“Why not?” Renie whispered. “She’s very capable.”
Killegrew had assumed an authoritative stance in front of
the dart board. Max’s homely face was belligerent, but he
set the last two darts down on the wet bar. Gene moved out
from under the antlers while Margo finally turned all the way
around to face the others.
“It may be,” Killegrew said, hooking his thumbs in his
suspenders, “that this weekend—as tragic as it’s been—could
work in our favor.” Seeing the dismay and even horror on
the faces of his employees, Killegrew held up a hand. “Now,
now—don’t get me wrong. Nobody is more upset by what’s
happened here than I am. But there’s always an upside. Ava’s
got the right idea about Alan Roth. He may not want anything to do with us now that Andrea’s…passed away. But
that might mean WaCom will scrap the whole merger idea.
This crew has scurvy, right? We’re contaminated. There are
other telecommunications companies out there to merge
with.” Killegrew looked at Gene. “What about Alien Tel?
Settle the damned suit out of court and let WaCom gobble
Gene Jarman stiffened. “I can’t do that. I won’t do that.
It’s a point of…It’s a legal point.” Gene turned away.
Killegrew jabbed a finger at his legal counsel. “You’ll do
it if I tell you to! We can’t afford a personal…” The CEO
swung around to Margo. “Well? What can’t we afford?”
Margo sighed. “The word’s ‘vendetta,’ Frank.”
“Vendetta?” Killegrew wrinkled his blunt nose. “Okay, we
can’t afford that. So drop it, first thing.”
Gene said nothing; his face was expressionless.
Max picked up a pool cue and broke it in two. “So where
the hell does that leave me?”
“Right where you belong,” Killegrew shot back. “You and
Russell both. If we can get out of this WaCom deal, your
departments stay as they are.”
“
“We’ll see.” Killegrew moved toward the wet bar, which
someone had stocked with the dwindling number of liquor
bottles. “It’s almost eleven. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to run
up the cocktail flag a little early. Nadia, mix me a Scotch and
soda, will you?”
The request seemed to echo off the plate glass windows
and disappear among the high polished beams of the ceiling.
Judith and Renie had moved close together, scrutinizing each
of the six remaining conferees. Ava, who had dried her eyes,
glanced behind her; Gene’s stance became less rigid as he
looked around the room; Margo moved closer to the group
and frowned; Max, looking curious, rested the broken pool
cue pieces against his thigh; Russell sat on a chessboard,
oblivious to the pieces he had knocked over, including the
