A Calculated Risk by Katherine Neville (most difficult books to read txt) 📕

“I would have said you played a lot. Tell me what you want.”

“Pardon me?”

“What do you want out of all this—you—Verity Banks?” He turned and looked at me. “What were your expectations when you came up here? What did you hope to gain for yourself, from this little interview?”

“You invited me here, sir,” I pointed out.

“I’m aware of that,” he said impatiently. “But you expected some decision from me, or you wouldn’t have sent that damned letter. Now, what will it be—the quality circle, or money transfers? You can’t have it both ways.”

But he still hadn’t said whether the circle would report directly to him!

“Sir, I wouldn’t presume—”

“You needn’t presume anything—I’m telling you. Obviously, your letter’s placed me in an untenable position. If I don’t break off this quality circle from all production groups, I’ll be having auditors for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. So the quality circle reports directly to me—as of today. Do you come with it—or stay in money transfers with Willingly? Willingly, incidentally, is not a nice chap to work for when his toes have been stepped on—which you’ve managed to do several times this last month.”

Perhaps it was my expression that caused him to laugh.

“I suppose you’re thinking I’m not much of an improvement over Willingly in that respect,” he added. “But if you do come here—I hope you won’t find your bridges burned behind you.”

“With all due respect,” I told him, “some bridges fall down all by themselves, anyway. I’ll take my chances with you.”

I stood up, and he walked me to the door.

“Banks, I must say that you, for a woman, have got more balls than anyone I’ve ever met. I only hope you don’t trip over them—it can be a painful experience. I haven’t time to fool with these things just now, but I’ll clear out some offices on the west wall for your group. Have premises bring your things up here today. And by the way, try to avoid Willingly for an hour or so, until I can explain to him how things stand.”

He extended his hand for me to leave. I took it, but didn’t leave at once.

“With all respect, sir …”

“Yes?” He raised an eyebrow.

“The east wall has a view of the bay.”

On the way back down in the elevator, I congratulated myself again—for having made sure that Pearl and Tavish had sent copies of that innuendo-riddled report both to the WHIPS group and to internal audit.

I was whistling the “Sword Theme of Nothung”, feeling invincible, as I crossed the floor to my office. Which explains why I didn’t see Pavel—frantically waving his arms at me—until it was too late. He cringed as Kiwi’s voice bellowed from within.

“Buzz me in two minutes, with an urgent call,” I whispered to Pavel.

He nodded resignedly as I slid by him. Inside, Kiwi was installed behind my desk, wearing mirrored sunglasses. More than a decade ago, Tor had taught me how to deal with managers I no longer needed. I had only to play for time.

“Hi, Kiwi!” I said cheerfully, pulling open the draperies so light flooded the room. “What’s up?”

“You’re up! Up to no good!” he informed me, in a voice I didn’t care for at all.

I started going through my “in” basket and opening the mail as if he weren’t there.

“Perhaps you could clue me in,” I said nonchalantly. “I’ve been in New York for a week—”

“And plotting against me all the while, there and here!” he cried. “Don’t try to be Little Mary Sunshine with me!”

Though this time his paranoia had some basis in reality, it annoyed me nonetheless.

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit extreme?” I asked him. “Why don’t you say what’s bothering you—so we can stop playing these games?”

“You’re the one who should tell me,” he said, his voice wavering out of control. “If you’re so blameless, why haven’t you mentioned that you’ve just been to Lawrence’s office—how about that? What were you doing there, half the morning?”

Jesus Christ—Kiwi had spies everywhere. Just then, my intercom buzzed.

“Urgent call, Miss Banks,” Pavel’s voice came through. “Pick up on line six, please.”

“Excuse me,” I told Kiwi politely.

He had to dislodge his carcass from my chair so I could get behind the desk to answer the phone. He moved to a chair opposite, and glared at me as I picked it up.

“Hello, my friend—guess what we’re doing?” Georgian’s husky voice came through the line. Good Lord, it was a real phone call!

“What are you doing?”

I glanced up at Kiwi. Even through those sunglasses, I could feel the heat of his anger. It seemed he was staying.

“You sound preoccupied,” said Georgian. “Should I call back later?”

“In situations like this, I think matters should be handled very differently,” I told her.

“What the hell are you talking about?” she said. “Is someone there with you right now?”

“My point precisely,” I told her. “I’m glad you’ve perceived the problems we’re having on our end.”

“Someone is there—but you don’t want me to hang up,” she said. “So what should I do?”

“Take your time—explain carefully what you’ve accomplished so far,” I told her. “I need the facts so I can present the situation to my boss—who happens to be sitting right here.”

Though Kiwi was soon to be my ex-boss, I had to play for time until Lawrence could inform him of the fact. I raised my eyebrows meaningfully at him, as though something really critical were going on at the other end of the line.

“Your boss? You’re not in any trouble, I hope?” said Georgian. “Gosh, I feel like a heavy-duty espionage agent or something. Are you sure he can’t hear me?”

“I think we should take every precaution to make sure nothing like that will occur,” I told her.

Even at a whisper, Georgian sounded like Tallulah Bankhead playing Radio City Music Hall.

“Thor’s been here all week,” she told me, “hovering over me and my printing or out cooking in the kitchen with Mother—his potato latkes are divine.”

“Get to the point,” I said,