The Consultant (38 page)

“There’s no way to stop him?”  

“Not that I know of.”  

“Have you tried talking to anyone else?”  

“No. In fact, I probably shouldn’t be talking to you right now. But I know you. And…” He trailed off for a second. “…it’s partly my fault you’re in this mess. I gave BFG a good reference when you asked. I
knew
what was going on. I was just…afraid.” Struggling, Brandt sat up further, leaned to the left, reached over to the wall and flipped on the room’s light.  

Matthews gasped. He’d known there was something strange about Brandt’s face, but he was still shocked to see the extent of deterioration. For the man barely looked human. His forehead and cheeks were swollen so badly that his eyes could barely be seen; they were little more than slits peering out from between folds of flesh. Beneath his wide, flattened-out nose, his mouth had been twisted into a grotesque grimace exposing overlapping teeth, the lips bulging.  

Acromegaly
, Matthews thought, although Rondo Hatton had never looked anywhere near this bad.  

It was not only the distorted shape of Brandt’s face that was so disturbing, however. The skin itself seemed to have been transformed. It was scaly and lizardlike around the nose and cheeks, furry in an almost feline way on the chin.  

“Jesus,” Matthews breathed. “What happened?”  

“The consultant happened.” Brandt flipped off the light, fading back into the shadows, and Matthews welcomed the darkness. “You don’t want this to happen to you. So my advice? Lay low, keep quiet, stay out of his way.”  

“But it’s my company. And I intend to keep it.”  

“That decision’s not up to you anymore. It’s up to
him
.”  

THIRTY THREE  

Every day now started with a meeting.

Before the arrival of the consultants, Craig would not have thought that
anyone
enjoyed meetings more than Austin Matthews. But the CEO was a piker compared to Patoff. The consultant lived and breathed meetings, seemed to draw strength and energy from them, and he used the get-togethers to unveil major policy changes as well as to announce inconsequential minutiae. Everything seemed to be equally worthy of meeting status in his eyes, and while BFG’s initial assemblies had been with workers of a specific class or particular job definition, they now seemed thrown together completely haphazardly with employees of little or no commonality.  

The one constant was that Craig seemed to be invited to all of them. At least the observers were gone. Cameras were still in place, had continued to multiply in fact, but somehow they were easier to ignore and felt less restrictive than an honest-to-God person sitting there taking notes and monitoring everyone’s every movement. On the flipside, no one trusted anyone anymore. Other employees were now suspect, and in crowds larger than two or three close friends, people were wary, not certain where the others’ loyalties lay, worried that one of them might be a conduit to BFG. Craig had no idea if this was intentional or not, but it was like living with the Hitler Youth, and tension was ratcheted up so much that most employees preferred to spend their time at the office alone, working—which may have been the point.  

But no one could be alone at a meeting.  

Today’s was an anomaly. It consisted entirely of supervisory personnel and had an actual purpose: an announcement that CompWare would soon have its own cafeteria.  

Patoff stood in front of a professional draftsman’s detailed conception of a light, airy restaurant. “While it is too early to draw conclusions on many of CompWare’s business practices and operations, our study shows that, on average, employees return from lunch a minute to three minutes late. Which means that, in the course of a year, the company loses approximately a day’s work from each employee. With three hundred and sixty-eight employees at present, that’s a loss of three hundred and sixty-eight days, more than a year. Having a cafeteria onsite will put a stop to that, in fact will quite possibly result in employees taking shorter than allotted lunches. It will also allow CompWare to control the portion size and nutritional content of its employees’ lunches, which, in the long term, will lead to a healthier, happier and more efficient workforce. A win-win!”  

“When is this cafeteria supposed to be completed?” Sid Sukee asked.  

“Oh, it’s done,” Patoff said, and Craig was surprised to hear that. Everyone seemed surprised. There’d been no indication that any sort of construction or remodeling had been going on in the building.  

“The official grand opening is Monday, but we’re going to give you a sneak preview today. Are you ready to take the tour?”  

People started standing up, gathering their things.  

“I
said
—” The consultant was glaring at them. “Are you
ready
to take the
tour
?”  

“Yes,” they responded. “Sure…Of course…Yes…”  

“That’s better.” He smiled. “Come with me.”  

They followed Patoff out of the meeting room to the elevators. Craig was surprised to see that, even after everything that had happened, the consultant still retained some of his original charm for some of the women. He conspicuously flirted with two of them and spoke of personal matters with three others, matters he’d obviously discussed with them several times before and that he gave a good impression of caring about. The remaining supervisory staff, however, was wary, suspicious, and kept a wide berth. Not wanting to be stuck in an elevator with the consultant, Craig, Phil, Elaine and a stream of others, under the pretense that it would be faster, took the stairs down to the second floor, where Patoff had said the cafeteria was located.  

If any of them had thought they’d have a difficult time finding the eating area without Patoff to lead them there, that fear was put instantly to rest the second they opened the stairwell door. For the entire second floor seemed to have been converted into a massive high-end restaurant. Gone were the nearly identical corridors and rooms found on every floor above the first. In their place was a gigantic open space filled with light and plants and access to windowed views. Craig could not remember exactly what department had been stationed on the second floor, but it had obviously been moved elsewhere. His eyes took in the blond wood tables, spacious booths, potted ficus trees and ferns. Behind the long counter where food would be served, the kitchen was wide open, visible to all behind a glass wall.  

“It seats four hundred,” Patoff was saying, as he came out of the first elevator with the initial group of supervisors. “Even without staggered lunch hours, there’s room in here for every employee as well as visiting clients.” He nodded at those who had taken the stairs and at the employees still emerging from the stairwell. “We have a few more stragglers,” he said, nodding toward the elevators. “Once everyone’s here, we’ll get started.”  

How had they all missed this? Craig wondered. It had taken a tremendous effort to redesign an entire floor, yet no one had seen any workers, trucks or materials. No one had heard any noise or smelled any dust or paint. Whoever had previously occupied the second floor had not said a word, so there’d been no news from the rumor mill.  

How was that possible?  

“What are the prices going to be like?” Phil asked.  

“The cafeteria will provide a free lunch to all employees,” the consultant said, and there was a murmur of surprised approval. “Of course, a minimal pre-tax cafeteria fee will be deducted from each employee’s paycheck in order to subsidize these meals. This has already been approved by the Board, and not only will it provide everyone with a lunch, but it will act as an incentive to eat healthy. Since you’ll be paying the fee anyway, why bring a leftover greaseburger from home when you can have a nutritious meal here for free?”  

“If we’re paying a fee, it’s not free,” Phil pointed out.  

Patoff beamed. “Exactly!”  

Both elevators opened and the last batch of attendees emerged awestruck onto the second floor.  

“Shall we?” the consultant announced, and led them through the cafeteria, showing off the seating arrangements, allowing them into the clean spacious kitchen, going over proposed menus with the head chef, who joined them for the tour. Patoff, as usual, was acting as though he was in charge of the company, and Craig couldn’t help wondering where Matthews was and why he wasn’t the one showing them around.  

Ghost in the machine.
 

It was all very impressive, Craig had to admit, and even he was looking forward to eating here. It would be very convenient—despite the fact that they would be under constant surveillance.  

“One other thing before we adjourn,” Patoff said as he gathered everyone before the elevators. “It has been decided that it would be more advantageous for the ongoing benefit of the company if all supervisory personnel were married. Studies have shown that a stable homelife leads to less volatility at work and a more logical, less rash decision making process on the part of the employee. Put simply, the presence of a spouse allows an individual to focus more of his or her attention on work rather than dating and socializing.  

“Now, obviously, we can’t
force
anyone to get married. That would be illegal. But let me assure you that, as we contemplate culling the ranks, that will be one of many factors that could be considered.”  

Jonah Kosinski, a manager from the Finance department, spoke up timidly. “Does that mean I need to start looking for a wife?”  

Patoff laughed. “Of course not. But if you are involved with someone and in a serious relationship, perhaps you should consider taking the plunge. If you are not currently involved with anyone, then we will be offering a dating service that can match you with compatible individuals within the CompWare family, or in one of the many other companies and corporations for which BFG consults. Strictly voluntary, of course, but, as I said, a stable homelife can lead to a stable work life—and stable employment.” He clapped an overly familiar hand on Kosinski’s back. “Just something to keep in mind.”  

The consultant smiled and waved as the elevator door opened behind him. “Thank you all for coming.”  

The milling group began to break apart, some going into the elevator with Patoff, others taking the second elevator, still others taking the stairs. Craig found Phil. “There go my divorce plans,” his friend said, smiling.  

“Pretty nice,” Craig said, nodding toward the cafeteria.  

“We’re paying for it.” He looked around. “How much do you think that ‘fee’ is going to be? My guess is a lot more than a few cents per paycheck.”  

They waited by the elevators. “I noticed Matthews wasn’t here,” Craig said, keeping his voice low.  

“I actually saw him this morning,” Phil said. “I got here early, thought I’d get a little something done before the meeting, and we rode up a few floors on the same elevator. Looked a little worse for wear, maybe, but not the Howard Hughes figure I was expecting.”  

“At least he’s not…”  

“Dead?” Phil finished for him. “I thought exactly the same thing.”  

One of the elevators opened, and they got inside. “Still no word of Lupe?” Phil said.  

Craig shook his head, glancing up at the small surveillance camera in the corner.  

Phil nodded his understanding, and they rode the rest of the way to their respective floors in silence.  

**** 

Craig had set up a meeting of his own after lunch. The final OfficeManager updates were near completion, and he wanted Huell and his team of programmers to give him a live demo so he could make sure everything was copacetic before giving Scott Cho access. Unfortunately, five minutes before the scheduled demo, he got a call from Regus Patoff requesting that he attend a meeting on the fourth floor. It was in a room with which he wasn’t familiar, and when he arrived, he saw ten people he didn’t know seated on folding chairs, watching Patoff set up an outdated TV and VCR combo on a tall metal cart. Craig sat down on a chair in the back row. Moments later, two other people sat next to him.  

“Thank Ralph you could make it,” the consultant said to them, smiling. He adjusted his bow tie. “I have to step out for a moment, but I want you to watch a little video for me. Afterward, we will discuss it.” He turned on the television, turned on the VCR, walked past the seated employees, turned off the room lights and closed the door as he left. There was a minute of silence and a blue screen until the video came on.  

An old Bill Nye video about dinosaurs.  

What was the point of
this
? Craig looked around. It was hard to see in the dark, but by the light of the screen he was able to tell that the men and women around him were focused intently on the goofy lab-coated science teacher talking about the Age of Reptiles. None of them seemed fazed by the video, none of them were making fun of it or questioning it. They were just watching.  

He had never seen any of the people here before, and he wondered if they were BFG employees instead of CompWare workers, if he was being set up somehow.  

It was a twofer. After the half-hour dinosaur program, they had to sit through still another Bill Nye show, this one about the solar system. Patoff returned at the end of the video, flipping the lights back on and passing out to everyone a pencil and thick sheaf of papers affixed to a clipboard. “Please fill this out,” he said. “And make your answers as detailed as possible.”  

Craig didn’t know what to expect. He felt as though he was back in junior high, and when he saw that the top page was a worksheet about dinosaurs, he assumed that BFG was testing their memorization skills or comprehension. But the second page had nothing to do with Bill Nye or the videos. It was a detailed questionnaire about dreams, asking for descriptions of recent nightmares, even referencing specific people, places and objects to see if they appeared in any of the dreams. He flipped through the other pages: one contained questions about sexual fantasies, one about preferred modes of death, one about torture.