VELOCITY - DEE JACOB [102]
“Really? That good? I think that’s a new attitude for you.”
“Everyone else seems to have it, so why not me?”
“Is that guy still trying to balance the line?”
“Yes. And I feel like a chump. I banked everything on what he was telling me, and we had a crappy year, and now my boss – who made me take him in the first place – is dumping all over me. I don’t know how we could have taken such good ideas, and applied them so professionally and so faithfully, and gotten such underwhelming results.”
“Yeah, it’s like you’ve got your foot on the gas, and the pedal is to the floor and nothing is happening.”
“Yeah, actually,” she agreed, “that is kind of what it feels like.”
“And he’s telling you someday we’re going to be perfect, we’ve just got to put a little more air in the tires, and twist the ignition wires a little tighter.”
“Yeah, pretty much. How do you know?”
“Because I used to be that guy.”
“And what did you do? I mean, what should I do? Because I’m not sure anymore.”
“Honestly … you’ve got to be Sherlock Holmes,” he said.
“What?”
“In the room where I’ve been staying, somebody left an anthology of Sherlock Holmes stories, and that’s all I’ve been reading lately. But seriously, that’s my advice: Be Sherlock. You’ve got to look at the whole picture, get rid of the red herrings, the things that don’t fit or don’t work, and figure out logically one step at a time what will work, how one condition leads to the next, how each cause leads to an effect, until you get to where you need to be.”
“Is that all?” she said.
“I’m not saying it’s simple. It’s more than common sense. You have to challenge what seems obvious. And you have to do the math. But, seeing it’s the middle of the night here and I’m in the middle of no place I want to be, that’s my best advice: think for yourself.”
“Great. I’ll remember that.”
“So are we still quits?”
“Tom, you left. You are in Africa. Yes, we are still quits.”
“Well, I just thought … you know …”
She softened a bit.
“How’s your job going?
“What job?” Tom joked. “That gig didn’t work out as planned.”
“What happened?”
“The outfit turned out to be crooked. Mostly a bunch of smugglers with a legitimate cover. My buddy didn’t know that when he brought me into it. Long story. Anyway, we picked our moment and bugged out as soon as we could. But, um, the people who hired us don’t take kindly to quitters. So we’ve been on the lam for about a month now.”
“Tom, are you all right?”
“Lost a lot of weight. But no punctures as of yet.”
“Do you need anything? Money?”
“Thanks, but no,” Tom said. “It’s just good to hear your voice.”
He broke away from the call to talk to someone.
“Hey, I’ve gotta run,” Tom said. “My buddy says the landing lights just came on at the airport. This could be the only plane out of here for days, and we’re going to see if we can get on it.”
“Tom, be careful. Take care of yourself.”
“You bet,” he said – then, “Amy? No matter what … I love you.”
“I love you too,” she said, reflexively and without even thinking.
Then he was gone.
Just past dawn the next morning, Amy sat in the glow of her laptop display in her kitchen at home, wearing her nightgown and robe. On the screen was a spreadsheet that she had been assembling. Sometime just past 4:00 a.m., she had awakened in bed, and her mind instantly went to work. Unable to get back to sleep, she had decided to make the most of it.
Around 6:15, she finished what she had been working on. She emailed it to herself and to Wayne Reese, and started making breakfast for her kids.
After she got downtown, her first stop was Wayne’s office. She startled him. He hastily – guiltily, Amy thought – minimized a window on his computer screen so that she could not see what it was.
“What were you just doing?” Amy asked. “Playing solitaire?”
“No, I was just reading something.”
“Did you get the spreadsheet I emailed?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And?”
“You’re right. Oakton’s best years of performance as far as on-time delivery, low expenses, and so on were prior to the Winner acquisition,” Wayne admitted.
“My question to you and