Chance Encounter

Autumn Writer

CHAPTER 4 — Every Worm Must Turn

Paul caught a taxi to the airport with Jim Spencer and Ted Wilson. Few words were spoken on the way, and nothing was mentioned about the explosion in Wilton’s office, or the meeting in general. Paul had gone off like a rocket, and the others could see that he hadn’t quite landed on the ground. They decided to let him cool, rather than risk re-ignition. It was a side of Paul rarely seen. The younger man, Spencer, had never seen it.

As the plane began its climb out over Lake Michigan Paul turned to Ted Wilson.

“Ted, were you able to hear what went on inside the office between Wilton and me?” he asked.

“Yes,” he answered, “most of it. Don’t worry; the only other people that were there were Jim, here, and Wilton’s secretary.”

“Good!” Paul sighed. “I’m glad that it wasn’t in front of anyone else. It was a mistake for me to lose my temper, but I couldn’t help it.”

“We may be able to turn it to our advantage,” said Ted. “You may have been mistaken in your tactics, but not in your thinking. Wilton surely knows the truth. If you offer him a chance to save face, he’ll grab it.”

“That’s why you get paid the big money, Ted,” he laughed. He turned to Spencer. “Jim, you should have gone to law school instead of engineering. The pay is better, there’s less math and you don’t need a pocket protector!”

The three men had a good laugh and they were glad that things were back to normal.

Paul turned serious again.

“Let’s meet at the office before we go home. I’ll fill you two in on my meeting with Miss Wright and some other things. I don’t want to talk about it on the plane.”

The two men nodded their agreement.

“Jim,” he said, “as soon you can after we land, get on your cell and call Bert Loehman at the office. Tell him I want him waiting in my office when we get back. We need to meet with him today.”

The three men sat without speaking for a minute. It signaled that business details were over for the time being.

“Hey, Paul,” Ted called out over the sound of the jet engines, “how’s that lady-friend of yours in Chicago?”

Paul let out a big sigh and shook his head.

“That’s probably part of why I exploded this morning,” he said. “It looks like that’s all over.”

He narrated the sad story of Glenda, Hopkins, Judson and the lawsuit.

“I’m sorry, Paul,” Spencer said. “She was very nice. I liked her.”

“What a shame!” Ted exclaimed. “There’s no way that she had to take that. There are scores of lawyers filing lawsuits over that kind of thing every day. I could have found someone to help her. Did you talk about that with her?”

“I never got the chance,” Paul answered. “I got the feeling that they really scared her, or somehow got control over her. I think she saw everything that she worked for going up in smoke and her instincts took over. At any rate, she won’t answer my calls or letters. I wish that she would.”

“What goes around comes around,” Ted mused. “Keep your eyes and ears open. You never know what can happen. That paper that she signed might be her way out. If it’s in her personnel file then it would back up her story. It wouldn’t be her word against theirs. If your hear anything, keep me posted.”

“Whatever happens, we cannot cave on this lawsuit just to make personal troubles go away,” Paul declared. “There’s a lot at stake!”

Paul clenched his jaw, which was what he did whenever he knew that he could never be moved off the spot he was standing on. He hadn’t grown used to the pain. After Audrey Wright left his hotel room the night before Paul had done a lot of that thinking that he was famous for. It had been a long, sleepless night but the result was a simple one. If innocent people were suffering, and brave people like Audrey were risking all they had, then something good would come of this plant, this lawsuit and all the sacrifices. Neither Hopkins, nor Morehead, nor Grafton, nor Wilton—and especially not Paul Crane would stand in the way.

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

At the same time that Paul’s plane was landing Larry Wilton called Ed Grafton in his office at Montgomery Chemical.

Wilton: Ed, Larry Wilton speaking. I want you to tell me why Paul Crane thinks that you were sitting on his project at Peoria.

Grafton: What’s this Larry? No pleasantries? We haven’t spoken since I left. Don’t you miss me? You must be worried about something.

Wilton: I need to know if I should be worried, Ed.

Grafton: Well, don’t be! There’s nothing to be worried about.

Wilton: Crane is hinting at irregularities with the drawings. We can’t even locate our set. He’s going to keep at it until he finds something.

Grafton: I don’t know where those drawings are, Larry, and that’s the truth!

Wilton: It’s going to be a problem until they turn up. It won’t be the last time you hear about them.

Grafton: I have nothing more to tell you, Larry.

They hung up. Wilton pulled on his moustache, which is what he always did when he was nervous about something. On the conference table, in a cardboard tube sat the reprinted drawings from the Agency CAD. He called his secretary into his office.

“Put the Agency seal on this tube and deposit it in the vault. No one is to break that seal but me!” he told her.

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

Later that day, at six in the evening, and almost everyone in the Agency had left at five. Audrey Wright stayed behind. She often did when she was working on a project. With only her apartment to go home to, it didn’t matter if she was late from time to time. Extra hours helped her to stay on top of things.

It was a different kind of project that kept her after hours this time. She was looking for Craig Morehead. She had been to his cubicle in the department. He wasn’t there, but the disarray on his desk made her sure that he was still about. Audrey knew where to find him. She made her way to the employee cafeteria in the basement of the building.

The service in the cafeteria was closed. Audrey spotted Craig sitting alone at a table in the far corner. Only the two of them were in the large room. He was eating one of those meals that a person buys from a vending machine and cooks in a microwave oven. Morehead ate a lot of his meals in this fashion. Audrey thought that he spied her as she walked into the large room, but didn’t acknowledge her. Still, she felt his eyes on her.

Audrey knew a little bit about Craig Morehead. He was a lonely man. He always insisted that he wasn’t divorced, but he lived like he was. The marriage was preserved in legal form so that his ‘ex’ who was not an ‘ex’ could continue to share the lush benefits enjoyed by State employees. It lowered his child support payments. His estranged wife, in fact, shared an apartment with another man.

There were many single women on the lookout at the Agency and on the larger State Campus wherein the Agency was located, but he always mentioned his complicated marital-status-in-suspense and that confused any of them who might have been interested. At the same time, Craig had the reputation of being an ‘ogler’. He was often caught staring from afar, or looking up skirts and down blouses. He never acted on what he found with his roving eye, or shared his findings with anyone. For him, it was a private hobby.

Morehead didn’t have looks that would make women swoon. He was stocky, built like a fire hydrant. He had been an athlete, a wrestler and football lineman, in his younger years, but over time the broad shoulders and muscular limbs had been joined by layers of excess weight and a broader stomach. Whenever he stayed late at the office he could be seen in the cafeteria diving into the fattening vending machine entrees. On his way home he would stop at a sports bar for a few rounds. His routine, more times than not, was his reason for staying late. His watering holes were on the way home, but the usual quitting hour was too early for the bars. He would kill time in the office, and see who else was working late. It helped him stay on top of things.

At the age of thirty eight Craig’s job title was Senior Project Evaluation Engineer. It was the third of five professional gradations in his area of the Agency. His just-departed mentor, Ed Grafton, had been at the fifth level. Grafton’s premature retirement had Morehead disgruntled. It was impossible for him to jump two levels to replace the departed Grafton, so he would soon be reporting to a new section chief.

Audrey came alongside the table where Morehead was sitting. He looked up at her, but said nothing, swallowing a mouthful of lasagna.

“What happened at the ‘Peoria’ meeting today, Craig?” Audrey asked, skipping the pleasantries.

“Not much,” he mumbled between mouthfuls.

“Well, I should have been invited,” Audrey insisted, “I thought that I was part of the team.”

“I paged you—you didn’t answer,” said Craig.

Audrey knew what he said was true, but she had ignored the page in deference to Paul’s advice to her the night before.

“I just sat there like a bump on a log, listening to lawyers strategize—so don’t feel bad,” Morehead continued in a frustrated tone.

Audrey pulled up a chair and sat leaning forward on her elbows, grabbing Morehead’s attention.

“Well, I saw Jim Spencer before the meeting,” Audrey declared in a low voice, even though they were alone in the large room. “He told me that the people at Dunn think that something is going on with the missing drawings. They think that Grafton did something to them to hold their project up, and they’re good and burned up. Spencer said that if Crane got his hands on the drawings it would be the final piece of the puzzle, and that heads would roll.”

“Good luck to them. Nobody’s been able to find the drawings. I don’t know where they are,” shrugged Morehead, adopting an innocent tone. Audrey noticed that that his face was reddening.

“For your information, Mr. Morehead, Spencer told me that the Dunn people think that YOU have them, and their lawyers are getting ready for something big. I think that they plan to search your house, and everywhere else. I heard that Wilton had our lawyers meeting with them,” Audrey pressed on.

“And what makes you think that Jim Spencer knows anything; and why would he be blabbing anything to you?” retorted the skeptical Morehead.

“You men are so easy to loosen up. Spencer is just like every other man.” Audrey said with a smirk. “I hiked up my skirt a little. I gave him a reason to look forward to something more. He would have told me his social security number if I had asked for it. And, I hear that he and Crane are like this,” she said, crossing her fingers and thrusting them forward to drive home the point.

“Let them search. They won’t find anything. After that, maybe they’ll go away,” Morehead answered. “I think that Grafton has them.”

“Grafton went crazy when he couldn’t find them. I think that you do have them Craiggy-boy. You’re holding the bag!” Audrey said in defiance of Morehead’s denial.

“Think what you want!” Morehead retorted.

“Look, Craig, I’m on your side. I don’t want to turn you in—or Grafton either. I just want my share. Cut me in on the action. Nobody suspects me. I’ll hold the drawings in my apartment. They’ll search yours and find nothing. After that, they would never get another warrant!”

“Oh my!” exclaimed Morehead. “Little Audrey isn’t quite so prim and proper as everyone thought! When did you get a taste for greenbacks, Audrey?”

“Have you seen my car; my hovel of an apartment? Never mind that, anyway!” Audrey snorted. “Is it a deal or not? You know that they’ll get you!”

“There’s no money,” Morehead admitted. “Grafton’s got it all. He promised me a taste when Montgomery pulled the plug on Hopkins. I threatened to run to Wilton. He promised, but bugged out of town without paying a dime. I can only cut you in if I get something from him. I lifted the drawings for leverage against Grafton. I’m going to try him one more time, then burn the drawings and pretend that I don’t know anything.”

“If you give me the drawings, you won’t have to burn them,” Audrey said.

“Well, if the drawings were safe, I could try Hopkins, if Grafton doesn’t cave; or maybe there’s an angle of Hopkins pressuring Grafton if he’s scared enough.”

“If you burn those drawings, you’ll have nothing; if you keep them they’ll find you out,” reminded Audrey.

“I’ll cut you in for ten percent of anything I collect; but it may be nothing,” said Morehead.

“A maybe is better than a nothing; and that will be fifty percent,” said Audrey.

Morehead sighed heavily.

“Alright!” he said. “But if you want in for half there’s something else.”

“What is it?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

“I want some of what you promised Spencer.”

Audrey nodded with a smirk. She was wondering when he would get to that part.

“Nothing for nothing, Craiggy-boy!” she replied.

Audrey leaned close to Morehead. Her lips were an inch from his ear. She blew out some air so that he could feel her breath against the side of his face.

“Start sending some serious money my way,” Audrey cooed, “and we’ll have a lot to talk about in that regard, Craig.”

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

It was three-thirty when Paul, Jim Spencer and Ted Wilson marched into the office. Marge was at her desk.

“Bert Loehman is waiting for you in your office,” Marge called to them as they three passed by her desk.

Bert Loehman was an engineer who worked under Paul. His title was Drawing and Print Room Manager. It was a misleading title that had its roots in days gone by. Bert’s fiefdom was not really a room. It was his responsibility to log, archive and keep track of all the official company engineering plans and technical drawings. It was a big job. Drawings and blueprints originated from the corporate engineering staff, and from contractors and suppliers. They included everything from designs for equipment to overall plant layouts, and everything in-between. There were always numerous iterations and the files had to be kept current. There were old drawings and new ones, paper trails to be documented. Some were on paper, others on microfilm and most had been loaded into the CAD server. Bert had the responsibility to control who received official Dunn drawings and how they received them.

Bert Loehman was a man pushing sixty-five years old. He had been with the Company for nearly his entire career. When Paul arrived Bert was already a twelve year veteran. Bert taught Paul the ropes in those early days. His current position that he had held for six years, was his last stop before retirement, scheduled for eight months in the future. It had been a good, not spectacular career.

The three men sat at a conference table in Paul’s office. Paul peered at the elder man sitting across the table from him. Bert’s expression was half of concern and half confused. It was clear that he knew the meeting was important, but not the reason.

“Bert,” Paul began, “this meeting is extremely confidential. Everything has to stay in this room.”

Bert nodded that he understood. Spencer and Wilson remained silent.

“We’ve just been at a meeting at the Illinois Environmental Agency in Springfield,” Paul continued. “It was about the Peoria project and the lawsuit that’s related to it.”

Bert nodded, still appeared confused.

“There’s a problem with the drawings,” Paul explained. “The Agency has them on their CAD server and someone, somehow, broke through the encryption.”

Dunn would often send drawings to interested parties over the internet. It was faster and cheaper than the traditional mode of sending paper copies by messenger. The CAD files were encrypted so that the official drawings could be viewed, and even printed, but not altered.

“Someone there changed our drawings to suit his own purposes, and then faked the signature and seal on them. One of the people at the Agency, a young woman, clued us in. We have got to find out how that encryption code got broken. Someone must have hacked into it, or got their hands on the key from the software developer. We have drawings on servers all over the world.”

Bert leaned forward and buried his face in hands.

“Oh, no!” he murmured.

“What is it, Bert? We have to know,” Paul said.

“I was tricked!” Bert said, still supporting his head in his hands. He refused to look at the others. “I sent them without encryption. I only did it once. It was over a year ago. I never imagined this would happen.”

Spencer and Wilson looked at each other in shock. Loehman had a reputation for reliability.

“Give us the whole story, Bert. I want everything,” Paul demanded.

“A man from the Illinois Agency called me during the time that all those Peoria meetings were going on,” Bert sighed. “He told me that their server couldn’t handle the encrypted files … gave me a story about how the appropriation to update their software didn’t go through. He said that the next meeting for ‘Peoria’ would be called off if they couldn’t see the drawings that day. He asked me to send them in the ‘clear’. He called it professional courtesy. I sent them. He called me a week later and said that they had fixed their problem with a software patch. Everything else went encrypted. It’s as simple as that.”

“Why, Bert? How could you do such a thing?” Paul pleaded.

“I knew how bad the meetings on that project were going. I wanted to help. I didn’t want to be responsible for the breakdown,” Bert explained. “I thought that I could trust the guy.”

“What’s ‘the guy’s’ name?” demanded Paul.

“I don’t remember now. It happened over a year ago.” Bert answered. Tears were welling in his eyes, but he held them back.

“If it was just the one time, how could they have a full set of bogus prints when we were making changes all the time?” asked Wilson.

“They probably just updated their ‘clear’ copy with the changes they read from our encrypted files as time went on,” answered Spencer.

“We’ve got to know the name, Bert!” Paul insisted.

Bert shook his head apologetically.

“Was it ‘Hopkins’?” Paul asked, testing. “What about ‘Wright’; ‘Wilton’?”

Bert shook his head each time.

“What about ‘Morehead’, ‘Grafton’?”

“That’s it—Grafton!” yelled Bert.

Paul, Jim Spencer and Ted Wilson looked at one another.

“It all fits together,” Ted spoke for them all.

Paul turned to Bert.

“This is so humiliating!” the older man mumbled.

“You and I go back a long way, Bert,” Paul said. “You broke me in nearly thirty years ago. I would never have expected to be having this conversation with you, of all people.”

Bert hung his head.

“I should fire you; I’m supposed to fire you,” Paul told him.

“I know it, Paul,” Bert answered, his head held low. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

Paul looked away, staring out his office window. He didn’t look at Spencer or Wilson. It was his decision to make, and he had to do it alone.

He turned back to Loehman.

“I have to do something, Bert. If I let this go, every standard around here would be shattered. I’m not going to fire you, but there will be some punishment.”

“You will be on probation, starting now until your retirement. Your salary will be frozen. That means no raise at your review next month, and that will mean a lower ending salary in your retirement calculation.”

Paul paused, looking for a reaction from Bert, but he was stoic.

“There’s more!” Paul continued, in a stern voice. “You have to serve a suspension of one month without pay. That means no money. That doesn’t mean using vacation or sick days. It means what I said; ‘no money’! I can’t function with your position vacant for a whole month, so you’ll have to serve it out in one week blocks over four months.”

Bert nodded agreement.

“There’s one more thing.” Paul said. “You can’t tell anyone the reason. This has to be kept strictly confidential. Only the four of us and Jane Hansen in Personnel will know the details. She’ll call you tomorrow to work out the details.”

“Paul, it’s better than I deserve,” said Bert in a subdued voice.

“I’m going to rely on you not to let us down again, Bert. Now, you better go home before I have a chance to change my mind,” Paul answered.

Bert walked slowly out of the room.

“You took it pretty easy on him,” Ted said to Paul.

“I’ve fired people for less,” Paul said.

“Getting soft?” asked Ted.

“Probably. He’s closing out forty years with the Company, you know. Except for this, his record is as clean as yours or mine.”

Ted nodded.

“There’s more,” Paul said. “We might need him to testify, so we have to keep him on board. If I canned him, there’s a big risk that Grafton would find out what we know. It wasn’t an easy call, but it was the right way to go.”

Paul turned to Jim Spencer. “One day, you’ll be sitting where I am. Always think things through before letting the ax hit the block. Then, do it or not when you’re sure that you’re right.”

“What you did is against Company Policy. It could be a lot of trouble, and you’re on the limb by yourself,” Ted reminded Paul what he already knew.

“So be it!” Paul exclaimed. “I’ll set up a sit-down with Adams tomorrow and disclose it. That way, you two will be covered.”

George Adams was President of the company and Paul’s boss.

“Now let’s talk about my visit with Miss Wright,” Paul said.

Paul narrated the story that Audrey told him, and their plan to liberate the set of false drawings.

“You’ve got a big bluff going,” Ted told Paul. “I can’t think of any judge issuing a search warrant based on what you have. I hope that Morehead is as stupid as you think!”

“I don’t think that he’s stupid, but I believe that he’s afraid and greedy. Scared and greedy people do stupid things,” Paul answered.

“Audrey Wright is taking a big chance,” piped up Spencer.

“That’s why we have to move fast,” said Paul. “Grafton is sure to figure it out if he gets downwind of this. If he does, he’ll alert Morehead.”

**********

It was nine o’clock on a Wednesday morning. Paul was sitting in front of George Adams explaining what he had done with Bert Loehman. George was Paul’s boss and President of Dunn Chemicals. Paul had broken the rules with the action that he took with Bert, and figured a confession in advance would be wise.

George Adams and Paul Crane grew up in the Company together. Both of them started in engineering. After a few years George went to Sales and Marketing, while Paul remained in Engineering and Production. Paul knew that he would find a friendly ear in George, but he recognized the conflict, too, because George had his eye on the ultimate prize: the position of CEO.

“I want to keep Ted Wilson out of it. I told him that I was going to disclose it, so he wouldn’t have to worry about it. Jim Spencer was there, too.” Paul took a sip of coffee as he ended his story.

“Spencer?” George asked.

“He’s a senior manager in my department;” Paul answered. “… my ‘go-to’ guy.”

George nodded.

“It’s probably what I would have done, Paul,” George said, then leaned back and sighed. “It wasn’t long ago that we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You would handle your area and I would let you do it. Today is different. Directors are afraid of everything. I’ll have to report it to the Ethics Committee because it’s a violation of Company Policy and the rules say that I have to. Some of them will say that you should have fired him for what he did; others will say that you’re picking on him because of his age. They will all think that you did the right thing, but none of them will say it.”

“What do you think they’ll do?” asked Paul.

“I don’t know for sure. Everyone on the Ethics Committee is an outside director,” George explained. “My guess is that they’ll force you to walk on your kneecaps and eat crow. They’ll give you a slap on the wrist and a warning. It might cost you some stock options. It’s hard to say. Of course, they can get more serious.”

“I guess that they’ll have to do whatever they will do,” Paul mused.

“Let me change the subject and talk about this Peoria lawsuit,” George said. “There’s a time to fight and a time to cut losses.”

“Peoria was a good project from the start. From a business standpoint, there’s no reason to back off. I hope that the Company hangs in there,” said Paul.

“We’re on thin ice, in my opinion, Paul. I know that on pure business grounds it makes sense. When the local government backed out, it really hurt. Now we’re banking on the Agency in Illinois. They could back out, too. The PR’s going to be murder. It always is when the issue is environmental. Hopkins is a celebrity of sorts. Facts will mean nothing. We could lose this suit in a trial. Jury risk is tremendous,” countered George.

“George, the fight is over more than just that Peoria Plant. If we cave in here we will face the same thing every time we try to build a new plant anywhere. I’m betting that the State will hang tough. It’s their approval process on the line. And, by the way, the City of Peoria didn’t really cave. They never changed the zoning. We could put the deal back together in a jiffy.”

“If the State of Illinois gives it up, so do we, Paul,” George commanded.

“There’s a side issue of corruption on the part of Hopkins and a guy that was working for the State and Montgomery.” Paul went on. “We …”

“I know about that!” George cut him off. “Be careful there. I abhor it, just like you do, but we’re here to sell product, not fight the world’s battles.”

George had been clear enough. Paul was disappointed. It was a predictable stance by the President of the company. George wondered how much further he could go.

On his way back to his office Paul stopped to see Bert Loehman.

“I came by to see how you’re doing, Bert.”

Bert gave a non-committal shrug.

“It wasn’t pleasant doing it to you last night,” Paul said.

“You had no choice,” Bert answered.

“No hard feelings, then?” Paul asked.

“I just hope that you don’t get in trouble over this,” Bert answered.

Paul waived his hand in a ‘don’t worry about it’ signal.

“Have you spoken with your wife, yet?” Paul probed.

“No,” answered Bert. “I thought that I would wait until I spoke to Jane Hansen so that I would have all the details. I only want to have to tell her once.”

Paul understood and nodded.

“Look, Bert,” Paul leaned closer, “eat your Wheaties; keep your strength up. I’m going to need you. There’s a lot of work in front of us. You’re not retired yet!”

“Don’t worry, Paul,” Bert assured him.

“I’m not worried, Bert. I’m here to tell you not to worry.”

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

When Paul arrived at his office the next morning it was past ten o’clock. He had been to a Chamber of Commerce breakfast. Marge stopped him as he strode into his office.

“You had a call from a Miss Wright. She said that she was in her car passing Chicago, and wants to see you this afternoon. I have her cell phone number.”

“Would you see if you can connect me, please?” Paul said.

Paul: “Audrey, it’s Paul Crane calling you back.

Audrey: Mr. Crane, I need to see you today. Will you be at your office? I want to deliver a package to you.”

Paul was away from his office at three o’clock when Audrey arrived at his office. Marge paged him and Paul hurried back.

“Hello, Audrey, I hadn’t expected to hear from you so quickly,” Paul reached out his hand as he greeted her.

“I worked fast, Mr. Crane,” Audrey answered. “I was so excited that you were taking me seriously that I just wanted to get moving.”

She extended her hand as she answered him. Paul took it gently, as he would any lady’s hand. As he did so, he felt softness in the skin and firmness underneath the skin. To Paul, it was rather nice.

“Where are my manners?” said Paul. “Would you like a refreshment?”

“I did drive from Springfield today. I started at six this morning,” said Audrey. “A coffee would be nice.”

“Nine hours!” exclaimed Paul. “I think that rates at least a cup of coffee.”

Paul opened his office door and Audrey went in. Paul poked his head out the door.

“Marge, would you bring in coffee for two, please?” asked Paul.

“I thought that you might order Champagne and oysters!” Marge shot back. Paul wondered if Marge’s tone was warning or jealousy He decided not to worry about it.

“Coffee will be just fine, Marge,” answered Paul, not taking the bait.

Paul stepped back into the office. In the far corner sat a suite of furniture designed for casual meetings and Audrey had found a seat on the sofa. She sat patiently with her legs crossed. As Paul approached her she looked up at him and smiled.

As Paul took his seat in the chair facing her, it occurred to him that he was viewing the most beautiful young woman that he ever been alone in the same room with. Sally had been nice looking in her twenties, but Audrey was special. Paul realized that he had missed a lot of detail in their earlier hotel meeting. In the more relaxed situation, he decided to catch up.

Audrey’s clothing was a bit more casual than when he first met her, but dressy enough for a visit to the office after her long drive. She wore a striped cotton shirt-style blouse tucked into a navy skirt that was full at the bottom. It descended to just above her knee. She had on loafers and clear hose. Mostly, she wore a countenance that was bright and cheerful, with lines that appeared when she smiled or laughed and disappeared when she was finished. Audrey was tall— Paul guessed about five-eight—and had an athletic look. She had broad shoulders, but a slender build. The tightly-tucked blouse told Paul that she was smaller than ‘busty’ but had plenty to fill a man’s two hands.

“What do you have that made you drive nine hours to see me?” Paul asked.

“I got the drawings from Craig,” Audrey proclaimed. “They’re in the tube over there.” She pointed to Paul’s desk.

Marge entered with the coffee. She raised her eyebrows when she saw the pair seated at the seldom-used sofa and chair.

“Ask Jim Spencer and Bert Loehman to come in with the Peoria drawings,” said Paul.

As they waited, Paul questioned Audrey further.

“Did you have any trouble getting them?” Paul asked.

“At first he wasn’t going for it,” Audrey answered. “Then I did what you said and told him that I wanted a cut of the action. When he thought that I was crooked like him he trusted me more.”

Paul nodded.

“It wasn’t long before we had a deal. He passed me the drawings in the parking lot yesterday before work,” she added.

“We’ll see what changes they made to them when Bert and Jim get here,” Paul said.

Audrey said that she wanted to freshen-up. Paul directed her to his private rest room. While she was away, Paul wrote something out longhand on a sheet of paper and took it to Marge.

“Marge, would you type this up, please? Blank paper—not Dunn letterhead. Four copies, please, with blank envelopes. Bring them right in when you’re finished.”

Jim and Bert came through the door just as Audrey returned. Paul introduced Audrey to Bert. She already knew Jim.

They laid the prints out on the conference table, the good set and the phonies, side by side. There were over thirty pages in the packet, but they knew which had the best chance to contain differences. It was difficult to find them at first, until a pattern emerged.

“Every engineer has his own ‘personality’ when it comes to drawings. After a while, you can see it come through,” Bert explained. “For example, here and here, you can see where he changed the pipe diameters. On this next page he has the reactors mis-sized. There’s a wrong-sized heat exchanger there. Once you start to read him, the changes are easy to find.”

“We have to find them all!” Paul commanded.

“We have a program that can find differences. We’ll scan it and run it through the CAD,” said Bert.

“Document every change. Hand-check it! Write a report—both of you sign as PE’s when you’re satisfied,” ordered Paul. “Make no marks at all on this set that Audrey brought us.”

Marge brought in what Paul had asked her to type.

“Audrey, here is something that I want you to sign,” Paul said. “It is a statement by you stating that Craig Morehead freely gave you these drawings on yesterday’s date for the purpose of safekeeping. It states that you delivered them to us on today’s date for the purpose of assisting us to discover fraudulent changes in them, and that you left them in our custody.”

“Sounds right to me!” exclaimed a jubilant Audrey.

“Let’s not start the party yet!” warned Paul. “Read it carefully; make changes if necessary; don’t sign it until you’re satisfied. Then sign all four copies. Jim, Bert and I will sign to acknowledge receipt. Marge is a notary. She’ll witness them.”

“Audrey,” Paul went on, “When you’ve done that, record your story by voice into the dictating machine. Marge will transcribe it. Then you can sign it, I’ll witness it and Marge will notarize it.”

“Alright,” Audrey said, “but it seems like a lot of paperwork.”

“Audrey, this isn’t ‘fun and games’,” Paul countered. “I’m taking no chances.”

Paul left the others to their task and went to attend a meeting. When he returned forty-five minutes later Marge was just starting the transcription. He found Audrey waiting in his office, sitting again on the sofa in his office. Paul retook his chair opposite her.

“How did you get away from work, Audrey? Where does the Agency think you are?” asked Paul.

“They think that I’m on vacation,” she answered. “Actually, I am. I’m driving up to northern Wisconsin to go camping. I’m thinking that I might go the Nicolet Forest.”

“That’s pretty remote,” Paul said. “You won’t find much nightlife!”

“That suits me fine!” she countered. “I have experience in the woods. I’m an ecologist, you remember.”

Audrey relaxed back and stretched out her arms across the back of the sofa and crossed a leg over one knee. Her full skirt slid down her thigh, showing a toned limb that was long and as shapely as any Paul had ever seen.

“It would be perfect if I had a man to go with me!” she added in a wishful tone.

The provocative statement gave Paul a start; he knew that it was meant for him. It was an intriguing concept because his eyes were already glued to the shapely calf attached to the toned thigh. As it pivoted on Audrey’s knee it bobbed up and down. Its movement was just enough to reveal the slightest flexing of the muscles in her leg, but not so much to appear contrived. She would cock her slender foot on the upswing, like a crooked finger beckoning one to ‘come hither’. It was a playful little bounce that held Paul’s attention. His eyes took on a mind of their own, moving up and down with the limb. Up-down, up-down, up-down; it was hypnotic. Paul knew that he was allowing his gaze to linger too long, but the sight was so pleasing—who could blame him?

His imagination delivered the scene to his mind’s eye. His hands rested gently on her knee. He traced a slow, purposeful ascent upward along the fine line of that thigh. She sighed and uncrossed her legs. She spread them slightly to enable his pleasure-rendering hands to complete their journey. The molded legs kept their delightful promise of perfection. It was a sensual treat just to touch them, and when she sent back signals of her own pleasure, it was more than pleasure. When he reached her hips, he grasped the waistband of her pantyhose. She lifted up, assisting in their removal. He peeled them—slow, not wanting to rush it—down her thighs and past her knees. He removed her shoes one at a time. The hose slipped over her feet, and then were gone.

His hands retraced their path, this time over smooth skin. It would be another slow march. He cradled her feet, and then the flesh of her calves, a prelude. He coursed over the knees. She issued a tiny gasp of anticipation. His fingertips caressed those beautiful, sweet thighs, lingering on the inner portions. She let out little moans at the pleasure that became stronger every time she stole a breath, to let him know how well he pleased her. It was the softness on the inside of them that pleased most. She spread herself more. He found her. Paul felt the puffy lips through the encasement of the silk panties. She was spilling her moisture onto them. He bathed his fingers in her heat. He pressed in gently. She was captured by pleasure and anticipation. Almost too late, she struggled to issue out a hoarse whisper, “Not here—somewhere more private.”

They were transported. It was early morning; he was in the chilly water waiting for her. She was standing nude on his dock. She was afraid, not of the coldness of the water, but that she might plunge in too soon, before his eyes could drink in all of her. It was a perfect view. Her white skin, with the healthy pink glow, blazoned out against the pines in the background. There was her sweet face, shining with eagerness, framed by her gold mane. His eyes descended lower. Her broad, sculpted shoulders were next. There were strong, supple arms, gently defined, on either side. They hung at her sides, not drawn up in front of her in futile modesty. Her firm breasts rested effortlessly on her chest, with natural firmness; the pink nipples pierced the dawn’s light. Paul viewed her slender torso, tiny navel in the middle, atop the slender, toned limbs, joined at spare hips. In the middle was her triangle of fine blonde pubic hair, where they had joined with passion and tasted of sweetness the night before. She flexed her legs and thrust out her arms in front of her. She flung herself low over the surface, like the loons who shared the lake with them. At long-last, they met in the refreshing water. Before long, they joined anew.

“I said that I wished that I had someone to go with me to the forest,” she called louder.

Paul shook himself and saw her looking at him with a Mona Lisa smile, as though she had read his thoughts. He felt a little embarrassed. He wiped a bead of perspiration from his hairline.

“Do you like to go into the woods, Mr. Crane?”

“Actually, I have a cabin on the peninsula,” Paul said. “It’s just as wild, but half the drive.”

“That would do nicely,” she cooed, waiting for him to finish the invitation.

There followed a silence that filled the room. They looked at one another for long seconds. Paul struggled with the choice. At long last, Audrey broke the silence.

“I’m famished and I have no one to dine with tonight,” she declared, setting her sights a little lower.

“Where are my manners?” Paul exclaimed. He strode to the office door and opened it.

“Marge, I was hoping that when you’re done with the transcript, you could dust off your expense account and take Miss Wright somewhere nice for dinner. Don’t be too late, though. She has a long drive tomorrow.”

Audrey looked at Paul in confused amazement. Paul instructed her to visit him in the office again on her way back from Wisconsin.

As Audrey left, Paul felt remorse at his self-denial. It had to be. If he and Audrey had been seen together it would have destroyed the credibility of any testimony she would make. Paul knew that it was the right decision—but she certainly was beautiful.

**********

Later that evening, while Marge and Audrey were trying out the new restaurant in town, and Paul was watching the Tigers play the Yankees on television, Bert Loehman was telling his sad story to his wife.

“Agnes, it’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. I’m lucky not to get fired,” Bert concluded.

Agnes and Bert Loehman had been married for thirty-eight years. They met when Bert was a junior engineer at Dunn, and Agnes was a clerk in a local department store. Bert had moved to the area to join Dunn when he was twenty-five. Agnes was a native. While Bert was a Company man, Agnes always retained an arms-length skepticism of the giant company that overwhelmed the small city. Agnes was good at math, especially as applied to Bert’s salary matters.

“What do mean ‘lucky’?” she cried. “This is going to cost us a lot of money!”

Bert hung his head. He knew Agnes would react this way. He would have to listen to it.

“Paul Crane owes his career to you, and this is some thanks. He could have covered it up. A month’s pay is almost eight thousand dollars! What about that cut in retirement pay?”

“First of all,” Bert yelled back, “Paul Crane doesn’t owe me his job. Right now, I owe him mine. And secondly, he doesn’t cover things up. That’s one reason why he’s where he is today. Another thing—he’s going to get reamed for letting me off easy. And, finally, for your information, I know what my salary is; I know how to do math, so you don’t have to tally it up for me!”

“All I know,” she shot back, “is that you can say good-bye to the cross country trip that we were planning when you retire.”

“It’s done, Agnes! Don’t make it worse than it has to be.”

They glared at one another. Bert stomped out of the room.

Agnes fingered the business card in her pocket. She hadn’t told Bert about the visit that afternoon from the odd little man who said he knew Bert. When he arrived at her doorstep it had confused her. She had never heard his name before, yet he had said that he had worked with Bert.

When the argument started over Bert’s suspension, it had slipped her mind. She thought of it as Bert told her his story, but it occurred to her not to mention it. Bert would never approve, and what he had told her of the events explained all. She read the name on the business card, and the phone number of the hotel that he had scribbled on the back.

It wasn’t a co-worker of Bert’s after all, but the man who had tricked him and cost him a month’s pay. The name was Ed Grafton, and now Agnes had information to sell. She would get back the lost salary from Grafton. He had offered to buy it when Agnes hadn’t a clue as to what he was talking about. Things had changed, and as Bert always said: ‘knowledge is power’.

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

TO BE CONTINUED

Dear Readers,

I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. I am always pleased to receive your comments.

Autumn Writer