Paranoia (31 page)

But she was too polite to ask where I was going.

55

At a few minutes before five, the company gym still hadn’t gotten crowded. I grabbed an elliptical trainer and plugged in the headphones. While I warmed up, I surfed the cable channels—MSNBC, CSPAN, CNN, CNBC—and caught up on the market close. Both the NASDAQ and the Dow were down: another lousy day. Right at five I switched to the Trion channel, which normally broadcast tedious stuff like presentations, Trion ads, whatever.

The Trion logo came up, then a freeze-frame of Goddard in the Trion studio—wearing a dark blue open-necked shirt, his normally unruly fringe of white hair neatly combed. The background was black with blue dots and looked sort of like Larry King’s set on CNN except for the Trion logo prominently positioned over Goddard’s right shoulder. I found myself actually getting kind of nervous, but why? This wasn’t live, he’d taped it yesterday, and I knew exactly what he was going to say. But I wanted him to do it well. I wanted him to make a case for the layoffs that was persuasive and powerful, because I knew that a lot of people around the company would be pissed off.

I didn’t have to worry. He was not only good, he was amazing. In the whole of the five-minute speech there wasn’t a phony note. He opened simply: “Hello, I’m Augustine Goddard, president and chief executive officer of Trion Systems, and today I have the unpleasant job of delivering some difficult news.” He talked about the industry, about Trion’s recent problems. He said, “I’m not going to mince words. I’m not going to call these layoffs ‘involuntary attrition’ or ‘voluntary termination.’” He said, “In our business, no one likes to admit when things aren’t going well, when the leadership of a company has misjudged, goofed, made mistakes. Well, I’m here to tell you that we’ve goofed. We’ve made mistakes. As the CEO of the company,
I’ve
made mistakes.” He said, “I consider the loss of valuable employees, members of our family, to be a sign of grievous failure.” He said, “Layoffs are like a terrible flesh wound—they hurt the entire body.” You wanted to give the guy a hug and tell him it’s okay, it’s not your fault, we forgive you. He said, “I want to assure you that I take full responsibility for this setback, and I will do everything in my power to put this company back on a strong footing.” He said that sometimes he thought of the company as one big dogsled, but he was only the lead dog, not the guy on the sled with the whip. He said he’d been opposed to layoffs for years, as everyone knew, but, well, sometimes you have to make the hard decision, just get in the car. He pledged that his management team was going to take good care of every single person affected by the layoffs; he said that he believed the severance packages they were offering were the best in the industry—and the very least they could do to help out loyal employees. He ended by talking about how Trion was founded, how industry veterans had predicted its demise time and time again, yet it had emerged from every crisis stronger than ever. By the time he was done I had tears in my eyes and I’d forgotten all about moving my feet. I was standing there on the elliptical trainer watching the tiny screen like a zombie. I heard loud voices nearby, looked around and saw knots of people gathered, talking animatedly, looking stunned. Then I pulled off the headphones and went back to my workout as the place started filling up.

A few minutes later someone got on the machine next to mine, a woman in Lycra exercise togs, a great butt. She plugged her headphones into the monitor, fooled with it for a while, and then tapped me on the shoulder. “Do you have any volume on your set?” she asked. I recognized the voice even before I saw Alana’s face. Her eyes widened. “What are
you
doing here?” she said, part shocked, part accusing.

“Oh, my God,” I said. I was truly startled; I didn’t need to fake it. “I work here.”

“You do? So do I. This is so
amazing
.”

“Wow.”

“You didn’t tell me you—well, then again, I didn’t ask, did I?”

“This is incredible,” I said. Now I was faking it, and maybe not enthusiastically enough. She’d caught me off guard, even though I knew this might happen, and ironically I was too rattled to sound plausibly surprised.

“What a coincidence,” she said. “Unbelievable.”

56

“How long—how long have you worked here?” she said, getting down off the machine. I couldn’t quite read her expression. She seemed sort of dryly amused.

“I just started. Like a couple of weeks ago. How about you?”

“Years—five years. Where do you work?”

I didn’t think my stomach could sink any lower, but it did. “Uh, I was hired by Consumer Products Division—new products marketing?”

“You’re
kidding
.” She stared in amazement.

“Don’t tell me you’re in the same division as me or something. That I’d
know
—I’d have seen you.”

“I used to be.”

“
Used
to—? Where are you now?”

“I do marketing for something called Disruptive Technologies,” she said reluctantly.

“Really? Cool. What’s that?”

“It’s boring,” she said, but she didn’t sound convincing. “Complicated, sort of speculative stuff.”

“Hmm.” I didn’t want to seem too interested. “You catch Goddard’s speech?”

She nodded. “Pretty heavy. I had no idea we were in such bad shape. I mean,
layoffs
—you sort of figure layoffs are for everyone else, not for Trion.”

“How do you think he did?” I wanted to prepare her for the inevitable moment when she looked me up on the intranet and discovered what I really did now. At least later I’d be able to say I wasn’t really holding back; I was sort of polling on my boss’s behalf—as if I had anything to do with Goddard’s speech.

“I was shocked, of course. But it made sense, the way he presented it. Of course, that’s easy for me to say, since I probably have some job security. You, on the other hand, as a recent hire—”

“I should be okay, but who knows.” I really wanted to get off the subject of what exactly I did. “He was pretty blunt.”

“That’s his way. The guy’s great.”

“He’s a natural.” I paused. “Hey, I’m sorry about the way our date ended.”

“Sorry? Nothing to be sorry about.” Her voice softened. “How is he, your dad?” I’d left her a voice message in the morning just to say that Dad had made it.

“Hanging in there. In the hospital he has a fresh cast of characters to bully and intimidate, so he has a whole new reason for living.”

She smiled politely, not wanting to laugh at the expense of a dying man.

“But if you’re up for it, I’d love to have another chance.”

“I’d like that too.” She got back on the machine and started moving her feet as she punched numbers into the console. “You still have my number?” Then she smiled, genuinely, and her face was transformed. She was beautiful. Really amazing. “What am I saying? You can look me up on the Trion Web site.”

Even after seven o’clock Camilletti was still in his office. Obviously it was a busy time, but I wanted the guy to just go home so I could get into his office before Security did. I also wanted to get home and get some sleep, because I was crashing and burning.

I was trying to figure out how I could get Camilletti on my “buddy list” without his permission so I could know when he was online and when he’d signed off, when suddenly an instant-message box from Chad popped up on my computer screen.

ChadP: You never call, you never write.
Don’t tell me you’re too important now for your old friends?

I wrote: Sorry, Chad, it’s been crazy.

There was a pause of about half a minute, then he came back:

You probably knew about these layoffs in advance, huh? Lucky for you you’re immune.

I wasn’t sure how to answer, so for a minute or two I didn’t, and then the phone rang. Jocelyn had gone home, so the calls were routed right to me. The caller ID came up on the screen, but it was a name I didn’t recognize. I picked it up. “Cassidy.”

“I know
that
,” came Chad’s voice, heavy with sarcasm. “I just didn’t know if you were at home or in your office. I should have figured an ambitious guy like you gets in early and stays late, just like all the self-help books tell you to do.”

“How’re you doing, Chad?”

“I’m filled with admiration, Adam. For you. More than ever, in fact.”

“That’s nice.”

“Especially after my lunch with your old friend Kevin Griffin.”

“Actually, I barely knew the guy.”

“Not exactly what he said. You know, it’s interesting—he was less than impressed with your track record at Wyatt. He said you were a big party-hearty dude.”

“When I was young and irresponsible, I was young and irresponsible,” I said, doing my best George Bush the Younger.

“He also had no recollection of your being on the Lucid.”

“He’s in—what, in
sales
, isn’t he?” I said, figuring that if I was going to imply that Kevin was out of the loop it was at least better to be subtle.

“He
was
. Today was his last day. In case you didn’t hear.”

“Didn’t work out?” There was a little tremor in my voice, which I disguised by clearing my throat, then coughing.

“Three whole days at Trion. Then Security got a call from someone at Wyatt saying that poor Kevin had a nasty habit of cheating on his T&E expense sheets. They had the evidence and everything, faxed it right over. Thought Trion should know. Of course, Trion dropped him like a hot potato. He denied it up and down, but you know how these things work—it’s not exactly a court of law, right?”

“Jesus,” I said. “Unbelievable. I had no idea.”

“No idea they were going to make this call?”

“No idea about Kevin. I mean, like I said, I hardly knew him at all, but he seemed nice enough. Man. Well, I guess you can’t do that kind of stuff too often and hope to get away with it.”

He laughed so loud I had to pull my ear away from the receiver. “Oh, that’s good. You’re really good, big guy.” He laughed some more, a big hearty laugh, as if I were the best stand-up act he’d ever seen. “You are so right. You can’t do that kind of stuff too often and hope to get away with it.” Then he hung up.

Five minutes earlier I’d wanted to lean back in my chair and doze off, but now I couldn’t, I was way too freaked out. My mouth was dry, so I went to the break room and got an Aquafina. I took the long way, past Camilletti’s office. He was gone, his office was dark, but his admin was still there. When I came by half an hour later, both of them were gone.

It was a little after eight. I got into Camilletti’s office quickly and easily this time, now that I had the technique down. No one seemed to be around. I pulled the blinds closed, retrieved the little Keyghost cable, and lifted one slat to look around. I didn’t see anyone, although I suppose I really wasn’t as careful as I should have been. I raised the blinds and then opened the door slowly, looking first right, then left.

Standing against the wall of Camilletti’s reception area, his arms folded, was a stocky man in a Hawaiian shirt and horn-rimmed glasses.

Noah Mordden.

He had a peculiar smile on his face. “Cassidy,” he said. “Our thirty-four-pin Phinneas Finn.”

“Oh, hi, Noah,” I said. Panic flooded my body, but I kept my expression blasé. I had no idea what he was talking about, except that I figured it was probably some kind of obscure literary dig. “What are you up to?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Come by to visit?”

“I must have gone to the wrong office. I went to the one that said ‘Adam Cassidy’ on it. Silly me.”

“They’ve got me working for everyone here,” I said. It was the best I could think of, and it sucked. Did I really think he’d believe I was
supposed
to be in Camilletti’s office? At eight o’clock at night? Mordden was too smart, and too suspicious, for that.

“You have many masters,” he said. “You must lose track of whom you really work for.”

My smile was tight. Inside I was dying. He knew. He’d seen me in Nora’s office, now in Camilletti’s office, and he
knew
.

It was over. Mordden had found me out. So now what? Who would he tell? Once Camilletti learned I’d been in his office, he’d fire me in an instant, and Goddard wouldn’t stand in his way.

“Noah,” I said. I took a deep breath, but my mind stayed blank.

“I’ve been meaning to compliment you on your attire,” he said. “You’re looking particularly upwardly mobile these days.”

“Thanks. I guess.”

“The black knit shirt and the tweed jacket—very Goddard. You’re looking more and more like our fearless leader. A faster, sleeker Beta version. With lots of new features that don’t quite work yet.” He smiled. “I notice you have a new Porsche.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s hard to escape the car culture in this place, isn’t it? But as you speed along the highway of life, Adam, you might pause and consider. When everything’s coming your way, maybe you’re driving in the wrong lane.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Interesting news about the layoffs.”