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Chapter 4

 

NC Corridor Nixed
By The Associated Press

 
Richmond, VA—Virginia Governor Douglas Wilder put the last nail in the coffin of the proposed North Carolina Corridor today. Speaking before the Virginia legislature, Wilder vigorously denied rumors that he supported the project.

The now defunct proposal called for the extension of a narrow strip of territory from the current North Carolina/Virginia border up the shoulder of Interstate 95 North, through Virginia and into the District of Columbia, where a throughway to Capitol Hill had already been negotiated with Congress and the District government. The whole corridor was to have been under the nominal sovereignty of North Carolina, with extraterritoriality rights granted to all encroached legal entities. The project was proposed by North Carolina Governor James Hunt to "provide equal access to the mechanisms of government to all our citizens, regardless of plane of origin."

Wilder's rejection of the plan appeared to rule out any hope of compromise. He told the gathered legislators, "The last time the sacred boundaries of our Commonwealth were altered, it took the Grand Army of the Republic to make it stick, and it'll be a cold day in Hell before I stand by and let it happen again."

Informed of Wilder's remarks, Hunt responded, "I'll see what I can do."

 

Rheabeth Samuels looked out over her domain and thought furiously. She couldn't count on much more time and there was still so much to do. She had enough work for at least two of her—and now this. She crumpled the fax and hurled it, sidearm, towards the trash. It bounced off the edge of her desk, teetered on the rim of the basket, and fell onto the carpet. Rhea wasn't surprised—it had already been that kind of day.

In front of her, through the plate glass windows of her corner office, the warm spring sun lit a perfect Carolina morning. A gentle breeze was stalking cat's-feet through the grass, and Burden Creek sparkled as it rolled down into the pond. Rhea couldn't appreciate it, anymore than she could appreciate the feel of the lush carpet beneath her bare feet. Her world had narrowed to debits and credits.

She strode over to her desk and thumbed the intercom. "Jan, CCI's pulled out. The bastards didn't even have balls enough to do it over the phone."

"I saw that fax, Rhea . . . and I'm not the only one." Jan's worry came through clearly in her voice. "What are you going to do?"

Rhea wished she knew. There wasn't time to line up new investors. "When Roberts gets here, I'll take him personally," she said finally. "Have someone haul ass down to the conference room to flight-test the AV equipment for a dog and pony show. I'm going to have to hit him for twice what we had planned, and we can't afford any screw-ups."

Rhea tapped the intercom off. Looking down, she saw the offending fax again. She considered only a second before stomping it flat; then she picked it up with her toes and dropped it into the trash. She allowed herself a brief smile as it rustled down against the plastic lining—if only she could do the same to the craven who had sent it. Of course, she'd need a bigger basket. She smiled again, thinking of the greasy blimp from CCI that she'd had to wine and dine: make that a lot bigger basket. Well, if he couldn't understand that making an investment didn't give him the right to put his hands under her skirt, then screw him—or rather, let him screw himself and CCI. They were the ones who were going to come begging for her company's services. And she wasn't even going to have to wait that long to see it happen.

In her office closet sat several pairs of sensible, stylish shoes. Rhea considered carefully, then slipped her feet into a pair of dark blue Ferragamo pumps. She made a face at the constriction of her toes, but bore it because she had to. Executives expected other executives to wear shoes. She inspected her skirt and blouse critically in the closet mirror, and made minute adjustments to each. Her hair, of course, was perfect. She glanced at her watch. Ten a.m. Jan's voice came over the intercom. "Mr. Roberts has just signed in at the front desk, Rhea."

"I'm on my way." Deep breath, one practice smile, then it was time to go. Jan glanced up from her computer as Rhea walked past her towards the lobby and Rhea could see the computer screen reflected in Jan's glasses. The display looked a lot like a résumé, but Rhea decided she didn't really care to verify that.

Instead she asked, "How do I look?"

"Well," Jan said, "I'd invest."

"Careful. I may take you up on that." Rhea smiled—the confident we're-going-to-land-our-investor smile.

"Maggie is setting him up with a coffee and leading him to the conference room. You've got about sixty seconds if you want to beat them there."

"No problem. Hold all my calls, and cross your fingers."

"I'll cross my legs if you think it'll help." Jan demonstrated. She smiled, but her own smile was nowhere near as confident as Rhea's. "Go get 'em."

"Count on it."

Jan nodded with enthusiasm, but just the same, Rhea heard her start typing again as she walked away. Rhea knew Jan's wasn't the only résumé that found itself in the process of revision and updating. Better land this one.

She took the service corridor and ran, and was in the conference room well before Roberts and his escort from Marketing. She'd had time to get seated, get her skirt and blouse smoothed, and present the appearance of someone who never needed to run to meetings. She rose gracefully when they entered.

Roberts didn't look bad at all; he was fortyish with graying hair and a straight no-nonsense posture. She'd studied his record. He'd put in twenty years active duty with Army Intelligence, all top-secret stuff—no details available—and he was still in the Reserves. He had taken a lot hush-hush engineering skills with him into industry and he'd worked his way up from shop floor to management. He knew his stuff.

Rhea held out her hand, giving him a hundred kilowatt smile. She knew it was good—persuasion had been her business for a long, long time. "Mr. Roberts," she said. "I'm delighted that you're here. Now let me tell you exactly why your company wants to invest in Celestial Technologies' manned spacelift program."

 

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Framed