Andrea too assertive. Most clients think she’s the consummate professional. You must have made an impression on her,” Tate said as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and looking back at Quinn. “I’d say she likes you.”
Quinn’s only response was to sneer.
“I’m serious,” Tate said, in response to Quinn’s obvious skepticism. “Everything Andrea does and says is deliberate and well-reasoned. She has a Masters degree in social anthropology from Swarthmore and is one of our best associates. In the three years she’s been with us, I’ve never had a single complaint.”
“I’m not complaining, Wayland. Like I said, she’s delightful. Let’s leave it at that.”
Tate finally let it drop, but not without noting that Vargas had already gotten under Quinn’s skin. He stood up and walked over to the oversized showerhead, positioning himself directly beneath it before pushing the button that drenched him in ice-cold water. As he stood there, tightening every muscle in his body to keep from shaking, he looked at his client. Quinn was a talented, accomplished CEO, hungry for even greater success and power. And Tate was just about ready to bet that Quinn would risk everything he had to get what he didn’t have. Still tingling from the ice water, he sat down again on his towel next to Quinn. This time, however, he waited for Quinn to initiate conversation.
After a few moments of silence, Quinn bent his head down over his knees and stretched his arms to the tiles beneath his feet. On his way back up, he said, “Let’s talk about Kresge & Company. Slowing down the project isn’t going to be enough.”
“America’s Warehouse launches in a few weeks. After that it will be a non issue,” Tate returned.
“Doesn’t matter. The project needs to be terminated now.”
“That won’t be easy, given the board’s commitment to it,” Tate cautioned.
“I’m aware of that, but I can’t let it continue any longer. MacMillan scheduled Kresge & Company to present its recommendation for breaking up the company to the board next week, complete with a detailed implementation plan. Wilson Fielder already signed off on it. The managing director of the Chicago office is going to make the presentation. I found out about it just before I got on the plane to come here,” Quinn said before standing up and wrapping the towel he’d been sitting on around his waist. He paced back and forth for a few moments before he said, “I won’t let it happen, Wayland.”
“What did you have in mind?” Tate asked as he tried to hide his glee: their conversation was unfolding exactly as he’d hoped.
Just then, a large man opened the glass door to the steam room and stepped inside. Tall, blonde, and imposing, he looked German or Scandinavian. Unwilling to continue their conversation in another’s presence, Tate and Quinn took turns drenching themselves in cold water, waiting for the intruder to leave. During the quiet, Tate continued his assessment. David Quinn wanted what every other person on Forbes’ list wanted—power, glory, and dominion by controlling as much capital, land, and labor as possible for the endless benefit of themselves and their posterity. By virtue of his wealth, Quinn already had plenty of power, but keeping J. B. Musselman intact and under his control was his only chance for both continued dominion and lasting glory. Fortunately, the America’s Warehouse advertising campaign would give Quinn the status and a promise of the legacy he craved. Not permanently, but just long enough to allow Tate and his partners to pocket several billion.
When they were alone once again, Quinn picked up the thread of their conversation: “I want to use Wilson Fielder’s family problems to raise questions about his competence.”
“He’s on a leave of absence, isn’t he?” Tate asked, even though he already knew the answer. “Why not tell the board that Wilson’s sudden leave of absence raises
Quinn’s only response was to sneer.
“I’m serious,” Tate said, in response to Quinn’s obvious skepticism. “Everything Andrea does and says is deliberate and well-reasoned. She has a Masters degree in social anthropology from Swarthmore and is one of our best associates. In the three years she’s been with us, I’ve never had a single complaint.”
“I’m not complaining, Wayland. Like I said, she’s delightful. Let’s leave it at that.”
Tate finally let it drop, but not without noting that Vargas had already gotten under Quinn’s skin. He stood up and walked over to the oversized showerhead, positioning himself directly beneath it before pushing the button that drenched him in ice-cold water. As he stood there, tightening every muscle in his body to keep from shaking, he looked at his client. Quinn was a talented, accomplished CEO, hungry for even greater success and power. And Tate was just about ready to bet that Quinn would risk everything he had to get what he didn’t have. Still tingling from the ice water, he sat down again on his towel next to Quinn. This time, however, he waited for Quinn to initiate conversation.
After a few moments of silence, Quinn bent his head down over his knees and stretched his arms to the tiles beneath his feet. On his way back up, he said, “Let’s talk about Kresge & Company. Slowing down the project isn’t going to be enough.”
“America’s Warehouse launches in a few weeks. After that it will be a non issue,” Tate returned.
“Doesn’t matter. The project needs to be terminated now.”
“That won’t be easy, given the board’s commitment to it,” Tate cautioned.
“I’m aware of that, but I can’t let it continue any longer. MacMillan scheduled Kresge & Company to present its recommendation for breaking up the company to the board next week, complete with a detailed implementation plan. Wilson Fielder already signed off on it. The managing director of the Chicago office is going to make the presentation. I found out about it just before I got on the plane to come here,” Quinn said before standing up and wrapping the towel he’d been sitting on around his waist. He paced back and forth for a few moments before he said, “I won’t let it happen, Wayland.”
“What did you have in mind?” Tate asked as he tried to hide his glee: their conversation was unfolding exactly as he’d hoped.
Just then, a large man opened the glass door to the steam room and stepped inside. Tall, blonde, and imposing, he looked German or Scandinavian. Unwilling to continue their conversation in another’s presence, Tate and Quinn took turns drenching themselves in cold water, waiting for the intruder to leave. During the quiet, Tate continued his assessment. David Quinn wanted what every other person on Forbes’ list wanted—power, glory, and dominion by controlling as much capital, land, and labor as possible for the endless benefit of themselves and their posterity. By virtue of his wealth, Quinn already had plenty of power, but keeping J. B. Musselman intact and under his control was his only chance for both continued dominion and lasting glory. Fortunately, the America’s Warehouse advertising campaign would give Quinn the status and a promise of the legacy he craved. Not permanently, but just long enough to allow Tate and his partners to pocket several billion.
When they were alone once again, Quinn picked up the thread of their conversation: “I want to use Wilson Fielder’s family problems to raise questions about his competence.”
“He’s on a leave of absence, isn’t he?” Tate asked, even though he already knew the answer. “Why not tell the board that Wilson’s sudden leave of absence raises
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