The holiday party was winding down after a tumultuous week, and on this evening before Christmas break, the windows of E-Rase blackened, eliminating the Sedona mountains from view.
Kaye’s wine was too warm to drink and holding up the glass was
an enormous effort, while Hawke zinged with energy, organizing safe rides home,
and finishing up conversations about holiday plans. For her, the Christmas weekend looked bleak; the stack of work
she was bringing home would take more than two days to complete; the challenges before her seemed insurmountable.
She surveyed her office area, still stunned by how large it seemed
without cubicles. Comfortable chairs
formed three small group settings and one large one-to accommodate every
employee. Off to the right was a soundproof
working space; to the left was an open area dotted with desks and computers, in
full view of Sedona’s red rocks.
Hawke’s egg game had convinced her staff most of the walls had
to go. Every staff member, including Kaye,
was given the task of preventing a fresh egg from smashing apart when dropped
to the wood floor from a height of six feet. Only tools: the cardboard from the
inside of a roll of paper towels, four bandaids, a scissors and seven feet of
string. First, each person took fifteen
minutes to come up with solutions by themselves. After that they broke into two
teams to solve the problem with no more than the same tools per team. Their
debrief of the individual versus group method, underlined the superiority of
teamwork. Next, Hawke asked employees to solve the office space problem. In
two days, they’d agreed upon a layout and got busy changing the space.
By the end of the week, Kaye had much to celebrate, but an overlay of
grief made her smile feel forced.
Craig hung on the sidelines, pounding down beers, his eyes homing in on Hawke and Kaye.
Frank slid out the door when no one was looking.
“Not having fun, are you?” Hawke said, his warm palm cupping her
elbow.
“Frank’s gone. He gave me
his letter of resignation today, begging me not to tell anyone he won’t be back
after Christmas.”
Hawke nodded. “Frank’s a
loner and the least skilled in this group.
He’ll be happier with a solitary job and your recommendation will help
him get one.”
She stared at Craig. “He
was my first hire; now my first to fire.”
As if he knew they were talking about him, Craig stepped
forward, flames in his eyes. He tossed his
beer bottle against the wall with such power, it shattered into hundreds of
pieces.
Gasps came from a couple of people, then the group standing behind Craig fell silent.
“You’ve been following me,” Craig yelled, alternately eyeing
Hawke and Kaye. He stuffed his hand in
his pocket, fingering something. “You
hacked into my computer.”
Kaye blew out a breath.
“It’s company property, Craig; you signed an agreement with me to forgo
your privacy.”
Hawke squeezed her elbow, stepped next to her, and cleared his throat. “Normally we wouldn’t worry about your
Russian on-line friends, but when you met with one of them in Flagstaff on
Wednesday night, we took notice.”
His face red with anger, Craig pulled a knife from his pocket
and flipped it open.
More gasps from behind. Joe’s expression of disbelief and Melinda’s
squeal of concern caught Kaye’s attention.
Jill ducked behind Joe, punching her phone.
Hawke moved in front of Kaye.
“No need to feel cornered, Craig.
Your losses in the stock market made you desperate for money, but you
haven’t committed a crime, yet.”
Her brain churning over what to do next, Kaye put her hand to
her heart. She couldn’t let Craig hurt
Hawke; the responsibility for the start-up was hers, alone. Coming around in front of Hawke, eyes on
Craig, but speaking to her faithful team standing behind him, she said, “Remember what we learned from the egg game?”
Craig frowned, staring at her as if she were cracked. He couldn’t see the signs of awareness
brightening the faces of her employees, and was blind to the pantomimes Kaye and
Hawke witnessed, each staff member pointing to a different part of Craig’s body. Joe stood in front of the group showing
fingers: one second, two, three...
On three, Joe leapt to chop on Craig’s knife hand and Bert snagged
Craig’s other arm. Brandon pulled the
man’s leg from under him, Melinda yanked up on Craig’s other leg. Suzanne grabbed a hank of Craig’s hair, and
Charlotte took him around the waist.
Craig went down squealing
like a pig, and Hawke had him tied up with a couple belts in seconds.
They all stood over the guy, breathing hard.
“Nice work, team,” Kaye said, her arm around Joe. She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You, who thought the egg game was cheesy.”
“I stand corrected,” Joe said with a smile.
She pulled Hawke to the side, letting the rest of her crew stand
guard over Craig. “You’re angry with me.”
“Not your brightest move, Kaye.
One slash with his knife and you’d be dead.” He shook his head, distressed. “What were you thinking?”
Kaye took his hand.
“Loyalty. Putting others before
ourselves. You taught me well.” She swallowed. “I’d never forgive myself if something
happened to you.”
He stared at her. “I’m
not going anywhere, Kaye.”
She blinked. “Isn’t this
your last day?”
He shook his head more vigorously. “Negative.
I’m committed to this project and this team if you’ll have me. We’ve got to figure out how to destroy
private e-mails and monitor the
conversations of bad guys. This mess
with Craig is a clear example of using e-mail to prevent crime." Sweeping his hand over her staff and the room, Hawke said, "Your next hires will help us find solutions."
He led her to the group guarding the floored Craig. Hawke gave a little kick to the man's arm and
said, “This guy interrupted the surprise for our boss. Joe?”
Joe stepped up. “We
chipped in to repair your car, Kaye.
Merry Christmas. The Wreck's in the garage getting new paws and a rebuilt alternator, as we speak.”
Amidst clapping and hoots, Kaye’s eyes filled with tears, but before she could thank the group, the police showed up, gaping at the hilarity
surrounding a hog-tied man. While Joe explained the scene to the police, Hawke drew Kaye to his side and pulled something
green out of his pocket.
She squinted at a pitiful sprig of mistletoe and asked, quietly, “Why did you save it?”
"A symbol. Trust.”
She shivered at the intensity of his gaze.
All at once, the police were handcuffing Craig, her staff were congratulating each other, and Joe beckoned her over. Visions of hiring an attorney, filing a
complaint against Craig, and training a new employee crowded into her brain,
cancelling the magic of mistletoe. She
put a palm to her forehead, ordering structure to her next steps.
Hawke whispered warm words into her ear: “I’ve got your back.”
She turned to him, eyebrow raised. “You arranged it so I didn’t
have my car tonight.”
“A Seal attends to detail,” he said smiling and patting his
pocket. “Consider yourself taken…by Storm.”
The End
Thanks
for reading my Christmas short story, a harbinger of a series I’ll be starting
soon, about superbly trained soldiers who leave the service, but continue to
use their skills in the business world. I
got the idea from an article I read in the newspaper, how lessons from the
battlefield might be brought to the boardroom, a concept the General Stan
McChrystal Group has put into action: https://mcchrystalgroup.com/about-mcchrystal-group/heritage/
Seals
in Silcon, Rangers on Wall Street; Battles in the Boardroom…you get the
drift.
Stay tuned tomorrow for the first part of Diane Burton's Mistletoe story, 'The Mistletoe Kiss.'
Stay tuned tomorrow for the first part of Diane Burton's Mistletoe story, 'The Mistletoe Kiss.'
While
you’re waiting for my SEAL suspense novels to burst out of my head, here are two
more books coming out in the next two months:
Keep
track on my website: http://www.rolynnanderson.com
In January look for BAD LIES:
Italy’s haunted caves spell danger for an American golfer
and a NATO geologist
****
Sophie
Maxwell is a late-blooming, unorthodox golfer, and mother of a precocious
thirteen year-old. Determined to put divorce, bankruptcy, and a penchant
for gambling in her past, Sophie goes to Italy for a qualifying golf
tournament.
Jack
Walker turned his back on a pro golfing career to become a geologist.
As a favor to his ailing father he’ll caddy for Sophie; off hours, he’ll
find caves on the Mediterranean coast, suitable for NATO listening posts for
terrorist activity.
Someone
is determined to stop Jack’s underground hunt and ruin Sophie’s chances to win
her tournament.
On a Rome
golf course and in the Amalfi coast’s haunted caves, all the odds are stacked
against Sophie and Jack. In their gamble of a lifetime, who wins?
In February or March, get ready for CÉZANNE’S GHOST:
Three
American women vanish
in
Aix-en-Provence, France.
Leon Beaudet, former U.S. Olympic wrestler, is proud
of his five-star guide business in France, where he indulges in a passion:
secretly drawing the portraits of intriguing female clients.
Then,
over three successive tours, three women he sketched disappear.
Aline Kerig signs up for the next ten-day outing,
more beautiful and carefree than the missing women and Leon’s most fascinating
subject, yet. She waves away potential
danger, and refuses to leave the tour.
The
French police, American Embassy, and FBI roar in, worried the French tourist
industry will collapse if the women aren’t found. They dredge up violence in Leon’s past,
confounding Leon’s struggle to protect Aline, find the missing women, and clear
his reputation.
HAPPY
HOLIDAYS, EVERYONE!
