The Iceman. Jeff Edwards
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I sat down at the board table of Transglobal for the first time. Matty’s plan had been a win/win proposal.
I approached Transglobal’s executives and asked why they needed to waste their time and money driving me out of business when a merger would cost them nothing more than a seat for me on their board.
The simple reasoning and the mathematics of combining the companies soon won them over and after being on the board for ten years I was elected the company’s chairman.
I had Matty to thank for much of my success in those years. Her behind-the-scenes support and understanding of market trends in the industry were invaluable.
Now she was in danger and I had to stand by while others held her life in their hands; however, I had decided that I was going to do whatever I possibly could and that meant making wholesale changes in my life.
Below me the old men were jockeying their pieces, attempting to create a weakness in their opponent’s defences that they could use to take advantage of. I, on the other hand, had developed a far simpler plan.
My personal assistant, Roma Blair, entered. ‘Mr Schubert and Mr Strong are here,’ she announced.
‘Send them in,’ I said, turning away from the window and the game of chess below.
Other than myself, Ben Schubert and Robert Strong were the most senior members of Transglobal’s board and we had formed a strong working relationship over the years. Mutual respect and friendship were key reasons for Transglobal’s continued success and Ben and Robert arrived in my office as friends as well as working companions.
‘You’d better stay as well,’ I said to Roma.
‘Do you want me to take notes?’ she asked.
‘That won’t be necessary.’ I looked over at my friends and could see that they had detected the unease in my voice.
‘What the matter?’ asked Ben Schubert.
‘Matty has cancer.’
‘Shit!’ he gasped. ‘Bad?’
I nodded. ‘It’s in her liver. They’re starting treatment immediately.’
The three shocked faces before me remained silent.
‘I’m going to spend my time at her side,’ I continued. ‘She’s going to need me.’
‘Of course. What can we do to help?’ said Robert Strong.
I handed Robert a folded paper from my coat pocket. ‘That’s my resignation as chairman of the board. I’d still like to keep my seat as director, but I don’t think I’ll be taking an active role in the company for some time.’
Robert accepted the document. ‘I don’t think the board will have any trouble accepting your conditions. I hope you’ll be back with us quickly and that Matty makes a full recovery.’
I accepted his words with a nod. ‘Ben, I think you should take over as chairman, and I’ll be making that recommendation to the board,’ I continued.
‘I’d be proud to.’
‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘Roma will stay on to assist you and I’ll be only a phone call away if you need me.’
‘I hate that it’s happening to Matty. She doesn’t deserve something like this,’ said Ben.
‘I know. That’s why I have to do this for her. Now go back to your offices and get yourselves sorted out. You have an important meeting with the group from Dubai tomorrow morning. Their development is almost ready to go to tender and I’d hate for us to miss out.’
‘We’ll make sure Transglobal wraps it up. Don’t you worry about that,’ said Ben reassuringly as he left the office. ‘We’ll do it for Matty.’
Left alone with Roma I saw the trickle of a tear roll down her cheek. I took her in my arms and comforted her. ‘Matty’ll be fine. We have the best doctors available looking after her.’
‘I know, but it’s so very unfair. Matty never hurt anyone. She doesn’t deserve this.’
That was exactly what I had been thinking. ‘I have something for you,’ I said. ‘Something to show my appreciation for all your help over the years.’ I took an envelope from my pocket. ‘I bought it for Matty. It was supposed to be a surprise for when her plaster came off.’
Roma looked inside the envelope and found a pair of return tickets to New York. ‘I can’t accept this!’
‘Of course you can. You’ve earned it. Matty and I will be able to go when she’s better. Now I’ve got to go to her. She needs me.’
Chapter 4
Matty Sutton
I
lay in the hospital bed with my plastered leg stretched out before me and the sentence of death hanging over my head. The grim reality of my present position hung over me like a thick, black fog.
Despite the assurances of the doctors that they would do all within their power to rid me of the cancer, I knew my days were numbered. I grimly accepted my fate and prayed that I had sufficient time left to do what I needed to do.
It wasn’t as though I felt sick. Except for the discomfort of the itchy skin beneath the cast I felt no different than I had a week ago when I had been busily smashing a tennis ball around the court at the country club.
But now I knew. Deep within me, I knew.
In an effort to allay these unsettling thoughts I threw my mind back to more pleasant times and to the day that Jim and I had met.
In applying for a job as a personal assistant to the head of a building company I had expected to arrive at an office tower of carpeted, air-conditioned luxury, not the muddy yard of utter mayhem that constituted the construction company Jim had started several years before.
The ‘administration’ section consisted of a demountable office thrust up against one wall of the yard and completely surrounded by piles of building materials that seemed to have been dropped off the back of the delivery truck and were destined to lay where they landed until someone found a practical use for them.
I tiptoed my way through the chaos while trying desperately not to ruin the brand new dress I had bought for the occasion, or step in one of the many puddles in my new shoes. A series of wolf whistles and catcalls followed me from the gate to the door of the office and I was still not sure whether I should go through with the interview or run and hope to find more suitable employment elsewhere.
Before I could change my mind the door to the demountable was flung open and a voice roared out, ‘Get back to work, you lazy fucking bastards!’ The voice’s owner towered over me from the demountable’s top step and his face suddenly reddened when he saw me. ‘Sorry, Miss,’ he apologised.
He looked utterly devastated that he had been caught swearing in front of a woman and I was touched that he even cared. I shrugged. ‘I’ve heard worse before and I suppose I’ll hear worse in the future.’
‘Jim Sutton,’ he stammered by way of introduction while taking my hand in a vice-like grip and shaking it till I thought it would come off.
Inside the grimy demountable office I saw that it was in no less a state of confusion than the yard outside. Invoices were scattered over a filthy desk while an architect’s table in the corner was covered in large sheets of paper. More plans were rolled up and stored wherever a spot could be found. A phone rang, but I couldn’t see where it was and Jim Sutton chose to ignore it completely.
‘Aren’t you going to answer that?’ I asked.
‘They’ll ring back if it’s important,’ he replied in an offhanded manner.
I was staggered by his reply and knew straight away that I wanted this job. Here was a company crying out for the guiding hand of