chapter 5--PLANS

PLANS

Sammy sat, speechless, for what seemed like an eternity. He wasn’t sure of what he had heard, but if had heard what his brain was computing that he had then, he knew, he was surely going to hell. The room moved about him in slow motion causing him to place his hand on Connolly’s desk in order to steady himself. “Kill the President of the United States” he said in a monotone, saying it aloud to make sure that he heard it correctly. “Kill the President of the United States,” he repeated. The words rang in his ears. He felt his face flush and his ears get hot. His stomach churned and his bowels loosened. The Chief could not help but notice Sammy’s physical state.
“Sammy.” No response. “Sammy.” A flicker in his eyes and then back to earth.
“I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said and became silent again. After a few moments he said, quietly but firmly, “Are you crazy? Kill the President? I can’t kill the President. You can’t kill the President. I can’t kill the President,” he repeated. “Do you understand what you are suggesting? Third world countries kill their Presidents. We don’t. I can’t do this.” He got up and started pacing the room, back and forth while the Chief sat and absorbed this unusual, but expected, tirade. “You are talking about the most heinous crime ever committed. This is not 1963. An investigation will be conducted and it will be conducted by a stronger person than Earl Warren. History will not repeat itself. Who did it will be discovered this time. There will be no conspiracy, no cover up. And I have the most to lose. I will not do it.”

The Chief looked at Sammy for a long time after he finished. Softly, he said, “If you don’t do it, then you will definitely have the most to lose.”

Sammy lost his composure. He screamed, “What the fuck does that mean?? What are you going to do, kill me? Make it look like a suicide and leave a note written in my script by the boys in handwriting expressing my remorse over the past killings and paint a picture for the world to see of a lonely Senior Vice President of Marketing who killed to fulfill his psychotic agenda.”
The Chief just smiled. “That’s why we like you the best, Sammy. We hadn’t even thought of terminating you. No, we thought your pain would be created more subtly. For instance, we know everything there is to know about your parents, Eleanor & Richard...”

“You fucking son of a bitch. If you do anything to them....”

Now it was the Chief’s turn to yell. “What? What would you do if we wanted to do something to them? Who the fuck do you think you are. We could kill them but we won’t. We could ruin their careers, though. Your mother, a successful Long Island Realtor. Your father, a successful lawyer. They’re doing pretty well for themselves with a combined annual income over $250,000. How about we get them involved in stock manipulation and insider trading? We know they’ve done extremely well in the stock market, better than most. We have people all over the place. What do you think will happen if one of them drops documentation off with the FBI at 26 Federal Plaza in New York showing that your parents had inside information. Why, your parents would be immediately arrested, of course. Now, let’s see. Their bank accounts would be frozen and their house would be taken from them. By the time they got out of jail they’d be penniless and old. And it would work, too. There aren’t too many insider trading cases being prosecuted these days, but the old man wants to step up activity in this area by the mid to late eighties.”

“You wouldn’t” It was said as a question.

“Or maybe we can lay some evidence down to show that your old man stole money out of his firm’s Clients Trust account. What do you think he could do if he got disbarred at the age of 55. Or maybe we plant some evidence that your mother engaged in discriminatory selling practices. Her career would be gone as well.”

“You wouldn’t.” Again, but this time weaker.

“You’re probably right. I like your suicide scenario much better.” The Chief’s eyes were cold blue pools of ice devoid of emotion. “Framing your parents could be beaten by a top-notch defense attorney. It’s not foolproof. Neither is yours, just think of Lee Harvey in 1963, but it comes close to perfect. If we killed you as you described it would bring a lot of heat down on Renfro Sales, and that’s something we don’t want. But still, it’s a workable plan. That’s why we like you so much. You have the capability to adapt yourself to any situation.” He paused for a few moments. Neither man spoke. “So, do you help us or do you become a front page headline on the New York Times?” Sammy didn’t respond.

The Chief broke the silence. “You have what it takes to rise to the top in this organization. That’s the truth. We’re talking about a career decision here and you have to make it. Fuck all of the assholes in the world that say ‘it’s only a job.’ Bullshit. That ain’t true here. You make your decision, just realize that you’re making a life-and-death career decision. Just don’t think that if you say no, you’ll be able to walk out of here alive.”

Again, Sammy sat, speechless. His face flushed and beads of sweat began to drip down his forehead making rivulets towards his eyes. His armpits and back were sweaty to the point where his shirt was soaked. He couldn’t kill the President, but he knew he couldn’t die. He would stall for time. “You’ve left me no alternative,” he said quietly. “And I see now that this will not be my last assignment because you’d never let me leave the Company, am I right?”

“Yes, you are.”

“Then I want a Section Chief spot and I want to be your Deputy Chief as well as your successor. That’s the price you pay.”

“Ordinarily, we don’t negotiate. But given your assignment, I have been given the latitude to negotiate. Consider it done.”

“So, what’s the plan.”