LITMIR.BIZ

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a note to call Corner Ticket and get the Sox tickets he’d promised Lawrence. Right now Lawrence was his only hope of tracking her down.

      Crossing his sparsely furnished living room, Charlie went to his computer, which stood on a drafting table he’d bought at a Scandinavian design center. Monte continued to shadow him and barked louder this time to get his attention. Charlie bent down and petted him gently on the head.

      “I hear you, Monte. Just need to check one thing and we’ll go for a long walk today. Sound good?”

      As if Monte understood, he barked again, turned, and trotted off into the kitchen. Charlie heard him lapping at his water bowl. His computer powered on, Charlie inwardly breathed a sigh of relief that he could still access the SoluCent corporate network, through the secure VPN connection. Not that he had expected otherwise, just that with the Anne Pedersen situation escalating the way that it was, he could no longer take anything for granted. He opened Outlook and scanned his in-box. Charlie prided himself on never having taken a sick day in his more than two years at SoluCent—the Cal Ripken of software engineering, someone once had dubbed him. Charlie was about to break that streak with a quick e-mail to his boss, Mac.

      Unfortunately, Mac had contacted him first. Even worse, it was his first day back from vacation. His message was characteristically short, but from the scathing tone it was evident that both Leon Yardley and Jerry Schmidt had given Mac earfuls.

      Mac had meetings until 11:00 a.m. and expected Charlie to contact his assistant Jean for an appointment with him in the afternoon. Typical Mac, not a “manage by walking around” guy. You had to make an appointment if you wanted to see him. Seldom did anyone want to.

      His promised long walk with Monte finished and shortened considerably, Charlie dressed in gray slacks, a blue oxford, and a gray sports jacket. He studied his sunken face in the mirror and decided against shaving. There was no reason to pretend this was just another day at the office.

      “Be good, boy, okay?” Charlie said, hand-feeding Monte his favorite beef-flavored treat. “Brenda will be here in a few hours. I’ll see if she can take you for another walk before I get home. Okay?”

      Monte gulped down the treat in one bite and looked longingly up at Charlie.

      Guilt washed through him. Monte was accustomed to spending his days with Charlie. This home-alone trend wasn’t sitting well with him in the least, Charlie could tell.

      “How about I give you a new shoe?” Charlie suggested.

      At that Monte perked up. Charlie went into the bedroom closet and there fished out a brown shoe from a pair he had bought months ago but had never worn.

      “Will this do?” Charlie asked, bending down to hold the shoe up to Monte’s nose.

      Monte let out a delighted little yip and trotted over to his bed, shoe in mouth. Sun pouring in from the living-room bay windows washed over his tiny body and warmed his fur. He seemed so at peace, and Charlie felt foolish for feeling jealous.

      The traffic along Storrow Drive to Route 2 and eventually 128 was stop-and-go, reminding Charlie why he normally left for work before seven. On the radio, Dennis and Callahan prattled on about the upcoming Sox series in New York and the blessed arrival of the Patriots season. Every part of the commute offered signs of normalcy, including the SoluCent parking lot, with nearly every space taken by workers already well into their workday.

      Climbing out of his BMW, Charlie spotted Harry Wessner coming down the stairs of the terraced parking lot. It looked as though he was coming from the Omni Way building, where Charlie and Anne Pedersen had supposedly had lunch just days before. Charlie had hoped to avoid the Magellan Team altogether, at least today, until after this mess could be sorted out. But Harry saw Charlie and waved hello, then quickened his pace to catch up with him. Harry’s heavy frame was not built for bursts of speed, and he was breathless by the time he reached Charlie.

      “Hi there,” he said, still working to catch his breath.

      “Hi, Harry,” Charlie said.

      They walked together in silence toward the front entrance. Harry seemed distracted, his gaze averted. Charlie could feel his awkwardness and hated the uncomfortable tension. Harry was senior manager, quality assurance, for the InVision division within SoluCent, and his governance extended well beyond software, into manufacturing production as well. It was unlikely that Harry’s apprehension was due to the Albuquerque production problems that had been a hot button topic of late. Charlie figured the rumor mill about his flameout at the steering committee meeting had been running overtime for the better part of a day.

      “I spoke with Arthur Bean,” Harry said. “He decided not to even bother trying to change departments. He’s leaving SoluCent. But he did want to thank you for putting him in touch with your financial advisor.”

      “That’s good news,” Charlie said.

      The look in Harry’s eyes suggested that Bean still harbored a good deal of resentment over his dismissal. Charlie caught something else in Harry’s eyes, too, a look implying a link between his current crisis and karma.

      “Also, I got a good report out of our Albuquerque production plant. The plant manager promises that defect counts are down and within projections. Assembly issues seem to be slowing down, too. I also made an impassioned plea on all our behalves to our silicone provider for them to rush that shipment, with which they complied.”

      Charlie nodded. “Great job, Harry. I’m glad you’re on top of it.”

      Charlie tried to muster some of his characteristic passion for anyone who found solutions to complex problems, but it felt forced. Everything seemed unimportant and permanently tarnished. The idea of punishing Arthur Bean for ineptitude seemed almost comical now.

      “I don’t think you’ll need to go on-site and personally bail out the plant manager anymore. Although I told him that you were planning a trip,” Charlie said, with a slight sadness in his voice that he hadn’t intended.

      “Well…right… I…”

      Harry paused, and the two stopped outside the glass double doors to the office building entrance.

      “What is it, Harry?” Charlie asked.

      “Nothing. Just… Is everything all right, Charlie? We heard things. About yesterday. Mac called us into a meeting.”

      Charlie’s pulse quickened and his face flushed.

      “What did Mac tell you?” Charlie couldn’t hide a quivering undertone of rage. The situation was bad enough, but Magellan was Charlie’s team. They were his leadership council, a select group he trusted with every aspect of the InVision business. Mac had no right interjecting anything into Charlie’s organization without speaking directly to Charlie first. No matter how much trouble Charlie was in, Magellan was still his team to run.

      “Well,” Harry said, “he said there was a bit of a mix-up. Between you and Jerry Schmidt, and that he was going to speak with you about it today.”

      “That’s true,” Charlie said, feeling somewhat relieved. A mix-up was playing the situation down to the point of nonexistence.

      “But he made it sound like we might be working for someone else.”

      Charlie’s hands clenched into fists. He felt his muscles tightening and breathed deep to regain his composure. “He did? What made you think that?”

      Harry looked down at his feet. Charlie appreciated his loyalty and chided himself for the times he’d treated Harry unfairly. It was more times than he cared to remember.

      “He said you might not be well enough to lead the team. He made it sound like you might be really sick, Charlie. We’re all pretty concerned— Nancy, Tom, all of us. What’s going on? Is what Mac said true? Are you sick, Charlie?”

      “I don’t know, Harry,” Charlie said after a moment’s pause. “I guess I just don’t know.”

      Charlie opened the door

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