Chance Encounter

Autumn Writer

CHAPTER II – A Plant in Peoria

Paul woke first on a Saturday morning. Lying on his back, he couldn’t see the clock. He judged the time to be early—before six—considering the hue of the light streaming into the cabin window and birds singing in the surrounding forest. Partly alongside, and partly atop, Glenda lay in bed with him. Her deep, rhythmic breathing told him that she wasn’t about to wake up very soon.

Paul thought that a change of pace might be enjoyable. He and Glenda had not seen one another for three weeks. A few e-mails, a phone call were all they managed. That didn’t mean that Glenda had been far from his thoughts. When he called with the idea of a weekend at his lakeside camp on the Peninsula, he thought that Glenda sounded glad, too. He had an airline ticket waiting for her at Midway check-in.

Paul would normally be ‘up-and-at-‘em’ by this time when he was at the cabin. He didn’t mind the change of routine, though. It had been an all day travel the day before, to his camp on the peninsula nestled in the forest and the lakes. They both took Friday off from work. She flew from Chicago to Saginaw. They drove the rest of the way. With a stop for dinner, the drive had been nearly six hours. They didn’t arrive at the camp until nine that night. Then, they went to bed—but not to sleep, at least right away. They expended a lot of energy together before drifting off. So, he didn’t wonder why she was sleeping late.

Paul liked the feel of Glenda’s body resting on him. It wasn’t just the feminine softness or the warmth created by their flesh pressed together, although those things were a big part of it. He had waited a long time to feel them. Sally had always loved the cabin in the forest. It always seemed to bring out her sensual side when they could spend time there together. When she died, Paul had thought that he would never feel a woman pressed to his body again. Then, Glenda saw him by chance in that store in Chicago.

It was the ease with which they blended together. Glenda’s head rested in the crevice between the ball of his shoulder and his collarbone. He felt her breath stir the hair on his chest, a gentle wind on his bare skin. Her arm was thrown across him. She was lying on her hip, and one of her legs, bent slightly at the knee, crested over his thigh to find a nestling place between his parted legs. It was a comfortable, perfect fit. The two bodies interlocked like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

Without thinking, Paul stroked lightly from the nape of Glenda’s neck, across her small shoulder blades, down the length of her backbone, ending at the far end of his reach at the very top of the crevice at the bottom of her spine. Glenda stirred. He realized that he had broken her slumber without wanting to. He half-regretted having done so. The deed done, he indulged himself once again, feeling pleasure in the soft skin under his fingertips.

Glenda stirred again. Paul decided to wake her all the way. He stroked again. The deepness of her breathing ceased. Paul stroked again. She woke with a start, lifted her head and settled back down atop him. She played idly with the hair on his chest.

“Good morning!” Paul said to her. “How did you sleep?”

“Pretty well, I think!” she said. “The last thing that I remember …”

She broke off the sentence, and followed with a long pause and a purred recollection of pleasure.

“Well …” she continued in a playful voice, “I think you know what the last thing I remember is. I recall that you were a big part of it! I always sleep better after a hard workout.” She gave out a laugh, which bridged the gap between pleasure and teasing.

She nestled closer into him, signaling a desire to start the day where the night had ended.

“Let’s go for a morning swim,” Paul said.

“Maybe later,” she sighed. “Let’s stay here for a while.” She shifted her weight to be a little more on top of him.

“No! Let’s go swimming,” Paul commanded.

Glenda rolled her eyes as he bounded out of the sack and disappeared into the bathroom.

“I’ll need my suitcase to get my bathing suit,” she called out as he emerged.

“Stay where you are. I’ll bring everything that you’ll need,” he called back.

Paul was waiting for her as Glenda stepped out of the bathroom.

“You won’t need your suit. Here’s a robe.”

Glenda held the terrycloth robe and paused. She knew that it had to be Sally’s. She looked at Paul with a questioning look.

“It’s alright,” was all he said, and she took the robe from him and slipped it on and tied the belt. She saw that he was wearing a matching one.

“You’re not really saying that we’re …” she asked, or perhaps pleaded.

“It’s not even six,” Paul assured her. “We’re in a private little cove. Once you’re in the water, it won’t make any difference, anyway.”

“I’ve never done anything like this,” she protested.

“I can see that you’ve become a real city girl!” Paul laaughed. “Trust me!”

She didn’t have a chance to answer as Paul strode out of the cabin. Glenda followed in hot pursuit. She saw the lake in daylight for the first time. The chill of early morning made vapor rise from the silent depths.

“We’ll dive right off the end of the dock,” he called over his shoulder.

They strode out on the dock, past the boat house. At the far end, Paul ripped off the robe, set it on the planks and dove head-first into the cold water in one motion. The splash broke the silence of the morning, disturbing a pair of loons about fifty yards away. They flapped to be airborne and skimmed across the surface. The iciness bit Paul, as he expected; a refreshing nip to wake him up all the way. After a few seconds he was used to the temperature.

He floated to the surface, treading water, looking for Glenda. She remained on the dock, wrapped in the robe.

“C’mon, jump in!” he called.

Glenda slowly unwrapped herself, setting her robe on top of Paul’s. She stood at the point of departure at the end of the dock

“It looks cold!” she protested.

“It is!” he called back. “You’ll love it!”

“I don’t know if I can, Paul; maybe after it warms up.”

Paul laughed as he effortlessly treaded water. He took a second to view Glenda’s slender body, with the pink nipples hardening on her small breasts, and the triangle of red hair in the center of her narrow pelvis.

“Take all the time you want!” he replied sarcastically. “Just remember, while you’re taking your time, you’re standing there in the nude and …”

She dove in head first before he could utter another word. She came up a few yards from him treading water as he was. Paul observed that she was a good swimmer.

“Ohhh, it’s cold!” she cried after her head broke the surface.

“Yes, it is,” Paul said, laughing, “but it feels great, doesn’t it? It wakes up every sleeping nerve.”

“Yes—yes it does,” she agreed with a sheepish smile.

A small boat trolled by about a hundred yards offshore carrying two early morning anglers. They saw Paul and Glenda and waved to them. Paul waved back.

“Time to go in!” he teased. “Just climb up to the dock by that ladder over there. Those guys wouldn’t mind the view.”

“No!” she shrieked with her eyes opening wide. Then, realizing the joke, she laughed. She laughed long and hard. It was laughter that started deep in the belly and erupted from a face that knew only the moment. It was a laugh that chased away the demons hidden in her. Paul had yet to see it until that moment and wondered to himself if it might chase out some of his demons, as well.

“They’re my neighbors from down the cove,” Paul explained. “We’ll probably see them for drinks tonight after dinner.”

They swam together for a while. The water of the lake immersed them in a splendid isolation. They watched the loons in low flight over the water. They were happy to share the empty cove with them. The tactful angler had moved on. They stretched muscles tightened from the long hours in the car the day before.

Too soon, it was time to go back to the cabin. They climbed out on the ladder at the end of the dock, put on their robes and walked back to the cabin.

“I have to admit it,” she called ahead to him as they trod the planks of the dock in single file, “the water really wakes you up. I feel great!”

“I knew you would,” he called back over his shoulder.

They walked into the cabin and stood in the kitchen.

“Why don’t you take a shower to warm up?” he suggested. “The water in the lake is clean, but hard with minerals. You might want to shampoo it out of your hair. I’ll get breakfast started.”

“Why don’t you finish what you already started,” she cooed as she opened her robe.

Paul was confused as he was concentrating on locating a skillet to start bacon and eggs.

“I don’t know how to answer that, Glenda,” he said, puzzled.

Glenda stepped to him. She took hold of the ends of the belt holding his robe together. She put her lips next to his ear. He could feel her lips on his lobe.

“You answer …” she whispered as she pressed her body against his, “by saying that you’re getting in the shower with me.”

She tugged the belt and the robe fell open. She looked down and saw Paul’s erection forming. It showed that he finally understood.

They made love in the shower as the warm water caressed them. It was different from the night before. That time, they devoured one another in celebration of their defeat over loneliness. In the morning shower it was a sharing of sensuality. It began with their flesh pressed together in the waking bed. It heightened as the lake chilled them in their nakedness. They swam together like Adam and Eve; the sights and sounds of the forests enlivened primal instincts. The warmth of the shower touched new nerves.

They weren’t very interested in washing themselves, except that the soap made their skin slippery. It allowed them to glide over each other as they pressed together. Paul guided his hand over Glenda’s slippery skin. He stopped at her small breasts, cupping them, and then turned his attention on her hard nipples. He bent to suck the warm water from them. It tasted of the lake and of her. He pulled her to him and let his big hands course the length of her back, and lower. He captured her buttocks in his strong hands and pulled her against him. They shared a hungry kiss. He released her globes and placed his fingers at the juncture in the front of her. He gently probed in. He could feel the difference between the water of the shower the moisture that Glenda created. She moved against him and began to moan, that Paul could hear over the sound of the shower. She took him in her one hand and pulled his face down to kiss him once again with the other.

Glenda stood on her toes in an attempt to mount him, but she wasn’t tall enough. As if on cue, Paul grasped her firmly under her round buttocks. Her slender body was light and Paul was strong. He lifted her; and the next second Glenda was impaled. Her arms held tightly around his neck and her legs around his waist. She thrust her tongue into his mouth, counterpoint to Paul’s thrust into her. He made a quarter turn to lean her against the wall for a little support. He lifted her slightly and set her back down. As her weight fell on him, she squeezed around him. It took a long time for them to approach climax. By that time, the hot water had run out; the shower ran cold. They didn’t care. Climax crested over them, not as a release, but as fulfillment of a search. They relaxed and became aware of the coldness. Paul set Glenda down and shut off the water.

As they toweled dry, Paul thought how satisfying had been their sex of that morning. He understood why. It was a justified self-indulgence. They knew they deserved the pleasure—having waited so long— having neither hurt any person nor trespassed any boundary in the partaking of it.

“Now I think that we’re ready for breakfast!” Paul declared.

“I never washed my hair,” she teased.

“Maybe I’ll help you with that later,” he offered.

When Sunday came he asked her, “Can you call in sick tomorrow?”

When she answered ‘yes’, he said that he had already taken a personal day for himself.

So their weekend went. They boated and canoed around the lake, swam in that special style that they developed that first morning and grilled steaks and sipped scotch with friends by night. In between they joined to fill one another with their bodies, and with the feeling of being alive.

***********

It had been six weeks since Paul had attended a ‘Peoria Plant’ meeting. Jim Spencer did a good job of filling in, as Paul knew he would. Paul’s schedule was busy with other projects and the Shareholders’ Meeting preparations. He had no time for sparring over Peoria details if it led to more of nothing. This day’s meeting promised to be different.

Around the table was a familiar roll call. Paul sat at the head of the long table and to his right was Jim Spencer, both representing Dunn Chemical Company. Harry Carmichael, who owned the general contracting firm for the project was next to him; the Mayor of Peoria was next. Dr. Arthur Hopkins sat at the far end of the table, looking especially dour. He was consultant to the State Environmental Agency in name, and suspected agent of Montgomery Chemicals, the competitor of Paul’s Company which stood to lose greatly if the new plant was built. A reporter from the Peoria newspaper waited in a chair outside the room. On Paul’s left, between him and Hopkins sat two representatives from the State Agency. One was Craig Morehead, second ranked on the State team; the other was a younger, more junior woman whom Paul did not know. Missing was the lead state engineer on the project, Ed Grafton. It bothered Paul that he was missing.

“Where’s Grafton?” Paul demanded of Morehead.

“Ed’s no longer with the Agency,” Morehead answered. “He walked in last week and declared he was retiring. He cleaned out his desk and walked out without saying ‘good-bye. The ‘golden thirty’, I guess. Once he finished that thirtieth year, he was ‘good to go’.

“We should have been informed,” Paul replied in a stern tone.

“I was appointed to fill in for him on this project,” Morehead answered.

“Where is he now?”

Morehead shrugged the question off, but as he did the young woman next to him spoke up.

“He got an offer from Montgomery Chemicals and went for it. He’s got a full ride on his state pension and a plush office at Montgomery.”

Morehead shot the young woman an evil look, but the canary had already sung her tune.

Paul felt his anger rising, but held it in check. He’d been certain that Montgomery had been behind the governmental delays of the project. He stole a glance at the far end of the table to gauge a reaction, but Hopkins stared out the meeting room window at the Sears Tower.

“I’m not going to stand for this!” Paul muttered to himself, but for all to hear. He turned to Morehead. “Tell Larry Wilton to expect a call from me!”

Wilton was the Administrator of the Agency.

“No need for that!” pleaded Morehead. “I’m sure that we’ll wrap up the project today. We’ll all get what we want. Let’s just do it.”

“Oh we will do it, but give Wilton my message, Craig,” Paul insisted.

“Well …” began Morehead, “there are some things that we have to insist on before we can issue the permit. First on the list is to install landscaping on the security containment dikes.”

“The plans already say …” the Peoria Mayor piped up.

Harry Carmichael touched the Mayor’s arm to halt him in mid-sentence. He knew the game was almost over. Jim Spencer sat motionless but his expression showed that he knew it, too. Everyone knew that the Site Plan already included the landscaping.

“Consider it done!” Paul exclaimed. “Good suggestion! You should have been the lead man all along, Craig.”

“Then, there is the matter of the backup emergency generator,” said Morehead. “It should be solar-powered … if possible.”

As Paul listened to a litany of a dozen minor demands, he knew that it was the Agency’s way of saving face in retreat. Their proposals amounted to nearly nothing, less than window-dressing. Paul agreed to all of them. The permit would be issued.

As Morehead droned on, taking advantage of his place on the center-stage, Paul’s thoughts drifted to putting together the jigsaw puzzle of what was happening. Grafton had been on the dole from Montgomery, as had been Hopkins. The strategy of meeting Hopkins stride for stride had convinced Montgomery to pull the plug and accept the reality of the new plant. That meant that Hopkins’ fees and studies had ceased, too. It explained his unpleasant visage. Montgomery Chemicals hired Grafton to keep him silent and out of sight.

The meeting concluded and they repacked their brief cases. Paul started thinking about giving Glenda a call.

“We’ve got a reporter outside waiting!” called out the Mayor.

They all filed out of the room except Hopkins and Paul. Paul stood at his place, peering at his defeated adversary at the end of the table.

Hopkins was a shallow, thin man, lost in a tweed jacket. He was in his early sixties. He had a full beard of salt and pepper whiskers that descended from his chin to a point. His head had less hair, just a thin ring of grey. His eyes were sad and sunken.

“Win some, lose some, Arthur,” Paul said. He would have admitted to a tinge of smugness in his tone, and would have also admitted that he didn’t care, either.

“The people and the planet have lost. I am only their servant,” Hopkins answered.

Paul didn’t like Hopkins very much and the sanctimony only reminded him of that fact.

“What is this, Arthur, the ‘Sermon on the Mount’? You know better than to pull this on me. We both know what was ‘lost’. It was your tab from Montgomery.”

Hopkins turned his head away and stared out the window at the Sears Tower again, which Paul considered an act of disrespect.

“Is someone in a window over there flashing you the answer, Arthur? You shouldn’t be so upset! Look at what you got—something for nothing. Isn’t that your stock in trade? How long did you expect it to last?”

“You’re very animated today, Paul,” Hopkins said, without turning his gaze from the window.

“I’m sorry, Arthur. You just get to me sometimes,” Paul admitted. “Going out to ‘Meet the Press’?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Hopkins said in a whisper.

Paul walked to the door. He started to leave, but then stopped for a final word. “You can tell Grafton that I’m not done with him.”

Paul observed the crowd around the reporter. Morehead was telling him how the State had forced Paul’s Company to ‘pay attention to the ambience of the city with landscaping and conserve energy with solar power’. The State Senator from the area, absent from any of the meetings, had shown up to proclaim ‘his part in job creation and bringing the parties together’. The Mayor looked forlorn because it didn’t appear that he would be interviewed, since the reporter had his hook into bigger fish in the persons of State-level officials.

Paul could see that he wasn’t needed. He walked to a corner where Spencer and Carmichael were waiting for him.

“There are enough clowns in this circus,” he said to them. He motioned for Spencer and Carmichael to follow him out a back door.

“You guys did a great job in getting this thing through. Jim, it was the right decision when I put you on this job,” Paul said.

There were handshakes and pats on the back all-around.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I wouldn’t mind a drink,” Paul said. “Let’s go back to the hotel bar. I’ll buy the first round. Harry you can buy the second. Spencer, you don’t have to buy any, since you can’t afford it!” The three laughed at the joke and piled into a cab.

“By the way,” Paul asked, “Who was that young woman engineer from the State?”

“I’ll fill you in later.” Spencer answered.

**********

The three men sat at a table in the cocktail lounge of their hotel. They were in an ebullient mood and the first round of drinks didn’t do anything to dampen their spirits.

“Hey, guys,” Paul piped up “do you mind if I call someone that I know close by and ask her join us?”

Paul’s companions shrugged and he flipped his cell phone open.

“Hello, Glenda, it’s Paul. Sorry for the short notice. I’m at the James Hotel. We just wrapped up a project and we’re having a small celebration. Would you like to come over and join us? Sure, we’re in the bar. Plan on dinner. We’ll wait for you. Bye!”

Harry and Jim looked at Paul with puzzled expressions.

“She’s a friend of mine who lives here. She works at Northwestern. I promised that I’d call her when I was in town. Don’t worry! She’s great! You’ll like her.”

Harry and Jim gave each other that ‘what is he up to’ look and Paul saw them.

“Look, you two, not a word of this to anyone!” Paul ordered and pleaded at the same time.

“No problem, no problem,” they promised.

While they waited for Glenda they ordered another round and traded new war stories.

Glenda appeared at the entrance to the cocktail lounge about forty-five minutes later. Paul spotted her and motioned her over. The three men stood and Paul made the introductions.

Glenda had just come from work and was wearing her navy suit. She looked nice, but not provocative. As she sat at the table it was easy to see that she would fit right in with the group.

“I have to be home by eleven at the latest, Paul. I have a busy day tomorrow,” she cautioned him.

“That’s alright; we have a flight out at nine,” Paul countered.

The unstated question was answered. Glenda wouldn’t be making it to Paul’s room that night. Paul was just happy to see her and treat her to dinner and drinks. Jim and Harry knew that they wouldn’t be expected to ‘disappear’ at an early hour.

Jim and Harry seemed to like Glenda right away, as Paul knew that they would. She had the knack of treading the fine line between being ‘one of the boys’ and being too much a lady. After a short time, a person would think that Glenda had known the three of them for years. She tolerated their inside ‘shop talk’ without pouting. She joined in at laughing at Harry’s bawdy jokes. Somehow, Harry knew that he could tell them without embarrassing her. Glenda probably knew a few of her own, but didn’t tell any. She kept up with their rounds of drinks and lit into a steak at the dinner table. Who could ask for more in a woman?

At the end of the evening everyone, including Glenda (finally), agreed that it would be more prudent to ship her home in a cab than to allow her to go back to the lot at Northwestern and get in her car. It would be another commute in the ‘L’ the next morning.

At the airport the next day Paul and Jim Spencer were in the coffee shop waiting for their flight, nursing hangovers.

“Rough night—last night,” Paul mumbled. “You’ve gotta do it every once and a while—whether you need it or not!”

“I’ll second that!” Spencer exclaimed. “By the way, Glenda is quite a trooper. She’s a very nice person, too.”

“Thanks, Jim,” Paul replied. “We would like to keep this to ourselves, please.”

“No problem.” Spencer vowed.

“It’s not that there’s anything to hide.” Paul explained. “It’s just easier for us to not have an audience.”

Jim nodded that he understood.

*******************

The next day Paul sat in his office reviewing his presentation for the upcoming Shareholders’ Meeting. He also had a call in to Larry Wilton, Administrator of the Illinois Environmental Agency. He was only slightly acquainted with Wilton, having met him a few years before at a Chemical Engineering Symposium at the University of Illinois. That was when the Peoria project was in the opening concept stages. They had spoken a few times since then by telephone.

Paul’s secretary, Marge, buzzed to let him know that Wilton was on the line.

Paul: Hello, Larry. This is Paul Crane speaking. I want to thank you for that Peoria permit.

Wilton: Glad we could do it, Paul. What’s on your mind today?

Paul: Didn’t Craig Morehead give you my message?

Wilton: No, can’t say that he did. What was the message?

Paul: It’s Grafton, Larry! It’s his job at Montgomery! It’s a conflict of interest. He held that project up for almost two years, now he’s got a cushy job with the competitor.

Wilton: I know that it looks bad, but there’s no proof of anything untoward.

Paul: Yes, there is proof, Larry. It just hasn’t been found yet, and I’m betting that it will be very ‘untoward’.

Wilton: If you have any evidence, I’ll have our staff take a look at it.

Paul: No! That’s your job. I’m calling you to ask for an investigation, Larry. I’m sure that Morehead knows something. Get him to talk.

Wilton: It’s not that easy, Paul. I know that you’re upset. You have your permit now. Grafton is moving out of state. I didn’t like the sudden move, either, but we’ll just have to get over it and move on.

Paul: That’s not going to cut it, Larry. I think that you and I need to have a face-to-face. I’ll call you after our Shareholders’ Meeting. I’d like some time on your calendar.

The two men said their goodbyes. Their mood was tense. They hung up.

The result of the phone call was unsatisfying, but expected. Paul was sure that Wilton had the same suspicions as he did, but would never start digging in a hole that he didn’t know the depth of in advance. For Paul’s part, he knew that he and his company had little to gain, except the exposure of governmental corruption. Paul weighed his responsibility to the corporate bottom line against his Company’s long-term interests. Cleaning up this type of dishonesty would mean better sledding for future projects. Word would get around to ‘play it straight’ when dealing with Dunn Chemicals. Paul decided to give it some thought later, after he cleared some details from his desk.

Marge buzzed Paul again. Jim Spencer had to see him right away about the Peoria project.

“We just got served,” Jim yelled out as he burst through the door. “There’s a temporary injunction stopping the issuance of the construction permit for the plant, pending a lawsuit.”

“You’re kidding!” Paul sighed. “I just spoke to Larry Wilton. He didn’t mention it.”

“He probably is just finding out right now,” Spencer explained. “The suit is brought by Concerned Scientists of America. We’re defendants, as well as the State of Illinois and the City of Peoria. Hopkins just issued a press release.”

“I should have figured that Hopkins would try something backdoor!” Paul exclaimed. “Where are they getting the money?”

“Their lawyers are working pro-bono,” Spencer explained. “It’s an outfit called Northwestern Law School Outreach. It’s composed of professors from that school, with third year students looking for experience. It’s the same outfit that held up the Chicago Waterfront Project.”

“Call Harry Carmichael,” Paul ordered. “Make sure that he’s sitting down—then fill him in. Tell him to keep the Mayor in Peoria calm. They might jump ship if they see a costly lawsuit ahead.”

“I assume that Wilson has this already.” Paul asked. Spencer nodded. Ted Wilson was the in-house Corporate Counsel.

Paul pressed the buzzer for Marge and summoned her into his office.

“Marge, set up a meeting between Ted Wilson and me. Jim, here, should be there, too. Ask Karen Walsh in Public Relations to attend also. Priority Number One, please.”

It was a bitter taste for Paul. The victory, claimed after such great toil, had the potential of a complete reversal. There were so many complications. Paul had other projects working and many people depending on him. This simple project had imposed too great a burden on his time and resources already. The company could do without this plant. Perhaps, he thought, the smart play would be to move on. That would be a Management Committee topic.

If Paul’s Company and the State Agency became co-defendants, it would be hard to force Wilton to pursue Grafton. A big delay would let the culprit off scot-free.

Paul thought of Glenda. Her employer was now the attorney for the plaintiff in a suit against Paul’s Company. When Jim Spencer said the words ‘Northwestern Law School’ a bitter chill went right through him. He would have to speak to Wilson about it. He would wait to put in a call to Glenda until after the meeting.

As he sat pondering the turn of events, Marge buzzed him. She told him that Arthur Hopkins was on the line.

Paul knew that Hopkins was calling to gloat. He thought of not taking the call, but he hoped that his foe might disclose something by accident, so he picked up the phone.

Hopkins: Hello, Paul! Did you get any interesting reading material today?

Paul: Why are you doing this, Arthur? You and I both know that you don’t give a damn about that plant, and we both know that the Montgomery money has run out. I don’t understand your interest in this.

Hopkins: I’ve got to do it, Paul. If I let you get the better of me I’ll never get hired again by anyone. I had great plans for that Montgomery money. It could have gone on a lot longer. You have cost me big time. I can’t let this go.

Paul: Then, Arthur, it’s all about you.

Hopkins: Yes, I suppose it is—but it’s about you too. You’re going to pay a bigger price than I ever will. I’ll lose money, but you’re going to lose a lot more. You shouldn’t have trifled with me.

Paul: What are you talking about, Arthur? On second thought, don’t answer that. I don’t think that we should be having this conversation.

Paul hung up. Hopkins’ last words puzzled him. What could Hopkins do to him? Paul thought perhaps he meant some demonstration at the upcoming Shareholders’ Meeting to embarrass him.

“I’m slipping!” Paul scolded himself. “I should have seen this coming.”

He wondered again about Hopkins’ strange threat. He convinced himself that his idea about the Shareholders’ Meeting was probably wrong. That move would be too weak to match the threat. What Hopkins could have meant eluded Paul for the moment. He would just have to wait and find out.

“I should have taken it easy on him after the meeting yesterday!” Paul said aloud in the empty office. He put that thought aside. The lawsuit had certainly been planned far in advance.

**********

The meeting with the legal team was breaking up. It was decided to meet the lawsuit head-on. Buckling would haunt the Company in future projects. They would fight it out. It was, at least, the decision for the time being.

“Can I speak to you privately, Ted?” Paul asked as the people shuffled out of the room.

Ted Wilson and Paul had been friends for years. They crossed paths often in their work. They belonged to the same golf club.

“Ted,” Paul began, “there’s something personal involving this lawsuit that I didn’t want to bring up in front of the others.”

“What have you got?” Ted asked.

“I recently struck up a …a relationship … with a woman who works for Northwestern University. You know what I mean by a relationship, I’m sure.”

Ted nodded.

“Anyway, her job is secretary to the Dean of the Law School. It’s the same outfit that’s representing the plaintiffs.”

“I see!” Ted raised his eyebrows. “Did you ever discuss the lawsuit or anything about the Peoria project with her?”

Paul shook his head.

“I’m sure that you’re asking if it’s a conflict of interest for you to go on seeing her,” said Ted. “Actually, you’re in luck. The actual attorney for the plaintiff is not the Law School, but the ‘Outreach’ organization. The Law School sponsors it, but they are legally separated. Technically, there is no conflict. My advice is to keep the topic off the table when you’re with her and keep yourselves low-key when you’re together. There’s no point in inviting attention.”

“So, I’m in the clear on this?” Paul clarified.

“Yes, from our side, I would say so, as it stands now. Again, just keep things low-key. Keep me informed. By the way, when do we get to meet her?”

“Like you said, we’re keeping it low-key,” Paul laughed.

“Bring her around to the club when you think the time is right,” Ted answered.

Paul breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t realized how important Glenda had become to him. He had thought that he might have to break it off with her. Wilson was a big help. He would call her when he got back to his office.

***********

At the same moment, at Northwestern School of Law in Chicago, Glenda was called into the office of her boss, Dean Randall Judson. Besides the Dean and Glenda, Arthur Hopkins was also there. Glenda peered onto Judson’s desk and saw her personnel file sitting on the desk in front of him. She looked up and saw the grim expression on the men’s faces. Judson spoke.

“Glenda, this is Dr. Arthur Hopkins of Concerned Scientists of America. They have just become clients of the ‘Outreach Program’. Glenda rose to shake hands, but Judson put up his hand to stop her.

“There is a conflict of interest involving you because of this client relationship. Dr. Hopkins has brought it to my attention.”

“I don’t know what it could be, Dean!” exclaimed a puzzled Glenda.

“You have been seen in the company of Paul Crane of Dunn Chemical. We are suing them. Northwestern is our legal representative,” Hopkins declared. “In fact, you boarded a plane with a ticket that he paid for, and spent the weekend with him in his cabin on the Peninsula.”

“How do you know my private business?” Glenda demanded.

“Usually, we don’t disclose our methods, but so you know that we can find all kinds of things out, I’ll tell you,” Hopkins began. “I had an associate of mine, who used to work for the State, keep tabs on Paul Crane. He saw you two having drinks in the barroom of Keefer’s restaurant. After that, it was simple.”

“We followed you to the airport when you took that vacation day; we paid the airline agent for the destination and payment details, and had our private investigator find the location of Crane’s cabin in Michigan. You were even photographed during your ‘morning swim’. I have the pictures—telephoto lens. You have a scar on your left knee, and you have birthmark on … well, you know where you have a birthmark.”

A wispy smile snaked across Hopkins’ lips. Glenda could see that he was enjoying his cruel little game. She was determined to not grant him the satisfaction of seeing her reaction, but tears welled in her eyes. She couldn’t help it.

“As a client of ours,” the Dean began, “Dr. Hopkins has insisted that we relieve this conflict. We have to insist that you break off your relationship with Mr. Crane right away.”

“I’ve done nothing improper,” Glenda pleaded.

“That’s not the point,” the Judson countered.

“I don’t work for the ‘Outreach’. I work for the Law School. They are different,” Glenda argued.

“Policy decision—my call,” said the Dean.

“What if I don’t agree?” asked Glenda.

“You’ll be fired,” answered Judson. “Glenda,” continued Judson, leaning forward. “I don’t want to fire you, but there is no compromise possible here. I know you—you’re thinking of fighting this. Don’t! Remember that when you took this job at Level Six— Confidential Secretary—you had to leave the Employees’ Union. You’re all alone on this. Think of your career! Think of your pension!”

“I want a transfer!” Glenda demanded.

“No transfer!” said Judson, shaking his head.

“Why are you doing this? Who gave you the right?” she demanded. Tears were streaming down her face.

“Don’t try to cheat!” Hopkins blurted out. “You know now that we have ways of finding things out.”

“If you do cheat,” warned the Dean. “We’ll have to fire you. Now, there’s something for you to sign. It’s just an acknowledgment of our agreement this afternoon—for your personnel file. There is also a stand-by agreement to allow us to tap your home phone, if we so desire, without notice.”

Glenda could barely see the papers through her tears, but she signed them.

“At least let me call him to let him know,” Glenda pleaded.

“I’ll do that for you!” a suddenly jovial Hopkins exclaimed.

“That won’t be necessary, Arthur. We’ve done enough!” proclaimed Judson. He turned to Glenda. “Call him from your home phone after hours. I’m sorry, Glenda. This is just the way it has to be. You’ll get over it. I hope there are no hard feelings.”

“You mean I have to like it, too?” she shot back.

The two men sat silent.

“It’s really my fault.” Glenda admitted. “A person should know better than to reach too high. It’s always so tempting. I knew better. I was a two-time loser. Now I’m a three-time loser.”

She turned to leave the office. Before she completed her about face, she saw the smile of pleasure on Hopkins’ face. She wished that she could smack that smirk off him, but she knew that she never would.

*************

TO BE CONTINUED