TITLE: Surrender By Jim Hall 11/05/07 |
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Chapter 1
“Get out of my way!” Victoria Michaels was gearing up for battle and the last thing she needed was to be distracted by traffic.
She checked her hair in the mirror confirming that the tight librarian bun was still holding.
Image is everything.
She had quoted that phrase so many times it was like a mantra, but one that she took seriously. She didn’t have a job-oh no-she ruled an empire: complete with conquered territory, loyal subjects, and hidden enemies.
Stuck at still another red light, she willed her hands off the steering wheel, noticing the whiteness in her own knuckles.
It wasn’t that this day was different than any other, there was the end of the month board meeting to endure, more dominions to overthrow, and more rulers to unseat; but it was Friday, and the weather was warm for late September. Just a few hours-that’s all she had to brave-then the weekend was hers.
She popped the sun visor up, hating the necessity of its intrusion into her line of vision and thankful for the shadow of the skyscraper now looming high and blocking the glaring rays.
By anyone’s standards a 50-story office complex would be considered imposing, and Lamhurst International Conglomerate was no exception. Located in the very heart of Denver’s vast downtown business district, the building not only garnered admiration for its aesthetic value, but it also commanded respect for the power of commerce that was steered within its walls. Just as the towering image would cast a formidable shadow across the metropolitan landscape, its business muscle seemed to touch every corner of not only the city, but also the state and beyond.
To Victoria, this was home. The expansive network of offices and cubicles made up her immense realm of influence. Each one of the thousands of employees, from the highest executives to the lowest of menial laborers, looked to her for leadership. They respected her.
She smiled as the tires chirped on her prized, bright, red Jaguar XKR convertible as she veered off the city street and into the parking garage with practiced precision. The melody of the exhaust pipes rumbling their protest of the 420 horsepower supercharged V-8 never got old to Victoria. She tapped the down window control to better enjoy the melodic tone, as the roar echoed around the concrete structure. She even tweaked the throttle several times-allowing her to get lost in the surge of thrust.
Better than any flesh and blood, she could relate to this car. The sleek beauty that turned heads and made hearts thump in men’s chests-she knew that she had it-so did her Jag. The intimidation that was wrought by even being in her presence (from being in the presence of power) was just like her Jag. She knew that it was real-nothing contrived-nothing faked-her Jag could outdistance anything on the road, just like her.
Having revved the motor one last time, basking in the satisfying rumble, she turned off the key and made the short trek to the high-speed executive elevator that would whisk her to the penthouse office.
As the doors slid closed, pinching away the view of her car, she gave a wink. “I will see you in a couple of hours.”
The plush elevator was lined with mirrors and she made full use of them. By the time the doors opened and she exited into the command center of Lamhurst International, she had completed her last minute primp. The bun was tight on the back of her head; she would have it no other way. Her clothes were cleared of any obvious wrinkles and lint free.
Her jaw tensed; she was ready.
She would emerge into an immediate burst of activity. She expected it. She required it. Victoria had worked hard to reach the level she now held, and maintained that all the fuss was nothing more than part of the perk.
At thirty-three years old and the head of a fortune 1000 company, she had earned every privilege that she now enjoyed. No one knew better than Victoria how great an accomplishment that was.
Before the doors had fully opened, Victoria had charged out of the elevator with the long purposeful stride of her five-foot eight frame. The bottom of her finely tailored, midnight blue skirt was pulled taut with each exaggerated step, forcing the limits of her professionally designed cashmere, silk-blend suit.
Like an early warning system, her Christian Dior high heel pumps announced her arrival as they clacked against the decorative marble floors, sending an echo from one end of the lengthy hallway to the other.
Stella Robbins jumped to her feet and skirted her desk with a piping hot cup of Starbucks outstretched toward her boss.
“Good morning, Ms. Michaels. You have a message from the accounting department requesting an extension on the project that you assigned to them.” Victoria maintained a brisk pace that left her four-inch shorter administrative assistant trotting to keep up. “Mr. Lincoln said he would like to meet with you for lunch after the conference to discuss the acquisition of Burleson Electronics.” She gulped down a full breath and continued, “And the papers for the Titus merger are on your desk awaiting your signature. Mr. Bosely would like to be notified when you are finished so he can send a courier to pick them up.”
Victoria smiled at the distress clear in Stella’s voice as she struggled to get all the information out while locked in a virtual foot race. Victoria really didn’t need to walk quite so fast but keeping the help running was one of the ways of that she displayed her dominance. It was also one of the reasons that she would never hire a tall woman for the office.
Lest she too would become winded, Victoria made an abrupt stop and turned to face Stella, unwilling to display the same physical distress as her employee she said, “Tell Mr. Lincoln the lunch will have to wait until Monday as I have a previous engagement directly after the board meeting. Call Mr. Bosely and inform him that by the time his courier arrives, the papers will be signed.” She turned to resume her trek toward her plush corner office. “Oh, and don’t worry about accounting; I will be handling that momentarily.”
She knew that the second her door closed, the hustle and bustle that permeated the office would come to an abrupt end, at least until she made a reappearance. But that didn’t faze her, just as long as they kept up the façade for her sake.
It was customary for Victoria to spend the first half an hour or more sipping her coffee and absorbing the scenery.
From her lofty perch, she had a perfect view of the majestic mountains to the west of the city, and could see nearly to the town of Monument to the south, more than that though, she could look down on her enemies, as numerous as they were. Few could boast the prestige that was the norm for this lady.
By 9:35 Victoria had her papers signed, her coffee drunk and refilled, and was making her entrance to the conference room-fashionably late, of course.
Victoria was ready for battle. She considered herself at war: at war with the competition, at war with the opportunists within the company that would love to unseat her, but most of all, she was at war with herself. She was fighting to make a name-a legacy. She realized how rare it was for a woman to hold the position that she currently enjoyed and never allowed herself the luxury of taking that for granted.
To her, it was more than just a war, for war is in and of itself, gruesome. There were certainly parallels: casualties, conquered territory, victory, and defeat, but with her, it was not unpleasant. She often considered it a game and one she played to win. Many had risen up against her and many had realized how formidable this lady could be.
“Good morning, Ladies and Gentlemen.” She welcomed the assembled party with professional courtesy, offering a formal smile with her greeting.
The spacious conference room was perfectly suited to the task at hand. A long rectangular oak table was filled to capacity with Vice Presidents, Project Managers and Board Members, each with bulging briefcases and tense faces.
The aroma of coffee caught Victoria’s attention the moment she entered the room, but she never indulged. For her, it was Starbucks or nothing.
This wasn’t the place or time for the timid or weak. This was a power play and she held the cards. She did a quick scan of the room--only two people met her eyes--the only two she would have expected. In this office there were friends and there were enemies. She relied on her senses to tell who was who.
This seemed to be the perfect time to send a decisive message.
“Dillon!” She held the accounting reports in front of her without acknowledging him with her eyes. “I assume you have the rest of the marketing, advertising, and assessment figures with you, and that I just haven’t received a copy as of yet; is that correct?” She then fixed an impassionate gaze to his eyes and was rewarded by him shifting in his seat.
“Uh…” Dillon Heath, the forty-something Vice President over Accounting was barely tolerated by Victoria and she knew that he would be unable to rise to the occasion.
Not one to spend much time on personal appearance, Dillon was the epitome of the man that Victoria detested. His pin stripe suit always had a just-out-of-the-laundry- hamper look and the little hair that he had, was unkempt. His demeanor was timid and unsure, but his accounting knowledge was some of the best anywhere. “I gave a message to your secretary informing her that we needed more time to complete the reports. Did you get that message?”
Victoria took great pleasure in seeing him squirm.
“So,” she responded without answering his question, “What you are telling me is that you were unable to get the reports completed that I allowed you over a week to prepare. Is that correct?” Her eyes never left his.
“My team only needs a couple of more days and we will have everything that you are in need of.”
“Your team?” Victoria leaned forward and slid her cup to the side to allow her more room. “I don’t recall assigning this to a team. If memory serves, I gave this project to you. Whether or not you choose to use a team is your responsibility, as was completing the assignment.”
She leaned back and pivoted her chair away in order to face the Senior Vice President over Operations. “Dave, let’s hear from you. I know you won’t disappoint me. You always have your ducks in a row.”
Dave Sebastian had been Victoria’s number two since she was elevated to the office of CEO three years ago and she found him to be reasonably competent and loyal. In his mid-forties and just over six-feet tall with a lean build and serious manner, Dave was one of Victoria’s favorite people at the company. She thought of him as the nearest thing to a friend that she knew. For the next 40 minutes the board was brought up to date on the Burleson acquisition, future planned projects, and the overall viability of the company, all of which was good news.
Victoria floated several questions before ending Dave’s time with some final directives. “Thank you, Dave. I look forward to hearing a report next month on the progress of the acquisition and I want you to personally supervise the whole operation.” She again lifted her papers to check the next item on the agenda. “Oh, and by the way, get me an Accounting VP that is not a complete incompetent.”
For several seconds hardly anybody breathed, and she knew that each one was processing her statement. When Victoria felt the timing was perfect for the maximum effect, she turned back toward Dillon.
“Are you still here? I thought I just fired you. In case you don’t understand my subtle hints let me make it clear: leave. Walk out the door. Don’t come back.” She again shifted her eyes to her paperwork, unwilling to even cede his presence.
Dillon stood slowly and stepped toward door while she could feel all eyes boring down on her. George Lincoln, the Chairman of the Board of Directors, abruptly rose and followed closely behind him.
Victoria’s eyes met George’s for a scant second as she attempted to read his expression without showing any hesitation on her part. She reasoned that he must have been escorting Dillon to the elevator to assure that he left the floor. She expected that he would have security meet him to see the shamed man all the way to the street.
George had been gone for only a minute or two when he returned and resumed his place at the end of the table opposite Victoria. Their eyes had met again and in that instant, she sensed an uncharacteristic tension, but she was unable to discern its cause.
If there were ever a man that she looked to as a mentor, it was George. He was a young 58 year old, and took great pains to stay fit. Except for his receding hairline, he could easily be mistaken for a man 10 years his junior.
George had originally recommended Victoria for the CEO position after she had worked as the company Vice President over Operations, the office now held by Dave Sebastian. He had a fatherly way about him and was the only one that could get away with calling her Torrie, the pet name that he had given her when she first came to work for the firm 11 years ago.
Within two hours the remainder of the meeting was completed without further incident. Victoria glanced at her watch as she strode back to her office. “11:42. Perfect!”
Her post board-meeting day was planned out to the letter. A few necessary calls, a last minute instruction here or there and, as soon as she was able, she would head out of the door for a long awaited weekend. She considered this time a reward for a hard fought month. In her position, there were many long hours and it was not odd to see her in the office well into the night, but she would allow nothing to deprive her of this time.
As she reached her office door and stepped inside she took a few moments to scan the interior as she had done so many times before. She never tired of it. She loved the professional décor, the pricey paintings, and the huge mahogany desk. The carpet was imported wool and the wall opposite her desk boasted a full entertainment center, complete with surround sound, DVD player, and an 80-inch, low profile, wall mount television.
This was one of the few times that she looked forward to leaving this sanctuary; this was her time. No questions to answer. No lions to tame. No enemies to conquer. As much as she loved doing all those things, she really loved the great outdoors that defines Colorado. There could be nothing more perfect than a beautiful, sunny afternoon and a Jaguar!
What more could a woman want?
By 1:00 she was clad in designer jeans and a pink light-weight cashmere sweater and heading south out of the city toward her favorite place on earth: the little town of Salida.
Only a two and a half hour drive for the average commuter, Victoria turned every trip into a challenge to beat her best time.
The town epitomized everything that Victoria’s life was not. Nestled along the Arkansas River at the base of the Sangre De Christo Mountains, the town was an oasis of peace, tranquility, and old-fashioned values. It was not uncommon to see big-horn sheep, deer, elk, and even an occasional moose as she would worm her way through the canyon that held the beautiful, scenic river.
The weather was ideal for cruising with the top down and Victoria was taking advantage of that very luxury. The only time that she ever went into public with her hair free was when she was behind the wheel of her beloved Jag. On a day like this her auburn tresses whipped in the wind and the sun warmed her soul.
She always approached this day unfettered. Her seat belt was off as was the CD player. She didn’t even want the sounds of her favorite music to spoil the mood. This was her day and she intended to live it to the fullest.
As she pushed the 420 horse power monster along southbound Interstate 25 at break-neck speed, she noticed that traffic seemed to be lighter than usual and hoped that it would translate into an early arrival at her destination. She glanced to her right. Pike’s Peak was still brimming with snow from the relentless winter and relatively cool summer.
Her favorite activities in Salida would include settling back near the river’s edge with a novel and losing herself in a story a lifetime away. She loved to while away the hours in the city park, visit the shops, and watch the modest residents.
Victoria was thankful for the little town that offered her a get away but she never envied the people. On the contrary, she could never get her mind around the concept of a meaningless life, doing meaningless things with meaningless people. How could anyone be happy just working a dead-end job for meager wages and raising kids just to see them follow in the same empty footsteps? No, she would take advantage of the peace and quiet of their little town, rest-up, re-group, and then on Monday morning, she would go back to the real world and make a difference!
In record time, she roared into Colorado Springs and thanked the gods that the Academy Boulevard exit wasn’t backed up so she was able to maintain her trek southward unhindered. She laughed as she thought again at how free she was, how much she had achieved in her short life, and how much more there was yet to accomplish. She was up to the task. Her career was going nowhere but up; there was nothing holding her down.
Soon she realized that she would be making her turn onto Hwy 115 and then she would clear town and pass Ft. Carson.
There were quicker ways from Denver to Salida, but she liked this route. She liked it for the scenery. She loved skirting the mountains, then snaking the river westward until she reached her destination. Even at her near-warp speed, the immense beauty of the Great Rocky Mountains was not lost on her.
Once she was clear of the heavier urban traffic she planned to really cut loose and make up time between there and Cañon City.
In the many times she’d made this trip, a patrolman had never bothered her and that boded well. Not that the ticket was a concern, she’d pay someone to make it disappear, it was the forced time delay that would make her blood boil.
She was nearing her exit and began easing toward the right lane in preparation. Her speedometer was still touching 85 mph. She would hold out until the very last second then brake hard in order to navigate the corner with the maximum possible thrill.
There was only one exit left between her and the one she was seeking. Since the left and middle lanes were blocked with vehicles, she opted to keep to the right. She would slip past the large transfer truck that was to her left then roar on ahead to take the long swooping off-ramp that led her from the interstate highway to the stoplight at Highway 115.
With her lane now clear, she eased the throttle down further in order to sail around the truck and make tracks to her exit.
She had just reached the right rear quarter of big rig when there was an ear shattering POP and the behemoth vehicle was thrown straight into her path. It took valuable seconds for the driver to regain control of his truck and steer it back into the correct lane, but not before the sudden veer caused her to loose control of her Jag.
In a reflex reaction, Victoria swerved to the right to attempt to miss the semi’s encroachment. Due to her increased speed, she was never able to bring the muscle car back under control. In less than a second her vehicle made contact with the guardrail and went airborne.
Had she had been wearing a seatbelt she may have stayed with the car and been better off; but as it was, she went one direction and the car went another, causing her a savage landing in the inside loop of the off-ramp. Over and over her body tumbled before coming to a stop leaving her a broken and battered heap. The Jaguar continued to careen for several hundred feet before it came to rest on its wheels, fortunately without doing injury to anyone else.
Victoria lay alone on the cold grass as her life slipped away.
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