“So are you saying that Andrew Stadler was not a violent man?”
“Detective, I admire your persistence, but the backdoor approach won’t work either. I will not discuss the particulars of his case. But let me tell you what the real correlation is between schizophrenia and violence: schizophrenia increases the likelihood of being the victim of a crime.”
“Exactly. Mr. Stadler was the victim of a terrible crime. Which is why I need to know whether he might have provoked his own death by killing an animal, a family pet.”
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“I’m asking whether he was capable of such an act.”
“I won’t tell you that either.”
“Are you saying that schizophrenics are never violent?”
After a long pause, he said: “Obviously there are the exceptions.”
“Was Andrew Stadler one of those exceptions, Doctor?”
“Please, Detective. I won’t discuss the particulars of Mr. Stadler’s medical records. I don’t know how much more clear I can be.”
Audrey sighed in exasperation. “Then let me ask you a purely hypothetical question, all right?”
“Purely hypothetical,” Dr. Landis repeated.
“Let’s take a…hypothetical case in which an individual repeatedly breaks into a family’s house in order to write threatening graffiti. Is able to do so, cleverly and without leaving any evidence, despite the security provided by the gated community in which this family lives. And has even slaughtered the family’s pet. What sort of person might do this, would you say?”
“What sort of hypothetical individual?” He attempted a smile, which twisted unpleasantly. “Someone, I would say, who’s extremely intelligent, high-functioning, capable of higher-order thinking and goal-governed behavior, and yet has pervasive impulse-control problems, marked mood swings, and is highly sensitive to rejection. There may be, say, a great fear of abandonment, derived from difficulties in childhood feeling connected to important persons in one’s life. He might have absolutely black-and-white views of others-might tend to idealize people and then suddenly despise them.”
“And then?”
“And then he might be subject to sudden and unpredictable rages, brief psychotic episodes, with suicidal impulses.”
“What might set him off?”
“A situation of great stress. The loss of someone or something important to him.”
“Or the loss of a job?”
“Certainly.”
“Can a schizophrenic exhibit this pattern of behavior you’re describing?”
Dr. Landis paused for a long moment. “Conceivably. It’s not impossible.” Then he gave a creepy sort of smile. “But what does all this have to do with Andrew Stadler?”
47
“Grover Herrick,” Marjorie said over the intercom the next morning.
Grover Herrick was a senior procurement manager at the U.S. General Services Administration, which did purchasing for federal agencies. He was also the point man for an enormous contract Stratton had negotiated for the Department of Homeland Security. DHS now encompassed the Coast Guard, Customs, Immigration and Naturalization Service, and the Transportation Security Administration-thousands of offices, a hundred and eighty thousand employees, and a major infusion of federal cash. The contract was second in value only to the Atlas McKenzie deal, and had been in the works almost as long.
You didn’t keep a GSA procurement manager on hold for long. That was one rule. Another was that anytime Grover Herrick wanted to talk to the CEO, Grover Herrick talked to the CEO. On half a dozen occasions in the past year, Nick fulfilled his duties as Stratton’s chief executive by feigning interest as Grover talked about the sailboat he was going to buy as soon as he retired, and pretending to care about the difference between a ketch and a yawl. If Herrick had wanted to talk about hemorrhoids, Nick would have boned up on that topic too.
This time, though, there were no preliminaries.
“Nick,” the GSA man said, “Gotta tell you, it looks like we’re going with Haworth.”
Nick felt gut-punched. It was all he could do not to double over. “You’re kidding.”
“I think you know by now when I’m kidding.” There was a pause. “Remember when I told you the story about dropping the Thanksgiving turkey in front of all the guests, and how my wife had the presence of mind to say, ‘Never mind, just bring out the other bird’? That I was kidding about.”
“Fucking Haworth?”
“Well, what the hell did you think would happen?” Herrick’s voice was a squawk of indignation. “You were going to have us ink the deal, move the company to Shenzhen, and then what? Have us outfit Homeland Security offices with desks from China?”
“What-?” Nick managed to choke out.
“When were you planning on telling us? I can think of some Senators who’d have a ball with that-but politics aside, it’s completely against GSA procurement guidelines. Can’t happen. Don’t pretend you’ve forgotten about 41 USC 10. You guys oughta have the Buy American Act tattooed on your forehead.”
“Wait a minute-who told you Stratton’s going offshore?”
“What does it matter? Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. We liked Stratton. Great American company. I can see the temptation to cash in, put everything on a fast boat to China. Still think it’s a mistake, though. My personal opinion.”
“What you’re saying doesn’t make any sense. We’re not going anywhere. I don’t care what you’ve heard.”
Herrick ignored him. “What was the game plan-inflate revenues with a hefty GSA prepayment, jack up the purchase price, figure the Heathen Chinese wouldn’t figure out the game? Strategic vision, huh? I guess that’s why you get the big bucks.”
“No, Grover. This is bullshit.”
“I told you before. We really liked you guys. We liked Haworth, too, but the Stratton price points looked better, all in. We just didn’t realize your price points came courtesy of cheap Chinese labor.”
“Listen to me, Grover.” Nick tried to cut him off, to no avail.
“Thing that chafes my ass is, you guys wasted a hell of a lot of my time. Got half a mind to bill you for it.”
“Grover, no.”
“Happy sailing, Nick,” the GSA man said, and he hung up.
Nick cursed loudly. He wanted to fling the phone across the room-across a room-but the Ambience system didn’t really lend itself to boss-man theatrics.
Marjorie came over. “Something going on that I should know about?”
“That’s pretty much my question, Marge,” Nick said, struggling to regain his composure.
He walked across the executive floor to Scott’s area, taking a back way in order to bypass Gloria, Scott’s admin. As he approached, he heard Scott talking on the phone.
“Well, sure,” Scott was saying. “We’ll give it a try, Todd man, why not?”
Nick advanced until he was in Scott’s line of sight.
Scott noticed him now, seemed to flinch just a bit, but instantly recovered: widening his eyes and smiling, raising his chin by way of greeting. “Right,” he said, more loudly. “Sounds like a great trip. Gotta go.” He hung up and said to Nick, “Hey, my liege, welcome to the low-rent district.”
“How’s Todd?” Nick said.
“Ah, he’s trying to set up a golf trip to Hilton Head.”
“I didn’t know you golf.”
“I don’t.” He laughed uncomfortably. “Well, badly. But that’s why they love having me around. Makes them look like Tiger Woods.”