conservatively dressed as if for church, reading from Bibles. Still more in work clothes, looking worried, including several women carrying babies and trailing toddlers tugging at balloons reading “Children First, Safety First, Profits Last.” Others carried crosses and shouted “Repent!” A strangely mixed bunch.
And my problem to solve. Along with the media—although thankfully there didn’t seem to be any reporters here today. Maybe they’d lost interest. That would make my job easier.
Grandel’s phone rang. “Yes.” His face grew even more livid. “I don’t know how the hell they knew. No, that’s not the answer. Tell the board to calm down. We’ll smooth things over before the Japanese get here.”
He hung up, sputtering in fury. “Someone leaked it that I’d gone to hire a PR firm to solve our problems instead of staying here to fix them.” He slammed his fist against the dash. “Now the board wants my head. Why can’t they understand that there are no real problems at the plant? Our only problems are these crackpots who are too ignorant to see the good of what we’re doing.”
I hoped none of the “crackpots” could hear him through the car doors. The driver said nothing, simply edged us past them carefully. Grandel calmed down to merely fuming and I hazarded a question. “What do they want?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what do they want? I saw at least three different factions out there. Some anti-nuclear—they won’t be happy until the plant is closed, no matter how safe it is. And nothing I find or say will help that. Others seemed religious—”
“Goddamn holy rollers. They think the plant means the end of the world is coming. Their leader, Richard Vincent, runs a nightly revival and revs them all up, sending them to convert us ‘damned heathens’ before the rapture or some such malarkey. The man’s a charlatan but his followers don’t care.”
“Okay. Probably not going to sway them. Plus, it sounds like their leader is using you as an easy target, so he probably doesn’t want the plant to close—but he’ll also enjoy the additional sense of fear that any mishap at the plant, no matter how minor, contributes to his message.”
He slit his eyes at me. “You don’t know the half of it. Vincent is a greedy sonofabitch, that’s for sure. Go on.”
“Seems to me, your biggest problem is the last group. Those moms and the other locals who truly believe their homes and families are at risk. They’re the ones we need to convince.”
“And how do we do that?”
“Like I said when we began. Give me access to everything and let me verify the safety record and safeguards, then we’ll talk with them.”
“You mean like invite them to coffee? I don’t think so.”
“When you approached the government for funding, how did you do it?”
“I went to D.C., scheduled some meetings, then followed up with a few dinners and—”
“Exactly. You treated them with respect because they had something you needed. Now we do the same with the community.”
“So what? You want me to go door to door, kissing babies?”
“How about if you start with appreciating the fact that these are the hard-working people who keep your plant going? And stop with the wisecracks—they aren’t nuts or crackpots or idiots. They’re moms and dads concerned about their livelihoods and their families’ safety.”
He made a little noise as he sank back into the leather seat, one hand twisting the platinum ring he wore on his pinky. “So, just talking? Simple as that?”
“A little respect goes a long way, in my experience.”
He said nothing, but nodded as if he was already convinced. I knew it couldn’t be that easy. Plus, I first had to prove that the plant was safe—and everyone knows it’s impossible to prove a negative.
Hunter didn’t answer Elizabeth. Rather he simply stood there, looking. She had to fight an all-too-familiar urge to squirm and glance down, break eye
And my problem to solve. Along with the media—although thankfully there didn’t seem to be any reporters here today. Maybe they’d lost interest. That would make my job easier.
Grandel’s phone rang. “Yes.” His face grew even more livid. “I don’t know how the hell they knew. No, that’s not the answer. Tell the board to calm down. We’ll smooth things over before the Japanese get here.”
He hung up, sputtering in fury. “Someone leaked it that I’d gone to hire a PR firm to solve our problems instead of staying here to fix them.” He slammed his fist against the dash. “Now the board wants my head. Why can’t they understand that there are no real problems at the plant? Our only problems are these crackpots who are too ignorant to see the good of what we’re doing.”
I hoped none of the “crackpots” could hear him through the car doors. The driver said nothing, simply edged us past them carefully. Grandel calmed down to merely fuming and I hazarded a question. “What do they want?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what do they want? I saw at least three different factions out there. Some anti-nuclear—they won’t be happy until the plant is closed, no matter how safe it is. And nothing I find or say will help that. Others seemed religious—”
“Goddamn holy rollers. They think the plant means the end of the world is coming. Their leader, Richard Vincent, runs a nightly revival and revs them all up, sending them to convert us ‘damned heathens’ before the rapture or some such malarkey. The man’s a charlatan but his followers don’t care.”
“Okay. Probably not going to sway them. Plus, it sounds like their leader is using you as an easy target, so he probably doesn’t want the plant to close—but he’ll also enjoy the additional sense of fear that any mishap at the plant, no matter how minor, contributes to his message.”
He slit his eyes at me. “You don’t know the half of it. Vincent is a greedy sonofabitch, that’s for sure. Go on.”
“Seems to me, your biggest problem is the last group. Those moms and the other locals who truly believe their homes and families are at risk. They’re the ones we need to convince.”
“And how do we do that?”
“Like I said when we began. Give me access to everything and let me verify the safety record and safeguards, then we’ll talk with them.”
“You mean like invite them to coffee? I don’t think so.”
“When you approached the government for funding, how did you do it?”
“I went to D.C., scheduled some meetings, then followed up with a few dinners and—”
“Exactly. You treated them with respect because they had something you needed. Now we do the same with the community.”
“So what? You want me to go door to door, kissing babies?”
“How about if you start with appreciating the fact that these are the hard-working people who keep your plant going? And stop with the wisecracks—they aren’t nuts or crackpots or idiots. They’re moms and dads concerned about their livelihoods and their families’ safety.”
He made a little noise as he sank back into the leather seat, one hand twisting the platinum ring he wore on his pinky. “So, just talking? Simple as that?”
“A little respect goes a long way, in my experience.”
He said nothing, but nodded as if he was already convinced. I knew it couldn’t be that easy. Plus, I first had to prove that the plant was safe—and everyone knows it’s impossible to prove a negative.
Hunter didn’t answer Elizabeth. Rather he simply stood there, looking. She had to fight an all-too-familiar urge to squirm and glance down, break eye
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