The young man burst into the office of the CEO waving a print out from Air Force Times.
“Have you seen this, boss?”
Dr. Nettar Kooner, Chairman and CEO of Sterling Dynamics swiveled around in his maroon high backed chair and faced the young man. “Damn right I saw it. This could mean big trouble.”
“That’s what I thought when I read about the hearing. The question is, will Bandaq’s program really work? But even if it does, we might be able to delay it or kill it.”
“I wish we could, because if it does work, it could mean big problems for our bottom line. Of course, it’s evidently a defense against cruise missiles and our new production of interceptors is for ballistic ones. But still, Congress could decide to go for the new and give Bandaq a hefty appropriation and stick with the old, meaning we have to just sell our current designs and not get money for our new line. And that means millions down the drain.”
“I know. But on the other hand, we’ve still got the foreign contracts for our older models, especially with the Japanese. Those could save that division.”
Dr. Kooner got up from behind his sleek cherry wood desk and glanced over at a series of photographs lining the wall of his spacious office. There were pictures of a rocket launch, one of another rocket being loaded onto a C-17 along with a helicopter shot of a series of missiles lined up outside their main production facility.
Two other frames held certificates awarded to Dr. Nettar Kooner showing a master’s degree and Ph.D. in Engineering from the University of Allahabad, the famous school founded in 1887, alma mater of Nobel Prize winners, home to Jawaharlal Nehru, first prime minister of independent India.
Dr. Kooner was proud of those degrees. Proud that his family, part of the wealthy clans of Calcutta, had sent him to that University to continue developing the family dynasty of business and political leaders. And here he was, almost at the pinnacle of his career. Or was he?
He turned to his executive assistant, a young man he had brought over from New Delhi to be his right hand man. The fellow was smart and loyal. He also had another trait that Dr. Kooner admired. He knew how to conduct an investigation into his competitor’s pipelines. He knew how to cut corners without jeopardizing a contract. The man could be ruthless. And right now, that could prove invaluable.
“The Japanese still want our missiles to protect them from the North Koreans, and, of course, we still have the Taiwanese in our back pockets in their standoff with the mainland. But our big problem now is going to be the Pentagon,” the CEO said.
“I don’t think they’d renege on your hand-shake deal.”
“With the deficits they’re running, I wouldn’t make any wagers.”
“Then again, Bandaq’s technology may not work.”
“Doubtful. Why would they spend years developing a system that fails? The general isn’t that dumb. In fact, he’s one of the craftiest guys in the business.”
“Well, what if we developed the same . . . or better . . . technology?” the young man asked, a gleam in his eye.
“Fat chance. That woman they’ve got over there is some sort of computer genius with systems our guys have never conjured up. We tried to get a line on it once, but that backfired.” He paused and added, “However, I think you may be on to something.” He glanced down at his calendar and issued an order. “Set up a meeting with the I-team. I want to start a crash project.”
“You got it, sir.”
“The problem is, right now we’ve put all our chips on the new highspeed rocket that can destroy an enemy missile within five minutes of launch.”
“I know. In the boost phase.”
“Precisely. But it’s expensive. And it’ll be even more expensive if we have to scrap that line and start over.”
“On the other hand,” the young man suggested, “you were talking about the foreign contracts. If this Q-3 thing really does work, maybe we should think about whether we could get a piece of it . . . make a deal with Stan Bollinger. You know, cut a joint venture with Bandaq . . . and maybe get it to Delhi.”
“What? And hand a fat contract over to the General so his stock soars while ours ends up in the toilet?”
“I just meant . . . well, you know . . . with all the problems they’re having in Kashmir, Delhi might need our help.”
“I can’t think about that right now. I’ve got to figure out how to get the committee to fund our line and squeeze out Bandaq’s. I don’t think there’s room for both of us in this year’s MDA budget.”
“Do you want me to work up a plan?”
“What do you think we pay the boys in the K Street office for?” Kooner said, furrowing his brow.
“I know, sir. It’s just that it seems to me this is going to take higher level input than a Vice President of Government Relations.”
He scrutinized the young man. “On second thought, you may be right. This one’s going to require a good deal of personal attention. And I think I know exactly where to start.”