Know Thyself

I walked through the open door without her noticing. I could faintly smell her perfume, Nina Ricci, if I remembered correctly, and the aroma brought back memories of warmth and affection. She turned, expecting the intrusion of a coworker, and her face lit up like the sun.

"Anson!"

She ran into my arms shouting my name over and over again. I hugged her tightly, but she gasped in obvious pain.

"Kat! Are you okay?"

"Yes, Yes. Now that you're here. I just have some sore ribs. What the hell are you doing here?"

I filled her in on the work I was doing for Claude. As I finished, she flashed me a coquettish grin.

"Is that the only reason?"

"No. I wanted to see you. I've missed my friend."

"Still only friends?"

"I guess you hadn't heard, but my Linda passed away about a year ago."

"Oh, Anson. I'm so sorry."

She darted from her chair to embrace me, and I heard it again.

"Ughh!" She cringed in pain.

"Kat! What did you do?"

"Nothing. I'm okay."

I lifted the edge of her blouse and caught a glimpse of a huge black and blue area on her side.

"Don't," she cried. "I don't have a bra on."

"It hurts too much to wear a bra?"

She nodded.

"Let me see, Kat!"

She gently lifted her blouse until just barely exposing the side of her breast, which was bruised as well. I felt the anger boiling in me. This didn't look accidental.

"Kat, who did this?"

"Don't worry about it. It was an accident."

"Kat?"

It took a lot of convincing, but she finally admitted her boyfriend was a mean drunk. She was protecting her son, but feared for his safety, too.

"Why the hell don't you leave him?"

"I want to, but he told me he'd find us and hurt Grieg, and I can't risk it."

I decided to back off until I learned more, but no matter what Kat and I became, I was going to be sure her boyfriend was out of her life.

She couldn't join me that evening for dinner, but agreed we'd meet at La Couronne the following night.

"Can you get away with it? He won't be jealous?"

"He's used to me dining with suppliers and visiting associates. He gets a little possessive, but he knows it's part of my job. Since he depends on my income, he puts up with it. Things only get bad when he drinks, which isn't all the time."

We talked a little more, but I had to let her get back to work. I learned on the way out that Pierre knew she was being abused. In fact, he was more than aware, but chose not to get involved. I was not going to take the same dismissive attitude.

I mentioned Kat's problem to Claude and his wife at dinner that evening.

"Anson, you are sure?"

"Yes. She showed me the marks and told me the whole story. The son-of-a-bitch has her believing he'll take it out on her son if she tries to leave."

Claude looked at his wife with a knowing smile. I thought that was a strange reaction, until he spoke.

"Let me contact some people that may help. It may take a few days, so don't do anything or tell Kathryn that we may have something. But fear not, my friend. This will be permanently handled."

*****

The following day was a blur. I continued my observations and met with some of the production teams to size up the leadership. This dysfunctional group lived in a fool's paradise, thinking they had their act together but not recognizing the reality of their ineffectiveness. I was about to make a lot of them very unhappy.

As much fun as I was having getting Claude's company lined up for major improvements, it was even more enjoyable contemplating how dinner with Kat would go that evening. When I heard she was living with a guy, I assumed my timing was off again, but it was pretty clear she wanted to lose him, and I couldn't have been any happier.

As the workday ended, I went back to my hotel to shower and change for my date with Kat. Was it really a date? In my mind, yes it was, but I wasn't sure she knew that yet.

In France the restaurants don't even open for dinner until seven. I thought of meeting first at the hotel for drinks, but decided just to meet her at the restaurant. As the time came to walk the few blocks to the restaurant, I psyched myself up for a great evening. Briefly I considered my adventure and how it brought me here, and a quick thought struck me like a needle in my spine. Did I make a mistake with Angie? I chastised myself and switched my focus back to Kat. This was her night.

I arrived first and was seated to wait for her. I recalled that Kat was the 'fashionably late' kind of woman, a trait that bothered me a bit. Finally, at 7:21, her smiling face appeared. She eagerly walked across the room with the bounce women have perfected to drive the male of the species wild with lust.

"Anson!"

She pulled me into a gentle hug and I was careful not to hold on too tightly. I thought she was headed for air kisses, but she surprised me with a solid kiss on the lips. Without apology or explanation, she drew back to look into my eyes.

"Kat, you are a vision of beauty."

"You look good enough to eat, yourself, Mr. Howe."

Our light conversation flowed with ease as if our last dinner was only days ago and not the six years it had actually been. Her mannerisms, wit, and charm recaptured that attraction I felt before, and it wasn't long before our hands met in the middle of the table. As the main course dishes were removed, I knew I had to address the bruising and abuse.

"Anson, what's wrong? You look sad all of a sudden."

"I'm sorry. It's just... well I can't forget seeing those bruises on you."

"Don't worry about that. I'm fine."

"Look, Kat, I have a confession to make. When I was last here in Rouen, you and I were developing something I wasn't ready for. My circumstances have changed, and I sense that even though you're with this guy, you don't want to be."

"I wouldn't mind dropping him in the middle of the Atlantic with an anchor around his leg, but I need to find a way to get rid of him where I know my son and I are safe."

"Listen, I'm here for a month. Let me help you work on an exit strategy. I have some ideas."

"Let's hear them!"

"Not yet. Give me a day or two. But, Kat, am I wrong when I think you and I have a connection that has, well, possibilities?"

"I told you then I wanted to be with you. That hasn't changed a bit, Anson. In fact, it feels stronger than ever."

She moved to the chair next to me and brought her lips to mine. We kissed gently for a few moments until her lips opened. Our tongues met in a delicious dance that promised greater intimacy would follow. I wanted her—right then—right there. Our foreheads met as our lips parted, and she had the most inviting smile and gleam in her eyes.

"What do you think of our possibilities now, Mr. Howe?"

"I think I could explain them better in my room around the corner."

"Ooh, I'd love that, but I don't want to risk having Hugo catch us. We're secluded here, but it's not below him to spy on me."

"Shall we slide under the table, then?"

"Anson! You're nasty. I love it. Listen, Hugo is going to Lyon this weekend to visit his mom. She hates me so he never wants me with him. How about if I have Grieg stay with a friend, and you and I spend Saturday and Sunday morning together?"

"Ooh! I like those possibilities."

We kissed some more through the cheese and dessert portions of the meal. Little Anson was straining to escape his confinement, but he had to be patient. Kat didn't help him when she ran her hands over him once as we kissed.

"Somebody's anxious to take the next step."

"He has a mind of his own, although his thoughts and mine are pretty much in line."

"I've been waiting years to meet him. Can he wait a few more days?"

"With great difficulty, I suppose so."

We reluctantly prepared to leave after several more minutes of passionate kissing. Outside the restaurant, it felt strange and very unsatisfying to part with a handshake, but to any spying eyes we would appear to be business acquaintances ending a night of negotiation.

Returning to my room, I crawled onto my back in the bed to contemplate the evening. There was no question in my mind that I felt strong sexual chemistry with Kat, and she seemed to feel the same. Our less-suggestive conversations were fine, but they lacked something. I couldn't put my finger on what the 'something' was, but I figured it was a question that would answer itself in the coming days and weeks.

*****

The following day I met with all the functional lead people at Claude's company. I was assigning them a one-week task to provide operational plans for their departments that supported the strategic goals the corporation was requiring. The two goals that would be challenging for them included meeting on-time delivery and achieving 20% EBITDA (earnings before interest tax, depreciation, and amortization) by the end of the following fiscal year, which gave them about twenty-one months to improve upon the current 5% EBITDA performance.

Claude and I agreed that Patrick Marconet, the plant manager, was the most appropriate target for elimination. His dismissal would be to serve several purposes. First and foremost, he was incompetent, but just as important, he was a highly negative influence on others in the company towards supporting the corporation and what it needed to be successful.

Pressure on Patrick would start today. So far, I've been 'Mister Nice Guy' to everyone. That would continue for the next week, except when it came to Patrick.

The conference room was filled with apprehensive managers and leaders. In a very unemotional tone, I presented the goals and I made it clear that they were not negotiable. Every face displayed a trace of fear. Some were showing enthusiastic support, while others let their disgruntlement shine through. As expected, Patrick was rolling his eyes, occasionally catching the gaze of others, making dismissing gestures, and openly acting defiant. It was time to start the confrontation.

"Patrick, you look like you don't agree with the targets the corporation has set."

"They are unachievable. It is not possible to do what you ask."

"What I ask? Tell me Patrick, who set these goals?"

"I guess you and the company."

"Me? No. The company set these."

"So? What does that mean to us? Nobody asked us about the reality of these goals. The company doesn't have a clue what can be done."

"So, Patrick, who do you work for?"

"Claude."

"Think higher. What is the entity that pays you to do a job?"

"Well, the company."

"So, you do understand that since they pay you, that makes you part of the company, correct?"

"Well..."

I walked directly in front of Patrick and stared at him.

"Let me make this clear to you, Patrick, and to everyone else as well. You are all part of the company. Investors and owners have an expectation of performance, and it is their right to do so. As a part of the company, you have two choices to make. First, accept the goals they set and do everything you can to achieve them. If you do not or cannot accept them, then you need to do the honorable thing and leave the company. Is that clear, Patrick?"

He fought the urge to lash out an answer. He was going to make it easy for me to make him the example of what happens to those who want to rebel. I needed to push a bit mote.

"Patrick! What is your answer? Are you supporting the goals or choosing to leave?"

He was seething, and through clenched teeth he tried to give an acceptable answer.

"I'm staying."

"That's not the choice. Support, or leave. One or the other."

"Fine. Support!"

If his eyes could shoot flame, I would have been toast.

"Good. I glad to hear it." I broke away from Patrick to let him stew in his own juices.

"This team needs to understand something. 5% EBITDA is a bad investment. The owners could put the money you represent to the company into lots of different investments and make far more than 5%. If we do not achieve these goals, the management has made it clear that this facility will close and everyone here will be out of a job."

Patrick couldn't help himself. He had to respond to my statement.

"They can never do that! French laws will..."

"What, Patrick? French labor laws forbid it without incurring great cost? What does that tell you? The management team knows the laws, and they are willing to pay millions of dollars to make all of you go away if you cannot turn this operation into a profitable site. Do you hear that Patrick? They think your efforts are so poor that they will pay to make you go away. How does that make you feel?"

I let that sink in for a few moments. I knew nobody would respond.

"So here are your choices. Fail at making the changes needed, and prove that you don't care enough to make this building successful. Or, fight with everything you have to show that you and this site have pride, and can be valued members of the corporate team. These plans you will present next week will tell me which choice you've made. And Patrick, that means your team better find a way to incorporate lean manufacturing. Your assembly team thinks every compressor has to be handmade as if they are artisans creating unique statues fit for a museum. You and engineering need to agree on implementing the simplified, streamlined designs that every other global site manufactures and stop fighting the global platform."

I was having fun. I was being paid very well to be an asshole, and my years of practice were proving useful. At dinner that night, Claude was giddy about how it went, especially with Patrick.

"Claude, I'm not sure how it will go down, but when I call for his dismissal, you need to protect your image as a team supporter and be the caring individual I cannot afford to be, but you also need to be firm on doing what is right. It will make it easier for you to lead when I leave."

"I understand."

"But now, onto better things. Have you made any progress on what can be done to help Kat?"

"Yes. Tomorrow night you will join us for dinner again, and we will be joined by my son who has friends that will help. You should know that I contacted our friend, John, who still runs the facility in Maryland for our old company. He has requested that Kat come to the US next week for an emergency global supply chain meeting. He has worked it out that her son will join her. Evidently her son and John's daughter have been good friends since they met."

"Okay. So, she's going to the US next week. Why?"

"My son will explain better. Let's just say that they will persuade Hugo in ways that it would be better for her not to be around."

Back in my room, I drifted off to sleep wondering if Hugo would be alive in a week's time. Claude wouldn't elaborate, and I didn't push.

*****

That Friday, I spent most of the day hounding Patrick. He was going to fight change in every way he could, and I had to be sure he lost the battle.

I called Kat's office in the afternoon to check in with her and set plans for the weekend.

"Hi, gorgeous!"

"Anson. Do you miss me?"

"More than you know. Listen, I figured your schedule is driving what we can do this weekend. Do you have anything in mind?"

"Hugo is leaving today to drive to Lyon to see his mother. I still have Grieg tonight, but tomorrow morning he will go with a friend to stay for the weekend. His friend's family are going to Euro Disney and have invited Grieg, so I can come to your hotel and join you for breakfast. Then, I am yours until early Sunday afternoon."

"I wish you could see the smile on my face right now."

"I bet you also wish I could feel that growing lump in your trousers, too."

"Kat. You say the nicest dirtiest things!"

"Oh. Before I forget. I have to leave for the US on Monday and I won't return until Friday morning. You have finally come to France to see me, and now I have to leave for a time."

"That's my luck. It just means we'll have to make this weekend very special."

"I'm counting on that!"

As I hung up, images of Kat flooded my mind. I wanted to be with her almost more than anything in the world. As I dwelled on the weekend plans, for some reason I started to feel a bit homesick. Images of Traci and Caleb made me want to fly to them and hug them tightly. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the mental reunion with my family. Without warning, my mind's eye focused on Angela. I suddenly felt lonely.

I needed to snap out of it. I opened my eyes and got up to go see Patrick again. It was time to poke the bear some more.

*****

At dinner that night, I met Claude's son, Gaetan. Claude was somewhat slight of build, but Gaetan was over six feet tall and very fit. He had a military look about him.

After dinner, we retreated to a comfortable area to talk. Claude started the conversation.

"Gaetan, tell Anson about your friends and how you came to know them."

"Certainly. I should start by telling you about a girl I liked in college. I picked her up for a date one night and she had marks on her face. You know, black and blue around her left eye. It took a long time, but she finally told me that her father had hit her when she tried to stop him from hurting her mother. She was so ashamed, but I comforted her as best I could while I became more and more angry. I offered to go and teach him a lesson, but she begged me not to. She feared for my safety."

"My son has a very strong sense of right and wrong. He told me about her and I could see it hurt him deeply that he couldn't help."

Gaetan continued.

"It really bothered me that these things could happen, and the bad person got away with it. I was with two friends at a saloon and we started talking about it. As we got up to leave, I paid the bartender and he asked to talk to me. I said goodnight to my friends and went back inside to see what he wanted. He took me to his office, and told me about a new underground group he knew of that would handle such things as my girlfriend's father. He wouldn't tell me their name, but he said it meant something like making sure the men who beat woman suffer two eyes for every one they take. In other words, whatever pain they inflicted, they would receive double in return."

"So, are you saying they can help Kat by doing something to Hugo?"

"Yes. The group will persuade him to leave her and move to Lyon with his mother, and never see Kat again or be seen in Rouen."

"Persuade?"

"How much detail do you want?"

"Just a little."

"All right. Next Tuesday, when Hugo leaves his favorite bar late at night, he will be subdued by eight men and taken to a secret place. When he wakes up, he will be naked and strapped into a frame in the shape of an X. He will be threatened and bullied verbally before receiving his punishment."

"Punishment?"

"Yes. You told my father you witnessed that on one of her sides, her ribs and breast were beaten and bruised. With a club similar to a cricket bat, he will receive similar blows to not one side, but both sides to make sure he experiences the pain, but nothing permanent. Of course, he does not have women's breasts, so he will receive a blow to male parts that will serve as equivalents. Again, the blow will be painful, but not enough to cause permanent damage."

The image did to me what it would do to all men. I cringed and squeezed my legs together.

"Is that all?"

"It should be. If he refuses to do as we demand, we have the option of increasing the damage."

"How much damage?"

"As much as it takes."

"Has the group ever taken it to the point where the bully died?"

"Only once. Most are really cowards and give in easily."

"Did this work with your girlfriend's father?"

"He agreed to counselling, and became a reformed man. He also knew that any repeats of his actions would require consequences."

"I'm curious. What consequences are you presenting to Hugo?"

"I'm not. I will not be actively taking part because of the possible connection to my dad, but I have been on other teams. The team will make it clear that if Hugo continues to fight their required actions, or if he is ever seen in Rouen or with Kathryn again, he will be taken two hundred kilometers out over the Atlantic, and dropped into the ocean. We have learned that he doesn't swim at all, even if someone could swim that far, but we also learned that he is very afraid of water and drowning. He will also be told that he was now on the watch list. If he ever treats any woman badly again, the same consequences will be enforced."