me your name ..."

There was a click and the dial tone took over. Glenda hung up; glad that the annoying call was over.

At the other end of the line a woman's face took on a wry smile and she started to make some plans. Contrary to Glenda's assumptions, the news of Dean Judson's absence was welcome news because whom she really wanted to see was not the Dean, but Glenda. The caller had actually been speaking to Glenda on her cell phone from a coffee shop on the campus.

Shirley Kramer was a woman who was determined and had trouble with 'no' as an answer. She was about the same age as Glenda. Like her, she had been long-divorced and had built a career to stay off the welfare roles. She had grown to be a top headhunter for the firm of Waterman & Agostinelli. One of her biggest clients was Dunn Chemicals. From her Chicago office she stocked Dunn with accountants, engineers and other professionals. Today, she was on a 'missionary assignment' for one of her closest contacts at Dunn, Ted Wilson.

The 'Glenda Project' as she liked to call it, had been on Shirley's plate for a number of weeks. Ted had given her the details. At first it appeared like a routine task, but as she approached Glenda, she had been brusquely rejected. Unlike many in that position, Shirley was challenged, not deterred, by the candidate's reluctance. Because of their similar backgrounds, Shirley understood Glenda's motivations and fears as few people could. When she heard what had happened to Glenda, she was more determined than ever to help Glenda to put things right. The Dean's absence was her opening. She finished her coffee and made her way to the Law School.

At the Law School there was a screening desk. A student on work-study was filling in. Shirley passed some money and a phony story to gain admittance to the executive floor. Shirley found Glenda at her desk. Her practiced eye scanned Glenda's appearance and the neatness of her desk. Her presentation passed her test. Shirley slowly approached.

"May I help you?" Glenda asked.

"I'm Shirley Kramer of Waterman & Agostinelli," she stated. "I've come to meet with you."

They had spoken briefly over the phone on several occasions, each time ending in Glenda's rebuff. When Shirley made mention of her firm's name, Glenda placed her right away.

"What are you doing here?" Glenda demanded. "I told you that I wasn't interested. You could get me in a lot of trouble! How did you get past the screening desk, anyway?"

"You won't get in trouble," Shirley assured her. "Your boss is out of town this week."

"That was you!" Glenda exclaimed, as she put the clues together.

"Why don't you hear me out?" Shirley challenged her. "Then, if you're still not interested, I'll get off your back—permanently." Glenda hesitated, wondering if the wrong person might wander into the office at any moment.

"It's the only way you'll ever get rid of me. What have you got to lose?" Shirley continued.

Glenda summoned her courage and accepted the challenge. She ushered Shirley into a nearby conference room, and left the door open so she could keep her eye on her desk and listen for the telephone.

"I don't blame you for not wanting to get involved with me," Shirley started. "When it's over, you'll be glad that you did."

Glenda was skeptical, but complied when Shirley asked her for a summary of her career. Glenda's eyes started watering when she retold the tale of recent events.

"I started out like you," Shirley said. "I was divorced, had no income. I fought my way up the ladder. I understand what you're feeling. This job is all that you've got. It will take a lot of courage to let go of it. I'll help you."

Glenda felt a sisterhood with Shirley and started to trust her a little. Shirley informed her that there were three employers interested in interviewing her. One was the Law School at a nearby University. Another was a prestigious law firm downtown.

"Take those interviews first for practice," Shirley advised. "The real prize is the last one. I'll tell you about it after you've done the first two."

Glenda explained her pension problem to Shirley.

"We've dealt with that before," Shirley seemed unworried. "Leave that to me."

To Shirley's surprise, Glenda had a resume prepared. She kept it in an envelope in her purse.

"It was my little stab of defiance," Glenda explained.

Shirley took it from her and nodded. She would have the staff 'punch it up'.

Finally, the two women made arrangements to communicate without blowing Glenda's cover. They shook hands and Shirley left.

Glenda was shaking. She was nervous, but felt good. Shirley's visit looked like the real thing. Anything would be better than her present existence, and change was in the wind.

********

The leaves were beginning to turn orange. Paul was working in his office. He had the Corpus Christi analysis in front of him. Later he would meet with Jim Spencer about the Engineering Standards Project and Jim's recent trip to Peoria.

Marge was at her desk out in front of Paul's office, typing away at a report. She walked in carrying a coffee.

"I thought that you might like this," she said as she approached him and set the coffee down.

Paul was always amazed at how Marge could predict him. He was about to get a fresh cup. He knew that Marge had something on her mind, though, because Paul always got his own coffee unless he had guests.

"How's everything, Marge?" he asked as she set the coffee in front of him.

"Since you asked," she began, "I've had several dates with Walter Hartley. You know him. He's the choir director at the church. He's very nice, but ..." she hesitated to find the right words, "... slower to act than you were."

Paul stifled a laugh. He felt happy for Marge that she was seeing someone who she liked.

"I don't get it, Marge," he teased her. "Slower to act on what?"

Marge glared at him and that told him that she wasn't in the mood to be teased.

"Maybe he wants to keep up his church image," Paul said. "It could be that he's unsure of what you want."

Marge took a deep breath. She had anticipated Paul's answer.

"Marge, there's something else," Paul turned serious. "When I first went out with Glenda, I was unsure of myself. After Sally, I thought that I was through with that phase of my life. Then, I had to change course. Men are like big ships on the ocean. We don't change direction very easily."

"Didn't you want to?" Marge asked.

"There was a battle raging inside me. I thought that I had already plotted my course. I had to be convinced to change. There was a feeling that staying true to Sally, even after she was gone, was a way to keep her with me. I had a hard time understanding that she would always be there—and that there was room for someone else. The two didn't have to compete. I don't think women have that same problem. Give Walter some time, and he might come around."

"You're still thinking of Glenda, even now," Marge said.

"Yes, I do miss her. I think that she's gone, though. After all the times that I called and wrote her, the door was always open. For whatever the reason, she made a decision." Paul shrugged and shook his head.

Jim Spencer appeared at the door.

"Thanks Paul, I understand it better," she said in a way so the Jim didn't catch on.

************

Paul motioned his subordinate over to the conference table. Jim pulled out his notes on the Standards Project. It was a program that Paul had started when he arrived in his present job. Its purpose was to create uniform practices across the company for everything from determining specifications for equipment to the degrees and courses that personnel should have in various engineering positions. It was a big job. Dunn was a huge company, doing business all over the world. The person writing this manual would be prescribing engineering practice in the company for years. Paul had given the job to Spencer to give him preparation for work at higher levels.

"You've picked up the pace well and the team has better priorities since I put you in charge," Paul pronounced his assessment the progress. "You haven't been in touch with the foreign units enough," he continued. "I'll pave the way in the management meeting, and you schedule yourself to travel right after that. Can you handle the Peoria Project and this at the same time?"

"I can handle Peoria because there's nothing going on," Jim replied. "I know that a lot of lawyers are filling out a lot of forms."

"Keep me informed," Paul said. It was his way of closing a meeting.

"There is something else," Jim said. He handed Paul an unmarked large manila envelope.

"What is it?" Paul asked.

"You'd better see for yourself. It could be the thing that gets the Peoria Project off the ground again," Jim answered.

Paul didn't care for mysteries, so he unceremoniously tore at the envelope flap. The envelope contained three photographs, with the digital disk that Paul assumed contained the original images. Each photo was a slightly different rendition of the same event.

Paul glanced at Spencer, who waited patiently for Paul's verdict. Spencer remained silent and expressionless. Paul looked at the pictures again and then set them face down on the table.

"Where did you get these?" he demanded.

"Harry Carmichael gave them to me when I was in Peoria last week," he answered.

"That surprises me," Paul said. "What would you do with them if it was up to you?"

"It's a tough call." Jim replied.

"Never mind passing the buck!" Paul was angry. "What would you do?"

"I would use them. It's not like they don't deserve it. Look at what they've done. Look at Harry's company, at this company, at Bert Loehman. What about you and Glenda?" Spencer was on the defensive.

"You'd play hardball?" Paul confirmed.

"With them, I would," Spencer nodded.

Paul took a deep breath. Spencer's advice was so tempting. Paul silently added Audrey's name to the list of victims.

"Listen to me carefully, Jim," Paul lowered his voice and looked straight into him. "I won't do business like that. You are not going to, either. Most importantly, Dunn Chemicals will not. At least it won't happen as long as I'm sitting in this chair and it's my call."

Spencer cast looked down at the table, ashamed. He shook if head slightly.

"Surprised?" Paul asked.

"They hurt you as much as anyone," Jim said. "They had no reason except spite."

"Would revenge help? Would it bring Glenda back? I have to think of the integrity of the Company and the people in it. It's my responsibility," Paul replied.

"It was Glenda who gave Harry the photos," Jim told him. "She sought him out and handed them to him. She said that she called in a favor from the union steward at the University. A call was made to the shop steward at the hotel in the photo. After that, it was easy."

Paul was shocked at the revelation. He looked out the window as if looking for an answer. All he saw were the leaves falling profligately from what had been their strong foundations.

"It doesn't change my answer!" he turned back to Jim and declared. "Glenda's action can be understood. She's alone, frightened and angry. She's hurting worse than any of us. It doesn't make it right, but understandable."

"Alright," Jim said. "What do you want me to do?"

"Forget this ever happened. Think things over better the next time," Paul answered. "It's not your fault. You were just the carrier pigeon."

Paul buzzed for Marge.

"Marge, I want these photos shredded," Paul said. "Don't just leave them in a pile for shredding, do it yourself. Then destroy this disk."

Paul handed Marge the photos and she couldn't help looking at them. She understood the reason for Paul's command.

The photos were the images of two men. The photographer had obviously startled them. They were peering up at him from where they were, lying on a bed together. Both were nude. On his back was a man Paul later would find out was Dean Judson, Glenda's boss. On top, in the fellatio position was a man Paul knew well. It was Arthur Hopkins.

**********

Paul finally reached Arthur Hopkins on his cell phone.

Paul: Hello, Arthur. It's Paul Crane.

Hopkins: Hello, Paul. I haven't seen you in a while.

Paul: That's funny Arthur. I've been seeing a lot of you!

Hopkins: Do you mean that TV interview that I did a few weeks ago?

Paul: No, that wasn't it.

Hopkins: It must have been that lecture I gave at the University. I didn't see you there.

Paul: No, you're getting colder.

Hopkins: Get to the point, then. Where was it?

Paul: You were in a photo, Arthur, giving some guy a blow job!

Hopkins said nothing, but Paul could hear him breathing.

Paul: I suppose that you expect me to blackmail you, Arthur.

Hopkins: Isn't that why you're calling?

Paul: No. I'm letting you know that I shredded the pictures and smashed the disk that they were on. No one will use them. I'll beat you, Arthur, but I'm no blackmailer!

Hopkins: I'm supposed to believe that?

Paul: You have no choice, Arthur. Yes, you can believe it.

Hopkins: Where did you get them?

Paul: Mum's the word on that, Arthur. Goodbye.

Paul knew that he had to call Hopkins. Keeping silent would have been almost the same as actual blackmail. Paul had never thought that Hopkins wouldn't believe him when he said that the photos were gone. He thought about it and figured that he should have expected it. Despite the civility, he and Hopkins remained enemies.

All-in-all it was a satisfying call. Paul would never commit blackmail, but he didn't mind that Hopkins sweated it out. In a funny way, Hopkins was doing it to himself.

***********

In a coffee shop in the ground floor of the Sears Tower Glenda was having coffee with Shirley Kramer. Although she was taking a day of vacation, Glenda was dressed in her best navy suit. She looked good and all business. It was a final pep talk for Glenda before going to her most important interview. It would be just a couple blocks down the street at the Chicago Mercantile Exchange—the famous MERC. Glenda couldn't help being excited.

"You look great, you are great!" Shirley assured her. "You'll do great!"

"I've got time; it's a nice day. I think that I'll walk. It will give me a chance to relax and clear my head," said Glenda as she finished her coffee. '

"By the way, Shirley," she asked "you never told me how you came to get my name in the first place. I never sent out anything to say that I was looking to change jobs."

"Hmmm!" thought Shirley. "I know that you asked me that before, but I really don't know the answer. I think I got it inter-office or something."

Glenda passed Shirley a quizzical look, letting her know of the weakness in her story.

"This is no time to worry about it, that's for sure!" exclaimed Shirley. "You better get moving!"

The two women hugged and Glenda walked out of the coffee shop to her interview, and maybe to the rest of her life.

***********

Bert Loehman always prided himself on having the most energy-efficient house in the neighborhood. He considered it his duty as an engineer to set a good example. Agnes tolerated the Fall tradition of him climbing into the attic. There, Bert would carefully measure the inches of cellulose matter piled among the rafters. If it had settled, the inches would decrease and Bert would order a topping. Bert enjoyed calculating the 'R-value' and then estimating the annual heating cost based on average degree days and projected costs per therm. He would get the data from the local utility company.

Agnes used to roll her eyes as her aging husband pursued the dirty job each September. He would emerge from the attic covered with the stuff and declare how many inches he would have blown in. Agnes considered it a hobby. She never believed that the ground-up newspaper material worked. She didn't understand why Bert didn't just roll out some of the pink blankets of fiberglass and be done with it.

"Fire retardant!" Bert explained each year in one breath. "The cellulose is impregnated with bromic acid." So it was; he didn't expect Agnes to understand. It may have been the reason that he relished the project each Fall. Perhaps it was a hobby.

This year, Agnes was visiting her sister in Minnesota and was due to arrive home on the very day that the insulators were in process. That suited Bert. He wouldn't have to put up with Agnes 'tut-tutting' all the while as the workmen crawled about in her attic and worked the noisy compressor in the front yard. Agnes was philosophical. Bert was never a big football fan, so it was a good trade-off.