Redemption Mountain (52 page)

Lucien spoke up. “It's over, Charlie. Brand's got the votes to take over.”

Charlie sat down hard, surprised. “How could they vote? I'm on the executive committee!”

“Didn't need you, Charlie,” responded Berman. “Had a solid majority. Called an emergency session on the grounds that an important client needed to address the committee on short notice.”

“That's horseshit, and you know it. They can't do that!”

“They can,” said Lucien, “and they did.”

“They've got the votes, Charlie, that's the important thing,” said Berman.

Charlie was quiet for a few moments, thinking. Things were moving awfully quickly.

Lucien offered Charlie a cigar, which he declined. “Torkelson made it happen, Charlie. He, Tuthill, and Brand visited a few board members in person and called the others by phone. They reviewed the size of the revenue stream that the current OntAmex projects provide for DD&M and gave them a preview of all the new business they would direct DD&M's way over the next ten years—hydroelectrics in Canada, half a dozen gas and coal plants, a new plant in Mexico … You know the numbers.”

“Billions, if he can deliver them all,” said Charlie.

“And the immediate payoff—huge bonuses from the sale of the building.”

“Minus Torkelson and Tuthill's take,” added Charlie.

“Never be able to prove that part. They're too clever by far,” said Lucien.

Berman added, “Some of these guys will double their net worth in six months, plus there's the promise of an extremely profitable company for the rest of their careers.”

“Pretty hard to pass up,” said Charlie.

“Torkelson did a good job,” said Lucien somberly. He waved his cigar at Charlie with a laugh. “You're half responsible for this, Charlie, that great job you're doing in West Virginia. With that Redemption Mountain coal, OntAmex will have the most efficient large-scale generator in North America. That's significant—to OntAmex, Wall Street, and the politicians.”

“Which all helps the stock price,” Berman interjected, “and makes the merger with Continental Electric a better deal all around.”

“When you're flying as high as Torkelson, you have a lot of leverage,” said Lucien, “and he's using it to take control of DD&M. Sure, Brand will sit in this office, but Torkelson'll be calling the shots.” Lucien looked across the room to the picture of his father on the wall.

“Don't know what they have planned for you, Charlie,” admitted Lucien. “Brand knows you're too smart for him, but he also knows you're close to Duncan. That's a problem.”

Charlie smiled as he stood to leave for the boardroom. “That's a problem I'm not going to solve for him.” He shook hands with his two old friends. “I'll let you know what happens.”

*   *   *

S
OME OF THE
men in the boardroom were having cocktails and had loosened their ties when Charlie finally made his appearance, thirty minutes late. He shook hands with Larry Tuthill, but he didn't bother to greet Warren Brand. He nodded to Terry Summers and took a vacant seat not far from the door. In the corner of the room was a secretary to record the minutes.

When everyone was seated, Warren Brand moved to his chair at the middle of the table. He stared at some notes in front of him before looking over at Charlie. “Thanks for coming in,” he said. “This won't take long. You've met with Lucien,” he continued, “so you know what's happening here. The executive committee met in emergency session this afternoon, and, as of December, I will be managing partner and Lucien will be leaving the company—with an excellent package.”

Charlie's blood was boiling, but he sat calmly. Short of diving across the table and taking out some of Brand's cosmetically perfected front teeth, there was nothing to be gained from this meeting. Any grievance he had would have to become a legal issue.

“As for your own status,” Brand smiled, “you'll be off the exec, but we
do
have some great news for you.” He gestured toward Larry Tuthill. “Due to Larry's personal recommendation, we'd like you to wrap things up in West Virginia over the next few weeks, hand the project off to Summers, and then,” he paused dramatically, “we're going to give you what you wanted back in the spring: You'll take over the second dam project in China.”

Charlie stared blankly at Brand while he digested this new twist. He had to admit, he was surprised. Finally, he had to smile, forcing himself not to burst out laughing.
China! That's perfect. Brand gets him off the board and out of the country, and Torkelson gets him a world away from the OntAmex business and away from Duncan McCord.

“Okay, Warren,” he said, looking at his watch. “I've got some things to finish up in Red Bone. Then I'll think about China.” Charlie stood up. “But before I leave, I've gotta tell you guys what you've done here today.” He looked around at the other executive committee members. “Not Warren. This isn't new to him. He's always been a backbiting slug, whose only talent in this business was to find the right asshole to crawl up.”

Brand closed his notebook abruptly and stood up.

Charlie ignored him. “Now he's Torkelson's butt boy, and you guys are turning this company over to them. It's the beginning of the end.” Charlie put his hands in his pockets and looked around the table. “You've insulted and embarrassed Dietrich Delahunt and Mackey's greatest asset, the man who built this company.” Charlie shook his head in disgust. “What were you guys thinking?”

*   *   *

T
HE NOVEMBER AIR
was cold at 6:00
A.M.
The forecast said it would warm into the fifties with rain in the evening, but right now it felt like snow. Charlie wore gloves and a wool New York Giants hat against the cold. In the pouch at the front of his sweatshirt, he'd stuffed cotton mittens and a wool OntAmex hat for Natty.

He crossed Park Avenue, enjoying the rare opportunity to saunter leisurely across the deserted street. Weekend mornings were a magical time in Midtown, when he felt as if he had the magnificent city all to himself. A few cabs trundled home the casualties of a Friday night gone on too long. A street sweeper moved toward him like some sort of wounded animal. There wasn't another pedestrian in sight.

Crossing Fifth Avenue at the library, Charlie jogged across 42nd Street and then up Broadway through Times Square. He entered the Milford Plaza on 45th Street and looked around the lobby. Natty was nowhere in sight. He went out the Eighth Avenue entrance and walked to the corner to see if she'd gone out that door. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was only six twenty-five. He was early.

“Hey, soldier. Looking for a good time?”

Charlie laughed and turned to see Natty a few feet away. She wore a dark-blue warm-up suit with the top zipped all the way up and the collar raised. Her hands were stuffed in her pockets. Charlie was right—she hadn't brought gloves or her Spider-Man hat.

“Hi, Nat,” he said, pulling the mittens out of his pouch.

“Hey, Charlie.” He handed them to her and stretched the hat over her head. Natty thought he might kiss her, but he smiled and stepped back.

“Ready?” he said.

“Gotta do at least five miles to work off that dinner from last night.”

“C'mon,” he said. “I'll show you what heaven is like for a runner in New York.” They went north on Eighth Avenue, running at a slow pace to warm up and so they could talk easily. At Columbus Circle, they turned back down Broadway. Several joggers were headed into Central Park, but Charlie knew that wouldn't be as exciting for Natty as the streets of Manhattan.

As they ran through Times Square, Natty recounted Mabel's reaction to the New York prices, and Charlie laughed. They ran east on 39th Street, which was dark and cold, with no direct exposure yet to the morning light. Natty filled him in on their bus tour and was effusive in her praise for their dinner at Tavern on the Green. It was an experience the women would remember for the rest of their lives. Charlie was glad he'd added it to their itinerary. He knew that Tavern on the Green would make the women from West Virginia feel like high society.

Crossing Park Avenue, he showed her the Dietrich Delahunt & Mackey building on the next block south. He was staying in one of their corporate apartments.

“How come not in Manara…”

“Mamaroneck,” Charlie prompted. “No sense going up there. Ellen's in Florida playing tennis, and I had a meeting here yesterday afternoon.”

“Good meeting?” she asked.

Charlie hesitated, not wanting to get into it. “No, not really,” he admitted.

“Anything to do with Redemption Mountain?”

“Not entirely. Things are changing in the company.”

They ran up First Avenue so Charlie could show her the United Nations building, then he led her onto 48th Street headed west. “C'mon,” he said, surging ahead of her, “let's work up a sweat.” Natty responded easily, as he knew she would, settling comfortably into a more aggressive pace.

They turned right onto Lexington, and the wider avenue gave Natty the opportunity to see the height of the skyscrapers. By the time they reached 57th Street, they were both breathing deeply. They now had to dodge some morning dog-walkers and a few joggers wearing headphones. They ran down Fifth Avenue, slowing to a more leisurely pace so Natty could enjoy the stores and the opulence of the famous street. Charlie pointed out Tiffany's and Trump Tower, and Natty peered into several parked limousines to see if any celebrities could be seen behind the dark glass.

Suddenly Natty dashed across Fifth Avenue, dodging several cabs, and jogged down a side street. Charlie stopped and watched her slow to a walk in front of a basement shop. It was a chic beauty salon with a French name. He waited for her on the corner. “I just wanted to see when they opened,” she said. “But they got a little sign that says
BY APPOINTMENT ONLY.
” Charlie nodded, not wanting to tell her that a beauty salon off Fifth Avenue was probably a little out of her price range.

“I was planning on getting something done with my hair while I was here,” Natty said, pulling off the wool hat.

“Your hair looks fine,” said Charlie truthfully.

Natty laughed. “Yeah, like a mop somebody washed the gym floor with.” She pulled the hat on again.

Charlie laughed as he reached into a pocket for his cellphone. He stopped walking and put the phone to his ear, smiling at Natty. “Hello, Carlos,” he said. “I need a little favor.” After another minute, he folded up the phone. “C'mon,” he said to Natty. “I'll show you Rockefeller Center.”

They walked down Fifth Avenue at a leisurely pace. “You've got a nine-thirty appointment at the Carlos Marché Salon. He's a good friend of mine. The salon is on the first floor of our building, the one I pointed out. A car will pick you up in front of your hotel.”

Natty wrinkled up her nose. “A
car
?”

“The salon has its own limo for customers.”

“I don't know, Charlie. It sounds a little ritzy. Maybe I'll just skip it.”

“You know how hard it is to get an appointment there on a Saturday morning?” Charlie asked playfully.

“But, Charlie, I only got fifty dollars in my pocket. After that, I'll be walkin' around Times Square with a tin cup if I want another coffee at Starbucks.”

“Don't worry about it,” said Charlie. “Carlos owes me.” He wouldn't bother to tell Natty that fifty dollars was about the minimum tip for a stylist at Carlos's salon.

“Oh!” said Natty, reaching into a pocket of her sweatpants. “I almost forgot. This is for you.” She handed Charlie the extra ticket to
Les Misérables
. Charlie had planned to work for most of the day, then to meet Natty for dinner after the show. But it had been a couple of years since he'd seen
Les Mis
, and the thought of seeing Natty's reaction to the incredible show was too exciting to pass up.

“That's great,” he said. “I can't wait to see it again.”

“Again?” Natty squinted at him curiously. “How many times you seen this show?”

“This'll be the fourth.”

“It's that good?”

Charlie smiled. “It's better.”

They walked through Rockefeller Center, stopping for coffee and bagels to go, at a cost that Charlie refused to reveal. While they ate, he gave Natty a brief history of Rockefeller Center, pointing out the different buildings and the famous artwork on their façades. They stood at the railing of the ice rink, watching a lone maintenance man skate around the ice while pushing a wide shovel. He waved to them and did a graceful spin.

They walked by Radio City Music Hall and down the Avenue of the Americas to 45th Street. When they reached the corner of Broadway, Natty could see the awning of the Milford Plaza. She pulled off her mittens and hat and handed them to Charlie. “Here, save these for next time, okay?”

“How about tomorrow? Same time. We'll go downtown. I'll show you the Brooklyn Bridge, the most beautiful bridge in the world.”

“Sounds great, but we're leaving at 9:00
A.M.
Driving straight through going back.” She looked at Charlie, thinking how nice it would be to spend the whole day with him on Sunday instead of going home.

He smiled and reached out to brush aside the ever-present lock of hair that fell across her forehead. “We'll have dinner, after the show?”

“Sure,” Natty said, looking at her watch. “Uh-oh. Gotta get my shower, so I don't miss my
limousine
.”

“See you later,” called Charlie, turning to walk back to Park Avenue.

Natty walked a few steps toward the Milford Plaza, then turned to watch Charlie trot east across 45th. She wondered if he had any idea of how special the morning had been for her.
Running the streets of Manhattan with this wonderful, handsome man, sharing coffee and bagels, talking, and walking through Rockefeller Center on a Saturday morning—a morning she would remember for a long time to come.
She spun around and started walking toward the hotel.
Nah, Charlie wouldn't know anything about stuff like that.