Candlesight. Michael Liddy
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becoming arrogant again. “We have documented dumps of all the IT caches for your computers for the last month, and you know the authorities might be interested in some of it.”
He spluttered an indignant reply. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. This is slander. Anyone can access my computer, I never lock my office.”
“Cross referenced to when you enter the building via your security pass and when you log on.” She leaned forward. “And remember, James, you use the office connection and server to log on from home.”
Clearly stunned now, James retreated to the only avenue he could think of. “This is ridiculous, and you have no right to access any of my personal records.”
“Even you signed the employment induction which tells you we prohibit questionable use and may examine these records.” She kneaded her forehead and then looked around the room at the other faces, seeing only cold resolve. Her eyes fell on James again. “This is not your place anymore, and it hasn’t been for some time. You’re in your mid-forties and if we can turn this around your value as a director won’t be harmed. You’ll settle somewhere else.” Amelia paused to let that sink in. “If you make us contest this, you might end up with some of the money, but it won’t be all, and your managerial reputation is going to be damaged.” She placed a DVD on the desk. “As for this, I don’t know what’s on here, and I don’t want to. I can only guess from one or two of the obvious domains.” She let the statement trail as his expression became defeated. Reaching down she retrieved another piece of paper and pushed it across the table to him. “Sign. The offer is valid for this moment only.”
One last spiteful quip issued from his tight lips. “You’ve always exploited me, and now, at the last, it’s just for what I’m owed.”
Breathing deeply Amelia felt tired all over. “No James, we gave you this company to develop and shape, we trusted you. We did respect your contribution.” Her eyes became intent for a moment. “This is not about exploiting you, we desperately need that money to try and get us through the next six months, we can’t even afford the 200k. None of us will be drawing salaries and we’ll all be refinancing our houses.”
Richard chose this point to interject. “Of course, forget the police, if you like we can get Arthur involved. I’m sure he’ll take a dim view of what you’ve been accessing, and his solutions can be a little, shall we say, overbearing.”
His expression visibly wilted at Richard’s word and dropping his eyes to the table James reached into his pocket and withdrew a gold fountain pen. Glancing briefly over the terms, he scribbled his signature at the bottom. Standing stiffly, he met only Amelia’s eyes as she stood and handed him the disk, a white envelope underneath.
She spoke in a quiet voice. “It’s the only copy. I deleted the cache myself from the server, nobody has examined the files, and only I saw part of the lists.”
He took the offered items and straightening his jacket he walked from the room, his eyes resolutely downcast. The three remaining sat silently looking at each other in turn. That immediate hurdle negotiated, now they had more formidable problems to consider.
Richard cleared his throat. “You handled that well.”
Amelia stared at the door James had just departed through, feeling extraordinarily tired. “It’s done. I don’t want to waste time on what happened, we could spend years.” She drew her eyes to them. “We need to figure out what we’re going to do now.”
A true picture of their situation started to resolve on the fourth day as the large white board propped on the end of the table started to evolve from a mass of notes and coalesce into an annotated diagram. There was a sense of resolve in the room as all their questions and thought processes were brought into a strategy they were all committed to.
Noticing an errant bubble with a series of text scribbles adjacent, Amelia walked up to the board and stared at the writing. “Richard, is this yours?”
Looking up from the spreadsheet on his laptop, Richard frowned as he looked over his glasses. “Yes, that’s the Coremade line.”
“What’s that part of? I don’t remember seeing it anywhere?”
He leaned back in the chair and levelled a flat expression at her. “It’s something Arthur and I are responsible for.”
Frustration welling, she responded abruptly. “I don’t know anything about it, will you please tell me?”
Unfazed by her anger, he expanded. “When we quit manufacturing here in 1991, we kept one boutique line out of the original factory in Kensington. They made a good business case, and on the assurance it always turned a profit we agreed to keep it on.” He smiled. “They always have.
The expression on Amelia’s face was perplexed. “Why have I never heard of it, and why did it never go through the design house?”
Richard lifted his boot up onto the table and lifted his trousers revealing a simply designed but elegant black boot. “Because we like them, they’re part of Havesheld and I didn’t want those design princesses who just copy everything they see in magazines and catwalks wrecking them. As to why you haven’t heard of them, it’s word of mouth and people who already have them. There’s no marketing or advertising.”
Her frustration turning to intrigue, Amelia extended her hand. “Let me see.”
Richard eased the boot gently off his foot and slid it across the board table towards her. Staring at it for a moment she had to acknowledge that it was obviously well constructed. She lifted the boot to regard it more closely.
It was a traditionally shaped dress shoe with a thin, three-layer sole lifting to a flat heel. The upper was a simple, but mildly curious arrangement; a sweeping tapered square piece toe, moulded out of a single piece of leather, with a discreet black retaining ring that ran to the edge of the sole. Just next to the heel cup there was a long narrow gore running to the top of the cuff, no more than three centimetres wide. The inner had a full gauze like sock inner that was more than a fabric in thickness, it was neatly tucked under the cuff at the top of the boot which folded over. The shoe itself was very discreet and it was only on close inspection that its very elegant design became apparent.
Turning the shoe over in her hand, Amelia noticed the leaved ring at the edge, and looping over, the sole to the upper. In the middle of the outsole there was an inset material that looked like leather. Flexing the shoe she watched the snakeskin-like leaves expand and contract, and she smiled at the ingenious design. Looking along the side of the heel she noticed an “L” shaped line about half way along. “What’s this?”
Smiling as he responded, Richard spoke in a warm voice. “With a coin you turn both a quarter to the right and the heel slides off. So you can change the heels and soles without touching the upper.”
Amelia didn’t take her attention from the shoe as he spoke. “I’ve never noticed you wearing these before, and I would have noticed.”
He smiled again. “I’ve always thought of them as an occasion shoe; this is certainly an occasion.”
She looked up. “And what occasion is that?”
His stare was purposeful. “In whatever drastic cost-cutting we do, this little division is not getting shut down or sold.”
Ignoring that statement for a moment she continued her examination. “What do these things sell for?”
“Not exactly sure what’s on the tag right now, but it would be somewhere around $1,400 to $1,600 a pair.”
Adam almost choked. “You must be joking.”
Richard smiled, obviously enjoying that they didn’t know anything about the range. “They come in a very nice timber presentation case with built-in lasts, you get special brushes and waxes. When you get a set it’s a big moment.”