Chapter 18: Ruth at home – Toronto – January 19
Ruth sat in her favourite faux-leather office chair in her penthouse. Her uncle Chauncey sat across from her in his favourite, a wooden rocker. While they shared tea and biscuits, they reviewed her scrapbook. She recalled as she flipped it open, that Uncle Chauncey first gave it to her about a decade ago, after her first successful business acquisition.
She understood that outside of mothers with young children, she represented a very small minority of people who kept a scrapbook of their triumphs anymore. Of course, she also suspected that those mothers across the world who maintained such keepsakes did so for entirely sentimental reasons: Ruth's motives were similar but included a pragmatic component.
Ruth kept this pictorial business diary to both remind herself of past business successes and to review her philanthropic exploits. Along side of newspaper photos and stories announcing critical corporate successes, she also included notes about how she had caught cheaters in the past.
As she nibbled a biscuit, Uncle Chauncey pointed to one photo and announced it was one of his favourites. Ruth read her script- style, hand-written comments beside the photo. It was another antiquated-style hobby of hers.
She read very evenly, saying, "All the team and Uncle, celebrating in local bar with gins and tonic. Ruth on the camera. 93° F in shade that day."
They both laughed and recounted how Ruth's first venture onto a corporate board of directors eventually resulted in that company's CEO stepping down over a fraudulent housing scheme. She recalled it had started when the federal government in a particular African country provided a large financial grant and land, to a developer to build a communal housing project.
After workers completed the project, over a dozen complaints from the victimized to the federal government, identified that they wound up losing their promised housing to wealthy replacements. An initial investigation proved only that none of the replacement tenants would have qualified for the commune-style dwelling due to their high income, so Ruth set to work investigating the matter in more depth: she uncovered a bribery scheme.
Eventually, the bribery trail led back to the person at the very top of the controlling company. Ruth recalled the CEO accepted about $250,000 in total bribes, despite making an annual salary of over $1.2 million. She recalled feeling a sense of irony over the matter: he could not have done it for need, just greed.
After a moment of reflection, Uncle Chauncey chipped in suddenly stating, "Remember the look on that CEO chap's face when the media blokes snapped his shot after you exposed his lies? I thought he might die in his seat, but then I decided his look instead rather resembled a fellow relieving himself in his trousers!"
Mildly admonishing him, Ruth declared, "Uncle Chauncey – you are incorrigible!"
They laughed together and then Chauncey brought up the matter of today's business, asking, "So Ruthy, when can we expect this duo of loveliness to appear for a briefing?"
Ruth provided a demure return glance at her uncle and announced, "Uncle, you know they will be here any minute. You needn't be coy with me. I know you fancy them both!"
Her 83-year-old uncle mildly retorted, "And what sane man half my age wouldn't?"
Continuing her tone, Ruth reasoned, "A man half your age would be slightly past 40 and thus; unlikely to pursue a 52 year-old woman. A no-nonsense geologist like Dr. Henderson would hardly be attractive to a man like that, surely!" She had referred to one of the two women they had hired to form a team to investigate Malevcon's mining activities in Peru.
With admiration, Chauncey declared, "52! By Jove, she's a . . . now what do you young people call them today . . . a . . . panther!"
"A panther? Uncle, I think you've got it wrong," began Ruth.
Chauncey interrupted, "Well, er . . . a predatory feline, then. Some form of man-eater at any rate. I thought the young people had a modern term for it."
Slowly, Ruth explained, "I believe 'cougar' is your term, Uncle Chauncey, but darling; that term describes a woman closer to my own age, and one who men in their twenties find attractive!"
Still mock-plaintive, Chauncey continued, "Speak for yourself – at my age even a young senior citizen qualifies – you know, if she's still active with those modern exercise programs, such as yogar, Tea chee, and the like!"
Correcting him, Ruth explained, "I think you mean 'tai chi', uncle!" His comment reminded her also, that many British people have great difficulty not adding an 'r' to the end of foreign words that end in an 'a'.
Still absorbed by his octogenarian fantasy, Chauncey continued, "Yes, that's it – spot on girl – at any rate, so long as she is sporty!"
As she scrutinized an 8 X 10 glossy, Ruth recalled that while she had found them a geologist, Chauncey had found the actor. The glossy was the actor's photo résumé. Guardedly, Ruth remarked, "You don't think you overdid it with this actress you hired. I mean, as I examine her . . . professional photo . . ."
Chauncey interrupted, "In the theatre, actresses call them 'head shots', dear. Do try to use the proper term – very important for their egos, you see!"
Not wanting to hurt his feelings, Ruth stated, "Only, I meant that while she seems excessively pretty; how might she be in the intelligence department? That is, not to put it too bluntly, uncle!"
Undaunted, Chauncey continued, "No offence taken, Ruthy. Bob's your uncle, eh! Now the thing is, your nemesis chap . . . uh, Ferguson, is it?"
Still in complete control of her emotions, Ruth remarked, "Dr. Ferengson, the lecherous swine who pillages the land."
Mispronouncing his name again, Chauncey interjected, "That's it! Spit spot – Ferguson! Now, here is a proper villain, cad, bounder, and scoundrel! Nothing short of vilification and seeing him pilloried in the public stocks will do!"
Thinking he was overreacting a tad, Ruth declared, "Goodness, that sounds severe, uncle!"
As he snapped off a large chunk of chocolate-covered finger-shaped biscuit, Chauncey explained, "Ahh, but you see my dear, I know these types – ran into them in that Korean police action back in '54. Can't trust 'em – bad eggs! Rotten to the core – you have to teach them a proper lesson!"
"I understand that, uncle, but," began Ruth, "I hope you didn't select her solely based on her pretty face!"
Chauncey reasoned, "Ahh, but that is exactly how we lure the villain! He cannot resist a pretty face; thus, we will provide him one!"
Concerned, Ruth questioned, "But what if she cannot remember what to do when the time comes?"
Confident, Chauncey explained, "She is an actress, Ruthy. She is certain to be most comfortable upon the stage . . . pretending! Why, I am sure she shall be a natural!"
Before Ruth could respond, ground floor security buzzed to request clearance for two 'female guests identifying themselves as Dr. Theresa Henderson and actor Tillie O'Saunter'. Ruth granted clearance and then stood awaiting her guests in the foyer. Uncle Chauncey trundled forth to join her. Eventually they heard the doorbell, Chauncey opened the door, and then said, "Come in, ladies. You are most welcome!"
Ruth poured tea for all, and then over the next hour, she and their newly hired performers listened as her wily old uncle explained his intricate plan of deceit. They heard how she and her uncle had agreed shortly after her Nazca press conference that precision timing was of the essence if Ruth were to expose wrong-doing on Malevcon's part; thus, they should come up with a plan to infiltrate the mine as safely as possible, but at a time when Malevcon management's guard was down.
Chauncey had convinced Ruth during their discussion that she was too public a figure these days to be involved in any sort of 'front line' attempt to trick management: in the current day, it was highly likely someone would recognize her on sight, even miners in Peru.
On the other hand, when Ruth had explained to Chauncey that Ferengson could not resist the charms of attractive women, Chauncey had reasoned with her that they should hire both a real geologist to provide expert on-site diagnosis, and an entir
ely false one – a beautiful actress – to play a distracting role.
The false one should be able to distract him from his work responsibilities. If the beautiful actress could succeed at this, then during the distraction, the real geologist could find out if any wrongdoing was happening.
Ruth poured a second round of tea for everyone as her uncle unveiled the specifics of his plan to the newly hired pair. Ruth was still a tad sceptical about hiring an actor; but deferred to her uncle's wisdom and experience. He was a retired military major from the British army and known for being a keen strategist there.
After Chauncey had explained his plans to everyone twice, he allowed them all a short break. Thereafter, he insisted that they each recite their role to him. He started with Dr. Henderson. As she prepared herself to speak, he admired her. To him, she looked a smart woman with a 'no-nonsense' stamp upon her.
"Now then, Dr. Henderson, you may proceed," began Chauncey, with a certain military flare.
Politely, Theresa asked, "Should I address you as 'Major', sir, during my recital?" Because she seemed so serious, no one imagined her to be in any way sarcastic.
Smiling, Chauncey replied, "That's not necessary, my dear." Then he explained, "That was my title in the army, but this is civilian life. You see, in civilian life we have a chance to do great things that will benefit all humankind and leave a better world for tomorrow. In the army on the other hand, our efforts were entirely ineffectual. War is simply the excuse politician's use to distract citizens from poor governance and to cull the population. Why, I imagine the present Canadian government very much laments the country was not involved in the Vietnam War – less of these baby boomers would be left for them to pay pensions to . . ."
Knowing her uncle had a tendency unintentionally to wander off topic, Ruth tactfully interrupted, "Uncle? You still have not answered Theresa's question and we are all, I believe, on rather tight schedules."
Immediately apologetic, Chauncey began, "Oh, yes, sorry all . . . bad habit." Then he pointed to an obvious scar on his forehead, and explained, "Bit of shrapnel during the war, you see – affects the mind somewhat."
Maintaining the same polite tone, Theresa asked "Ahh, so, sir, how shall I address you again?"
"Yes, quite right. Chauncey is my name," began Chauncey. Then he kissed her hand, raised both of his extremely overgrown eyebrows at Theresa admiringly, and added, "But you may call me . . . anytime!"
While Theresa smiled weakly and curtsied uncomfortably to him, Ruth firmly, but playfully, reproached him, saying, "Ahem, uncle; behave!"
"Okay, Chauncey," began Theresa. "As I understand it, I will be playing the part of bumbling secretary to Tillie's alluring geologist, while Ruth waits in the car unnoticed at the Malevcon mining site in Peru."
Raising his arm and pointing his index finger upwards, Chauncey loudly declared, "Correct!" Then Chauncey asked, "And why are you at the site?"
As if reciting, Theresa continued, "We are at the site performing an inspection that Ruth has already arranged for March 16th, but one which she will demand a rescheduling for . . . for February 23rd, uh, 35 days from now! This earlier date should catch them unprepared."
As before, Chauncey declared, "Correct!" Then, he asked, "But why will you pretend to be a secretary, while the lovely Tillie plays your part, so to speak?"
"By playing an underling," continued Theresa, "I will not be respected by those 'hairy Latino womanizing bastards', sir – to use your vernacular – and thus, I will be free eventually to break away from the tour and perform some unescorted but necessary surveillance of the site."
Delighted, Chauncey exclaimed, "Perfect!" Then he politely requested, "I'll ask you to take a seat, but only temporarily my dear, so that we can hear what Miss O'Saunter has to say."
Smiling, Theresa replied, "Certainly, Chauncey!" Then she smoothed the backside of her dress as she sat back down.
Tillie jumped up enthusiastically awaiting her turn. She quickly primped herself in preparation, and then gleefully announced, "My turn!"
As if by habit, like a drill sergeant, Chauncey announced, "Wait for it!" Then, he sipped his tea, chomped another chocolate-covered finger-shaped biscuit, and said, "Right then, off you go!"
"Okay, my turn," began the actor. "I'm Tillie, but I will be playing Dr. Theresa Henderson, and it is my job to distract Dr. Sven Ferengson using my . . . assets." She paused, and then ran her arms in the air down her body as if to display her assets.
Delighted with her start, Chauncey exclaimed, "Excellent, Miss O'Saunter!" Smiling at her and admiring her assets, Chauncey requested, "Tell us specifically how you will distract Ferguson."
Conspiratorially, and overdoing it, Tillie explained, "Well, I will play 'haughty and dismissive' to everyone but Ferengson. To him I will send come-hither glances and winks when I think no one else is watching."
Doubly impressed by her looks and demeanour, Chauncey declared, "Excellent again!" He asked, "Now then, exactly how will you lure Ferguson – and only him – into the depths of the mine and away from his authoritative duties, also making sure he has no phone access?"
Ruth determined that her uncle was certainly providing Tillie with far more help than he gave Theresa, but then, she expected that.
Tillie answered, "Oh yeah, well, when 'my secretary' tells me in front of all those sweaty, swarthy, manly escort guards, that she needs to visit the bathroom because of a 'woman's problem', then they will assuredly not accompany her to the bathroom because, as you said, they are sexist pigs!"
Chauncey interjected, "Ah, yes, well put, my dear. Excellent! Do keep going . . ."
Picking up his cue, Tillie continued, "Once the real Dr. Henderson exits the bathroom – and having already phoned Ruth to alert her to meet her – then, she will rendezvous with her there, and begin a tour of their own."
Chauncey continued to lead her, saying, "Perfect . . . and by then you will . . ."
Interrupting with precision, Tillie answered, "Probably have Ferengson's hands all over me in some dingy elevator shaft by the sound of it!" After she answered, she laughed loudly at her clever remark, and then so did the others.
Ruth added, "Probably truer than you know!" Then she focused a mild stare at her uncle. Are you sure about this?
Ignoring his niece for the moment, Chauncey delicately continued, "Okay, let us address this specifically, Tillie . . . if he wants to kiss you . . ."
Confidently interrupting him, Tillie stated, "Sir Chauncey, don't you worry, I am a professional. We professional actors know that the results are most believable when you 'play for truth'."
"Indeed," replied Chauncey admiringly. Then he began, "Why, I once played Shakespeare a time or two in my boarding school youth. I recall the school news reporter writing that, 'few boys his age could have displayed the depth of feeling' I did, when I played in Romeo and Juliet!"
With reverence, Tillie interjected, "Really, Sir Chauncey? I suppose you were the Romeo for the century then?"
"Actually, it was a smaller part – all boys' school – I played Juliet's nurse," confessed Chauncey. Then he refocused, and suggested, "But anyways, I am encouraged by your enthusiasm, my dear. It would be best if he wants a kiss . . . give it your best!"
"I will, sir," replied Tillie. Then she remembered, and added, "And if he tries to make a phone call, I will threaten to stop our one-on-one if anything interrupts it!"
"Excellent!" announced Chauncey. Then he turned to Theresa and said, "Now then, Miss Henderson, your turn again!"
Ruth interrupted, "Excuse me, uncle, but this is Dr. Henderson!"
"Yes, yes, sorry, doctor," began Chauncey. Then he explained, "I'm rather excited just at present."
With mild sarcasm, Theresa responded, "I can see that, Chauncey." Then she continued in her recital style, explaining, "Okay, so I will flash my credentials and act authoritative – even dropping the phrase 'I have General Hank Wessel's full authority to conduct this inspection!' if I need some clout. M
eanwhile, Ruth will be dressed identically to the secretary as I was, and will take my place as secretary, except she will wear a kerchief and . . . the ugliest pair of big sunglasses I have ever seen, by the way."
"Rather," interjected Chauncey idly. He added, "I believe you may be right about those, doctor!"
"Anyways," continued Theresa, "Ruth will sport a visible large video camera that will be running, but which is actually a decoy. She will also have a miniature lapel-mounted video and sound camera turned on and running the whole time!"
"Top form, doctor," began Chauncey, and then he asked, "And why the 'double camera' trick?"
"Because if the 'fiery, hairy Latinos bastards' decide to bust the camera," began Theresa, "then they will think they have quelled the threat. They aren't likely to suspect we are still filming with a second camera. We will also have footage of their attack, making them look like they have something to hide!"
"Top shelf, doctor – please continue," interjected Chauncey, and then he sipped his tea.
"In addition, if the General gets involved by phone after this happens," continued Theresa, "then I will personally denounce their behaviour to him complaining that I brought the camera along because Wessel himself personally assured Ruth he had nothing to hide; as in 'our intentions are honest – what about yours'?"
Chauncey exclaimed, "Perfect, perfect!"
Theresa inhaled and then foraged on, explaining, "Finally, if we find any wrongdoing, and if Ruth manages to stay incognito for the whole visit, then we will reveal her 'live' to her own camera later; place her video on YouTube anonymously; and pray that it goes viral!"
Placing his cup down, Chauncey declared, "Superb, doctor!" Then, respectful that he had helped Tillie, he phrased his next question accordingly, "One last thing; if the underlings demand that you do call Wessel for verification, Wessel will assuredly ask where Ferguson is – and if somehow the latter manages to escape Tillie, then you are to . . ."
Quickly finishing his sentence, Theresa answered, "Scuttle the mission at our end to avoid Ferengson detecting that Ruth is with us!"
Standing and shouting it out, Chauncey said, "Brilliant, doctor!" Then he gleefully added, "I am so impressed with you all. I wish I could be there to see it all play out . . . alas, my gout!"
Like a cheerleader, Tillie added, "Don't worry; we'll pull it off!"
Clasping his hands together, Chauncey announced, "You three ladies are all angels!"
Theresa asked, "Does that make us . . . Chauncey's Angels?"
Laughter followed, and then they reviewed their plan one more time and Ruth reminded them of the departure date. She also explained to them that their flight was private, but that it would still take off from Pearson International in Toronto. They would meet to leave together from Ruth's office on Friday, February 20th, in the mid afternoon.
Before departing, Dr. Henderson asked, "Ruth, did you decide yet when to ask Wessel for the schedule change?"
Ruth replied, "Actually, doctor, I'm glad you brought that up. In your professional opinion, how much longer do you think I can hold off making the request . . . within reason?"
"I think I'd need more information, first," began Theresa. She asked, "What would hold you back from waiting until the last minute?"
Ruth replied, "It is tricky to balance my protective pursuits with shareholder obligations. The later I wait on both fronts, the more problems I will face."
Nodding her head, Theresa replied, "I think I get it. You need to do it sooner to catch Malevcon in any wrongdoing, but not so soon that they can easily cover it up."
"Precisely," answered Ruth. "Considering all the issues, I don't think I can delay the request to reschedule, for longer than a week!"
Theresa suggested, "I think a week is entirely reasonable. Perhaps try a week from tomorrow on the 27th."
"Perfect," said Ruth. After that exchange, they said their goodbyes.
Ruth closed the door and spotted her Uncle Chauncey about to light his pipe in her living room. She politely reminded him, saying, "Darling, remember that we don't smoke our pipe in the living room any more."
"Oh yes, of course! Sorry, Ruthy," said Chauncey as he grabbed his cardigan and headed for the balcony. He pointed to his scar, and repeated, "Bit of shrapnel in the war, you know." She smiled knowingly back and watched him as he ventured through the sliding glass doors.