When Jon Graeme woke the next morning, the first thing he recalled was his final moments with Lettie the night before. After having dinner and lingering for a long time over dessert and coffee, he walked her back to her car. As they stood there, keys in hand, she turned toward him and gave him a hug. The hug must have lasted more than a minute and as she stepped away, she hesitated. Grabbing him by the shirt, Lettie kissed him so passionately that his whole body vibrated in response. Afterward, her face flushed in either embarrassment or excitement or both, she smiled at him and said a quick good night, slid into the driver’s seat of her car and drove off without a backward glance.
Jon smiled as he lay in bed for several minutes, mentally replaying that moment. But the feeling of warmth vanished when he remembered his meeting with Balis and Benton Reeves, and panic swept over him. Going to work felt like a waste of time. He had burned his bridges and all he could expect was a pink slip on his desk.
The feeling of dread stayed with him as he got ready for work. Several times he tried to focus on Lettie again, but all that came to mind was Balis’ curt dismissal.
As he drove toward HTPS Industries a new set of worries crashed over him. Suppose Harry didn’t return from Tartan’s Crag anytime soon and Balis and Reeves had gone ahead and scheduled an immediate test for Big Moe? What would he do then? Worse yet, suppose Harry returned and the second test was a failure?
When Jon arrived at work, he saw that his office was just as he had left it. He circled his desk warily, afraid of what he might find. But there was nothing he hadn’t left behind himself.
He booted up his PC and waited tensely until he could access his email. Nothing new in his “In” folder. This was odd in itself, but at least there wasn’t a termination notice.
Jon tried to shrug off the pall of impending doom and opened the folder of release changes. Updating the changes leading up to the next release was a never-ending task. Every time he was close to catching up he would be assigned another special project that would put him hopelessly behind again.
An hour later, lulled into a false sense of security by the absence of repercussions, he was startled by the abrupt appearance of Matt O’Reilly, who stormed into his office without warning.
O’Reilly started speaking as soon as he stepped into the room. “Well, I guess you better get all your personal things packed, Jon. You can forward your most recent draft of the ZDX Smart Memory documentation to Sue Angelino. Also, Sue will be stopping by later and you can fill her in on your open projects and pass on any of your notes to her. She’ll help you wrap up loose ends.”
Jon’s lips parted, as though to respond, but nothing came out. “Does this mean I’ve been fired?” he finally managed to say.
O’Reilly shrugged. “I don’t know what it means. You don’t either?”
Jon could not respond and sat frozen in his chair.
“All I know is that John Balis wants you packed and out of this office by the end of the day. He actually didn’t say whether or not you’re fired. If you were, he’d say so, right? But you’re definitely not working in this Division anymore.” Matt gave him a sympathetic smile. “Jon, it’s been nice working with you. You’ve done a great job here. I’m sorry to see you go.”
Matt O’Reilly extended his hand and Jon stood and shook hands with his former boss. On his way toward the door, Matt stopped and turned back. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you about Harry Sale. That guy is a lightning rod for trouble.”
Later in the morning, after he spent two and a half hours filling in Sue Angelino on the status of various projects, Jon’s bewilderment changed to anger. The management was showing a total lack of respect by hanging him out to dry like this. It was almost maddening enough to make him walk out of the office and be done with it. But a thread of hope prevented him from doing so. Fairly recently, Lettie had told him how dysfunctional HTPS Industries was in regard to communications. Relaying personnel changes seemed to be their lowest priority. Just the other day in the break room he had heard a project manager recount how he had not known about a promotion until he saw a sudden increase in his paycheck.
By noon he was bored stiff. He had deleted all his personal email and organized all his work folders per Sue Angelino’s instructions. Throughout the morning he had monitored his Inbox, hoping that someone would have the decency to fill him in on what was happening. Not a single email arrived.
Jon wished for the hundredth time that he could give Lettie a call. She had told him last night that she would be out of the office and tied up the entire day in meetings and conference calls. She wouldn’t even have a regular lunch break because of a teleconference scheduled during the noon hour.
He looked at his watch and saw that it was well past noon. A rumble in his stomach made him aware that, regardless of his future at HTPS Industries, he was ready for lunch.
After lunch he returned to his office to find that he had still not received a single email or phone message. He leaned back in his chair and sighed. It was going to be a long afternoon. He turned over the possibilities in his mind and realized he had two options. He could call Harry to see if he had returned from Tartan’s Crag and he could email Lettie.
He punched in Harry’s cellphone and listened patiently. It rang over a dozen times, with no pickup. Next he called Harry’s home phone, but that too rang endlessly. Apparently Harry had disconnected his answering machine. Jon sighed and hung up the phone. Even though he hadn’t expected Harry to answer, he was still disappointed.
He sent an email to Lettie. He kept it simple, keying in a short text message: “Lettie, please give me a call when you get the chance. It’s important.” He didn’t want to go into any detail since he had heard rumors that HTPS sometimes screened emails. While the company allowed their email servers to be used for personal business, they also did their best to discourage the practice.
The rest of the afternoon passed with maddening slowness. For lack of anything else, he logged onto the Internet. He jumped from site to site but was unable to concentrate on anything. Too many other concerns vied for his attention.
Finally he was reduced to hall walking. Though it was a common practice at HTPS, he had never cared for it personally. The halls were painted white and the florescent lights above were much brighter than were needed for the narrow hallway. In no time at all he began to feel like a rat in a maze.
Winding his way through Building C, he kept passing Walt Zoeller. Every time he approached Walt, the tall, gangly programmer moved to the far side of the corridor. Jon felt as if he was carrying a communicable disease. He guessed that the rumors about him were already starting to spread.
These repeated Walt sightings made him recall a comment Matt O’Reilly had once made about him. “That guy is on his feet more than a cow!” No wonder Walt had a reputation for bugs and glitches and memory leaks.
At four in the afternoon he tried to call Harry again. Still no luck. What on earth was Harry up to? What could possibly be occupying him at Tartan’s Crag?
When the phone rang, Jon nearly jumped out of his chair. He took a deep breath and let it ring a second time so that he could compose himself.
“Hi, Jon.” Lettie’s familiar voice soothed his nerves. “It’s Lettie. What’s up?”
Jon quickly started to fill her in, but before he could complete his second sentence, she interrupted him. “I’m sorry, Jon,” she said, “I’ve got two minutes before I’m due at the next meeting. It should only run until five o’clock. Can I swing by your office then? ”
“Sure,” said Jon and then sighed when Lettie hung up. He was disappointed that she didn’t have time to talk, but seeing her at the end of the day would provide some consolation.
At ten to five his long wait finally ended. Without bothering to knock, John Balis entered his office, an amused expression on his face.
“I trust I’m not interrupting anything,” he said.
Jon simply rose from his desk, too indignant to reply.
Balis crossed the room and seated himself in the chair in front of Jon’s desk. He crossed his legs casually and gave Jon a long and penetrating stare. Jon gritted his teeth, sat down again, and waited for the man to speak.
“It seems you made quite an impression on Benton last night. He’s always had a soft spot for young men with chutzpa. He’s decided to give you a chance. We’ve arranged a second test for your friend Harry Sale.”
The cloud of defeat that had hung over his day evaporated. “That’s great news!” he said.
“We’ve scheduled a new test on Big Moe for six p.m. on Saturday. That’s the only window of opportunity we’ll have for the next six weeks.”
Jon did his best to remain poker-faced. Tomorrow at six o’clock was way too soon. He had no way of knowing when Harry would return from Tartan’s Crag. Things were happening far too fast, but he knew he had no choice but to forge ahead. If he temporized now, all was lost.
“That’s great!” Jon responded. “We’ll be there.”
John Balis lowered his head and stared over the top of his glasses. The faraway expression was gone, replaced by his characteristic icy reserve. He uncrossed his legs and put his hands on the arms of the chair.
“As for your situation, Mr. Graeme, it depends on what happens tomorrow. If the test fails, you needn’t bother to report to work again. We’ll send you your last check in the mail. However, if the results of the test are satisfactory, you will report to Building A for a new work assignment.”
A hundred questions ran through Jon’s mind but before he could ask a single one, Balis stood abruptly from his chair, again preoccupied.
“Until tomorrow,” he said, then turned sharply on his heels and left.
Jon leaned forward on his desk and put his hands on his head. A tension headache was building with a vengeance. For the hundredth time that day he regretted that he had pushed his harebrained plan forward with Balis and Reeves. He promised himself that in the future he would steer clear of the two of them—if in fact he had a future at HTPS.
A tap on the door interrupted his bleak thoughts. The door swung open and Lettie walked into his office. She smiled at him and spoke breathlessly before he could say anything.
“Can you believe it? I still have another meeting two minutes from now.”
She paused in the doorway. Jon caught a fleeting expression on her face that might be nervousness.
“Jon,” she said, “Would you like to have dinner at my place tonight?”
Jon couldn’t believe his ears. “That would be great. I’d love to.”
“You know where I live, right?”
“Yes,” Jon said with a nod.
“Would seven-thirty be okay?”
“Perfect,” he answered quickly.
“See you tonight!” she said with a smile. She blew him a kiss and rushed out the door, heading to her next appointment.