Clark Taninger took his seat at the head of the conference table.
"Friday, September 15, the executive management meeting of Taninger Enterprises will come to order," he said. At his side, Caroline Davis sat poised to take notes.
"Where's Billie?" Clark asked his three daughters, looking at his son's empty seat.
Suddenly, the door swung open, and Billie stormed in clutching a notice in his fist. He slammed the door behind him and threw the paper down on the table.
"We're screwed!"
Clark rose from his seat, picked up the notice, and read it. Then he dropped it on the table, stunned.
"What the hell—"
Irene, Laura, and Kate also stood up, leaning across the table to read the letter.
"Oh, no," Irene exclaimed.
"This can't be," Kate added.
"They can't do this!" cried Laura.
"They can, and they are," Billie snapped at Laura.
The notice bore the official stamp of the Federal Bureau of Building Safety, with the signature of its director at the bottom. It was titled: Report of Violation of Stadium Ordinance 472.01. It described how the new football stadium for the DC Slammers, owned by Taninger Sports, failed its most recent inspection. The production process for the plastic used in manufacturing the stadium's seats was found to have consumed too much energy, causing a detrimental environmental impact. Furthermore, the manufacturer of the seats, it was discovered, used less than the required amount of recycled plastic material. The single short paragraph of the notice ended with the directive: Taninger Sports is prohibited from opening the new stadium until the non-compliant seating is replaced and the building is brought into full adherence with the Bureau's standards.
"They just sprung this on me. There was no word of any of it in the previous inspections," Billie said, pacing the room. He looked at the others, who had returned to their seats. "That's eighty-thousand seats to rip out. It'll take me a good part of the season to fix this, and the cost will be astronomical." He loosened his tie. His shirt collar dampened with sweat. "Our old stadium was demolished two weeks ago, and the home opener is in two days!"
"You say this wasn't a problem before?" asked Clark incredulously.
"Everything was fine before. Now, they've sprung this regulation on me at the last minute."
"That's not fair!" said Kate indignantly.
"We'll take them to court," added Laura, her voice hot with anger.
"And risk antagonizing them even more?" Clark shook his head. "I wouldn't do that."
"JT would never let this slide," said Laura.
"That was then. Now's now. Times have changed," Clark replied.
"But right and wrong haven't changed, have they?" Laura persisted.
Clark rolled his eyes dismissively, then he turned to his son. "Billie, you'll have to act fast to line up another venue and put the opener there."
"If I change venues, thousands of our fans will complain. If I delay the opener, it'll cause disruptions for other teams, and the league will slap fines on us—and we'll still get fan complaints. What a mess!" said Billie.
"It doesn't make sense," said Laura. "The seats are already in. If the goal is to conserve plastic and energy, why would they want you to take the seats out? It'll use a whole lot more plastic and energy to rip the seats out and manufacture new ones. Why not just fine you?"
Billie shrugged, saying, "There's no recourse. It's all on the books. I checked. The regulation's been there for a few years. They'd never enforced it before, but now, it's suddenly important."
"You have to fight this, Billie. I'll fight them with you!" said Laura. She looked up at him standing near her. She grabbed his arm and shook it.
"You're crazy," Billie replied, pulling his arm away.
"You can't let them win," Laura insisted.
"Look, I have to roll with the punches they throw at me and land on my feet."
"But it's not fair. They have no right—"
"Politics is their game, not mine. I'm a businessman."
"But, Billie, this is a clear abuse of power."
"What they can and can't do is for the people with the big ideas to weigh in on," Billie said.
"Why not you? Why can't the victim weigh in? Why can't you call them out for their strong-arm tactics?"
"No way! I have a business to run. I'm not a government watchdog."
"Why can't you show moral outrage?"
"I'm not a priest, either."
"Then what are you, Billie, if you don't fight back?"
"A realist."
"I'll say it if you won't. If we let this pass, we're cowards. All of us!" Now, Laura was on her feet, her arms gesticulating, her dark eyes flashing at her brother and the others.
Billie shook his head. He waved his hand to dismiss her, saying, "I'm not taking them on. No!"
Laura sighed. She sank back in her chair, silenced for the moment.
Kate asked, "Now that the agency that regulates building construction has started enforcing this law, what about all the other arenas that must be out of compliance? Do other stadiums have to rip out their seating?"
"Or is it just us?" asked Irene. "Why us?"
She looked pointedly at Laura.
The room fell silent. Slowly, the others turned to stare at Laura.
"Because we have a sister who has a penchant for useless causes and impractical crusades that tick people off," Irene charged.
"That occurred to me too. That has to be it," Billie said, pointing at Laura. "The last time you went on a crusade, it was you who got screwed! This time Irene got screwed, and now me." He whirled around to his father. "What are you going to do about this?"
Clark's face reddened, and he glared at Laura.
"First it was Irene losing the Pinnacle Awards," Clark said, his voice thundering. "Now this. Two big hits in the past few weeks. This isn't just a coincidence."
"No. I don't think it is, either," said Laura. "Billie, I would never do anything to hurt you or the Slammers. I'm outraged to think this . . . catastrophe . . . is their payback to me. How could they stoop so low?"
"Effective immediately," said her father sternly, "Laura will give up her crusade against the Martin administration."
"She was told to give it up after Pinnacle Awards pulled out of broadcasting with my network. But she's still at it!" Irene turned to Laura, saying, "You can't disregard a corporate directive and wreak havoc on the rest of us!"
"You'll drop your war against SafeVote. You'll drop it at once, Laura. That's an order!" demanded Clark. "With that chip in my pocket, I'll call Darcy and get her to lean on the agency to grandfather-in our stadium or let us install the new seating in the off-season—so we can goddamn open the place in time!"
"You'll give it up, Laura," Billie repeated. "You hear?"
Laura looked upset and regretful, but words of surrender would not come out. She was deeply saddened by the losses Taninger Enterprises had suffered in response to her investigation, but the cause of her feelings went beyond that. She regretted that her family had abandoned her values—JT's values—to find the truth where it hid, no matter the cost. They were family—yet they had become strangers to her.
"This isn't the first time, Laura," Irene reminded her sister. "Do you think we've forgotten that you slept with our major competitor? Do you think we've forgotten how your moronic behavior embarrassed us and damaged our reputation before? Do you think we've forgotten how wrong you were about that crusade?"
"Come on, Irene. Don't start that again," said Kate. "Laura defended what she believed was right."
"Yeah, she defended it from her bedroom," Irene said, persisting. "Laura can't be allowed to go off half-cocked again and cause a whole world of trouble, Dad!" She flashed eyes heavy with makeup at Clark. "You have to put a stop to her latest obsession."
Laura redoubled her efforts, saying, "JT would not want us to cave. He never caved. Let's fight this by exposing what they're doing to us, not by falling on the sword to accommodate their total abuse of power."
Except for Kate, the faces of her family were unmoved by her plea. Laura knew she was not the enemy, but her family circled around her, blaming her principles instead of confronting the real cause of their problems. Laura knew what she had to do.
"I'll expose them on my show," she said.
Without hesitation, Clark shouted, "No, you won't!"
"No way!" said Irene.
"You know, you can be fired," said Billie. His threat had a bracing effect on the others, who straighten in their chairs, as if a thought on all of their minds was suddenly named.
Irene smirked at the notion, which seemed to please her.
"Laura," she said, "you know full well that Dad, Billie, and I sit on the board of directors of Taninger Enterprises, and we have a say in who runs the divisions. You can't run Taninger News as if it were your personal kingdom."
"Laura has a vote, too," snapped Kate, "and so do I."
"A proxy votes for you, Katie, until you're twenty-one," Clark said, correcting his youngest. He turned to the others, shaking a finger in Laura's direction, underscoring the prospect now set loose to rumble through the room. "Irene's right—you're outnumbered, Laura. You'll give in and that's that."
The meeting adjourned early. Billie rushed out to handle his crisis. Kate headed to campus for a class. Irene closed her laptop and departed, leaving a whiff of perfume in her wake. Laura remained seated, still reeling from Billie's news and her family's admonishments. Darting a final vexed look at Laura, Clark left with his assistant. He closed the door behind him to leave her sitting in the conference room alone, isolated from the rest of the family.
The closing door sent a gust of air over Laura. Her father and older siblings hadn't rebuked her like that since they'd learned of her affair with Reed Miller. The thought of him made her look at the closed door and remember how he had shut her out, too.
He had appeared unexpectedly at her residence late that night of their last meeting. She'd sat on a couch while he remained standing, a coffee table between them.
"Laura, you'll hear news tomorrow that will upset you. It'll hurt you," he had said. "The sooner you grow to hate me, the better it'll be . . . for both of us."
He took the key he'd had to her apartment and stooped to drop it on the coffee table. Laura reached over to grab his hand and stop him.
"Reed, what on earth are you doing?"
"Divesting myself of things that matter. . . . You're part of that," he said sadly.
"What?"
He gently removed her hand. Then, he dropped the key on the table, and he left, smothering the fire he had ignited in her life. The sound of the key dropping and the door closing marked the end of their year together.
The next day Miller Communications announced that it was restructuring its news division to broaden its content. Miller News Network would become all-inclusive of other views. It would hire news reporters with differing perspectives on world events, and it would add programming to reflect its new diversity. The following day, the Bureau of Fair Trade announced that it would drop its suit against Miller Communications for its alleged monopolistic practices of bringing a slanted coverage of the news to its consumers, thereby robbing its customers of exposure to other views in the public forum.
Laura had met Reed a year before his run-in with the Bureau of Fair Trade, when he had made an offer to buy Taninger News. Clark and the other family members, including her, refused to sell. The asset of most interest to Reed had been the company's newly launched news program, Just the Truth. He had taken a special interest in it and in the feisty Taninger daughter who was the show's creator and host. Sensing more than just a professional interest from his chief competitor, Clark had told Reed Miller, "Laura's show is not for sale. Neither is she."
Although his business proposal was rejected, Reed's asset-acquisition plans had not ended there. He appeared outside the Taninger building one night as Laura was about to hail a cab home after her show. His sandy hair, with its tight crop of curls, his translucent blue eyes, and his engaging grin gave a look of boyish openness to the man in his thirties who was a media mogul.
"How about dinner?" he'd asked simply. She had paused, stunned for a moment. A voice inside told her to refuse, but she ignored it. A smile and a nod gave her answer.
The media portrayed Reed as cutthroat and ruthless, but Laura had found no trace of those qualities in him. No scandal could ever be associated with him. He'd never paid off politicians or showed any interest in them. He'd never tried to smash his opponents with anything but good business practices that won customers in the marketplace. He'd never joined the groups of businesspersons who cultivated political relationships in search of special favors they could harvest. With his boundless energy, his spectacular success, and his unstained integrity, Reed reminded Laura of Julius Taninger. She'd found herself irresistibly drawn to a hero—and lover—who seasoned her life with exotic, bold flavors.
During the exhilarating year they spent together, they'd feasted on two passions—their hunger for each other and their appetite for their work. She had listened to him talk eagerly about his plans to expand his company, bringing new devices and exciting changes to the world. He'd spoken with a lighthearted confidence, as if the world were a playground for him to explore.
When they could take a break from their work, they traveled. They would fly in his private jet to Europe, soaking in museums, artistic treasures, and concerts. They'd walk, talk, and site-see for hours. Other times, they'd go for a weekend trip to the Caribbean, strolling on the beach, swimming, sailing, and sunbathing. Together, they'd experienced the world with curiosity, intelligence, and laughter. When they weren't in each other's arms, they were constantly talking—about themselves, each other, their work, their aspirations. Their relationship was one great banquet of love and conversation to feed their bodies and souls.
Then, things changed. Reed's businesses had gotten in the crosshairs of the Bureau of Fair Trade. Laura accused her father of instigating the agency to contain Reed, their major competitor, through Clark's many contacts in the administration. Clark denied any involvement. Whatever the cause, Reed had been the perfect subject for a takedown: he was self-made and successful.
Hit pieces began appearing in the news about Reed and his company. They quoted disgruntled former employees, anti-business groups, and anonymous sources. Nothing could be proved, but the media repeated the stories without verification. Reed was a monster to work for, the stories charged. He cheated his stockholders. He failed to pay his taxes. He paid his employees a pittance while he amassed a fortune. Reed was a menace to society. Reed was the fresh meat thrown to the clawed media and fanged politicians who hungered for their next prey.
Reed had dismissed them the way a thoroughbred with finish lines and wreaths of roses awaiting him would outrun those trying to catch him—until the lawsuit. The Bureau of Fair Trade sought to break up his company, claiming it was a monopoly that stifled its competition, which the government considered to be a crime.
"Customers choose me over my competitors," Reed had complained to Laura. "Is that what the people who don't accomplish anything can't stand? The success of others?"
Worst of all, Reed Miller's news division took positions unflattering to those in power. Reed had charged that this was the real reason behind the Bureau's action against him.
"It's our right at Miller Communications not only to report factually on news stories and events but to give our viewpoint of them," Reed had said in a televised appearance. "It's called free speech."
An advisor to President Martin who was facing off with Reed had answered, "The good of society is served by a diversity of viewpoints in the public forum."
"Why should I have to provide them?" Reed replied.
"A duty to serve the public interest supersedes any right to free speech that a monopolistic businessman thinks he has, especially when that businessman is making huge profits and having an untoward influence on society," Martin's advisor retorted.
"In other words, I'm effective. I'm persuasive. The picture I paint of those in power ain't pretty, so that's why they've got their pitchforks out for me," Reed responded.
The media had stoked the controversy, many of them giddy over the widespread attention and boosted ratings that Reed's problems brought to their work.
The lawsuit was like a hailstorm pelting the sunny grounds of Reed's world. He became introspective and melancholy. Defending himself was expensive, time-consuming, and stress-inducing. It drained his zeal for life that had so appealed to Laura. Through her show, she defended him fiercely, and he needed her more urgently than ever. Their passion for each other grew. Then came the day when Reed gave up the fight, the day he dropped her key on the table and closed the door behind him, leaving her blindsided with the suddenness of his retreat.
As she sat alone in the conference room after the meeting with her family, she realized that now the pressure was on her to give up. Her family demanded it. In contrast to what she had believed were the unfair charges the government lodged against Reed, her family, now, had legitimate claims against her. She had an obligation to the other members of the family business. She was causing them actual harm. Her crusade was a detriment to their interests, she reasoned. She felt a nerve throbbing at her temple. What should she do?
She gathered her things and left the conference room.
Later, as she sat in her office planning the evening's episode of Just the Truth, her thoughts lingered on the man she could not shake.
For what we once shared, Reed. For what we were, and what I still am . . .
As Laura waited for her show to begin, an assistant wiped the perspiration across her hairline and powdered over the shine on her nose. Then the assistant dashed off the set. The signal came from the control room. She was on the air.
"Good evening and welcome to Just the Truth. I'm Laura Taninger. Tonight, we continue to examine the tactics used by shady governments to suppress their critics and to examine whether the Martin administration is guilty of using them. The subject of my Daily Memo tonight is: Tools of Silence: Selective Use of Rules and Regulations to Target Political Enemies.
"Under the guise of public safety, governments enact an enormous number of rules to regulate businesses. Because they claim that these rules are essential to protect the public, hardly anyone has the temerity to object to them, unless he or she wants to be villainized by the government and its media supporters as being against public safety." She smiled wryly.
"What happens when reams of these rules are on the books, and there's no way to enforce all of them all the time? Enforcement becomes selective. Enforcement becomes a tool used by unscrupulous governments to crush political opponents. Would the Martin administration employ such a tool to suppress its critics? The answer is yes.
"The Martin administration recently showed its strong-arm inclinations in a matter involving football. Would anyone think it's fair if a football team were at the one-yard line, about to score, and someone suddenly moved the goal posts farther away, killing any chance of a touchdown? What happens when it's the government that cheats, and there's no one to call them out because the cheater is also the referee?
"The parent organization of Taninger News also owns the DC Slammers football team. The Slammers didn't expect the government to be its most dangerous opponent, an adversary that doesn't have to play by the rules, but instead can move the goal posts whenever it feels like it, leaving the Slammers no way to score.
"The agency involved here is the Federal Bureau of Building Safety, which just discovered a regulation on the books that for years had gone unenforced. It's an obscure rule hidden within hundreds of pages of a law having to do with requirements for stadiums.
"Just days before the opening of the Slammers' new stadium, the seats, which had passed all prior inspections, suddenly were unacceptable to the regulators at the Federal Bureau of Building Safety. It seems that too much of a controlled resource—energy—was expended in manufacturing the stadium's seats, and too little of another controlled resource—recycled plastic—was used. The remedy the agency requires is to have all the seats ripped out and replaced, which means substantially more energy and plastic will be expended in the process. With a remedy that requires more use of the objected to practices and materials, we have to ask: Are these bureaucrats serious? Or is there another motive involved in the action against the Slammers?
"Can anyone tell me there's no connection between the reporting I've done at Taninger News of suspicious goings on at the Bureau of Elections and the flak over our sister company's stadium seats? Are we not supposed to connect the dots between a regulation against a football stadium and freedom of the press? With the Feds coming down hard on the Slammers for a rule that up to now has been unenforced, I believe they're retaliating in an attempt to silence Just the Truth.
"With the enormous power that today's government has over business, what's a company to do? Can business owners today afford to be free thinkers anymore? Is the government trying to regulate our stadiums, or our minds?"