A Calculated Risk, Katherine Neville [english novels for students txt] 📗

Monolith Corp. I’d known Tor was important—but not that he was that important.

“Marcus had received a call from Ben Jackson—your new client—asking whether Ben could get on the waiting list for some of this new equipment he’d heard we were about to release. Since he was talking about hardware that hadn’t been announced yet—even internally—Marcus felt he should inquire about how you had gotten that information. A trace of my style showed through, it seems—and Marcus is nobody’s fool.”

“You mean, you had me present a lot of equipment that hasn’t even been built yet?” I said in alarm. “What did Marcus do?”

“Presumably, he pulled out his pen and took the order. Then he picked up the phone and called me. He was pleased to see I was taking an active interest in the business again. Marcus thinks I need some stimulation. I’ve not visited many of our paying customers lately. He says they miss me.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think I’d rather discuss wine,” said Tor. “Which one do you prefer?”

“I’ve heard of one called Lancers.…”

“I’ll order the wine,” he said, motioning slightly.

A wine steward materialized beside the table, and after brief consultation, Tor picked a wine with a long, complicated name. When the steward had brought it and Tor had tasted and poured, he turned to me.

“You know, it’s amusing—what you said about Louis and Alfie planning to use you as their instrument. I should think we might turn this situation to your advantage—don’t you think?”

“To my advantage? I’m actually in a predicament because of this,” I pointed out. “They’ll expect me to get all the information from you that they might want, or ever dream up. Alfie will use it as a weapon against me if I refuse.”

Tor pressed his fingertips together and rested his chin on them.

“And what do you need Alfie for?” he asked.

“What do you mean? He’s my boss!”

“Aha—but why is he your boss? Because you let him be!”

“He pays my salary,” I said. It was entirely unclear to me what Tor was talking about.

“The firm pays your salary—never forget that,” he pointed out. “And they’ll stop paying it the moment you stop making money for them. Now I repeat: what do you need Alfie for?”

I thought about that, and felt a cloud clearing from my mind. In perspective, I had to admit that Alfie had never done anything but thwart my attempts to do a decent job. This morning, through his shenanigans, he might have lost a client altogether.

“I guess I might do a lot better without him,” I admitted; perhaps it was the champagne talking. But I chose not to dwell on that possibility, and took a sip of the new wine, too.

“Well then, it’s settled. Get rid of him,” said Tor, leaning back as if the rest were obvious. “Simply tell Louis that you no longer need Alfie; he’ll get the picture.”

I couldn’t believe it was all as easy as that. Just then, the waiter appeared with our first course.

“Here are your oysters,” Tor said, “widely regarded as the food of love. Don’t munch them; they’re supposed to be eaten from the shell at a gulp. That’s it—let it slide down your—What in heaven’s name is that wretched sound you’re making?”

“They’re raw!” I told him.

“Of course they’re raw. What on earth am I going to do with you?”

“Don’t worry—I’m going to eat them all,” I announced. “My mother told me that people who were afraid to try new foods shouldn’t be permitted into restaurants.”

“A wise woman, your mother. Would that she were here now; I’ve no experience at wet-nursing children.”

“I’m not a child,” I said.

“Oh, yes you are, my dear. You’ve the emotions of a three-year-old and the brains of a sage of ninety, the grace of an adolescent boy, and the body of a prepubescent nymph—ah yes, don’t look at me like that. Eat your oysters. I’d like to be there one day, when all those parts come together into a grown woman. It might be quite a treat.”

“I’d rather be a man,” I said, suddenly realizing that was true.

“I’m well aware of that,” he told me with a smile, “but you’re not—and you never will be. Accept that you’re a woman, and I assure you it’ll work tremendously to your advantage. It already has.”

The stewardess was asking us to check our seat belts for the descent into Kennedy. Idly, I wondered how much richer than I was today I’d be if I’d invented the seat belt and earned a dollar for every one that had been checked by every passenger since the dawn of commercial flight. I liked doing such calculations in my head—but this one was depressing.

Despite all those advantages Tor had assured me I had just by being a woman, he’d overlooked one or two drawbacks. In fact, only a few months after he’d pitted me against Alfie, my boss, Tor himself had left Monolith Corp. to start his own company—abandoning me in the lurch.

“You know what to do,” he’d told me, patting me on the back. “Just tie up the loose ends.”

I’d finally succeeded in giving Alfie the coup de grace, though it wasn’t easy. And little good it did me: I was never promoted to management at Monolith Corp. According to senior management, male technicians would never be able to bring themselves to work for a female boss; I suppose they’d all have quit the firm, or drunk hemlock or something, first. But when I pointed out things like that to Tor—that the payoff was hardly worth the pain—he only laughed.

“In order for women to have equal rights, they have to give up a few,” he said.

But no one seemed to grasp that “rights” weren’t what I wanted. It seemed my special curse to care for people who tried to hand me life on a silver platter—a platter with plenty of strings attached. Ten years ago, my decision to break with Tor and make it on my own had cost me plenty—and I don’t mean