The Job (13 page)

“He might eat too many doughnuts, but if the magazine’s a success, it’s due to Chuck. He’s really a top-notch publisher, and he knows the computer business inside out.”

“I am impressed, Edward. Such loyalty to the man who, just an hour ago, threatened to terminate you if you did not solve the GBS crisis.”

“JTnw rlirl vnn know that‘1”

“Because I instructed Chuck Zanussi to terminate you if you didn’t find a solution to this problem.”

“Thanks.”

Kreplin managed a muted chuckle.

“It is a test. And one which I know you will pass. Brilliantly. So Chuck Zanussi will not be firing you, will he?”

Phil, make the call.

“No, Klaus. He won’t.”

“Excellent. Because after the crisis-and indeed after Christmas-has passed, I will be firing Chuck Zanussi. Personally.”

I fingered the third glass of vodka-and tried to appear calm.

“You serious?” I asked.

“In business I am always serious, Edward.”

“I’m sure you are,” I said.

“So serious that I already know who Chuck’s successor will be.”

“And who’s the lucky guy?”

“You.”

I blinked.

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“No way.”

“It is all decided. Come January second, if you want it, we will appoint you the new publisher of CompuWorld. Congratulations.”

Without thinking, I raised the vodka glass and drained it.

“Uh … thanks.”

I couldn’t sleep. For an hour I stared up at the dancing shadows on our bedroom ceiling. The illuminated alarm clock by our bed said 3:12 A.M. I’d been home since two, having finally extracted myself from the clutches of Klaus Kreplin. After dropping that little bombshell about offering me Chuck’s job, he then quizzed me about my ideas for the magazine. I attempted to rise to the occasion, explaining how we could strengthen editorial content through provocative consumer guides, innovative features, and also increase our advertising market share (especially in the crucial Pacific Northwest battleground).

Around the fifth shot of vodka, I’d found myself saying, “There is no reason why-with proper marketing strategy-we can’t become number two in the business within twelve months. Computer America talks a good game, but they’re neither as low-rent as PC Globe nor as upscale as us. My approach would be to keep the overall visual style of the magazine up market but gradually broaden its appeal, focusing on the crucial home computing sector. And, of course, it wouldn’t hurt to go for a more cutting-edge visual approach.

“I mean, I’m not spouting anything original here. Just good old common-sense salesmanship. And if I do take the job-” “You are taking the job,” Kreplin said.

By the sixth shot of vodka, I was saying, “I’ve got to tell you, Klaus, I’m kind of freaking a bit….”

“Freaking?” he said, rolling the word around his tongue.

“Nervous. Scared. Guilty.”

“Nervous and scared I can understand,” he said.

“It is a normal human reaction to any great career advancement. But ‘guilty’? Edward, please. This is business.”

“Chuck is my boss.”

“And I am Chuck’s boss. And Dietrich Sanderling is my boss. And the shareholders are, ultimately, Herr Sanderling’s bosses. We all must answer to someone. And if that someone is displeased with us-” “He brought me into the company, he gave me my start….”

“As I said before, I greatly admire your belief in loyalty. But it is not you who are terminating him. And it is not as if you have schemed to provoke his downfall. I want him out because, to my mind, he is flabby. Flabby in weight, flabby in business. But if you think that by not taking this post you will save Chuck, you are wrong. He is finished here. Kaput.”

After we had worked our way through dinner and a $55 bottle of cabernet sauvignon, Kreplin shifted the conversation back to business.

“You have not once asked me about the money,” he said.

“Why is that?”

“We’ve been eating.”

“Very civil of you. Would you like to know the figure involved?”

“Absolutely.”

Kreplin gave one of his low little chuckles.

“Well, it is quite an attractive package. The basic salary is one hundred and fifty thousand dollars per annum, but you should be able to double that figure with profit participation and bonuses.”

I gulped.

“Of course, in addition to the standard IRA and full medical insurance plans, we will also provide you with a company car-your choice of vehicle, worth up to, say, fifty thousand. And we will pay for all garage costs. And if you are a member of a sports club… You are a tennis player, no?”

“You’ve done your research.”

“Naturally. Anyway, we will also cover the cost of the tennis club. Kiang-Sanderling likes its executives to be-how do you say it?—Infallible”

He called for the check, then said, “So… you approve of this package?”

I had hit the jackpot. Won the lottery. Broken the bank. Well, not exactly… but, Christ, three hundred grand a year? It was breathtaking. I was about to enter the major leagues.

“Klaus, I definitely approve.” Though as soon as I said that, I thought,.. . but I’m going to hate myself for betraying Chuck.

As the snow was too heavy for a drinking tour of SoHo, he insisted that I return with him to his suite at the Waldorf Towers for a nightcap. In the cab uptown, he turned to me.

“I must ask one favor of you.”

“Sure, Klaus.”

“It’s not a favor, actually. More of a mandate, I’m afraid. And it is this: You must not discuss this job offer with anyone.”

“I assumed as much.”

“By anyone, I mean you must not even raise the matter with your wife.”

“Well, she’s got to know. I mean, it is big news.”

“Agreed. And she will know. On Friday, January second. The day you return from your holiday in the West Indies.”

“Have you had someone tailing me, too?” I joked. Kreplin managed a smile.

“When we began considering the purchase of Getz-Braun a few months ago, I naturally began to examine the dossiers of the senior people in the titles I would be overseeing. And Chuck Zanussi was so enthusiastic in his praise of you, I began to investigate…”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Hang on,” I said, “are you telling me that Chuck knew about you buying the company months ago?”

“No-all he knew was that we were interested in Getz-Braun, and that, in September, we engaged in a feasability study, which included meeting with its top executives and examining the records of existing personnel. But then he heard nothing more about the sale until yesterday, when he was asked to stop by Chicago. In a takeover situation, secrecy is crucial.”

“He was certainly secretive about Kiang-Sanderling’s interest in us.”

“That is because he was instructed to remain silent ahoiit nur exploratory meetings. He didn’t know if the takeover would happen-and he was kept out of the communication loop until it was a fait accompli. What he did know, however, was that if he informed anyone about our interest in Getz-Braun, his future in the company would be nonexistent. So he wisely decided to keep his lip buttoned.”

“But now he’s still getting fired.”

“That, my friend, is the ebb and flow of corporate life. Do not fear-he will be handed a very handsome parachute before being pushed out of the plane. And we will not terminate him before Christmas-which, after all, would ruin his holiday. But there is an even more pressing reason why you must remain absolutely silent about your promotion. Our market surveyors fear that it might rattle CompuWorld’s advertisers, were word to get out before the New Year that we were installing a new publisher. At Kiang-Sanderling, we are very systematic about such matters. We plan them meticulously to minimize potential commercial damage, and to ensure the smoothest transition of power.”

“Understood-but, really, my wife won’t talk…”

“She is in public relations? No offense, but it is the nature of PR people to talk. Maybe she tells, in confidence, her closest colleague about your promotion. The closest colleague then tells, in confidence, her husband, who just happens to be the lawyer for a client who is purchasing a major network system from GBS. He mentions in passing to the client that he hears CompuWorld is getting a new publisher, the client casually drops this information during his next meeting with GBS, and before we know it-” “With due respect, Klaus-I really think you’re being a little overcautious.”

“With due respect, Edward-that is my prerogative, and one which I must ask you to honor. Because if word leaks out prior to your appointment, it may jeopardize things. Your wife will have a wonderful New Year’s surprise when you are made publisher on the second of January. All you will have to do is call her from the office on that day and act as if you have just been given the news. You are, from all accounts, a brilliant salesman. Which means you are also an actor. Surely, you will be able to act astonished and overwhelmed.”

“I suppose so….”

“So I do have your word that you will share this with no one?”

“Because if word leaks out prior to your appointment, it may jeopardize things.”

Three hundred grand. I nodded. Kreplin slapped me on the back.

“Excellent,” he said.

“The matter is settled.”

He had a corner suite on the seventeenth floor of the Waldorf Towers. It commanded a formidable view of the midtown skyline. The living room was the size of a football field. There were two bedrooms and a full-size kitchen.

“Quite a space,” I said.

“They like Kiang-Sanderling at the Waldorf, so they always upgrade us. Champagne?”

“Why not?”

He picked up the phone, called room service, and ordered a bottle of Krug. If he was trying to impress me with his “money-is-no-object” attitude, he was succeeding. About a minute later there was a knock on the door.

“Our guests have arrived,” Klaus said, moving toward the door.

“Guests?” I said.

“I didn’t know you were expecting…”

I didn’t get to finish that sentence, as in walked two very tall, very blonde, very heavily made up women. They were both in their mid-twenties. Handing Klaus their coats, they revealed near-matching little black dresses which fit them like surgical gloves. True escort agency material. I suddenly felt uneasy.

“Ladies,” Kreplin said, ushering them into the living room, “I would like you to meet my associate, Mr. Allen. Edward, this is Angelica, and this is Monique.”

“How ya doin”, hon?” said Monique, her strident vowels making it very clear that, despite her name, she was by no means French born and bred. They both arranged themselves on the sofa. Kreplin gave me one of his sharklike smiles-and I quickly understood that this was a test, a way for Kreplin to gauge my loyalty. If I played up my indignation about being set up with a couple of hookers (and this was definitely a well-planned set-up) he would dismiss me as self-righteous. If, however, I slept with Monique or Angelica, he’d have something on me… and he’d know that I was. at heart.

weak-someone who was willing to compromise his marriage in order to advance his career.

As Monique and Angelica fired up their cigarettes, Kreplin sidled up to me and whispered, “I hope you don’t mind this surprise.”

I chose my words carefully.

“It certainly is a surprise, Klaus.”

“But an amusing one, yes? A little Christmas treat from Kiang-Sanderling. Have you thoughts on which one you prefer?”

Angelica was chewing gum while puffing heavily on a Salem. Monique-God help her-looked like a slightly more up market version of those working girls you used to see on Eighth Avenue (but instead of wearing purple hot pants she was squeezed into a tight black number).

“Tell you what,” I whispered, “I’m going to take a leak. When I get back, we’ll decide. Okay?”

“Excellent,” he said.

The bathroom was massive-an acre of marble flooring, a sunken bathtub, gold taps. I sat on the edge of the tub, pondering my next move. The bastard had really dropped me into a tricky situation-to see how I’d react to its obvious pressures, no doubt. I couldn’t simply up and leave-that would be considered tactless and clumsy. But there was no way I was going to stay for the fireworks. I stood and absently patted the breast pocket of my jacket, touching my cell phone in the process. Bingo. Turning on the taps, I punched in one-five-one, a digital answering service that also could be programmed to give you wake-up calls. I checked my watch. 1:17.1 quickly tapped in 1:21 A.M.” pressed the star key twice, and then re pocketed the phone.

When I returned to the living room, the champagne had arrived. A room service waiter was popping the cork. Kreplin was sitting between Angelica and Monique, making small talk and trailing his left index finger up and down Angelica’s black-stockinged thigh. The two women both seemed supremely bored. No doubt they just wanted to get on with the job, get their money, and get on home to bed. But Kreplin was determined to be festive. As soon as the champagne was poured, he saw the waiter off with a $10 tip, then handed a glass to each of the women.

“You are familiar with Krug, ladies?” he asked.

“It’s got bubbles and it’s French, right?” asked Angelica.

“You know your champagne,” Kreplin said. Handing me a glass, he whispered in my ear, “Have you made your choice?”

I watched as Angelica spat her gum out into an ashtray before sipping the champagne. Why hadn’t the phone started ringing? Stalling for time, I said, “I’m going to let you make that decision, Klaus.”

“No, no, no. I am the host-so I must insist that you have first choice.”

“Where did you find these girls?”

“An agency we often use for ‘entertainment’ whenever we are in New York. A very reliable agency, so there are never any worries about disease.”

“That’s nice to know.”

“So, Edward, please-the meter is running. Your choice…”

I took a deep breath.

“Well…”

And then, thank God, my cell phone rang. Kreplin and the two women looked startled. I had to work at masking my relief.

“Yeah?” I said as I answered it. A digitalized voice said: “This is your one-twenty-one alarm clock call… This is your one-twenty-one alarm clock call.” I hugged the headset to my ear in an attempt to keep it inaudible to anyone but me.