Troubleshooter

Chapter 4 - Another Day at the Office

           

Monday, November 30th

ON MONDAY morning, Paul Trouble entered the small kitchenette at the end of the row of cubicles to fill up his morning coffee. His British co-workers preferred tea, of course, but Paul—ever the American, ever the soldier—stayed true to his taste for bad filter coffee. It was the only way to survive after his normal night-fight. The London head office of Strom Industries was located right in the middle of the finance district, close to the Stock Exchange, and covered ten floors in a high-rise opposite of the Gherkin cucumber building.

Nancy, the chubby but cheerful team assistant, was busily stacking the dishwasher with plates and glasses from this morning's celebration breakfast.

"So, is Spain really the success that Douglas claims it to be?" asked Nancy, pointing at the small Spanish toothpick flag that lay beside the remaining cake crumbs.

Paul poured himself a mug of coffee, leaned against the kitchen desk and shrugged. "Douglas and the Vice President of Strom Chemicals seem to be happy, but in the end we paid a premium price for an uncertain bet into the future." Douglas was the head of Mergers and Acquisitions which made him Nancy's and Paul's manager. He was a thin, boring, sour man who seemed to live only for the next deal on his agenda.

"Well, let's hope it pans out. Keeps our jobs safe." Nancy busied herself. "Know your next assignment?"

Paul shook his head "Not this year, I hope. I need to wrap up the numbers for the Spain job, and then I have vacation from next week to early January. And I need it after this year."

"Anything special planned, my dear?" Nancy knew that Paul had split with his former girlfriend a while ago and was naturally curious about affairs of the heart.

"The usual: back to the States, visiting my dad. Ticket is booked for next Monday."

"Then I hope this last week before your vacation will make it easy for you," Nancy smiled.

Paul smiled back. In reality, he had no alternative plan.

Paul returned to his desk. Someone had posted a note on his phone: "007. Please call 1-555-1266732 ASAP. P." Pierce's handwriting. Paul recognized the New York head-office phone number. He picked the post-it note up and waved it over the partition. "Did he or she say what it was about?"

Pierce, a red headed and freckled English prototype in his thirties, just grinned. "T'was a lass with a nice Texas accent from our rebel colony. Wouldn't say. Maybe your Spanish numbers were inflated like Purchasing Suzy's chest?"

"Hope not. It would drive me crazy picking up that folder again after staring at it for three weeks in a row. So would thinking about your comparison." Paul was the money man in Strom's mergers and acquisitions department and collected the financial numbers for the ‚yes' or ‚no' to buy another company.

As Paul was still pondering the message, Douglas came over from his corner office and paused at Paul's desk. "Paul," he said in his dry clipped voice that was the caricature of an Army sergeant. "Would you be able to write up the results from last weeks Spain deal by E.O.B. today? I'm attending the big man's year-end reception at the Trower Club tonight, and I would like to have facts handy." Douglas was Paul's first regular business line manager after he had joined Strom after his MBA education and his impression so far had not been favorable. Paul's previous bosses in the military or in the intelligence community had had impressive records of achievements and had shown great balance in supporting and supervising but not meddling in the details of Paul's jobs. But Douglas was a typical pencil pusher, spending his twenty-five year career climbing the ladder at Strom, without anything really to show for it. He was sucking up wherever he could, and it was an immense ego-stroke for him to be part of tonight's reception. Strom's CEO held a year end event for top management at London HQ, and five weeks later a New Year's reception at the New York Co-Headquarter.

"The complete report will be done by Wednesday, latest. Is a draft okay for you this evening, Douglas? I'll put the core talking points into the management summary." How is that for sucking up with your boss, Trouble?

"Sure is, Paul." Douglas moved on to his next cubicle destination, to repeat his pompous but effectively useless act of management. Pierce made a slurping sound from behind his partition. Paul thought about throwing over his stapler, but then settled for a pack of post-its.

Paul picked up the message and dialed the number. It was five hours earlier on the US East Coast—would anyone be home? To his surprise, the phone was picked up immediately.

"This is Paul Trouble from London Head Office returning your call."

A lady on the other end, whose name he didn't catch, gave a quick squeal of joy. Was he that popular? "Thank you for calling back, Paul. I will put you right through." Through where, she didn't say.

After a few moments and clicks, a tired male voice came on the line. Now that sounded more like five o'clock in the morning.

"Paul Trouble? This is Michael Ny speaking."

Paul recognized the name; Ny was either first or second in command of Global Human Resources. "Good morning, Sir. Early morning for you today?"

"No rest for the wicked." Ny laughed. "Can I ask you something outright without preliminaries? Are you free for a meeting? Immediately?"

"Nothing I cannot move." Paul glanced at his computer. His schedule was completely empty. Only the Spain deal wrap-up and Douglas's report.

"That's great. Are you able to come to the Westin Hotel near Piccadilly Circus right away. Ask to see Mr. Barney Smith at the reception."

"Sure. Can I ask what this is about? Should I prepare anything?"

Ny gave a quick laugh. "Believe it or not, even I don't know what this is about. So, come as you are."

"You made me curious. I'll be heading over right away."

Ny hung up and Paul looked out of the window that he could glimpse twenty yards away when he pushed back his chair a few feet. "Barney Smith," he said out loud, just to see whether hearing the name triggered any recognition with him. He heard Pierce giggle on the other side of their partition.

"What is so funny about Barney Smith?" Paul asked, looking over the cubicle partition.

"Barney Smith is a living legend in this company," Pierce's voice broke with silent laughter.

"What function does he have? I am supposed to meet him."

That brought a loud laugh from Pierce. "Someone is pulling your leg, mate. Barney Smith was one of our Chief Financial Officers, way before our time. Nancy told me the story once. Compared to him, our beloved Douglas is a motivational genius. He was so full of himself that his initials became the underlying understanding among his staff about everything he said, decided or did."

"B. S.," Paul muttered to himself. "Bull Shit."

"You got it, mate. Maybe you're being promoted to Chief Financial Officer?"

"Anyone but Douglas," Paul said easily.

"Amen, brother," Pierce said.

B. S. That sounded mysterious. Almost like old times. At least better than Douglas' report. Or the Spain numbers. Or a cubicle with a window twenty yards away. Anyway, Douglas could kiss his draft report goodbye for his meeting. Paul decided simply to leave instead of starting a discussion with Douglas about his mysterious meeting. He could always blame it on Michael Ny. The most daring thing he had done in a few years.