CHAPTER seventeen
I opened the top drawer of my desk and pulled out the list of directors. The sheet of paper had each director’s name and beside the name were their various telephone numbers. Some of them had office, cellular, home, country home, ski chalet and hunting lodge telephone numbers. Beside two directors’ names, in pencil, was the phone number of their current mistress. Below the director’s information was their secretary's name and phone numbers. Oops. Executive Assistants, excuse me. It was very passé and uncouth to call someone a secretary nowadays. Everyone was an executive assistant. A junior clerk typist was an executive secretary. And most of them didn’t even work for executives. Up until the time I became a full fledged paralegal, I called a spade a spade and referred to myself as a secretary.
I started at the top of the list. It was seven-thirty on a Saturday night and I had to track down six people. I decided to put their secretaries to work. They should all know if their bosses were available on a Saturday night.
Bill Frankford’s secretary, Jessica, was the first on my list. Bill was a paper baron. At least that’s the way Oakes described him when he was bragging about our directors.
"Hello," a voice answered.
"Jessica?" I asked.
"That you Kate?" she replied.
"Yeah. Hi. Sorry to bother you. Chris needs to get in touch with Bill. Any idea where he is? I thought I’d start with you before I tried his numbers."
"He’s out at some social function and I don’t know if he’s got his cell phone with him. Want me to try him?" she offered.
"Please. Let him know Chris wants a board meeting at eight-thirty tonight. By phone. Call me back. If you get my voice mail leave me a message."
"All right. So they’re keeping you hopping on a Saturday night, aren’t they? Where’s Vanessa?" she asked.
"I got roped into it because I was in the office. She’s at home enjoying some peace and quiet," I said. I had to get a move on here to get in contact with everyone else, so I ended the conversation quickly.
I grabbed my Hilroy notebook that contained my doodlings and notes from each day and turned to a fresh page where I wrote down Bill’s name and marked beside it, l/m. Left message. Oakes would no doubt want a status report within the next fifteen seconds and I’d have to let him know the situation with each person. If I heard back that Bill was able to attend the meeting, I’d scratch out the l/m and write okay.
I had the same luck with the next four secretaries I talked to. They were all at home and would get in touch with their bosses. Whit Williams’ secretary didn’t answer her home phone number in Dallas, so I called his house directly. Sue-Ellen, his wife, answered on the fifth ring. She sounded out of breath.
"Sue-Ellen, it’s Kathleen Monahan at TechniGroup. How are you?" I started.
"Kathleen," she drawled. "How nice to hear from you." What a classy broad. I had probably interrupted her Saturday evening and she didn’t act the least bit put out.
"Sorry to bother you Sue-Ellen. Is Mr. Williams in?" I asked. I used the Mr. because with Sue-Ellen it seemed right to be formal.
"Certainly Kathleen. Hold on just a moment." There was a slight knock as she laid the phone down and I could hear her calling his name. Whitney Williams was an oil baron. We had lots of barons on our board. He insisted that everyone call him Whit. I waited a few minutes and he finally came on the phone.
"Kate," he bellowed. "How’s my favourite girl?"
"I’m just fine, Mr. Williams. How’re things in Dallas?"
"Glorious, just glorious. I’ve got my grand-kiddies here for the weekend and they were just teaching me how to use the computer. I’m not sure I’ve got the hang of it yet, though," he said with a chuckle. The man was a charmer and I liked him.
"Sorry to interrupt your computer lesson. Chris asked me to poll the directors to find out their availability for a board meeting. Tonight. In about an hour," I said.
"Fine, fine. Is there a number to call in to or will you call me?" he asked.
"We'll call you," I said.
"What’s the meeting about? Don’t we have one set up for later in the week?"
"Chris didn’t say," I said.
"Alright. Call me back," he said.
The red light on my phone was flashing indicating messages. Before I checked them I wrote down Whit’s name and okay beside it in my notebook. All six names were there now and I dialled my voice mail. Two confirmations and I scratched out l/m beside their names and marked okay. I looked at my watch and it was seven forty-five. Not bad for fifteen minutes. Three okay’s and three to go. My phone rang. It was Jessica.
"Hi Kate. Listen, Bill’s at a black-tie function at the Four Seasons. He said he can sneak out and you can patch him in through his cell phone. He wasn’t impressed that I called him in the middle of his shrimp cocktail," she giggled.
"Well, we can save him a few calories. I’ll probably call him about the time they’re serving the baked Alaska," I responded. I confirmed his cell phone number and marked okay beside his name.
While I waited for the other two secretaries to call me back I lit a cigarette and thought about everything. Rick Cox was in deep shit. And I think I knew what the board meeting was going to be about. Oakes was obviously about to make a power play and Cox wouldn’t be around to defend himself. Couple of babies, I thought. Oakes obviously knew about Grace’s investigation because he wanted her on the call for the meeting. And the most disturbing factor was the contents of those three memos.
The three regional vice presidents had sent memos detailing incidents involving Cox. One incident reported was on the west coast in a client meeting. The client was upset about the progress on their contract and Cox had chewed out our people in front of the client. Chewed out is probably mild. The memo said he was a raving lunatic and had embarrassed the company. Nothing about Cox embarrassing himself. I believed this story. Cox didn’t give a shit who he chewed out. His ranting and raving put professional wrestlers to shame.
The second memo was about Cox ordering the controller of our international division to falsely report revenue. I didn’t understand the mechanics of it but Cox was being accused of fraud. This story I didn’t believe. He may be a lunatic but I had trouble believing he would do anything criminal. Most of his ranting and raving was because he was a perfectionist, and the fact that he believed the people around him didn’t live up to his standards.
The third memo was just as bad as the others. It was from a female vice president who accused Cox of sexual harassment. She ended the memo threatening to charge Cox with sexual assault, and I didn’t know what to think about this one. The harassment accusation I could understand. Harassment takes many forms and verbal abuse is one form as far as I was concerned. I could understand it if she’d accused him of verbal harassment. The sexual side, I wasn’t so sure. Assault? Had I ever seen him get physical?
Regardless, Cox was history. Whether these stories were true was besides the point. Oakes had managed to get his people to write these memos and assuming that they were willing to confirm everything if asked, Cox was toast. Coupled with the stock option fiasco, Cox was finito. History. Oakes was victorious. Sure glad I’m not working for him, I thought selfishly. When he leaves, so does his secretary. I wondered if it was too soon to ask the office manager for his reserved parking spot.
I heard from the other two board members' secretaries in the next five minutes. It was five to eight when I headed back down the hall to Oakes’ office to give him an update. I could have called him but I knew he wouldn’t answer his phone. He never talks to a person, voice to voice, unless he initiates the call. His door was shut so I knocked before I opened the door. Grace was sitting across from him at the table and they both looked up when I came in.
"I’ve contacted the outside directors and everyone’s on board for a call at eight-thirty," I said.
"Get everyone on the line
," he replied. He started to speak again to Grace and I interrupted him. "Do me a favour then. When your phone rings at eight-thirty pick it up," I said. "If I have to get everyone on the phone I’ll have to do it from reception. My phone only has the capability to patch in five others. I need to use the switchboard and I don’t want to be running back here to make sure you pick up." He wasn’t listening.
"I’ll be sure to answer," Grace said. "Thanks Kathleen." It was a dismissal.
My stomach was grumbling and I knew there wasn’t enough time to go out and get something to eat before I had to make the call. I headed for the kitchen and thought about eating some left-overs in the fridge but my stomach turned at the thought. Ptomaine poisoning was not on my agenda for the weekend.
I settled for a coffee with sugar to stave off the headache I felt coming on. I had another 20 minutes to kill so I grabbed my cigarettes off my desk and headed for the reception to familiarize myself with the switchboard. It’d been a long time since I used the system and I wanted to make sure I knew what I was doing. If I cut one person off on this call, Oakes would consider it grounds for firing me. I needed the job.