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From: "Bill Morgan" <morg105829@hotmail.com>
Subject: {Morgan} NEW: Six-month Turnaround, 14 of 16; M/F Rom - lite sex
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Author's note: If you are looking for wall-to-wall sex, look elsewhere. 
This book is a romance with a business setting. Beyond that, the sex is 
comparable to - or less than - what one would find in almost any work of 
popular fiction.

Permission is granted to post on any free site, as long as the copyright 
statement is included. Please advise the author of any such postings.

Comments are welcome and encouraged. Please address me at 
morg105829@aol.com.

I hope you enjoy the book. My plan was to post a chapter each weekday; 
however, Eli has been having problems, so ASSM has not been posting 
daily. As a result, I am uploading the remaining chapters now.  This is 
chapter 14 of 16.

Six-Month Turnaround

Copyright 1992, 1998 by Morgan. All rights reserved.

Chapter 14

It was Tuesday morning following a very eventful week. Kelly's estimate 
from a week earlier proved to be correct. First the financial papers, 
then the business sections of the daily press, and finally the 
general-interest press including TV and the news weeklies, discovered 
Murphy Manufacturing Company and the first corner on a securities market 
since the Hunt brothers tried to corner silver. But unlike the Hunt 
situation which even experts argued over, Murphy was easy to understand. 
As one anchorwoman said, "It's nice of them to have an even one million 
shares. It makes the percentages so easy to calculate." And it sure did. 
It now appeared that there were nearly 100,000 shares sold which 
couldn't be delivered - nearly 10 percent of the company's stock. One 
thing had not happened: The sellers of the shares had not yet surfaced. 
Today was the settle ment day for Tuesday's trades, so it was only a 
matter of hours.

As Bill had predicted, they had tried to open the stock the previous 
Wednesday, but ultimately could not. The specialist on the floor 
reported to the exchange governors that he had bids in his book as high 
as sixty, but there were no sellers. He had sold out his own position 
the previous day. When he was criticized for his failure to make an 
orderly market in the stock, he pointed out how thin the market for the 
stock was and how few shares were normally traded. The inventory of 
shares he had would have lasted two to four weeks at any time over the 
previous three years. Now they went out in a matter of a couple of hours 
as he tried to make a market.

The governors asked around but could not find any shares for sale even 
at a hypothetical $100 a share. They gave up and formally suspended the 
stock from trading. Now they watched and waited.

So far the company security was holding solidly. Too solidly for a 
couple of kids who were taking a shortcut through a previously unnoticed 
hole in a fence, and too solidly for a poor pizza delivery man who 
sheepishly showed the guards surrounding him a large pepperoni pizza he 
was delivering.

Sandy was sitting across from Cliff with her coffee, giggling to 
herself. He looked at her strangely. "What's got into you? I didn't 
think you were the giggling type."

"I was just thinking about yesterday in the cafeteria. You missed the 
funniest scene in years. I didn't want to embarrass the other two by 
telling you yesterday afternoon while they were around, and last night 
we had other things to do. Anyway, you know how in a crowded place, 
every once in a while there's a moment of quiet? Well just as one 
occurred, everyone in the place saw Kelly standing against Kevin's chest 
and heard her screaming up at him, 'I can't marry you! I refuse to be 
Kelly O'Rourke!' The whole place just broke up. It's been the talk of 
the plant. They all think it's great. They were wonder ing who that 
beautiful dark-haired girl is. Now they know." She looked up just as 
Kelly came in. "And speak of the devil! Here she is!"

"Would you two please do something about this... this Irish wolfhound 
who keeps following me around!" She came in followed by Kevin, who 
grinned at the two of them and winked at them over Kelly's head. "Sandy, 
do something! You own this joint. Can't you get him to do some work or 
molest a secretary or something?"

"Kelly, you must be thinking of two other people. All I do is get the 
coffee. No one reports to me. I don't even get to share a secretary. 
Wait until I address the Midwest Women Financial Executives meeting in 
Chicago in November! I didn't tell you, Cliff, but they invited me down 
as the featured speaker. Wait until I tell them that I do your 
correspondence, get your coffee, and perform... other personal services. 
Boy, are they going to hear about it!"

"But what about your treasury duties?" Kelly asked. "Who does those?"

"I do those, too. Cliff says that once a good cash management system is 
up and running, all you have to do is watch the wheels turn."

"So what do you do?" Kelly persisted.

Sandy shrugged. "I watch the wheels turn," she replied with a grin. 
"You'll have to ask Cliff about Kevin. He's the CEO."

"Okay, Cliff, you do it!" Kelly demanded.

Cliff pretended to look puzzled. "Do what?"

"Damn it! Tell this big lug to get to work and quit bothering me. That's 
what!"

"Oh, dear!" Cliff said plaintively. "I can't do that. Kelly, I guess you 
don't know much about systems people, do you?"

"I guess not, Cliff," she replied sarcastically, "but I sure know when 
I'm being conned! But please continue."

"Kelly, they're very scarce. Good ones are nearly impossible to get, and 
unfortunately, Kevin's one of the very best. Hell, I can't tell him to 
do anything. Ask Sandy. She'll tell you that it takes at least an hour 
of discussion to try to figure out what sort of mood he's in. We have to 
wait for just the right time or he'll get mad and sulk... or something 
worse." He smiled at her. "Actually, Kelly, I want to thank you. His 
mood has been so much better since you have been around. He hasn't 
smashed a computer since you have been here and that's almost a full 
week now!"

By this time everyone in the room including Kelly was laughing. She and 
Kevin collapsed in the sofa. "Okay then, both of you. Just tell Kevin I 
can't possibly marry him because the name, Kelly O'Rourke, sounds 
absolutely ridiculous. It's really a stupid name, isn't it?"

"I don't know. I think it sounds very nice... a bit ethnic, but nice," 
Cliff said with a straight face.

"A bit ethnic, my ass! Kevin O'Rourke, if you persist, so help me I'll 
have the map of Ireland tattooed on my chest, right over my boobs. What 
do you think about that?"

Kevin looked thoughtful, and then visibly brightened. "I think it's a 
fine idea. A bit dramatic and not really necessary, but a fine idea. 
What do you two think?"

By this time, Sandy was laughing too hard to do anything except slowly 
shake her head. Cliff just held up his hands in a sign of surrender. 
"You keep us out of this! I have one question, though. Kevin, you're 
Catholic, aren't you? How about you, Kelly?"

"My father is Presbyterian. Only my mother is Catholic," she said.

"What about you?" Cliff persisted.

"I'm Catholic," she replied reluctantly.

"Great! When is the wedding?"

"I'll think about it," she mumbled. Then she turned on the sofa, grabbed 
Kevin, and melted into his arms. Awhile later she came up for air. They 
heard her whisper, "Of course I'll marry you, you big lug. I feel sorry 
for you. And I love you so damned much. But Kelly O'Rourke, indeed!" She 
went back into his arms.

Just then Cliff's phone rang. Again, it was Bill from the Snyder trading 
room for Kelly. She reluctantly pulled away from Kevin, straightened her 
clothes ostentatiously, and took the phone.

"What's up, Bill?" She listened for a while, while she was looking at 
Sandy. "Bill, exactly how many shares do we have now? Okay, but you know 
the drill: Placed back with the original owners, with the voting rights 
retained by us until October 15. If they don't like it, tough. It's a 
condition of the sale." She hung up the phone and looked at the others. 
"The pot is starting to boil. Bill says he's never had so much fun - or 
so many phone calls. Suddenly, Snyder Securities is famous as the only 
place in the country with a known holding of Murphy Manufacturing shares 
outside of the family. The phone is ringing off the hook, and we're 
about to ransom some positions. Sandy, we bought 16,000 shares Monday 
and Tuesday. So far we've only received 7,000. I propose to do this: We 
will ransom the 7,000 shares back to known lenders. They must establish 
prior ownership. You heard me tell Bill we retain voting rights until 
October 15. The price is $1,000 a share."

Sandy was aghast. "You did say $1,000 dollars... per share!... didn't 
you?"

Now it was Kelly's turn to tease. Her face fell and she looked as if she 
was going to cry. "It's not enough? You're convinced I'm leaving money 
on the table. Well, Sandra Donnell, I have to live with myself. Any more 
than... $2,000 a share?... would be cruel! Don't you agree, Cliff? 
Cliff?"

"Don't bother me, Kelly. I'm too busy dreaming. I own ten thousand 
shares, remember. Cameron, that's ten million dollars! Would you like to 
sell one thousand shares for me? Then I can get out of hock to the 
bankers, and maybe have enough left to buy my future bride an engagement 
ring. A pretty one."

"Are you serious, Cliff?" Kelly asked.

"I sure am!" he replied. "But it's on the same basis as you're doing it. 
Kelly, it's time for me to join the crowd. Where are the forms for me to 
sign to make you my broker, too? I'll arrange for my shares to be 
transferred to Snyder. One thing more: What about the eight thousand 
shares you haven't received?"

Kelly grinned again. "It's simple. The seller buys out of the contract 
at the present market price for Murphy shares - $1,000 - unless, of 
course, Bill's greed gets the better of him and he pushes the price up 
higher. He is greedy, too. I think $1,000 is just a start. But do you 
see what's happening? These little deals *are* the market. The fact that 
the stock's listed on the AMEX has nothing to do with nothing. These 
sales will be duly reported to the Exchange and go out on the tape. We 
*are* the market! We have the only shares available at any price.

"Whoops, I nearly forgot. I have to call my friend at Ajax Industries. 
He's been trying to reach me." She picked up the phone and dialed the 
number. "Hi, Bill. It's Kelly Cameron. I was told you've been trying to 
reach me." She listened, and made noncommittal noises of comprehension 
on the phone, but it was obvious she was extremely excited. She was 
jumping in her chair although her voice remained impassive. Finally she 
said, "Thanks Bill. When will this be on the wire?" She nodded, and said 
"Thanks for the confidence. I appreciate it! Stay in touch."

She hung up and exclaimed, "George Simpson is out at Ajax! The Board 
demanded his resignation. Apparently, some Board members were advised by 
Magna of what Simpson had done. They confronted him and he admitted 
telling the Chairman of Magna that Ajax would cut them off if they 
bought from Murphy. That's an antitrust felony, and Magna threatened to 
sue for treble damages in an antitrust action. The Board had no choice, 
so Simpson is history."

Sandy excused herself to make a phone call while the others considered 
the effect of the action. Cliff said, "I think that makes it easier for 
us. We have reason to believe Ajax has rather high total costs. They 
carry a corporate overhead charge that won't quit, including a whole 
fleet of corporate aircraft. I don't think they can come after us on 
price, and I don't believe they can do it on quality either. My God! I 
think, we're home free!"

Just then the plant's emergency whistle screamed. Cliff and Kevin raced 
for the door with Cliff grabbing his hard hat on the way out. They raced 
down to the plant floor. As they reached it, they heard screaming police 
sirens coming their way. At one of the production machines a man they 
didn't recognize was lying face-down on the floor covered by Pinkerton 
guns. He recognized Sam Johnson quickly securing the man's hands behind 
him with handcuffs.

"What happened, Sam?" Cliff asked.

He could see other Pinkertons roping off a clear area for the police, 
while others went back on patrol. A few minutes later, police started to 
arrive on the scene.

"We caught this guy starting to tamper with the machine. Look." An 
inspection port was nearly off the machine. Sitting nearby was a bag of 
what appeared to be very fine-grain sand. The police were about to help 
the man up when Johnson's walkie-talkie squawked. He had an earpiece so 
others couldn't hear. Suddenly his face became grave. He turned to a 
police sergeant who was obviously in charge of the detail. "Sergeant, 
you better take a couple of men along the back fence. You'll see a 
couple of my men about halfway along. This is now a murder 
investigation: One of my guards is dead!"

Sandy and Kelly had just come up to them and overheard what Johnson had 
said. Cliff saw them both go pale. Sam spoke quietly into his 
microphone, obviously giving out the news and new orders. Cliff realized 
that things had taken a sudden, very deadly turn, as he saw the 
Pinkertons checking the loads in their weapons.

The sergeant returned and went to his radio car where he called for 
homicide detectives and the morgue wagon. When he rejoined Sam, he 
extended his hand. "I'm terribly sorry," he said. "I knew your man when 
he was on the force. He was a damned good cop. I think we ought to let 
our friend lie there until the detectives arrive. From the looks of 
Jack's head back there, I think we're going to find a blackjack or 
something similar on this joker. And you know what? Our lab is going to 
send him to the chair with the forensics."

The detectives arrived and searched the man. As the sergeant had 
predicted, there was a sap filled with lead shot in his pocket. It was 
wet with blood on one side. The police crime lab people were soon on the 
scene. Bill asked if he could have a small sample of what was in the 
bag. The material looked like fine-grain sand, and they gave him some in 
a small plastic bag. As the technician did so, he suddenly became 
interested in the material himself. He warned Bill to be careful with 
it. "I don't know exactly what this stuff is," he said, "But I have a 
hunch it's not just sand."

A now-somber group went back up to Cliff's office, accompanied by Sam 
Johnson. Sam was the first to speak. "I just talked with my office, Mr. 
Fitzpatrick. This changes things for us... dramatically. We tend to take 
it very personally when one of our men gets killed in line of duty. It's 
not you and them any more, sir. It's them and *us*! I have been asked to 
advise you of a proposed change in arrangements. The Pinkerton Detective 
Agency proposes to work at our cost until this is cleared up. Clearly, 
it isn't yet. Is our proposal satisfactory?"

Cliff looked at Sandy who was nodding her head. "It's very satisfactory. 
There's only one thing, Sam. We're called Sandy and Cliff around here. 
I'm sure you noticed, and we'd appreciate it if you would call us that, 
too."

Sam smiled and said, "Sure, Cliff. One thing I should mention to you: 
This is the finest, most cooperative groups of workers it's ever been 
our good fortune to work with. We couldn't ask for better cooperation. 
And your people know our history. They kid us about it, in fact. Anyway, 
I want you to know we appreciate it. There's one more thing: It may 
sound personal, but it's professional. Sandy, what happens to the Murphy 
stock if something happens to you? What if you're hit by a truck? Who 
inherits?"

"Sam, I don't know for sure. After October 1, it's Cliff. Between now 
and then, I really don't know. Specifically, I don't know if the shares 
are mine to bequeath now. If they are, the answer is Cliff again. If 
not, I don't have a clue. While we're all being so forthcoming, there's 
something else you should know, too. Cliff and I suspect the trustee of 
the estate, Ezra Stiles, may be behind this. We don't have one tiny 
shred of evidence, though, but it's the only thing that seems to match 
up with behavior we've observed."

She went on and explained the theory of the corner on the market and the 
two-thirds voting at the meeting October first. Sam grinned when he 
heard Sandy already owned over 74 percent of the stock, so any such plan 
was already doomed to defeat.

He picked up the phone and called a number. He explained what he had 
just learned and hung up. "I'm sorry," he said. "We don't like playing 
target. This gives us a place to start looking, and we're really very 
good at looking. The answer to the question I asked about the stock is 
you don't know and believe you can't ask. I agree. Under the 
circumstances, we propose to cover you with bodyguards. I know it sounds 
melodramatic, but they work sometimes. Will you allow us to do it, 
please, Sandy?"

"My God! I guess so. But it sounds so... so creepy!"

"Okay, then. I'll be running the bodyguard detail because we know one 
another, assuming that's all right with you?" Sandy instantly agreed and 
Sam said, "Well, I'm off."



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