Disclosure_ A Novel - Michael Crichton [115]
“Christ,” Garvin said. “Punitive damages on what basis?”
“Defamation from corporate negligence dealing with the fact that we supposedly knew that Johnson had a history of harassment.”
“I never knew of any history,” Garvin said. “Did you know of any history, Phil?”
“No,” Blackburn said.
“Is there any documentary evidence of such a history?”
“No,” Blackburn said. “I’m sure there isn’t.”
“Good. Then let him threaten. Where did you leave it with Sanders?”
“We gave him until tomorrow morning to rejoin the company at his old job or get out.”
“All right,” Garvin said. “Now let’s get serious. What have we got on him?”
“We’re working on that felony charge,” Blackburn said. “It’s early, but I think it’s promising.”
“What about women?”
“There isn’t any record on women. I know Sanders was screwing one of his assistants a couple of years back. But we can’t find the records in the computer. I think he went in and erased them.”
“How could he? We blocked his access.”
“He must have done it some time ago. He’s a cagey guy.”
“Why the hell would he do it some time ago, Phil? He had no reason to expect any of this.”
“I know, but we can’t find the records now.” Blackburn paused. “Bob, I think we should move up the press conference.”
“To when?”
“Late tomorrow.”
“Good idea,” Garvin said. “I’ll arrange it. We could even do it noon tomorrow. John Marden is flying in in the morning,” he said, referring to Conley-White’s CEO. “That’ll work out fine.”
“Sanders is planning to string this out until Friday,” Blackburn said. “Let’s just beat him to the punch. We’ve got him blocked as it is. He can’t get into the company files. He can’t get access to Conrad or anything else. He’s isolated. He can’t possibly come up with anything damaging between now and tomorrow.”
“Fine,” Garvin said. “What about the reporter?”
“I think she’ll break the story on Friday,” Blackburn said. “She already has it, I don’t know where from. But she won’t be able to resist trashing Sanders. It’s too good a story; she’ll go with it. And he’ll be dead meat when she does.”
“That’s fine,” Garvin said.
Meredith Johnson came off the fifth-floor elevator at DigiCom and ran into Ed Nichols. “We missed you at the morning meetings,” Nichols said.
“Yeah, I had some things to take care of,” she said.
“Anything I should know?”
“No,” she said. “It’s boring. Just some technical matters about tax exemptions in Ireland. The Irish government wants to expand local content at the Cork plant and we’re not sure we can. This has been going on for more than a year.”
“You look a little tired,” Nichols said, with concern. “A little pale.”
“I’m okay. I’ll be happy when this is all over.”
“We all will,” Nichols said. “You have time for dinner?”
“Maybe Friday night, if you’re still in town,” she said. She smiled. “But really, Ed. It’s just tax stuff.”
“Okay, I believe you.”
He waved and went down the hallway. Johnson went into her office.
She found Stephanie Kaplan there, working at the computer terminal on Johnson’s desk. Kaplan looked embarrassed. “Sorry to use your computer. I was just running over some accounts while I waited for you.”
Johnson threw her purse on the couch. “Listen, Stephanie,” she said. “Let’s get something straight right now. I’m running this division, and nobody’s going to change that. And as far as I’m concerned, this is the time when a new vice president decides who’s on their side, and who isn’t. Somebody supports me, I’ll remember. Somebody doesn’t, I’ll deal with that, too. Do we understand each other?”
Kaplan came around the desk. “Yes, sure, Meredith.”
“Don’t fuck with me.”
“Never entered my mind, Meredith.”
“Good. Thank you, Stephanie.”
“No problem, Meredith.”
Kaplan left the office. Johnson closed the door behind her and went directly to her computer terminal and stared intently at the screen.
Sanders walked through the corridors of DigiCom with a sense of unreality. He felt like a stranger. The people who passed