Disclosure_ A Novel - Michael Crichton [88]
“No question about it. In the end, manufacturing is a discipline.”
Conley shifted in his seat. “How do you think Meredith Johnson feels on these issues?”
“I don’t know.”
“Because you see, all this raises a related question,” Conley said. “Having to do with executive judgment. To be frank, I’ve heard some rumblings in the division about her appointment. In terms of whether she really has a good enough grasp of the issues to run a technical division.”
Sanders spread his hands. “I don’t feel I can say anything.”
“I’m not asking you to,” Conley said. “I gather she has Garvin’s support.”
“Yes, she does.”
“And that’s fine with us. But you know what I’m driving at,” Conley said. “The classic problem in acquisitions is that the acquiring company doesn’t really understand what they are buying, and they kill the goose that lays the golden egg. They don’t intend to; but they do. They destroy the very thing they want to acquire. I’m concerned that Conley-White not make a mistake like that.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Just between us. If this issue comes up in the meeting tomorrow, would you take the position you just took?”
“Against Johnson?” Sanders shrugged. “That could be difficult.” He was thinking that he probably wouldn’t be at the meeting tomorrow. But he couldn’t say that to Conley.
“Well.” Conley extended his hand. “Thanks for your candor. I appreciate it.” He turned to go. “One last thing. It’d be very helpful if we had a handle on the Twinkle drive problem by tomorrow.”
“I know it,” Sanders said. “Believe me, we’re working on it.”
“Good.”
Conley turned, and left. Cindy came in. “How are you today?”
“Nervous.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“Pull the data on the Twinkle drives. I want copies of everything I took Meredith Monday night.”
“It’s on your desk.”
He scooped up a stack of folders. On top was a small DAT cartridge. “What’s this?”
“That’s your video link with Arthur from Monday.”
He shrugged, and dropped it in his briefcase.
Cindy said, “Anything else?”
“No.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m late.”
“Good luck, Tom,” she said.
He thanked her and left the office.
Driving in morning rush-hour traffic, Sanders realized that the only surprise in his encounter with Conley was how sharp the young lawyer was. As for Meredith, her behavior didn’t surprise him at all. For years, Sanders had fought the B-school mentality that she exemplified. After watching these graduates come and go, Sanders had finally concluded that there was a fundamental flaw in their education. They had been trained to believe that they were equipped to manage anything. But there was no such thing as general managerial skills and tools. In the end, there were only specific problems, involving specific industries and specific workers. To apply general tools to specific problems was to fail. You needed to know the market, you needed to know the customers, you needed to know the limits of manufacturing and the limits of your own creative people. None of that was obvious. Meredith couldn’t see that Don Cherry and Mark Lewyn needed a link to manufacturing. Yet time and again, Sanders had been shown a prototype and had asked the one significant question: It looks fine, but can you make it on a production line? Can you build it, reliably and quickly, for a price? Sometimes they could, and sometimes they couldn’t. If you took away that question, you changed the entire organization. And not for the better.
Conley was smart enough to see that. And smart enough to keep his ear to the ground. Sanders wondered how much Conley knew of what he hadn’t said in their meeting. Did he also know about the harassment suit? It was certainly possible.
Christ, Meredith wanted to sell Austin. Eddie had been right all along. He considered telling him, but he really couldn’t. And in any case, he had more pressing things to worry about. He saw the sign for the Magnuson Mediation Center and turned right. Sanders tugged at the knot on his