Peter was the last to leave the conference room, gently closing the door behind him.
"Yes, sir?" Alex said.
"Never, ever interrupt me again," Walker said, in his roaring voice, filled with anger and contempt. "The only opinions you are authorized to express in this room should be in direct alignment and support of our goals, such as quality improvement and cost cutting. Do not speak, unless spoken to. As a support function, you are here to take notes of what I want to have done, by when. Your opinions aren't welcome, not now, not ever. This is not a democracy, where everyone gets to vote and feel important. This is a business. Is that understood?"
She nodded silently.
"Dismissed."
She rose and left the room, trying to walk straight and keep her knees from shaking. Goddamn, sick son of a bitch! You do get off on humiliating people!
…61
Alex was trying on outfits in front of the mirror… seemed like déjà vu, only this time she found herself aiming for more seductive attire. She didn't know why and refused to think about it or rationalize any of it. Ever since Steve's invitation for dinner, she had been restlessly anticipating the date. What was it? Steve was just a colleague of hers, a mentor and a friend, nothing more. This was not a date. This was going to be more of a business meeting. He probably wanted an update on the status of her investigation, and to check up on her, to see if she was all right. Maybe. Whatever. She could still look sexy for it, right? Sexy, but not desperate, she tempered herself cynically, as she chose her attire with care.
Probably everyone else at that mysterious restaurant would wear short skirts, so she opted for a black Jones New York Platinum Collection pair of pants, which accented her slim waist, and a shimmering white, silk blouse, which showed just enough cleavage to be intriguing. She picked up a leather Gucci travel wallet, instead of her usual briefcase. She was ready. She sat in front of the TV, waiting for the doorbell to ring and reminiscing of high school dates, filled with the anxiety of anticipation.
The doorbell finally rang, startling Alex from her reverie. Steve, looking better than ever, stood in the doorway.
"Ready?"
"Yes."
He opened the car door for her, in a gesture of gallantry rarely seen these days.
"Nice ride you have here," Alex couldn't refrain from commenting. "I haven't seen a six series in this color."
"Well, I've customized it a little," he said proudly.
"How little?"
"Not much, really. I've increased its horsepower, which led to the need to enhance the suspension and drive control. Then I had this special order matte charcoal paint done and a few other minor things."
"Ah, that little," she said, and they both laughed.
Alex noted the luxurious feel of the leather interior and the overall feeling of comfort and class.
"Oh, and it has the same customized air conditioning system that you have," he added with a wink.
"Just a little customization, huh?" She smiled appreciatively. The 650i was definitely a head turner. "Where are you taking me?"
"We're going to explore one of southern California's finest dining places, called the Garden of Sins."
"Sounds intriguing, where is it?"
"A few minutes away. Well, more like thirty or so."
"Ah, that few," she laughed again. "You have a natural gift for understating."
It felt good to be able to relax and chat casually with someone who knew who she really was. No secret agendas, no concern for saying the wrong thing, tipping her hand, or getting caught. No concern for her safety either, while traveling with this careful and thoughtful man and enjoying the ride in his luxurious car.
The restaurant, set up nicely in the backyard of a sizeable home, was divided by intriguing landscape arrangements, lit discreetly by lanterns suspended in mature trees. Half-buried light projectors delivered well-positioned beams of ambiance light to emphasize particular aspects of the landscaping. Alex noticed there was no sign to indicate the restaurant's name.
"It's more like a private club," Steve clarified. "You have to know it's there and be a member. Membership is free, yet exclusive."
"How's membership granted?"
"Referral and approval only. I was lucky to be accepted; the owner and I went to school together. This is the house he grew up in. His parents died when he was still in college, and he starting throwing these parties to pay for school, to support himself, and to try to keep the house. Nothing outrageous, just good food and good atmosphere. Before a couple of years had gone by, he was highly successful. Now he's netting a few million a year from this."
"I bet the food is great, if that's the case. Good, 'cause I'm starving."
They sat at a remote table, in a distant corner of the garden, lit discreetly by a lantern hanging from a huge California oak. She opened the menu and smiled.
"Now I see why it's called the Garden of Sins. 'Wicked Coffee-Cured Steak, Immoral Lobster Tail, Indecent Midwestern Filet,' wow… They are all sinful, I'll give you that. Really creative, this high school buddy of yours," Alex said, smiling. "What do you recommend?"
"The Shameless Crab is amazing, and all the steaks are quite off the charts. I actually can't think of one item that I don't enjoy."
"I'll take the Wicked Steak. I am curious about this coffee-cured thing." She closed the menu and set it aside, for the waiter to pick up.
"You should hold on to that menu, you might want dessert."
"Usually they take the menu away."
"True, yet strange and counterintuitive for the restaurant owner who wants to sell more. My friend knows that rule. Therefore, this is one of the few dining places where they do not yank the menu out of your hands while you're still at the table."
"Makes sense," Alex agreed.
The waiter noted their preferences. Steve ordered the Maliciously Peppered Filet, for himself, and French wine to go with their steaks.
"So, how are you?" Steve asked, as soon as the waiter was gone. He soon returned with aperitifs, giving Alex time to think about her answer. She needed Steve's advice on a lot of things.
"Well, I don't really know sometimes," she said, blushing slightly. "This was supposed to be an easy enough question, an ice breaker, right?"
He nodded, his eyes focused on her delicate features.
"Well, it's not so easy for me, I'm afraid," she continued. "Sometimes I feel that I'm close to finishing this assignment. I think I know who the bad guys are. Then I stop and think: what do I really know? I know that some of these leaders are abusive, mean, selfish, greedy, and acting as such. I know that some of their demands are ridiculous, and that these demands might have caused failures in some processes. However, I still think I'm missing something. Do I know precisely who spiked my coffee and set me up? No, I don't. Do I know precisely who all the players are in the stock-price game? No, I don't know that either. There has been some mention of using media articles to control the price of the stock, but I have no hard evidence that someone is actually doing it."
"I see," Steve said, carefully listening. "How do you feel about all this?"
"You're being a shrink with me," Alex said, with a sad smile.
Steve shrugged. "Can't help it, it's who I am."
"Never mind, I need it. I feel frustrated and scared. I'm frustrated, because I can't seem to get to the bottom of this. I can't seem to make enough undisputable progress to take these guys down and make things better. These are dangerous people, you know, and I'm right there in the middle of the snake pit, afraid for myself, afraid that I won't be able to figure them out, and afraid that my hesitation, or maybe my lack of experience doing this kind of work, could cause delays in our ability to stop this chain of drone-related events. And that means more people could die, because I'm not fast enough, or smart enough, or bold enough."