Troubleshooter

Chapter 3 - Looking for Trouble

Hi there, Alex here. Hope you are still with the story. Remember: if you are already hooked, buy the whole novel as an eBook anywhere. If you like to read more adventures of Paul Trouble, buy the sister books "Troublemaker", "Troubleseeker", or "Pieces of Trouble".

Enough ramblings, on with the story!

Sunday, November 29th

NEW YORK. The view from the sixty-sixth floor was breathtaking and made even someone as powerful as Henry Daven feel humble—something he rarely felt these days. Whenever he was in Manhattan, he enjoyed the vista from his large corner office on Park Avenue, overlooking Midtown East, the Chrysler Building, the Empire State Building and in the distance the newly erected One World Trade Center.

His job as CEO of Strom Industries made sure that Daven's workdays were packed start to end with meetings, an agenda determined by the cycles of financial quarterly reports, business strategy workshops, acquisition talks and of course, taking care of "The Family". Even though Strom Industries was a publicly traded company, listed on all the major exchanges, the majority of the company still belonged to the founding families, the Ehrenstroms and the Melanders. During the sixties and seventies, the founder families had dominated the management of the company and had made it to what it was now. Today, one and a half generations further down the road, it was a bitterly feuding family clan of mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, ex- and current wives, and lately grown-up grandchildren who were calling the overall shots. The official business motto of the Family was "One family, one voice"—to the outside world they had always managed to generate the single deciding 51% vote that controlled the business's past, present, and future.

As Strom Industries' CEO, Henry Daven was responsible for the company to the outside, but the Family wouldn't be a true owner group if they didn't ask constantly how their primary investment and money machine was doing, churning out the better of one and a half billion dollars year after year after year. And could it be a little bit more next year? Thank you very much, Sir.

Even though today was Sunday, Henry Daven was in the office to catch up on various matters on his desk between early breakfast and the late lunch with his first wife, Marie—back on speaking terms again—and their two grown children. As he was living in a constant sort of management bubble, his front office was filled with workers who had to be anywhere the big boss was at any given moment and location, like a group of frigates around an airplane carrier. Daven glanced at his watch; his next meeting should start about now. True to her German upbringing, his assistant Trude knocked, opened the door to the office suite and ushered in Michael Ny on the hour. "Your eleven o'clock, Sir."

"Michael, come in. Have a seat. Sorry for the inconvenience to make you work on a Sunday."

Michael Ny was forty-four and the prototype of a Swede—big bones, large, blonde, and lanky with a constant boyish face. On a Sunday, he took the liberty coming in sneakers, jeans, and polo shirt. Michael was ultimately responsible for everyone employed at Strom Industries, including the work conditions and security aspects.

"No problem, Henry. It was an interesting challenge. I mostly struggled using our global HR computer system myself instead of delegating it to one of my staff." Michael placed a small stack of files in front of Daven.

"That is all you have to offer?" Daven said good-humoredly but with a little tension in his voice.

"Our company has one hundred thousand employees, give or take a few. Out of those, I found four that generally fit the profile you had asked me to look for. However...", Michael patted the top file, "I strongly suggest you pick this man."

Daven intentionally put the suggested file aside and briefly browsed through the other three profiles while Michael made them drinks. It was Sunday, after all, and they had shared quite a bit of off-hours work time together in the past. Daven was in his mid-fifties, already grey hair with receding line and an angular face. He had managed to keep the fat from settling by a rigourous workout procedure provided by a personal fitness trainer four times a week, either live or via Skype.

Michael handed Daven the drink. He knew his boss well; Daven would evaluate the lesser options before focusing on the best one. Daven eventually picked up the suggested file.

"Is that his real name? Paul Trouble?" Daven gave a small, forced smile, browsing.

"It is. You can't help but play word games with his name. But since he was a US Navy SEAL, he probably only got teased at school, never again afterwards." Michael Ny also smiled.

Daven narrated through the checklist he had provided to Michael while he read on. "Let's check: Paul Trouble is based in London, ideal. Does he have a financial background or education or work in a financial position? He does indeed. Mergers and Acquisitions. Why have I never heard of him, then? Does he keep a low profile?"

"Mr. Trouble has been with us for a little over four years. His evaluations are fine, but far from excellent." Michael shrugged. "A solid mouse. He might have been an excellent soldier, but we did hire him as a financial controller."

Daven continued his reading. "Okay, I asked for a background in police investigation or comparable. Paul was a soldier. Navy SEALS. Special forces, eh? Not exactly police, Michael."

Michael shrugged. "I can guarantee you, he will be a resourceful person. Read on."

"Well, look at that! The plot thickens. CIA. And then with the British Security Services. MI5 and MI6. A spy. Are we allowed to know this?"

"He made no secret out of it. It wasn't as if he had the job description "spy" in his agency references. The titles of his various roles sound innocent. Liaison this, Analyst that. But we don't know exactly what he did. Naturally."

"I guess so," Daven said, turning over some pages.

"You don't sound convinced," Michael said. "Should I continue to search? Or hire someone external instead? Maybe through our security partners here in New York at SECCON?"

Henry Daven closed the file, tapped on it, thinking. "Don't bother. We're running out of time. I can stall until Friday. By then I will need a resolution; otherwise, Strom Industries needs to disclose the problem to the stock market and the Family."

"That serious?" Michael asked. Usually Daven was quite open regarding issues within his company with his direct reports; in fact he often asked their help in finding solutions.

Daven nodded. "That serious. Decision time! We go with Trouble. Please arrange a meeting between myself and Paul for tomorrow at my hotel in London. Trude has the details."

"You still don't want to tell me what this is all about?" Michael said.

"I can't this time. No offense."

"None taken, Henry." Michael got up and collected the three other files and fed them into the shredder that was standing beside Daven's desk. "Have a safe trip, I'll get Trouble for you."

Michael Ny chuckled over his own wit while walking out. Henry Daven didn't.