Anatomy of Evil (9 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Ned Remus, assistant vice president of market analysis, lifted a glass of red wine and toasted his dinner companion, Carol Henning.

“To your continued success,” said Ned.

They sat at a small, elegant table overlooking the colored lights of the Las Vegas strip, settled in for fine dining at an extravagant restaurant on the top floor of their five-star hotel.

Carol had accompanied Ned to support him with his presentation to an important group of institutional investors, showcasing InvestOne's expertise on the topic: Capital Management—Taking Smart Risks in an Uncertain Economy.

“I'm so glad you could join me,” said Ned after taking a sip of wine. “I appreciate your flexibility and understanding with our last minute…changes in staffing.”

Carol looked him in the eye and said, “My pleasure. I'm honored to be working with you. It's going to be a stellar presentation.”

“I really admire how you took the reins after Diane's departure,” said Ned. “I know how saddened you are by what happened. It was a shock to us all, but we have dealt with it swiftly and with certainty.”

“The important thing is that we are moving forward,” said Carol. “We haven't lost our stride.”

“That's right,” said Ned. “We are as strong as ever.” He cut into a thick steak. “I must say, I don't know where you were hiding all these years. Sometimes good people fly beneath the radar. But no longer. As part of your promotion, I want you to feel confident that you have direct access to the entire leadership team. We respect you and we trust you.”

Trust.

Carol smiled.

That was the word used a few weeks ago by Diane, her former boss, as her career was collapsing around her.

“Carol…please come here…” Diane had called out as Carol strolled past her office. Carol entered and found her manager in tears.

“You're the only one I can talk to,” said Diane. “You're the only one I trust anymore.”

Diane, traditionally high strung, had entered full-blown panic, close to total paralysis.

“Am I going crazy?” she asked Carol. “Why is everything going so wrong?”

Carol consoled her. She spoke calmly with comforting words. She looked past Diane to glance at the framed photo of an Irish setter propped up on Diane's desk.

Arlington.

She named her dog Arlington, after her hometown in Texas. A silly name for a pet but not as silly as using it for a computer password, a choice so painfully obvious that it confirmed Diane's poor judgment. She deserved her fate.

Over several weeks, Carol regularly entered Diane's computer to sabotage her work. She deleted critical spreadsheets and PowerPoint presentations. She moved meetings. She added last-minute typos with huge consequences, altering numbers and reversing trend lines. She infiltrated Diane's expense reports to recode some items and eliminate others to make her look unethical. She crushed several sleeping pills into Diane's tea the morning of a critical presentation to a private equity firm. Diane's speech became so slurred and forgetful that rumors spread that she was drunk. Carol helped fuel this rumor with the company's biggest gossips.

Diane's relationships with key accounts started to crumble and then really fell apart when several of them “accidentally” received insider trading information from Diane on a pending M&A deal being worked on by another group inside InvestOne.

“You must have sent the wrong file,” said Carol. “It happens.”

“But I don't remember doing it,” said Diane. “I guess sometimes I'm just working so fast… I grabbed the wrong distribution group. Oh my God, everybody is so mad at me…”

Soon the regulators closed in and InvestOne cut Diane loose, releasing a carefully worded statement that explained she had acted as an individual and not as a representative of the firm. “We take great pride in our commitment to ethical behavior,” read the statement. “Clearly Ms. Williams' behavior was unacceptable, whether deliberate or careless.”

After Diane's dismissal, Carol jumped in to fill the gap with an uncharacteristic aggressiveness that impressed the male hierarchy.

When she offered to join Ned on his trip to Las Vegas, he immediately accepted. “This is a big event. I could really use your help.”

An afternoon rehearsal had gone well and now Ned felt well-prepared to deliver the 50-minute presentation flawlessly and handle any tough questions during the Q&A.

Looking out the large window at the sparkling Las Vegas strip, he smiled. “I don't think I've ever been this relaxed before a big presentation. Carol, you have a calming influence on me. I like your style.”

They split another bottle of red wine.

Just before dessert, he stood up from the table and straightened his tie. “I'm going to visit the men's room. Please excuse me for a moment.”

“Ned—if it's not too much trouble—may I borrow your phone to make a call?” asked Carol. “I promised my boys I'd check in. Todd had a playoff game. I forgot my phone back at the room.”

“Certainly,” said Ned. He unlocked his phone and handed it to her. “See you in a few.”

After Ned departed, Carol worked the keyboard on his phone. She sent a text message to herself:

Please reconsider, stay the night. No one will know.

Her own phone vibrated in her purse. She took it out and answered his text:

Please stop.

She picked up his phone again and delivered another text to herself:

You're just nervous about the presentation 2morrow. A little sex might take the edge off ;)

Then she responded to him from her phone:

I said no. You R scaring me Ned.

As a final step, she picked up his phone and deleted the conversation from his records. She retained it on her own phone, returning it to her purse.

She reached across the table and filled Ned's wineglass with the rest of the bottle.

“How are the boys?” asked Ned, returning to the table.

“Great,” she said. “Todd's team won.”

“Excellent! A winner, just like his mom.”

During dessert, Carol expressed a nagging concern about the presentation's conclusion. “I'm worried about your finish. It's strong, but I think we can do a couple of things to make it really pop. I've got some ideas rolling in my head. I think we can be even more provocative, send them home with some big thoughts.”

“I like it the way it is,” said Ned. “Are you sure?”

“Trust me,” she said.

“I do,” he smiled. He picked up his wineglass. “That I do.”

“Get your laptop and bring it over to my room,” said Carol. “I can show you my notes. We can knock this out in 15 minutes. It will be killer.”

“Really?”

She smiled sweetly at him and leaned forward. “Yes. Please. Indulge me. It won't take long.”

He arranged to come by at 9:00 p.m. for one more run through of his closing remarks.

Ahead of his arrival, she called room service. “Please deliver some towels, I'm out of towels,” she told housekeeping.

Then she stepped over to the wall of her hotel room. She could hear the faint murmur of a family on the other side —parental voices mingling with high-pitched kids.

“
I said don't touch me!
” Carol shouted at the wall, loud enough for them to hear.

Then she moved to the other side of the room, another wall, separating a different unit of hotel guests.

“
Get your hands off me, I mean it!
” she yelled.

Then one more: “
Stop it or I will call hotel security!
”

A few minutes later, Ned arrived.

She closed the door behind him but did not lock it.

She sat him on the bed and showed him spread-out pages of his concluding slides. She had written notes on them, ideas for a more memorable conclusion, a stronger call to action.

Ned studied them. “Could work. I don't want to make any outright projections… Just theories.”

Then Carol said, “Excuse me for a sec…” She put a hand to her forehead and told him, “I'm feeling a little dizzy. All that wine, I'm such a lightweight.”

“Are you okay?” he asked, looking up from the papers.

“Yes, I'm pretty sure. Read my notes, I'll be right back.” She headed into the bathroom.

Once inside, she closed the door. She twisted the faucets to create a steady, loud rush of water.

The noise helped to bury the sounds she made next: tearing the fabric of her blouse, ripping a seam in her skirt. She slapped herself in the face, hard, drawing a red welt. She used a hairbrush to whack bruises along her inner thigh, across her wrist and beneath a breast.

Then she turned off the water and waited.

When Carol heard the knock on the door and a woman's voice call out, “Housekeeping!” she sprang into action.

Carol screamed.

She ran out of the bathroom and tackled Ned on the bed. She rolled onto her back, pulling him on top of her. She undid his belt, continuing to scream.

“STOP! STOP! STOP! HELP ME!”

A frightened young maid pushed open the hotel room door. She clutched several folded towels. Her eyes took in a mad struggle on the bed.

Carol continued to scream, falling off the bed, clutching at her torn clothing. “Please help me, I've been ATTACKED!”

As her shrill, hysterical screaming continued, guests from nearby rooms came to the door, including a middle-aged Hispanic man who declared, “He's attacking her!”

Ned, confused, remained sitting on the bed, his own shirt torn, his hair tussled and expression bug-eyed.

Carol broken into sobs on the floor. “Please…please,” she sputtered. “Get him away from me!”

InvestOne hired a team of lawyers to lead negotiations and arrive at a settlement that minimized the public relations impact on the business.

Ned Remus agreed to resign to “pursue other opportunities.” Carol agreed not to press charges. To help Carol reach her decision, she was given a healthy promotion, salary bump and stock options.

Ned fought hard at first, claiming the accusations were false and he was the victim of shrewd manipulation. His words fell on deaf ears. The behavior he described was so wildly out of character for Carol Henning that no one believed him. Ned realized that a drawn-out legal battle would tarnish his career regardless of the outcome and chose to quietly relocate elsewhere.

While the sexual harassment episode escaped media attention, Ned's sudden exit still rocked the internal morale of InvestOne, already reeling from Diane Williams' abrupt departure.

Executive Vice President Richard Stammet held a meeting in the company auditorium for all the employees in his division. He spoke on the economic climate. He reflected on the company's strong performance and growth trends. He articulated InvestOne's business goals and strategy. Then he concluded with a heartfelt motivational message.

“I am proud to be your leader,” he told them, strolling the stage without notes or a teleprompter screen to guide him. The passion in his voice was genuine.

“You are good people and we are a good company. I believe we are destined for greatness. I know we are going through a difficult period. We have experienced some unfortunate events, but they are isolated. They don't represent the brand. Together, we must protect the brand. We must serve the brand. We must grow the brand. That is why we are here.

“Every morning, I begin my day with a question. How can I make InvestOne an even better company? I do my best thinking in the morning. That's when my head is clearest. Just before sunrise, I take my dog Buster for a long walk. It's our daily routine. I go to a lovely park near my house. It's peaceful, quiet and isolated, where I can focus without distractions. It's my time to do nothing more than think. I cherish that time.” He gestured to his audience. “When do you do your best thinking? In the shower? After you've put the kids to bed? Find that special time and place where your mind is free to explore. Every one of us can offer great ideas for this company to take us to the next level. I want to hear them. That is the power of our people.”

Carol sat in the front row, marveling over Richard Stammet's command over his audience. He was truly the center of attention and the employees were hanging on his every word. He was highly respected. He led a great life. He drove a fancy sports car and belonged to exclusive country clubs. He made crazy amounts of money. He traveled the world. And people adored him.

A headache pounded in Carol's skull, causing dizzy sparks to fly before her eyes. She became consumed with a single thought.

I want that.

After the meeting, Carol took Mr. Stammet's advice. She found an isolated location—an unused conference room—and shut herself in to focus and think. She turned off the lights and closed her eyes. Within 15 minutes, she generated a winning idea to achieve an important personal goal.

Carol walked over to the desk of Cece Fleck, a sad, plump, shaggy-haired woman who served as a lower-rung secretary under the moniker Administrative Assistant. Cece wore too much makeup and perfume and regularly shared personal stories of woe with her colleagues. She was divorced, estranged from her children, and trying desperately to pull her life back together after two DUI arrests.

Carol cornered Cece and assigned her a meaningless task that would take her away from her desk, organizing and assembling two dozen binders of random content for a meeting that didn't exist.

Once Cece was preoccupied on another floor, Carol removed Cece's car keys from her purse and left the office. She drove to a hardware store to duplicate the keys. She returned the originals before Cece ever had a chance to notice they were missing.

A few days later, Carol quietly slipped out of bed before dawn. She drove to Cece's apartment building and parked a block away. She slipped on a pair of thin gloves. She found Cece's old, beat-up Ford Escort parked against the curb. Using the duplicate set of keys, Carol unlocked the door, climbed in and drove off. She quickly stifled the loud, obnoxious rock 'n' roll station that blasted from the speakers.