The Deceivers (27 page)

“We’ll be home hours before it hits, girl.”

When they turned onto Barrow Lane she quite suddenly stopped talking and sat with her hands folded in her lap like an awed child at school. He took the driveway bump very carefully and stopped short of the car port.

“It’s lovely,” she said. “Just lovely.”

He went around and opened her door and helped her out. “I wouldn’t
really
have to lean on you,” she said, “but I guess I should.”

He took her slowly to the front door, took on most of her weight when he helped her up the steps. Cindy came
from inside the house, beaming, and held the screen door open and said, “Welcome home, Joanie.”

The two women kissed, and Joan snuffled and said, “I’ll be darned if I’m going to cry.”

Joan stopped and looked around the living room. “It’s hardly messed up at all. You didn’t even take the wrappers off all the magazines, Carl. You couldn’t have spent much time here at all.”

“Off to bed, you,” Cindy said firmly. Carl looked at her. She wore wine slacks and a white halter top. Her hair was tied back in a pony tail with a piece of wine yarn. Her smile was bright, but her eyes looked sunken, with dark patches under them.

As they walked to the bedroom Joan said, “Where were you Saturday and Sunday, Cindy?”

“I had a germ. I didn’t think I should take it to the hospital.”

“You don’t look too well. How do you feel now?”

“Better.”

Cindy had turned the freshly made bed down and had put a vase of cut flowers on Joan’s dressing table in front of the mirror. Carl went out to the kitchen and opened a can of beer while Cindy helped Joan get into bed. When he went back in with his beer, Joan was in her bed jacket and propped up on two pillows.

Joan smiled at him and said, “What do you think of my clumsy husband, Cindy, falling on his face?”

“It gives him a nice dissolute look, don’t you think? Like a movie villain.”

“Is Bucky home?”

“He came and went again. He sends his love, Joanie.”

“You might almost as well be married to a sailor, Cindy. Why don’t you sit down, dear? You look as if you were itching to get away.”

“Really, I should …”

“Carl is going to go out soon and bring us both back some lunch. Why don’t we have lunch for three, right here?”

“I’m sorry, Joan, but I’ve got a lunch date.”

“The least you can do is sit down for a minute, Cindy. Besides, I want to tell you about that Eunice Stockland.”

“And her vivid imagination?” Cindy said.

“Do sit down, honey. Please.”

Carl saw the quick helpless look Cindy gave him. She went to the dressing table bench and sat down. Her face turned
yellowish under her tan and for a moment there was agony in her eyes. Slowly her color returned to normal, but Carl could see how white her knuckles were where she clenched the edge of the bench.

Joan relayed Eunice’s poison. Cindy said with proper casualness that she had been driving up to the lake and sleeping in the Jessups’ camp because it was so much cooler there than in the city.

Cindy left a little while later, promising to come back as soon as she could. After Carl was assured by Joan that she was comfortable and had everything she needed, he went out and bought lunch at a popular local restaurant which had a catering service on the side.

When he drove back into the car port he realized that the house had a different look to him. It had come alive. It moved and breathed again because she was home. It seemed to him that he had gone through a little time of death, and had now emerged on the other side, miraculously unscathed. He told himself that Joan would find out, sooner or later, but for now, for this day, he permitted himself the luxury of the hope that she would never learn about it.

   Marie arrived for work on Tuesday before he left for the office and, after greeting Joan, began to fix her breakfast. Carl had breakfast on the way to the office. All day he endured the gibes of the rest of the staff. How’d the other guy look, Carl? You run into a door or something, Mr. Garrett? Maybe he run into a swinging door, huh? Naw, he picks up a couple of bucks weekends fighting semi-pro only this time he was out of his class. Honest, fella, what the hell happened?

I fell.

Fell?

Fell.

And they’d shrug and smirk and walk off. It was a long day. And the worst of it came right at the end. Jim Hardy called him to his office. Ray Walsh and some other staff members were there. Ray had a look of heavy satisfaction.

Jim Hardy stared at Carl as he sat down. “Somebody said you were a little banged up, but I didn’t know you looked this bad. What the hell happened, Carl?”

“Like a clumsy damn fool I fell off a foot bridge into a mess of rocks. The hand rail was rotten.”

Hardy stared at him with a certain skepticism for a few
seconds and then said, “Well, let’s get down to it. Ray has come up with an idea for reorganizing the staff, and it looks to me like it might clarify the lines of authority and responsibility, and it looks to me like the sort of thing New York might go for in a minute. But I don’t want to bring up all my artillery and then find out I haven’t got enough ammunition. So I had this idea of Ray’s duplicated to save time, along with a simplified organization chart. Nearly everybody directly affected by the proposed change is right here, so suppose we take a couple of minutes and go over it. And I want you to give it some real thought.”

Carl, as he read the page and a half of explanation and looked at the chart, managed to conceal his shock and chagrin at how quickly and boldly and cleverly Ray Walsh had moved against him. Most of the proposed changes were minor. The single major change involved Carl’s section. Beneath the sheen of such words as efficiency, logical flow, focus of attention on critical factors, was the proposal to remove from Carl’s section a full half of his designated and implied authority and responsibility, and leave him with only the function of precisely measuring factory unit costs. It left him with a function so automatic and so clerical that, if it was accepted, it would not be long before New York would begin to wonder why a man should be paid so much for such a circumscribed function. He would no longer be required to follow up on those situations where unit costs slipped out of line. He would merely turn his findings over to a new section called Factory Co-ordination, headed by Ray Walsh. And it was suggested that Will Sherban be released by Carl and transferred to the new section.

He realized that the others had all finished and that he was still staring rather blankly at the mimeographed organization chart, and they were waiting politely for him to finish.

He pushed it from him so violently that it slid over to Ray Walsh. Walsh pushed it back to the middle of the small conference table.

“What’s the verdict, men?” Jim Hardy asked heartily.

“I … I seem to be the one most directly affected, Jim,” Carl said, groping for the right way to phrase what he was thinking.

“Then let’s get your slant first. You take the first turn on the firing range.”

Carl pushed his chair back and stood up and walked over
toward the windows. He turned and said, “It takes a specific function out of my hands and turns it over to a new section. That might make sense if it weren’t being properly handled. But, as you must know, Jim, every time unit costs jump, my section follows it up immediately, finds the reason and, jointly with the department concerned, recommends the necessary action. It works smoothly and I see no reason why it shouldn’t continue to work smoothly. So it seems a little nonsensical to place that responsibility with a … what’s that name again?”

“Factory Co-ordination Section,” Ray Walsh said. “I see your point, Carl. But I look at it this way. No offense intended, but your boys have been handling it as routine. You find a hole and you slap a bandage on it. The F.C. Section could operate a public health program, so to speak. Keep the holes from showing up. Work more closely with the production areas and, while doing so, find more opportunities to shave costs on other items.”

“Isn’t it everybody’s responsibility to keep … a sort of creative eye on factory costs, Ray?” Carl asked.

“Some of us take the responsibility more seriously than others, Carl,” Ray said gently.

“What does that mean?”

“No offense, Carl. We’ve got a lot of bright young men around this shop. Take that Will Sherban of yours. Yesterday, when you weren’t in, I had to go to Will about something that came up. We got to talking and he showed me a memo of an idea he had over six months ago. I checked it out with Purchasing and they fell for it like a ton of bricks. If we’d been sharp enough to put that idea to work six months ago, Purchasing estimates it would have caused an overall saving in the neighborhood of twelve thousand dollars. With a Factory Co-ordination Section, Carl, ideas like that wouldn’t die in the files. They’d get action promptly.”

“Why be so civilized, Ray? Bring up the point that my initials were on the file copy, why don’t you?”

“Boys, I think we’re getting more heat than light here,” Jim Hardy said. “We’re in the field of ideas, not personalities.”

And Carl saw how completely and thoroughly he had been defeated. Ray had all the ammunition he needed. But Carl knew that the proposed scheme was invalid. It would complicate the staff, increase paperwork and complicate interdepartmental co-ordination rather than improve it.

With faint hope and too much recklessness he turned to Jim and said, “Beg to differ. This is personalities.”

“I don’t think I like that attitude, Carl.”

“I don’t think I bear any special malice toward Ray Walsh, Jim. He’s a shrewd and a very ambitious man. Too many people around here are a little scared of Ray because they suspect they may be working for him some day.”

“I can’t permit this to …” Jim said.

Ray interrupted. “Let’s listen to him hang himself, Jim.”

Carl felt the sweat on his palms. “Ray and I had a little tiff the other day. It got pretty ugly. I said some things I regret, and I dare to hope that Ray regrets some of the things he said. I had a strong hunch that Ray, who has a streak of vindictiveness that he will have to outgrow before he can reach full operating efficiency, would find some way to cut my throat. Please don’t interrupt me, Jim. Ray did me a favor the other day. He brought me up short and he gave me a very candid look at myself. I’m grateful to him for that. A man can get into a rut. He can organize his work so that it becomes too undemanding. Jim, I haven’t been hauling my weight around here lately, have I?”

Hardy looked embarrassed. “Well … you haven’t been catching any crabs, but you haven’t had your back in the stroke all the time.”

“Ray woke me up, and after he left my office I made the first step in setting up a definitive program so that ideas like Will Sherban’s won’t get lost in the shuffle.” He now knew, suddenly, where he was going, and he felt an unexpected confidence and eloquence. And even sincerity.

“Because it can truthfully be said, gentlemen, that I haven’t been doing as well as possible with some of the non-clerical aspects of my job, I find myself without ammunition to oppose a reorganization scheme that I think is faulty and topheavy.” He leaned on the back of his chair and looked directly at Walsh. “Ray, I think you’re honest enough to admit that in your heart you know this plan will be awkward organizationally and administratively speaking.”

“Do you want me to answer? When you can’t get something done one way, you try another, even if it is a little awkward.”

“Thanks for your honesty, Ray. So long as I have bared my soul, maybe I’ve earned the right to make a counter suggestion.” He looked at Jim Hardy who nodded, his expression troubled. He was a man who was made uneasy by dissension.

“I would like to propose this. There are certain elements in Ray’s plan that seem to be of value. Rather than create a new section, I would like to see that section set up as a sub-section of my department. I feel that that is where it logically belongs.”

“Now just …” Ray tried to interrupt.

“That’s where it belongs, and I would like Ray Walsh transferred over to run it. Will Sherban can be his second in command. Will is a very able boy. I will give Ray as free a hand as I can while at the same time exerting the normal authority of the department head who must take the responsibility for all actions performed and contemplated by his department. Ray and I can devise the most sensible and logical setup and working methods. I don’t think our little hassle will prevent our working together efficiently. And calmly. It can be a big job, and I think it needs a man of Ray’s varied talents. In that way we won’t be unduly complicating our structure.” He paused and smiled as widely as his sewn mouth would permit. “Also, Jim, it certainly ought to keep me on my toes. If I goof, Ray will have my job before I can turn around. But I don’t intend to goof.”

He walked around his chair in the heavy silence and sat down again. He glanced at Ray. Ray’s face was red, his mouth bitter. Jim Hardy coughed and sighed and tapped a pencil on the edge of the table and said, “Any rebuttal, Ray?”

Carl knew Ray was flanked. “I suppose we could … give it a trial run.”

“You’ve no objection to working for Carl?”

“Oh, no! None whatsoever. I’ll do my job wherever I am.”

“Carl, thanks for being so exceptionally frank,” Jim said. “No other comments from anybody. Okay. Carl, you redraft the proposal for New York. You and Ray get together on this and work it out and put it in shape to send in over my signature. That’s all, boys.”

Ray Walsh was silent until they were in Carl’s office with the door shut. Then he looked bleakly at Carl. “How did you get to be so damn fast on your feet?”

“Necessity, maybe. That was a good knife job. With Will Sherban’s help, of course.”

“So where do we stand, boss man?”

“Sit down, Ray. I’ll lay it out for you. You will work for me. I’m not a nit-picker. I’ll give you all the elbow room you need. But I’m not going to let you run with the ball
unless I get a look at the signals first. When and if you fluff something, I’ll take the blame. When you shine, I’ll take some of the credit and make damn sure you get your share. I’ll fight for you when it seems advisable, and yank on the check rein when I think you’re wrong—and always give you the chance to argue your point. You’re bright and you’ve got a lot of energy, and maybe this is the time and place when you start to really grow up. If I find you trying to undercut me or backbite or knife or somehow arranging things so I look bad, I’ll do every damn thing in my power to get you booted out of the organization. I might not succeed, but I’ll put some marks on your master record that won’t ever come off. So, for God’s sake, drop your guard and let’s see if we can make this thing run.”