Disclosure

Fernandez said, "What exactly are you going to do?"



"Meredith's problem is that she lies," Sanders said. "She's smooth, and she gets away with it. She's gotten away with it her whole life. I'm going to see if I can get her to make a single, very big lie."



He looked at his watch. It was eight forty-five.



The meeting would start in fifteen minutes.



The conference room was packed. There were fifteen Conley-White executives down one side of the table, with John Marden in the middle, and fifteen DigiCom executives down the other side, with Garvin in the middle.



Meredith Johnson stood at the head of the table and said, "Next, we'll hear from Tom Sanders. Tom, I wonder if you could review for us where we stand with the Twinkle drive. What is the status of our production there."



"Of course, Meredith." Sanders stood, his heart pounding. He walked to the front of the room. "By way of background, Twinkle is our code name for a stand-alone CD-ROM drive player which we expect to be revolutionary." He turned to the first of his charts. "CD-ROM is a small laser disk used to store data. It is cheap to manufacture, and can hold an enormous amount of information in any form-words, images, sound, video, and so on. You can put the equivalent of six hundred books on a single small disk, or, thanks to our research here, an hour and a half of video. And any combination. For example, you could make a textbook that combines text, pictures, short movie sequences, animated cartoons, and so on. Production costs will soon be at ten cents a unit."



He looked down the table. The Conley-White people were interested. Garvin was frowning. Meredith looked tense.



"But for CD-ROM to be effective, two things need to happen. First, we need a portable player. Like this." He held up the player, and then passed it down the Conley-White side.



"A five-hour battery, and an excellent screen. You can use it on a train, a bus, or in a classroom-anywhere you can use a book."



The executives looked at it, turned it over in their hands. Then they looked back at Sanders.



"The other problem with CD-ROM technology," Sanders said, "is that it's slow. It's sluggish getting to all that wonderful data. But the Twinkle drives that we have successfully made in prototype are twice as fast as any other drive in the world. And with added memory for our packing and unpacking images, it is as quick as a small computer. We expect to get the unit cost for these drives down to the price of a video-game unit within a year. And we are manufacturing the drives now. We have had some early problems, but we are solving them."



Meredith said, "Can you tell us more about that? I gather from talking to Arthur Kahn that we're still not clear on why the drives have problems."



"Actually, we are," Sanders said. "It turns out that the problems aren't serious at all. I expect them to be entirely resolved in a matter of days."



"Really." She raised her eyebrows. "Then we've found what the trouble is?"



"Yes, we have."



"That's wonderful news."



"Yes, it is."



"Very good news indeed," Ed Nichols said. "Was it a design problem?"



"No," Sanders said. "There's nothing wrong with the design we made here, just as there was nothing wrong with the prototypes. What we have is a fabrication problem involving the production line in Malaysia."



"What sort of problems?"



"It turns out," Sanders said, "that we don't have the proper equipment on the line. We should be using automatic chip installers to lock the controller chips and the RAM cache on the board, but the Malays on the line have been installing chips by hand. Literally pushing them in with their thumbs. And it turns out that the assembly line is dirty, so we're getting particulate matter in the split optics. We should have level-seven air handlers, but we only have level-five handlers installed. And it turns out that we should be ordering components like hinge rods and clips from one very reliable Singapore supplier, but the components are actually coming from another supplier. Less expensive, less reliable."



Meredith looked uneasy, but only for a moment. "Improper equipment, improper conditions, improper components . . ." She shook her head. "I'm sorry. Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you set up that line, Tom?"



"Yes, I did," Sanders said. "I went out to Kuala Lumpur last fall and set it up with Arthur Kahn and the local foreman, Mohammed Jafar."



"Then how is it that we have so many problems?"



"Unfortunately, there was a series ofbad judgment calls in setting up the line."



Meredith looked concerned. "Tom, we all know that you're extremely competent. How could this have happened?"



Sanders hesitated.



This was the moment.



"It happened because the line was changed," he said. "The specifications were altered."



"Altered? How?"



"I think that's something for you to explain to this group, Meredith," he said. "Since you ordered the changes."



"I ordered them?"



"That's right, Meredith."



"Tom, you must be mistaken," she said coolly. "I haven't had anything to do with that Malaysia line."



"Actually, you have," Sanders said. "You made two trips there, in November and December of last year."



"Two trips to Kuala Lumpur, yes. Because you mishandled a labor dispute with the Malaysian government. I went there and resolved the dispute. But I had nothing to do with the actual production line."



"I'd say you're mistaken, Meredith."



"I assure you," she said coldly. "I am not. I had nothing to do with the line, and any so-called changes."



"Actually, you went there and inspected the changes you ordered."



"I'm sorry, Tom. I didn't. I've never even seen the actual line."



On the screen behind her, the videotape of the newscast began to play silently with the sound off. The newscaster in coat and tie speaking to the camera.



Sanders said, "You never went to the plant itself?"



"Absolutely not, Tom. I don't know who could have told you such a thing or why you would say it now."



The screen behind the newscaster showed the DigiCom building in Malaysia, then the interior of the plant. The camera showed the production lines and an official inspection tour taking place. They saw Phil Blackburn, and alongside him, Meredith Johnson. The camera moved in on her as she chatted with one



of the workers.



There was a murmur in the room.



Meredith spun around and looked. "This is outrageous. This is out of context. I don't know where this could have come from-"



"Malaysia Channel Three. Their version of the BBC. I'm sorry, Meredith." The newscast segment finished and the screen went blank. Sanders made a gesture, and Cindy began moving around the table, handing a manila folder to each person.



Meredith said, "Wherever this so-called tape came from-"



Sanders said, "Ladies and gentlemen, if you will open your packets, you will find the first of a series of memos from the Operations Review Unit, which was under the direction of Ms. Johnson in the period in question. I direct your attention to the first memo, dated November eighteenth of last year. You will notice that it has been signed by Meredith Johnson, and it stipulates that the line will be changed to accommodate the labor demands of the Malay government. In particular, this first memo states that automated chip installers will not be included, but that this work will be done by hand. That made the Malay government happy, but it meant we couldn't manufacture the drives."



Johnson said, "But you see, what you are overlooking is that the Malays gave us no choice-"



"In that case, we should never have built the plant there," Sanders said, cutting her off. "Because we can't manufacture the intended product at those revised specifications. The tolerances are inadequate."



Johnson said, "Well, that may be your own opinion-"



"The second memo, dated December third, indicates that a cost-savings review diminished air-handling capacities on the line. Again, this is a variance in the specifications that I established. Again, it is critical-we can't manufacture high-performance drives under these conditions. The long and the short of it is that these decisions doomed the drives to failure."



"Now look," Johnson said. "If anybody believes that the failure of these drives is anything but your-"



"The third memo," Sanders said, "summarizes cost savings from the Operations Review Unit. You'll see that it claims an eleven percent reduction in operating costs. That savings has already been wiped out by fabrication delays, not counting our time-to-market delay costs. Even if we immediately restore the line, this eleven percent savings translates into a production cost increase, over the run, of nearly seventy percent. First year, it's a hundred and ninety percent increase.



"Now the next memo," Sanders said, "explains why this cost-cutting was adopted in the first place. During acquisition talks between Mr. Nichols and Ms. Johnson in the fall of last year, Ms. Johnson indicated she would demonstrate that it was possible to reduce high-technology development costs, which were a source of concern to Mr. Nichols when they were meeting at-"



"Oh Christ," Ed Nichols said, staring at the paper.



Meredith pushed forward, stepping in front of Sanders. "Excuse me, Tom," she said, speaking firmly, "but I really must interrupt you. I'm sorry to have to say this, but no one here is fooled by this little charade." She swept her arm wide, encompassing the room. "Or by your so-called evidence." She spoke more loudly. "You weren't present when these management decisions were carefully taken by the best minds in this company. You don't understand the thinking that lies behind them. And the false postures you are striking now, the so-called memos that you are holding up to convince us . . . No one here is persuaded." She gave him a pitying look. "It's all empty, Tom. Empty words, empty phrases. When it comes right down to it, you're all show and no substance. You think you can come in here and second-guess the management team? I'm here to tell you that you can't."



Garvin stood abruptly, and said, "Meredith-"



"Let me finish," Meredith said. She was flushed, angry. "Because this is important, Bob. This is the heart of what is wrong with this division. Yes, there were some decisions taken that may be questionable in retrospect. Yes, we tried innovative procedures which perhaps went too far. But that hardly excuses the behavior we see today. This calculated, manipulative attitude by an individual who will do anything-anything at all-to get ahead, to make a name for herself at the expense of others, who will savage the reputation of anyone who stands in her path-I mean, that stands in his path-this ruthless demeanor that we are seeing . . . No one is fooled by this, Tom. Not for a minute. We're being asked to accept the worst kind of fraudulence. And we simply won't do it. It's wrong. This is all wrong. And it is bound to catch up with you.



I'm sorry. You can't come here and do this. It simply won't work-it hasn't worked. That's all."



She stopped to catch her breath and looked around the table. Everyone was silent, motionless. Garvin was still standing; he appeared to be in shock. Slowly, Meredith seemed to realize that something was wrong. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter.



"I hope that I have . . . that I have accurately expressed the sentiments of everyone here. That's all I intended to do."



There was another silence. Then Garvin said, "Meredith, I wonder if you would leave the room for a few minutes."



Stunned, she stared at Garvin for a long moment. Then she said, "Of course, Bob."



"Thank you, Meredith."



Walking very erect, she left the room. The door clicked shut behind her.



John Marden sat forward and said, "Mr. Sanders, please continue with your presentation. In your view, how long will it be until the line is repaired and fully functioning?"



It was noon. Sanders sat in his office with his feet on his desk and stared out the window. The sun was shining brightly on the buildings around Pioneer Square. The sky was clear and cloudless. Mary Anne Hunter, wearing a business suit, came in and said, "I don't get it."



"Get what?"



"That news tape. Meredith must have known about it. Because she was there when they were shooting it."



"Oh, she knew about it, all right. But she never thought I'd get it. And she never thought she'd appear in it. She thought they'd only show Phil. You know-a Muslim country. In a story about executives, they usually just show the men."



"Uh-huh. So?"



"But Channel Three is the government station," Sanders said. "And the story that night was that the government had been only partially successful in negotiating changes in the DigiCom plant-that the foreign executives had been intransigent and uncooperative. It was a story intended to protect the reputation of Mr. Sayad, the finance minister. So the cameras focused on her."



"Because . . ."



"Because she was a woman."



"Foreign she-devil in a business suit? Can't make a deal with a feringi woman?"



"Something like that. Anyway, the story focused on her."



"And you got the tape."



"Yeah."



Hunter nodded. "Well," she said, "it's fine with me." She left the room, and Sanders was alone again, staring out the window.



After a while, Cindy came in and said, "The latest word is the acquisition is off."



Sanders shrugged. He was flat, drained. He didn't care.



Cindy said, "Are you hungry? I can get you some lunch."



"I'm not hungry. What are they doing now?"



"Garvin and Marden are talking."



"Still? It's been more than an hour."



"They just brought in Conley."



"Only Conley? Nobody else?"



"No. And Nichols has left the building."



"What about Meredith?"



"Nobody's seen her."



He leaned back in his chair. He stared out the window. His computer gave three beeps.



30 SECONDS TO DIRECT VIDEO LINKUP: DC/M-DC/S



SEN: A. KAHN



REC: T. SANDERS



Kahn was calling. Sanders smiled grimly. Cindy came in and said, "Arthur's going to call."



"I see that."



15 SECONDS TO DIRECT VIDEO LINKUP: DC/M-DC/S



Sanders adjusted his desk lamp and sat back. The screen blossomed, and he saw the shimmering image resolve. It was Arthur, in the plant.



"Oh, Tom. Good. I hope it's not too late," Arthur said.



"Too late for what?" Sanders said.



"I know there's a meeting today. There's something I have to tell you.



"What's that, Arthur?"



"Well, I'm afraid I haven't been entirely straightforward with you, Tom. It's about Meredith. She made changes in the line six or seven months ago, and I'm afraid she intends to blame that on you. Probably in the meeting today."



"I see."



"I feel terrible about this, Tom," Arthur said, hanging his head. "I don't know what to say."



"Don't say anything, Arthur," Sanders said.



Kahn smiled apologetically. "I wanted to tell you earlier. I really did. But Meredith kept saying that you would be out. I didn't know what to



do. She said there was a battle coming, and I had better pick the winner."



"You picked wrong, Arthur," Sanders said. "You're fired." He reached up and snapped off the television camera in front of him.



"What're you talking about?"



"You're fired, Arthur."



"But you can't do this to rue...," Kahn said. His image faded, began to shrink. "You can't-"



The screen was blank.



Fifteen minutes later, Mark Lewyn came by the office. He tugged at the neck of his black Armani T-shirt. "I think I'm an asshole," he said.



"Yeah. You are."



"It's just . . . I didn't understand the situation," he said.



"That's right, you didn't."



"What're you going to do now?"



"I just fired Arthur."



`Jesus. And what else?"



"I don't know. We'll see how it shakes out."



Lewyn nodded and went away nervously. Sanders decided to let him be nervous for a while. In the end, their friendship would be repaired. Adele and Susan were good friends. And Mark was too talented to replace in the company. But Lewyn could sweat for a while; it'd do him good.



At one o'clock, Cindy came in and said, "The word is Max Dorfman just went into the conference with Garvin and Marden."



"What about John Conley?"



"He's gone. He's with the accountants now."



"Then that's a good sign."



"And the word is Nichols was fired."



"Why do they think that?"



"He flew home an hour ago."



Fifteen minutes later, Sanders saw Ed Nichols walking down the hallway. Sanders got up and went out to Cindy's desk. "I thought you said Nichols went home."



"Well, that's what I heard," she said. "It's crazy. You know what they're saying about Meredith now?"



"What?"



"They say she's staying on."



"I don't believe it," Sanders said.



"Bill Everts told Stephanie Kaplan's assistant that Meredith Johnson is not going to be fired, that Garvin is backing her one hundred percent. Phil is going to take the rap for what happened in Malaysia but Garvin still believes Meredith is young and this shouldn't be held against her. So she's staying in her job."



"I don't believe it."



Cindy shrugged. "That's what they say," she said.



He went back to his office and stared out the window. He told himself it was just a rumor. After a while, the intercom buzzed. "Tom? Meredith Johnson just called. She wants to see you in her office right away."



Bright sunlight streamed in through the big windows on the fifth floor. The assistant outside Meredith's office was away from her desk. The door was ajar.



He knocked.



"Come in," Meredith Johnson said.



She was standing, leaning back against the edge of her desk, her arms folded across her chest. Waiting.



"Hello, Tom," she said.



"Meredith."



"Come in. I won't bite."



He came in, leaving the door open.



"I must say that you outdid yourself this morning, Tom. I was surprised at how much you were able to learn in a short time. And it was really quite resourceful, the approach you took in the meeting."



He said nothing.



"Yes, it was a really excellent effort. You feeling proud of yourself?" she said, staring hard at him.



"Meredith . . ."



"You think you've finally paid me back? Well, I have news for you, Tom. You don't know anything about what's really going on."



She pushed away from the desk, and as she moved away, he saw a cardboard packing box on the desktop beside the telephone. She walked around behind the desk, and began putting pictures and papers and a pen set into the box.



"This whole thing was Garvin's idea. For three years, Garvin's been looking for a buyer. He couldn't find one. Finally he sent me out, and I found him one. I went through twenty-seven different companies until I got to Conley-White. They were interested, and I sold them hard. I put in the hours. I did whatever I had to do to keep the deal moving forward. Whatever I had to do." She pushed more papers into the box angrily.



Sanders watched her.



"Garvin was happy as long as I was delivering Nichols to him on a platter," Johnson said. "He wasn't fussy about how I was doing it. He wasn't even interested. He just wanted it done. I busted my ass for him. Because the chance to get this job was a big break for me, a real career opportunity. Why shouldn't I have it? I did the work. I put the deal together. I earned this job. I beat you fairly."



Sanders said nothing.



"But that's not how it turns out, is it? Garvin won't support me when the going gets tough. Everybody said he was like a father to me. But he was just using me. He was just making a deal, any way he could. And that's all he's doing now. Just another fucking deal, and who cares who gets hurt. Everybody moves on. Now I've got to find an attorney to negotiate my severance package. Nobody gives a damn."



She closed the box and leaned on it. "But I beat you, fair and square, Tom. I don't deserve this. I've been screwed by the damned system."



"No you haven't," Sanders said, staring her straight in the eye. "You've been fucking your assistants for years. You've been taking every advantage of your position that you could. You've been cutting corners. You've been lazy. You've been living on image and every third word out of your mouth is a lie. Now you're feeling sorry for yourself. You think the system is what's wrong. But you know what, Meredith? The system didn't screw you. The system revealed you, and dumped you out. Because when you get right down to it, you're completely full of shit." He turned on his heel. "Have a nice trip. Wherever you're going."



He left the room, and slammed the door behind him.



He was back in his office five minutes later, still angry, pacing back and forth behind his desk.



Mary Anne Hunter came in, wearing a sweatshirt and exercise tights. She sat down, and put her running shoes up on Sanders's desk. "What're you all worked up about? The press conference?"



"What press conference?"



"They've scheduled a press conference for four o'clock."



"Who says?"



"Marian in PR. Swears it came from Garvin himself. And Marian's assistant has been calling the press and the stations."



Sanders shook his head. "It's too soon." Considering all that had happened, the press conference should not be held until the following day.



"I think so," Hunter said, nodding. "They must be going to announce that the merger has fallen through. You heard what they're saying about Blackburn?"



"No, what?"



"That Garvin made him a million-dollar settlement."



"I don't believe it."



"That's what they say."



"Ask Stephanie."



"Nobody's seen her. Supposedly she went back to Cupertino, to deal with finances now that the merger is off." Hunter got up and walked to the window. "At least it's a nice day."



"Yeah. Finally."



"I think I'll go for a run. I can't stand this waiting."



"I wouldn't leave the building."



She smiled. "Yeah, I guess not." She stood at the window for a while. Finally she said, "Well, what do you know . . ."



Sanders looked up. "What?"



Hunter pointed down toward the street. "Minivans. With antennas on the top. I guess there is going to be a press conference, after all."



They held the press conference at four, in the main downstairs conference room. Strobes flashed as Garvin stood before the microphone, at the end of the table.



"I have always believed," he said, "that women must be better represented in high corporate office. The women of America represent our nation's most important underutilized resource as we go into the twenty-first century. And this is true in high technology no less than in other industries. It is therefore with great pleasure that I announce, as part of our merger with Conley-White Communications, that the new Vice President at Digital Communications Seattle is a woman of great talent, drawn from within the ranks in our Cupertino headquarters. She has been a resourceful and dedicated member of the DigiCom team for many years, and I am sure she will be even more resourceful in the future. I am pleased to introduce now the new Vice President for Advanced Planning, Ms. Stephanie Kaplan."



There was applause, and Kaplan stepped to the microphone and brushed back her shock of gray hair. She wore a dark maroon suit and smiled quietly. "Thank you, Bob. And thanks to everyone who has worked so hard to make this division so great. I want to say particularly that I look forward to working with the outstanding division heads we have here, Mary Anne Hunter, Mark Lewyn, Don Cherry, and, of course, Tom Sanders. These talented people stand at the center of our company, and I intend to work hand in hand with them as we move into the future. As for myself, I have personal as well as professional ties here in Seattle, and I can say no more than that I am delighted, just delighted, to be here. And I look forward to a long and happy time in this wonderful city."



Back in his office, Sanders got a call from Fernandez. "I finally heard from Alan. Are you ready for this? Arthur A. Friend is on sabbatical in Nepal. Nobody goes into his office except his assistant and a couple of his most trusted students. In fact, there's only one student who has been there during the time he is away. A freshman in the chemistry department named Jonathan-"



"Kaplan," Sanders said.



"That's right. You know who he is?" Fernandez said.



"He's the boss's son. Stephanie Kaplan's just been named the new head of the division."



Fernandez was silent for a moment. "She must be a very remarkable woman," she said.



Garvin arranged a meeting with Fernandez at the Four Seasons Hotel. They sat in the small, dark bar off Fourth Avenue in the late afternoon.



"You did a hell of a job, Louise," he said. "But justice was not served, I can tell you that. An innocent woman took the fall for a clever, scheming man."



"Come on, Bob," she said. "Is that why you called me over here? To complain?"



"Honest to God, Louise, this harassment thing has gotten out of hand. Every company I know has at least a dozen of these cases now. Where will it end?"



"I'm not worried," she said. "It'll shake out."



"Eventually, maybe. But meanwhile innocent people-"



"I don't see many innocent people in my line of work," she said. "For example, it's come to my attention that DigiCom's board members were aware of Johnson's problem a year ago and did nothing to address it."



Garvin blinked. "Who told you that? It's completely untrue."