Termination Man: a novel (59 page)

If such links did exist at TP Automotive, Adam Seitz wasn't part of them. I did an exhaustive Google search on Seitz. He was in his late twenties. He had grown up in an upper middle-class suburb of Detroit and attended the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor. His Facebook page indicated that he was presently engaged to an attractive, long-legged law school student who looked equally upper middle-class and well-bred.

No, Adam Seitz was no mafia hit man. He was simply a convenient tool that TP Automotive’s top management utilized when the company wanted to intimidate someone through unconventional methods. Seitz probably regarded missions like the one at Donna’s house as diversions from the usual corporate tedium. And he would figure that these demonstrations of flexibility would help him to move up the company ladder. He was probably correct in this regard.

I had been checking Shawn’s emails for about a week when I came upon the first of his correspondences with Nick King—one of the loading dock employees whom I had busted for embezzlement. Thus far, these had been cryptic and sparse. I noticed a new message to Nick King in Shawn’s
sent
folder. It bore the present day’s date:

“Urgent business. Another job for you. Meet me tonight at PF, 9:30.”

This one was worthy of my attention. First of all, it was most unusual that Shawn Myers—a senior manager at UP&S—would be maintaining a private email correspondence with an ex-employee whom the company had fired for embezzlement.

Most unusual indeed.

I thought again about Adam Seitz, and how the elder Myers had brought him along that night to pose as a goon of sorts. Maybe the younger Myers employed goons of his own. Why else would he be in contact with Nick King? Surely the two young men wouldn’t have much in common. And Shawn’s reference to a “job.” It was difficult to imagine anyone hiring Nick King for a task that
didn’t
have a criminal aspect.

I thought again about the murder of Tina Shields.
Could that have been the handiwork of Nick King, working on Shawn’s behalf?
I read the brief message over again, sifting the text for clues. Clearly Shawn had hired Nick in the past; and he planned to hire him again. But that work could just as easily be surveillance or bodyguard detail. There was a range of possibilities.

And what about ‘PF’? I drew a blank on that one. The only association I could muster was P.F. Chang’s China Bistro. There were multiple locations around the Columbus area. It would be difficult for me to guess which one. And even if I did, what c
ould I do—other than observe the two men from a distance?
Shawn, at least, knew me on sight; I wouldn’t be able to get within shouting distance of the pair.

I glanced at the clock in my hotel room. It was already past 8:45. There was no practical way that I could act on this new information. Not tonight, at least.

Finally, I noticed a few emails between Shawn and Claire’s private email account. They were deliberately low-key and ambiguous—a discretion that I was sure Claire had insisted on—but they confirmed another one of my suspicions: Claire was still sleeping with Shawn Myers. Or she was at least still on friendly terms with him. 

Now I faced another choice: I had not told Claire about the spying operation that I was carrying out against Shawn Myers. There was no way I could—not with the two of them sharing a bed on a regular basis. But I wondered:
Did I have a moral obligation to tell Claire what Shawn Myers really was?
That night in Claire’s hotel room, full of rage at discovering Shawn and Claire together, I had voiced my suspicions. Now, with Tina Shields dead, I had a collection of evidence that could very nearly be called proof.

Of course I had such an obligation: But that would expose Donna and Alyssa to further risk. As headstrong and cagey as Claire was, she would continue to assume that I had fabricated all of the evidence against Shawn. She might very well tell him everything, which would drive Shawn to rage, and violence against Donna and Alyssa.

I decided that for the time being I would have to let Claire take care of herself.

We met at noon at her little house in New Hastings—during my UP&S lunch hour, and between her two daytime cleaning shifts.

As I lay in the bed with her, our bodies pleasantly warm and moist
with perspiration
, it occurred to me that I could have made an entirely different set of choices regarding the direction of my life.

There had been nothing preordained about my present identity as the Termination Man—the business consultant who existed in the shadowy realm between the ethical standards that corporate leaders publicly talked about, and the secrets that they shared when they were huddled unseen in their boardrooms.

I could have had a wife like Donna—a daughter like Alyssa.

What had held me back from that sort of
a
life—and driven me into the one I had chosen?

First of all, there was the working-class kid’s desire to make good, to avoid the hardships and privations that my father had suffered. My father was in his late sixties now and old beyond his years; and he had been thoroughly broken even before that—from the routine of standing over clattering, smoking machines everyday, from the opportunistic union bosses and the corporate managers who viewed men like my father as disposal tools.

But I had compensated too much in the opposite direction. Fearing my father’s destiny, I had fled from everything that had the semblance of the mundane and the ordinary, from the simple pleasures of a woman like Donna, of a warm home where a family awaited me.

Was it too late,
I wondered
.
Could I undo what I had done to myself? And what about the things I had done to others?

“Donna” I said. “We need to talk.”

She nuzzled against my bare chest and sighed. “Uh-oh,” she said with mock seriousness. “This isn’t the part where you’re going to tell me that you’re leaving me for your secretary, I hope.”

“No,” I said. “Something far worse, I’m afraid. It’s about Kurt and Shawn. I’ve realized that up until now, I’d been writing both of them off as blowhards. Men who might put up a show of intimidation—but men who would never step over the line into real violence, because they ultimately had too much to lose.”

“And now?”

“Now I don’t know. I’m in unknown territory here. I don’t know what these men are capable of anymore.”

She turned her face up toward mine.

“So what are you saying, Craig?”

“I’m saying that you need to be more careful now, until I can find a way to neutralize Shawn and his father. They are going to be even more unpredictable now, with that organization, Citizens for Corporate Truth, pressuring them on local TV.”

“You’re right,” Donna said. “I saw that report on Channel 11. I’m sure Shawn Myers is sweating bullets right now. And his father, too.”

“Don’t do anything to provoke them if you can avoid it.”

“It’s
never
been my intention to provoke them,” she said, a bit defensively. “All I’m trying to do here is earn a living and protect my daughter.”

“I know. I know. But if Shawn is the man that Tina Shields said he is, then you—we—need to be extra careful. If any of them contacts you, I want you to call me immediately.”

“Okay. I’ve got you. But how long will this go on, do you think? Alyssa and I are already looking over our shoulders at every turn.”

“Just until—until I can figure this out and maybe—” I hesitated. “Until I can get the two of you out of here.”

Donna laughed and ran a hand across my cheek. “Craig: What are you saying? Is this some sort of knight in shining armor routine? I mean—don’t get me wrong: I appreciate it, and all. And to tell you the truth, I’m halfway to falling in love with you.”

“I know,” I said. And I did know. “Same here.” I felt that I should say more to her admission, but it seemed beyond me. Emotional proclamations of affection had never been my strong suit.      

“That’s good,” she said. “Very good. But that doesn’t mean that the two of us can simply run off together, like two star-crossed teenagers in a movie. I’ve got a cleaning company to run. Alyssa’s got school. And I assume that your life isn’t completely without responsibilities.”

I thought about my parents in Dayton, and my sister Laurie.

“No,” I said. “It isn’t.”

“Then we need to take this slowly,” she said. “For your sake and mine. And Alyssa’s. I don’t want to get hurt. I don’t Alyssa to get hurt. Her father hurt us both very badly, you know.” 

“I won’t hurt you,” I said. “And I won’t let anyone else hurt you—either of you.”

It was a promise that I hoped I would be able to keep.

Donna was preparing to leave for her afternoon cleaning job when her cell phone rang. The incoming call was from a number that she didn't recognize.

“Hello? Is this Ms. Donna Chalmers?”

Donna felt relief at hearing the female voice. She had feared that it might be a call from Shawn—or even the elder Myers.

“This is she. And who is this, please?”

“My name is Janet Porter. I work with the organization Citizens for Corporate Truth. You may be aware of our work.”

“I know your group,” Donna said. “I saw the Channel 11 report.”

“Excellent!” Janet Porter chimed. “I need to ask for a few minutes of your time. We need to talk.”

What followed was a brief explanation of the strategy that the Citizens for Corporate Truth were executing against Shawn Myers and his protectors at TP Automotive. Much of this Donna had already surmised or gathered from her earlier discussion with Craig. She knew that Janet Porter could not have called her simply to give a status report. This woman wanted something; and she was not long in telling Donna what it was.

“We’ve got a problem, Ms. Chalmers. As you know, Tina Shields is dead. And I strongly suspect that Shawn Myers had something to do with her death, if not directly, then indirectly. But I can’t prove it. Here’s where I need your help, though: Tina Shields told me all about what Shawn Myers did at Ohio State all those years ago, when he was a student—about how he raped her, and how he probably killed those two young women in their apartment. As you know, Ms. Chalmers, that was all a long time ago, more than fifteen years, in fact; and with Tina Shields dead, our link to Shawn Myers’s past crimes is very tenuous.”

“Okay,” said Donna. “What does this have to do with me?”

“An excellent question. I can hold a press conference and tell the media everything that Tina Shields told me. But without her alive, it will be easy for TP Automotive to dismiss my claims as mere hearsay. We at Citizens for Corporate Truth might even have a lawsuit on our hands.”

“I’m sorry, but—”

“This is where you come in, Ms. Chalmers. You and your daughter.
Alyssa
—isn’t that her name? I know that Tina told you everything she told me, more or less. I want you and Alyssa to hold a joint press conference with me. We’ll tell everyone in the Channel 11 viewing area—everyone in the world, really—the truth about Shawn Myers, and the cover-up that has been orchestrated on Shawn’s behalf.”

Of course
, Donna thought. This woman wanted her and Alyssa to go public, to join Citizens for Corporate Truth in the exhibitionism of public protest. She knew that Janet Porter had an agenda: Her organization had made a name for itself as the self-appointed conscience of American business. Janet Porter lived for a “cause.”

Donna, meanwhile, as a mother, lived for her daughter. This woman obviously had no qualms about subjecting Alyssa to certain embarrassment and probable danger. She remembered what Craig had told her—that Kurt and Shawn Myers might be more than privileged bullies. They might be capable of serious violence. She thought about Tina Shields, strangled and discarded on the banks of the Olentangy River.

“I’ll have to give it some thought,” Donna told her. “I need some time to sort this out.”

“Ms. Chalmers,” Janet said in a placating but mildly exasperated tone. “Timing is crucial in a matter like this. Right now we have the momentum of public opinion on our side. And Citizens for Corporate Truth has developed a relationship with Bob Sanders of Channel 11 news. You know him—the one who is well known for exposing fraud and various other corporate shenanigans. He’s a valuable asset to have on our side.”

“Yes, but I have my daughter to think about as well,” Donna said. “She’s only fifteen. She’s been pretty shaken up by all of this.”

Janet Porter seemed not have heard her. “Don’t forget, Ms. Chalmers, that we live in an era of short attention spans and twenty-four hour news cycles. If we delay, then there is always a chance that some other issue—some other
cause
—will emerge to take away the attention that we have so painstakingly garnered. I need your full cooperation at this juncture. Don’t worry—Citizens for Corporate Truth employs several media consultants who can coach you and your daughter in advance of the press conference. But we need to strike while the iron is hot.”

Donna paused a moment before answering. She thought angrily:
When did
Alyssa and I join
“
we
”
—
“
we
”
including Citizens for Corporate Truth?