Remember Me (33 page)

on margin and I don’t have the cash to pay off the margin call, even if I sell everything I own.”

There it was in a nutshell. Tom was over-extended and the S 246 S

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combination of losses and his personality made him unpredictable. I needed to diffuse the situation. After quick thought I said, “How far…I mean how much do you need?”

Tom searched my face looking for some hope, “Twenty

grand.”

“I’ll advance it to you and spread your repayment out over the next twelve months, I said to him before I could change my mind. I didn’t like doing it, but I had that nagging feeling in the back of my head that I needed to stay one-step ahead of any potential catastrophe.

“I appreciate it,” he said instantly, the ever self-assuredness coming back into his demeanor. I saw the wheels already turning around behind his eyes. “Hopefully I can pay it back quicker,” he said with a rueful smile, “and with interest!”

“Whatever works for you,” I said matter-of-factly, “no interest is required.” I reached around and grabbed my personal checkbook from my back pants pocket. I looked over at the worktable and spied a pen. Moving towards the table, I turned my back on Tom, but not totally. I thought I saw a smirk spreading out on his face. It really didn’t matter in the long run, so I let it go. I wrote him the check and then headed out before I changed my mind or said something I shouldn’t. I was about to make my own broker’s day.

There was only an hour left before the markets closed for the day. Chance was currently out of the office and unavailable.

It didn’t surprise me a bit. His assistant sounded frazzled and near the end of her rope. The markets were in turmoil, and for many there was nothing that they could do to stop the bleed-ing. There was one stock that I wanted him to purchase for me in the next few days. When I told his assistant the reason for my call, she said she would get a hold of him.

Nearly ten days later, I was the owner of two-million dollars of Microsoft stock. Chance helped me through all the S 247 S

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legal potpourri of paperwork and questions to finally be able to make the trade. I couldn’t believe how long it took to get approval, but in the end I saved even more. Microsoft traded at $39.50 the day I bought it, down even more than Black Monday.

I didn’t have the time to make a trip to Vegas to bet on the World Series, so I did the next best thing, I hired CJ to go for me. I had to negotiate a hard deal with him. Not so hard in reality, he was more than happy to have an all-expense paid trip for two to Vegas, a pricey room at Caesar’s Palace, and five-grand in spending money. He also had my trust when I handed him the account number, password, and name of the bank in Vegas where I had transferred three million dollars. His name was on the account, along with mine. His charge, besides the free trip, was seven percent of the winnings. It took me a long time to get him to budge off of ten percent.

He called me on Black Monday to express his extreme

gratitude for my earlier market referral. He didn’t, however, offer to lower his commission when I brought that fact to light.

I was only rewarded with laughter, and someone in the background saying, “What’s so funny baby?”

The nineteen eighty-seven World Series was between the

Minnesota Twins and the St. Louis Cardinals. The Cardinals had been in the series three times over the last six years. The Twins had the worst won/lost record of any team ever making it to the Series. Even though the Cardinals were heavily favored to win, the Twins took the series four to three. The series had its share of fanfare. In the 6th inning of game seven, Tom Herr of the Cardinals was picked-off first base. The television replays showed he was clearly safe. It made a difference…maybe…

who can really say what might have happened. When it was all said and done, the Twins won.

I let CJ know ahead of time that the home team would

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win every game. He wanted to know about the final scores, and I couldn’t remember. “Did anyone pound the other one?”

he asked me more than once. I knew he was trying to gauge the spread, but I was useless on this front, nothing jogged my memories other than the bad call and who won. My three

million had turned into seven and a half, after concessions of course. I had no idea if CJ deposited all the winnings or not, and I didn’t ask. After the latest bets, even with the purchase of the warehouse and renovators, my net worth was approaching twenty million. If it was only nineteen ninety-eight, then I could make a huge killing in the stock market with my winnings. I would have to wait for time to catch up to me—a funny notion when you think about it from my perspective.

As soon as the last bit of money was deposited into my account in Vegas, I transferred it to an account at a new bank in Des Moines. I had years on the criminals and too many hours of CSI, Law & Order, and a host of other television shows to draw on in regards to criminal intent. I wasn’t ready to start setting up dummy corporations or bank accounts in

the Cayman Islands, not currently anyway…that time would probably come and probably sooner than later. One other notion had crossed my mind—C J and the “Family.” The bigger I got, the more likely they would consider making a push at me.

I knew it would eventually come. I knew it with an inherent certainty, but I couldn’t tell you why. It wouldn’t pay for me to currently establish a new identity, not with what I had invested in E.M.J. Down the road, I would most certainly need a back-up plan—should my current persona ever be subjected to scrutiny or jeopardized in some manner.

I thought about trying to buy my way out of the “Family,”

but realized that was an absurd thought. There would never be any end to the payments…ever. They had what they wanted—me! More precisely, they had my gift of foresight. I was S 249 S

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trapped. The best option lay in continuing to supply them with just enough insider information, and to build myself an impen-etrable fortress for when they chose to attack.

October gave way to November and things were progress—

ing on a fast track at E.M.J. Stebben had hired two others to join his staff. Both of them were clones of him. After two-weeks of increased banter between the “Boys” as Tom called them and Tom himself, I finally had to intercede. I met with each of them separately and then altogether. I felt that I had most of the facts straight. In essence, it was nothing more than a male-ego conflict. Who really had the most important position? I believe the item which caused the most stress was the brand new safe installed in my office. Only Stebben and I had the combination to it. It made Tom livid to believe he was not trusted with the combination.

At the meeting, I told them that Stacy had worked-up

the corporate structure for E.M.J and both Stebben and Tom would hold the title of Vice-president. Tom would become VP of Acquisition and Stebben the VP of Development. Stacy had conferred her opinion to me, or more rightly, strongly suggested these titles. Should the time ever come, many departments could be characterized under these two branches.

I didn’t argue and let them stand. When the subject turned to the issue of autonomy, I gave Tom and Stebben the speech about needing to be more team oriented. I had previously told Stebben that I would be doing this…not for his sake, but for the benefit of show. I also told him it would help if he and I could occasionally have a disagreement when Tom was around.

Stebben and I met many times away from the office to discuss our mutual ideas, one of which had been to install the safe. After the joint meeting, we were going to meet again to go over security measures. Tonight’s meeting was at an Irish pub called “McGintry’s.” We never met at the same place twice S 250 S

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and never drove there together. It hadn’t taken Stebben long to develop his own distrust of Tom.

“You won’t believe it, but Tom even asked Mark and

Samuel if they knew the combination to the safe, or if it was written down anywhere,” Stebben commented as he reached

for his ale.

“I believe it,” I countered. “I’ve got to tell you I always feel like he’s a moment away from doing something I’m going to regret.”

Laughing, Stebben responded, “Let’s just hope that we are always a step ahead, and the one who is going to have regrets is going to be him!”

“I hope so, but I can’t shake the feeling that it’s coming sooner than later.”

“The phone isn’t even kept in the safe. When it gets to the point where it needs to be dismantled; only parts of it will ever be at the plant at one time.”

“I know, but Tom has enough intelligence and arrogance to be crafty, and without any scruples he is a ticking bomb counting down.”

“Both Mark and Samuel has said to me that Tom has tried to

“Buddy them up.” Neither of them cares much for him either.

On a brighter note, I think sometime in the next month we’ll come up with a charging device for the phone. I’ve studied the circuit board with Samuel and he is watering at the mouth to see what’s on the mini hard drive.”

“And your explanation to Samuel for where it came from?”

I asked him as I took a pull from my beer.

“I told him it was from the future of course!”

I nearly blew my beer out through my nose as I coughed

and sputtered, “What!”

“Relax,” Stebben said lowering his voice, “I also told him we were a secret government agency working with captured S 251 S

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alien technology. I do believe Samuel got the point in a roundabout-way that the subject of how and where were off the table and not open for discussion.”

I wiped the beer droplets off my shirt the best I could. “Do you have any concerns about either Mark or Samuel,” I asked, trying to regain a little of my dignity.

“No, but who knows for sure,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Anyone at anytime could turn out to be a surprise.”

I nodded my head in complete agreement. “The priority

is to get the phone charged so it can be studied before it gets completely dismantled. After that we need to decide what component will make the most sense to develop as our first product.”

“I still think the mini-processor is going to be the way to go…only we develop one that is not as mini, nor as fast, allowing us the jump on introducing new updated technology at our own pace. When the time is right, I think we could make a transition to the cell phone market.”

“I’m not sure that we want to bridge that gap.” I responded.

I had my own thoughts on the direction we should take. I said to Stebben, “I’m still of the belief that we can benefit more as a company by being a component manufacturer instead. Once we hold the patent on the many different parts, we hold a monopoly on distribution and ultimately the demand.”

“You are aware that as soon as we put it out, someone

else is going to “tweak it” and redistribute it,” Stebben said thoughtfully.

“I know who the big players are going to be and as long as we hook them early and continue to provide them with superior products and price, we can hold our market share. The competition will always be following, not leading if I can help it.” Stebben looked down at his beer. He was lost in thought S 252 S

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and then he glanced back behind my shoulder, “Damn…Tom

is here!”

“What?” I said and quickly spun around to see Tom standing at the door and surveying the crowd. I caught his eye and with nothing else that I could do, I waved him over.

“Hey, what brings you two here?” he asked the moment he

was in range of the table.

Stebben responded, “The Tuesday night Ale specials and,

um, the battered mushrooms are pretty dang good too!”

I motioned Tom to sit down. As he sat I said, “Stebben had a notion about the phone and since the day was already too long at the office, we decided we should drink it out.”

Tom scrutinized me. His dark eyes didn’t hide the agitation he was carrying. “I would have gladly come if you’d asked, or is this more of a private meeting?”

“Not at all,” I said, trying to keep my comment light and carefree, “We just happened to be thirsty, and you are more than welcome to join in our impromptu discussion.”

Tom wasn’t buying it, “I have several of my own ideas, and I don’t like the feeling of being excluded from discussions!”

Tom’s eyes bore into Stebben’s and then fell upon my face.

“I see” I said. “If you remember…you and I had lunch a

couple of days ago without Stebben, and we discussed procure-ment of an imaging scanner.” My tone had become extremely sharp. I wasn’t going to babysit Tom or let him dictate company protocol to me. Angrily I said, “For now, I am the sole benefactor of this company. My money, my butt on the line, I really don’t have the time or the desire to assess, hash out, or even contemplate how my actions will affect you personally.”

Tom looked like he’d been hit with a left-hook that almost put him out. He was reeling, but not quite down. “You’re right of course…it’s just…the stress of trying to get everything right and not wanting to be the last to know. I didn’t mean anything S 253 S

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by it.” Tom smiled the smile of lies, the one that I would know in the future, and the one my Amy warned me about. It was believable in its appearance but totally without merit. “I’m just trying to make sure we are all on the same page. I’m doing the best I can and just trying to make sure I have all the information available to make the best decisions possible.”

“Noted,” I said. I looked over at Stebben. He was watching a couple of college girls at another table. He seemed oblivious to our conversation, but I knew better. I was putting all my trust in him, and I hoped to God he would live up to that trust.

“Stebben,” I said my voice much calmer than it had been a moment before.

“Yo boss,” he responded, and my eyebrow rose as I pondered his response. He laughed out loud and waved over the nearest waitress, “Three drafts and two orders of battered mushrooms, if you please.” The server wrote it down on a guest check slip and headed to the bar to get our beers.