Business Doctors - Management Consulting Gone Wild (21 page)

“You haven’t left me with much choice, Schneider. That’s what I’ll have to do.”

Woody extinguished the cigar, got up and walked towards his car. Schneider got up to leave as well.

“Michael,” a familiar voice called out from behind him. Schneider turned his head to see Angie walking down the stairs and coming towards him. He quickly looked out of the house. Woody’s car drove out of the gates.
How does she always time everything perfectly,
he wondered.

“You didn’t tell me that this money had to be in hard cash,” Schneider said to Angie. “There’s no way all this can be converted into greenbacks overnight or even in a week’s time.”

“We don’t have to, Michael,” Angie didn’t seem to be bothered about others eavesdropping onto their conversation. Maybe there wasn’t anyone else in the house. “Don’t you realize it? We don’t have to.”

“What do you mean,
we don’t have to
?”

Angie raised one eyebrow and pouted her lips. For the first time, Schneider struggled to see the innocence in her expressions. This time, the look seemed more sinister.

“So you had this planned!” Schneider was hoping against hope to hear a negative response, but knowing well that he wasn’t going to get any.

Chapter 19

Despite the availability of technology, certain procedures and processes within the underworld business were felt too sacred to be touched by the winds of change. Face-to-face meetings were one of those. Woody waited on the outskirts of Las Vegas with his guards. The place, the day and the time were pre-determined and it was an unwritten rule that they couldn’t be changed. Woody had to be there, with or without the cash.

The glitz and the glamour that the casinos on the Strip provided were conspicuous by their absence out in the desert where Woody stood. This was what Las Vegas was really like, baring itself in all its glory. Over the horizon, the Mojave Desert with its multitude of cactus species loomed large. The sheer heat seemed to percolate down to every living thing and suck the life with each breath. It was only ten in the morning, but with the sun beating down hard, it felt as if it was past noon. Woody was not accustomed to the heat. He could have waited inside his limousine and enjoyed a cool beer within the air-conditioned interiors. But he was still out there, waiting for the other car to arrive. It finally did, kicking up a huge plume of dust and sand as it drove close to Woody’s car and stopped.

The door of the other limo opened and a muscular man in a black suit stepped out first. He held the door open for the owner of the car. A tall, baldpated, well-built man in his late fifties stepped out.

“Mac, good to see you again,” Woody approached him with his hand outstretched, a plastic smile on his face. It was Stevie McMohan, his old time business partner and at one time, his good friend. But things had soured between them over time. Due to the overlaps in their business, they had still maintained ties, strictly professional ties.

“So you got the money, Woody?” Stevie came straight to the point and ignored Woody’s outstretched hand.

“I need a little more time, Mac,” Woody slowly pulled his hand back. “The money is all there, I just need to organize a few things.”

Stevie looked to the skies, smiled and shook his head.  “A little voice in my head was telling me all the while. Woody is not going to get the money. But I thought a promise is a promise. So I should not totally write you off. You know what I like about you, Woody? You’ve got balls of steel to stand here right in front of me and tell me you don’t have my money. But I know you are not lying. I really appreciate that quality in you. You speak the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth…I like that…you know what I don’t like? The fact that you’ve got balls, but no brains.”

“What are you talking about, Mac?”

Stevie smiled again, “See? Senor No-Brains at work again. I’ll tell you what I’m talking about. When you ask me for money, I give it to you, without any questions, in good faith. And when I give you the ultimatum to pay me back, you shit your pants. You find out you have less than a week to find six million dollars. So what do you do? You unleash
your new dimwit recruits all over the place to do the job for you, without realizing where and how they’d raise so much money from. Got anything to say about that, Woody? Do you know where they went or what they did, huh?”

“I, er -”

“Don’t even bother with an answer, Woody, coz I know you have no freakin’ clue. See these marks on my wrists, my forehead?” Stevie displayed his bruises.

“They go out a
nd kidnap the same guy who poured water on your ass when it was on fire.”

He was getting more agitated with every passing moment. His voice was getting louder. All of a sudden, he paused. His voice dropped.

“Why am I screaming? Let’s all calm down and think about this with a cool head. Point one. We are here to settle dues. I gave you my money, but you can’t give it to me now. Unlike you, I still have a thriving business. I’ll find ways to get my money back from other sources. Point two. I’m not like you. I’m honest. If you give me something, I feel obliged to return it back.”

Stevie reached for his gun, a chrome 500 Magnum that was shining and glistening majestically in the sun – a true work of art and at the same time, an unparalleled beast of a handgun. Before Woody’s two guards could react, Stevie’s guards who had already pulled out their guns shot them both. Woody watched his men fall to the ground. Stevie came closer to Woody and held the gun on Woody’s temple. “You made the mistake of laying your hands on me, and caused me pain. In return, I give you the gift of…death. It was fun while it lasted, buddy, but it has to end. Au revoir.”

* * *

The news from Las Vegas spread fast. The lack of access to newspapers and television did not stop it from reaching the WFB interns.

“Did you hear the story?” asked Jamal. “Could be the rumor mills working overtime, for all you know.”

“No, this one doesn’t seem like one of those. I was chatting up with the WFB guard,” without looking back, Bullet gestured at the guard waiting outside, “…and he claimed that it’s true…straight from his chums in Vegas.”

Schneider had ordered the guards not to interact with the interns. So far, they had followed protocol. But with Woody gone, the guards had broken the rule. They cared two hoots for what Schneider or any other outsider wanted. For Schneider, this was a big concern. If the new recruits staged a mutiny now, there was very little he could do to rein them in.

At the guesthouse, Andres was trying to put two and two together but couldn’t. “What does it mean, for us?”

“Means we are all screwed now, bro,” Gabriel joined in the discussion. “This project was Woody’s brainchild. With him gone, WFB is as good as gone too. Schneider will disappear overnight and we’ll be left high and dry.”

“What about the money we raised? If it doesn’t go to WFB, then it’s logical that we get our share,” Jamal proposed.

“Yeah, compensation for our efforts. Too bad the plan didn’t work out. Too bad we no longer have a future within WFB. So we look at Plan B. We take the money and carve out our own future. There’s no way I’m going back to jail,” Chang said.

Ryan joined in. “Split 7.5 million among the twelve of us left. That’s roughly, umm, let’s see… six hundred grand a piece. Not bad. I think we should speak to Schneider. I
propose Kruger’s name to represent us. He’s good at negotiations.”

“Guys, cut out the crap – for once, think with your heads and not with your asses. Do you really think it’s all that easy? We are talking big bucks here. Not hundreds, not thousands….millions! Do you even know how many zeroes are there in a fucking million?” asked Bullet.

“Four, right?” Gabriel interrupted Kruger. “Just kidding” he added with a sheepish smile when he started getting dirty looks from the others. “I know it’s at least five, or maybe more.”

Kruger continued, “What makes you think Schneider or any of the other goons isn’t going to swallow it all?”

“Yeah…I can see the writing clearly on the wall…
Schneider swallows
. Would that look good on a T-shirt?” Ryan tried to lighten the discussion.

* * *

In Woodyvilla, Schneider was standing in front of Angie. He appeared more than a little confused. “This is what you wanted? This is what you planned for? Now what Angie…now what? How does it all fit into your grand scheme of things? What about the interns? What about me? And you…have you ever thought about where this is all going to lead? We had the money…we just needed some extra time. Why did you have to complicate matters? Why, Angie?”

Angie allowed Schneider to vent out his frustration. Once Schneider had finished talking, she spoke. “Calm down, Michael. Do you want to have a drink? Let’s sit down and talk about it.”

Angie’s eyes were swollen, but Schneider doubted if those were due to real tears or the show ones at the
recently concluded funeral. Angie could see he was seriously upset.

She took a seat and went on, “Let’s see where we stand. With Woody gone, WFB faces a leadership crisis. Woody never had a formal successor in place. Phil has been waiting for an opportunity to seize the power. He will try to do that now. He’s the most dangerous man around in the organization after Woody. WFB is in its weakest position right now. If you thought we were in a mess six months back when you came in, look at us now,” Angie had a faint smile on her face as she said this. “I know you are cursing me right now and blaming me for complicating things when everything seemed to be finally falling in place.”

Schneider kept staring at the wall. It wasn’t comparable to the grand view from his office window, but staring at nothingness helped calm him down.

“For you, Project Lean & Mean has probably been topmost on the priority list. And I can’t blame you for that. You were brought in with an objective in mind and you focused on it. But if you step back for a while, Michael, you’ll realize
that the scope, the opportunities, are way bigger than that. 

“You are starting to sound like one of us consultants now…
look at the big picture
…
see the opportunity in crisis
…you’ve been reading too many books on corporate strategy? Tell you what – there is more to the story than what they profess. So who’s going to lead WFB and lead it out of this crisis? Phil? You?”

“No, I got a better person in mind.” Angie looked at Schneider knowingly.

Schneider stared back at Angie with disbelief. “You mean…,” the message that Angie was trying to communicate was clear to him.

“No way, Angie! You’re out of your mind.”

“Think about it, Michael. Why not? You’ve spent six months with us. Forget the tags you have carried for a moment…consultant, advisor, business doctor...dump all those for now. You have been a part of WFB for half a year. You understand how we work. You understand our problems. You have a plan to get us out of the mess. If I have to comment on your track record so far, you have gone way beyond all expectations. For chrissake you’ve even endured a brutal initiation. So no one can dispute that you’ve
earned
your way into the organization. You have created your own army of capable soldiers. Seven and a half million dollars in less than a week! That’s one hell of an accomplishment by any standards. Just imagine what we could accomplish with this new team if we have more time.”

“Fantastic effort, Angie.” Schneider clapped his hands mockingly. “But there’s no way you are going to be able to convince me to join WFB. I’ve given in to enough of your crazy requests earlier. But this is the last straw. If I had said no to the first request, it would’ve never snowballed into this.”

“You think you could go back to your warm little consulting firm and carry on as if nothing has changed?” A touch of menace was evident in Angie’s voice.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I think. This has all been a terrible nightmare and I’ll try to forget it all. It’ll be difficult. I know. But I’m sure time will heal all wounds.”

“Do you think your image is still spotlessly clean? The underworld, the cops will be all over you when they learn who’s the brain behind the thefts, the kidnapping, the prison-breaks…”

“It’s now come to this, is it? You’re now down to black-mailing me? When the requests and the charm don’t work, you stoop down to this? I thought you were way better than that, Angie,” Schneider raised his voice, agitated.

“Don’t get me wrong, Michael. I can promise you, my lips will be sealed. For ever. If you decide this is not for you. I’ll never speak a word about you. I respect what you’ve done for us so far and I can never think of back-stabbing you. But what about the others? The interns, the guards and everyone else that you’ve interacted with. How many of them will guarantee to keep their traps shut, and for how long? For many of them, you’ve been the face of WFB. They’ve only just heard about Woody. They don’t even know me. But they respect you. You’ve given them another chance in life. You’ve given them what they could never imagine in their wildest dreams. You’ve given them hope.”

When Schneider kept quiet, Angie kept her lobbying going hoping to get a breakthrough soon.

“I don’t even need to tell you the kind of money involved since you’ve seen first-hand that your small consulting firm will never reach this scale. You get to keep a generous share of whatever WFB makes in profits, after we’ve taken care of our ailing businesses. I know you aren’t after the money. But this is serious money we are talking about, Michael.”

Schneider wasn’t reacting. He seemed to be staring blankly at the floor. But Angie knew that he was assimilating all that she was sharing with him, and it was all seeping through and starting to make sense.

“If not purely for the money, think about it for the intellectual challenge it offers. Can your Ivy League MBA buddies even imagine tackling business problems like the ones you’d be exposed to, at WFB? You’ve played Clark Kent for too long. It’s time the superhero came out.”

Schneider was now looking straight at Angie. This is what he had told a reluctant Martin at the beginning of the project to get him onboard.

“You think what we are doing is wrong. You think you’d be completely safe if you go back to your earlier world. Stop kidding yourself, Schneider. Look around you. Your role models keep falling by the wayside. Most of the big-name consultants, those that you used to admire as super-heroes when you would have been at business school, are in jail. After a point in time, for the ambitious ones, it doesn’t matter where you are. It comes down to power and money. Everyone is breaking rules. Right from the guy you’ve just recruited from the top B-school, who ends up using your corporate resources like the internet for personal use, to the senior-most business-heads who commit bigger crimes. At WFB we do pretty much the same thing. In our quest for money and power, we just break a few more rules. As simple as that. In the business world, there’s no gray. Either you are black, or you are whitewashed. With us, you get to choose the shade of gray that you like the most.”