Read Online Good King Sauerkraut by Barbara Paul - Free Book Online Page A

straight man; but now his partner was reduced to saying Oh? and Yes and Well, I … as Gregory delivered what amounted to a monologue. There was a lot of Russ Panuccio in Gregory Dillard.
    Mimi finished her phone call and they left the building. Once they were out in the pleasant May sunshine, Gregory decided there was no hurry. They took their time, stopping to look at anything that caught Gregory’s eye. Gregory decided which direction they’d walk in, when they’d cross a street or turn a corner. Nobody seemed to mind except Dennis. “Kind of full of himself, isn’t he?” he muttered to King.
    Eventually they came to restaurant that looked inviting; they were early enough that the place wasn’t crowded yet. The beige tablecloths and generally muted décor were exactly what Gregory was looking for, he said. They slid into a semicircular booth. Still asserting his leadership, Gregory ordered martinis for all of them. Dennis quickly countermanded the order and asked for a whiskey sour. King pressed his lips together to keep from laughing; Dennis never drank anything but martinis at lunch.
    â€œMimi, you look different,” King said amiably, “but I can’t figure out how.”
    â€œI’m the same as always,” she said. “You know, that one-footed pigeon upset me.”
    A waiter put an industrial-strength martini in front of King and a different waiter handed him a roadmap-sized menu. King glanced hopelessly through the list of entrées and asked for a mushroom omelet.
    â€œChrist, King, haven’t you ever heard of green vegetables?” Dennis snapped. “Or meat?”
    Mimi sighed. “I do wish you’d stop saying Christ all the time.”
    â€œHuh. God Junior. Is that better?”
    Gregory pretended to find that amusing. Mimi did not. Thoroughly out of temper by now, Dennis buried himself in the menu and ordered lamp chops and asparagus. Gregory ordered lamb chops and salad. Mimi ordered salad.
    King conjectured that Dennis was sniping at him because he didn’t have the nerve to take on Gregory Dillard. His spirits sank; he was afraid that today was just a foretaste of the way it was going to go with the four of them. King didn’t have the tact to handle such tender egos; he foresaw a long period of squabbling and backbiting and wondered if Keystone and SmartSoft could ever merge into an effective team. Whichever project Warren Osterman was going to offer them, it had better be worth it.
    Whatever it was.

4
    Only a few of the nation’s robot manufacturers had established corporate headquarters in New York City; by and large they found it more practical to maintain offices at the sites of the manufacturing plants themselves. MechoTech Corporation had fifty-five such plants, the nearest in Parsippany, New Jersey; but its corporate headquarters sat high up in the Bellows-Wright Building in midtown Manhattan. King Sarcowicz stood at a floor-to-ceiling window in one of MechoTech’s conference rooms and experienced a twinge of vertigo.
    They were waiting for Warren Osterman to make his appearance; King was glad of a moment or two to orient himself. MechoTech was forever rearranging its office floor plan and nothing was ever where it had been the last time he’d been there. One thing King did like about the place, though, was the fact that there were no cute little robots rolling around bearing trays of drinks or whatever.
    â€œLong way down.” Gregory Dillard had joined him at the window. Gregory lowered his voice and asked, “Do you know what’s bugging Dennis? He’s been glowering at me ever since lunch.”
    Maybe he doesn’t like being one-upped . King looked down at the top of Gregory’s head and said, “No idea.”
    â€œDid I say something? Did I do something?” Gregory was not in the least concerned about whether he’d offended Dennis or not; he was just well into his