Good King Sauerkraut (6 page)

“Agreed.” They didn't shake hands on it, mostly because they were on opposite sides of the room. But Dennis was so pleased with having the matter settled that he managed to get his other eye open. “Mimi Hargrove and Gregory Dillard won't have a chance,” he grinned. “When it's them against us, Osterman is gonna pick us.”

“We do have a problem, though,” King said. “Gale Fredericks. She refuses to have anything to do with military hardware. She may quit.”

Dennis swore. “Oh, that's just great, that is. Christ, I didn't know she was a peacenik. Come to think of it, though, she looked at me kind of funny when I told her about the MechoTech project.”

“It never came up before because we haven't had a DARPA contract since she started working here.”

“Hm. What did you tell her?”

“I put her off. I said wait until we find out what the project is—it might be an automated ambulance or the like.”

“Fat chance.”

“I know.”

Both men were silent. King took out a hardboiled egg and started peeling it; he hadn't taken time for breakfast. Dennis said, “Better start looking for a replacement.”

“
After
we've done everything we can think of to keep her,” King insisted. “Give her a monster bonus, double her salary, make her a partner—anything.”

“Ho, now, wait a minute. Make her a partner?”

“If that's what it takes.” King got up and emptied a handful of eggshell fragments in the general direction of Dennis's wastebasket. “She's indispensable, Dennis. And don't argue about it—she
is
. You're the money man. Figure out a way to keep her.”

“You're sure money will do it?”

King grimaced. “No. But I don't know what else to offer.”

Dennis chewed his bottom lip. “Okay, let me think about it. I'll see what I can come up with.”

King muttered his thanks and went out, leaving Dennis glaring at five or six bits of eggshell on his expensive carpet. King ate his egg and tried to think: what other than money might tempt Gale to stay? It came to him as a mild shock that he didn't really know anything about Gale Fredericks except for her work … and the fact that she had a husband named Bill. He didn't even know what Bill did for a living. Maybe something there, some help they could give him? If he was in business for himself, for instance, he probably could use some of Keystone's investment capital.

Back in the lab, he waited until his assistant had reached a stopping point before saying, “Gale, I just realized I never asked you—what kind of work does Bill do?”

“He sells computers,” she answered absently. “IBM clones mostly. He opened his own business last year.”

If she'd glanced up just then, Gale would have been surprised at the size of the smile on her boss's face.

Late Tuesday night, nine hours before he and Dennis were scheduled to take off from Greater Pittsburgh Airport, King suddenly thought about hotel reservations. Panicky, he called his partner to see if he had taken care of them.

“I was wondering if you were going to think of that,” Dennis answered with amusement. “Never fear, partner. We are MechoTech's guests. They keep an executive condo just for visiting VIPs like us, ahem. Red carpet treatment.”

“Ha!” King exclaimed. “Terrific. I don't like hotels anyway. Where will Mimi and Gregory be staying?”

“Same place.” There was a long and ominous silence. “King?”

“I heard you. Why didn't you tell me before?”

“Because I didn't want to listen to you bitching about it for four days, that's why.”

“Shit.”

“It might turn out to be a good thing. Maybe you and Mimi can kiss and make up.”

“And maybe pigs have wings.”

“Come on, King—you're going to be sweet as pie to that woman, aren't you?
Aren't you?
”

“
Yes!
” King yelled, and slammed down the receiver.

The phone rang immediately.

King snatched up the receiver and snarled, “Dennis, I
said
I'd be nice to her!”

“This isn't Dennis, and which ‘her' are you referring to?” The broadcaster voice rolled the words out with more resonance than they deserved.

“Oh, Russ, hello. Thought you were my partner.”

“I've been waiting to hear from you,” Russ said, “but then I realized it would never occur to you to call and apologize.”

“I was afraid you'd hang up.” It
hadn't
occurred to him. “I am sorry, Russ—I shouldn't have done what I did. Would it help if I gave you my word that it won't happen again?”

“Not much. The damage is done. You made Jill cry, you know.”

Somehow King couldn't believe that young Jill had burst into tears at the news of his departure; Russ wasn't above laying a little extra guilt on him for good measure. “What did you tell her?”

“That you'd taken ill and I'd called a cab and sent you home.”

“And she didn't believe it?”

“Of course not. She saw you leave with that other woman, uh, what's her name?”

“Teresa. What happened after I left?”

“Why, what do you think happened? I walked the two girls to their car and politely said good night. Tiffany was pissed and Jill was trying not to cry and since you weren't there they took it out on
me
. I want to thank you for one hell of an evening, King.”

The sarcasm was deserved, King admitted. “If I could undo it, I would. Did you get their last names? Maybe I could—”

“You think they'd tell me their names after the way you fucked things up? What about this Teresa? Did she give you her last name?”

“Yes,” King lied. “It's, ah, Brown.”

“Teresa Brown. And her number?”

“Yes, she gave me that too.”

“Well, how about sharing? You owe me, after Saturday.”

Oh ho,
that
was why he'd called. “I can't do that, Russ.”

“Why not? You engaged or something?” Russ's voice turned ugly. “You want to square things, King? This is the way to do it. Give me her number.”

King's skin was itching. Trapped in his own lie, he admitted he knew neither Teresa's last name nor where she could be reached—and endured the other man's crowing as stoically as he could. He was slightly affronted by the ease with which Russ accepted this new version of his Saturday night fling.

“So you deserted us for nothing,” Russ laughed. “You might as well have stayed.”

It wasn't
exactly
for nothing, but something warned him that Russ didn't want to hear that. “Yeah, I might as well have stayed.”

Once Russ was convinced that King had struck out too, he was content. He cheerily wished King a good trip before hanging up; they were buddies again.

King went to bed and wasted a good hour's sleeping time cussing into his pillow.

The next morning he left in what he thought was plenty of time, but the airport traffic was so heavy it looked as if everyone in Pittsburgh was catching an early flight that day. He had to wait in line to get into the parking lot, and he just missed the shuttle to the terminal. Rather than wait for the next one he lugged his suitcase to an outside check-in counter. He was sweating by the time he reached the gate, where Dennis was waiting impatiently. All the other passengers had boarded.

“What the hell happened?” Dennis snapped, starting down the boarding tunnel.

“Nothing happened. It just took me this long to get here.”

Dennis stepped on the plane. “Thank you,” he said to one of the flight attendants.

“Our pleasure,” she smiled.

“I had to ask them to hold the plane,” Dennis growled to King. “You should have left earlier.”

“They'll do that?” King asked, buckling himself in. “Hold a plane if you just ask them to?”

“It's still here, isn't it?” Dennis settled his briefcase on the floor between his feet.

It was still there twenty minutes later. Only when they were airborne did King remember he'd meant to go check on old Mrs. Rowe in the hospital before he left.

“Oh Christ,” Dennis moaned as the limo MechoTech had sent to meet them pulled up to the curb. “This isn't their good place—it must be a second one I didn't know about.”

It was an older apartment building that had been converted into a condominium, and it looked fine to King. But Dennis, obviously, had been expecting something grander.

“And on the fifth floor, too,” he complained on the elevator going up. “We'll get all the street noise.”

Mimi Hargrove and Gregory Dillard were already there, having arrived from California the night before. When King and Dennis walked in, the other two were in the living room where the television was tuned to The Movie Channel with the sound turned off. Gregory rose slowly, almost regally. He was a small-boned man, and not very tall; he compensated by making himself exquisitely graceful. He didn't have King's height or Dennis's good looks, but he did have presence. And he loved making bigger men feel clumsy.

There was a moment of awkwardness, with nobody smiling except Dennis. Gregory looked at King with unrevealing eyes; but Mimi didn't look at him at all, even when she spoke. But speak she did, and the initial hurdle was over. Gregory quickly established himself as the one in charge, the host welcoming the newcomers.

How are you, how was your trip
. Mimi looked different, King thought, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. She was as prosperous-looking as ever, as blond as ever, and as California as ever. “You look nice,” King told her, unable to think of a more original olive branch.

“Thank you,” she said coolly. “You look the same.”

He tried again. “Do you have any clue to what MechoTech's giving us, specifically?”

She unbent enough to answer, “Warren Osterman talked to us about so many different possibilities—everything from fiber-optic-guided robots to electromagnetic weapons systems. It's hard to guess which one he finally decided on. What did he say to you?”

“About the same. We're both guessing too.”

Dennis, in the meantime, was getting on with Gregory like a house afire. They were laughing and chatting like old friends; it occurred to King that Gregory might be trying to solicit Dennis's support in the coming showdown over who was to head the project. And Dennis … what was Dennis doing? King asked Mimi some innocuous question about programming and barely listened to her answer. Mimi or Gregory, Gregory or Mimi—Dennis was right; they'd decided between them which one was better suited for the job than King. All this jockeying for position, even before they knew what they'd be working on.

King couldn't put it off any longer; he had to speak to Gregory. He took a deep breath and went over to stand directly in front of the smaller man. He held out his hand and said, “Gregory—shake hands. I'm glad to be working with you at last, and I'm hoping you'll let bygones be bygones.” Dennis looked surprised.

Smiling as if he knew a secret, Gregory Dillard shook his hand. “That's fine with me, Sauerkraut. Just don't sell me out this time.”

“Never. San Francisco was a mistake. I wish to god I'd kept my big mouth shut.”

“San Francisco?” Dennis said.

“That could have been a big contract, you know,” Gregory went on in a tone of suprisingly mild reprimand.

“I know,” King said contritely. “I've been kicking myself ever since.”

“Ever since
what?
” Dennis demanded.

Mimi was the only one to pay any attention to him. “Your partner diverted some business away from us—just by saying the wrong thing at the right time, evidently. I wasn't there. It was Gregory he pulled the rug from under.”

Dennis looked daggers at King. “And everybody knew about it except me? Wonderful.”

King was still trying to convince Gregory of his sincerity. “There was nothing malicious about it, Gregory. I just didn't think. I'll do anything to make up for it.”

Gregory looked at him slyly. “Anything? Then turn down the directorship of the project.”

Pow
. King smiled uneasily, thinking he'd walked right into that one. “You don't beat around the bush, do you? All right, now it's out in the open. Every one of us wants to head this project, right? Well, I propose that we agree right now to accept Warren Osterman's decision unanimously. If he picks one of you, I'll go along with it. By the same token, if I get the nod—you don't challenge his choice. Agreed?”

Mimi laughed shortly. “That's hardly a generous offer, King. These projects almost invariably go to the head designer.”

“Yes, but you've been working on Osterman, haven't you?” he asked with a flash of insight. “And I haven't. That should even our chances pretty well, I'd think.”

The two from SmartSoft admitted nothing, neither by word nor expression. King smiled at them pleasantly, but inwardly he was in turmoil. The president of MechoTech
had
to see that only the head designer could direct the sort of complex work they'd be doing; if his evaluation of Warren Osterman's perceptiveness was wrong, King might have just handed the project over to Mimi and Gregory.

Help came from Dennis Cox. “Hey, folks, I don't count myself out of the running—but it seems to me King's suggestion is the only sensible course to follow. Whoever heads up the project, we're going to have to find a way to work together. Christ, it's not going to be all that hard. Tell you what. Give King and me some time to get settled in, and then we'll do lunch. We don't have to be at MechoTech until three.”

“Lunch sounds good,” Mimi said quickly, either because she was hungry or because she was playing for time.

Thinking that he really ought to learn how to ‘do' a lunch sometime, King looked at his watch. “Isn't it kind of early to eat?”