Part 89 (1/2)

”I'm calling security dispatch now.”

A moment later, Luis's phone rang and the kid listened intently, nodding unconsciously. Once he'd hung up, Sammy pa.s.sed him his backups, hardcopy and computer. ”Let's go,” he said.

”Right,” Luis said, and led the way.

It was a short ride to the casting office building, where Guignol had his office. The wind felt terrific on his face, drying his sweat. It had been a long day.

When they pulled up, Sammy let Luis lead the way again, badging in behind him, following him up to the seventh-floor board-room. at the end of the Gold Coast where the most senior offices were.

Guignol met them at the door and took the materials from Luis, then ushered Sammy in. Sammy caught Luis's eye, and Luis surprised him by winking and slipping him a surrept.i.tious thumbs-up, making Sammy feel like they shared a secret.

There were eight on the executive committee, but they travelled a lot. Sammy had expected to see no more than four. There were two. And Hackelberg, of course. The lawyer was the picture of saurian calm.

Sammy sat down at the table and helped himself to a gla.s.s of water, watching a ring pool on the table's polished and waxed wooden surface.

”Samuel,” Hackelberg said, shaking his head. ”I hoped it wouldn't come to this.”

Sammy took a deep breath, looking for that don't-give-a-s.h.i.+t calm that had suffused him before. It was there still, not as potent, but there. He drew upon it.

”Let's put this to the committee, shall we? I mean, we already know how we feel.”

”That won't be necessary,” Hackelberg said. ”The committee has already voted on this.”

Sammy closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He looked at Hackelberg, who was smiling grimly, a mean grin that went all the way to the corners of his eyes.

Sammy looked around at Guignol and the committee members. They wouldn't meet his eye. Guignol gestured Luis into the room and handed him Sammy's computer, papers, and backups. He leaned in and spoke quietly to him. Luis turned and left.

Guignol cleared his throat. ”There's nothing else to discuss, then,”

he said. ”Thank you all for coming.”

In his heart, Sammy had known this was coming. Hackelberg would beat him to the committee -- never let him present his side. Watching the lawyer get up stiffly and leave with slow, dignified steps, Sammy had a moment's intuition about what it must be like to be that man -- possessed of a kind of cold, furious power that came from telling everyone that not obeying you to the letter would put them in terrible danger. He knew that line of reasoning: It was the same one he got from the TSA at the airport before they bent him over and greased him up. *You can't understand the grave danger we all face. You must obey me, for only I can keep it at bay.*

He waited for the rest of the committee to file out. None of them would meet his eye. Then it was just him and Guignol. Sammy raised his eyebrows and spread out his hands, miming *What happens now?*

”You won't be able to get anything productive done until IT gets through with your computer. Take some time off. Call up Dinah and see if she wants to grab some holiday time.”

”We split,” Sammy said. He drank his water and stood up. ”I've just got one question before I go.”

Guignol winced but stood his ground. ”Go ahead,” he said.

”Don't you want to know what the numbers looked like?”

”It's not my job to overrule legal --”

”We'll get to that in a second. It's not the question. The question is, don't you *want to know*?”

Guignol sighed. ”You know I want to know. Of course I want to know. This isn't about me and what I want, though. It's about making sure we don't endanger the shareholders --”

”So ignoring this path, sticking our heads in the sand, that's *good*