Maggie's Hunt Read online

  These days, Maggie trusted nearly no one, for obvious reasons. During the last eight years she had not once stopped looking over her shoulder, although she now was able to do that without even thinking about it. This watchfulness had become nearly an innate part of her. That knowledge frightened her when she let herself think about it. Of course, she didn’t frequently let herself think about it. Nor did she like the fact that she had become hard, almost tough, and often cynical. She wondered if she would ever feel truly safe again. And she marveled at her former naiveté. There was a part of her who mourned for the trusting girl whom she had been. And then, there was a large part of her which now cringed at the thought that she could have ever been as gullible as to have believed herself in love with J. Roger Clark, known to his friends as Jarod. Thinking back on the day that she had come to Faulks asking for a job, Maggie wouldn’t have blamed Guy, almost eight years ago, if he had not wanted to hire her. After all, she had, then, had absolutely no experience in sales. Frankly, she knew that she hadn’t been a good employment risk for the corporation. She had been an extremely pampered eighteen-year-old child/ woman from a relatively wealthy family, with qualifications limited to: a diploma from an extremely exclusive Swiss combination high school and finishing school which included an advanced certificate from Ecole de Cusine La Varenne—a good Parisenne cooking school; a collection of awards from national and international piano competitions; a scuttled career as a concert pianist; fluency in several modern languages which had been a by-product of a nomadic military existence; a first degree black belt in judo; and both an interest and ability in most rugged outdoor sports. Yes, looking back on it, she knew that if she had been in Guy Faulks position that she wouldn’t have wanted to hire someone with her qualifications, or rather lack thereof. Yet, Guy had given her the job without a moment’s hesitation.

  Not wanting to fall prey to accusations of nepotism, she had never discussed her family with anyone at Faulks. But, the connection between Guy and Maggie did not go unremarked upon, with people putting the absolutely worst connotation on the relationship. She had heard, and ignored, the rumors, letting them die away. Except, they never really did die completely away. Every once in a while, someone would make a sly, hurtful, comment about getting to the top by sleeping with the boss.

  But those speculations about Guy and herself were not the only ridiculous rumors which circulated about her. During the past few years at the annual sales conference, there had been drunken, boisterous, comments to the effect that Maggie had ‘earned’ the sales award by sleeping with the doctors and pharmacists with whom she dealt.

  Maggie, for the most part, ignored those occasional comments. She did find it interesting, though when the rumors of her promiscuity were in such contrast with her overall reputation as Faulks’ “Ice maiden”. It would be nice if the rumors would be consistent, she had often thought with wry amusement.

  In the dead of night, alone in bed, Maggie often wondered if Jarod had been right about her. She had to accept the fact that she did have problems expressing her feelings. It was hard for her to reach out to people. But, Jarod was wrong about one thing. The lack of expression didn’t mean that Maggie lacked feelings. No, she only wished it had meant that.

  Looking back into the past, Maggie strongly suspected that at her hiring Guy had fully expected her to fall flat on her face. Instead, in the nearly eight years that she had worked here, for Faulks Pharmaceuticals, she had been the corporation’s top salesperson six years running, breaking her own record each year. Few people knew the product line better than she did. Few physicians or pharmacists could as easily recite the facts about specific drugs, such as counter-indications or the interactions with other drugs, with the ease that she could.

  Last year, her salary and commissions had been in the mid six figures. This year, she was beating her old record. Yet, she had spent very little of her income, proportionally. The majority had been invested quite well in various tax shelters. She knew that she didn’t have to work another day of her life, if she didn’t want to. She could retire tomorrow, live off her investments, and never have to touch her capital. Counting her trust fund, she definitely would never have to work another day in her life. However, she preferred to ignore the trust fund, in favor of standing on her own two feet. Supporting herself was something she had done quite successfully, as well as something she knew that she would continue to do successfully. At twenty-six, she was reasonably happy with both her income and her job.

  Truthfully, she didn’t enjoy the job as much as she had when she had first started out. The challenge simply was no longer there. Her appointment to the vacant sales management position would give her a new set of challenges. She knew she was the person best qualified to take that position. The man who had held that job when she had begun here eight years ago was now a vice president. It was a position that could be a fast track into the upper echelon of policy makers. There had never been a woman in the position. But, there was a first time for everything.

  Returning to her small office cubicle, she noticed that the office mailboy had been around. She picked up her stack of interoffice memos and quickly scanned them. A sales contest for the next two weeks with the winner to receive a weekend for two at a lodge in the Adirondacks. A correction on some information that had been given to the sales force about a side effect of a new anti-arthritis drug. The third notice gave her pause, however. Matthew Stern, a young man whom Maggie herself had trained only three years before, had been named to the vacant management position.

  Matt Stern was a personable enough kid, she supposed. Matt was twenty-eight, almost two years her senior. Still, she thought of him as a child because Matt Stern was, and probably always would be, terribly immature. He lacked the ability to envision anything more distant than a weekend date.

  He had barely made his quotas during his first year. The second year he had placed in the thirty-thousand circle—a living, but not nearly up to his potential. Then, this year, his sales were going to put him in the forty-thousand range.

  Why in the world should they promote someone like him? He clearly didn’t have what it took to be a topflight salesperson. So, how could he possibly motivate the sales force? There was no way that she could accept him as a supervisor, of this she had no doubt.

  “The only reason that he was promoted instead of me is that he is male,” Maggie thought angrily, bitterly.

  She sat down at the computer terminal and called up the underused electronic memorandum system. She wrote a pithy letter of resignation stating her thoughts on the manner in which the company selected candidates for promotion. The letter stated that she strongly suspected that she had grounds for a successful sex-discrimination suit. Then she restated her qualifications, including her cum laude college degree in marketing and business management which had taken her six years of night school to finish, and contrasted them with the lesser qualifications of Matt Stern, who had never made leadership conference—even on a minor level—and who graduated in the bottom ten percent of his college class. She made it clear that since she had three weeks annual leave due her along with eight weeks accumulated personal leave and six weeks accumulated sick leave, she would not be returning. Then she sent that letter to the CEO, the head of personnel, the vice president of sales, and each member of the board of directors.

  She quickly gathered what few personal belongings she kept in her small cubicle, placed them carefully into her briefcase, and left the office. Then she went to the corporate gym, into the women’s locker room, and emptied her locker into her sample case, before leaving the building.

  When she arrived home, the telephone was ringing.

  “O’Shay,” she replied flatly.

  “Finally, Margaret,” Guy Faulks, the CEO of her former company, said strongly. “What do you think that you are doing? What is this nonsense in this letter which my secretary just brought to my attention?”

  “It’s self explanatory, Guy. I know that you can read.”
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  “Margaret . . . .” the elderly Mr. Faulks warned.

  “I said everything that needs to be said, Guy.”

  “You don’t understand . . .”

  “You’re right on the money there. Goodbye, Guy.”

  Maggie replaced the telephone into the cradle. She did not answer it when it immediately rang once more. Instead, she went into her bedroom, slipped out of her clothes, slid into black jeans, heavy socks, a black angora turtleneck sweater, and leather boots. Since she was supposed to go to Natalie and Chuck Ferra’s house tomorrow for the weekend, she had already packed her bags. Grabbing the cases, she headed for the door of her apartment. The telephone continued to ring as she triple locked the door behind her.

  Michael McLaughlin was in his Capitol Hill office working through a stack of papers when the phone buzzed. “Yes, Naomi?”

  “Senator, your brother is on line one. He says that it is urgent,” Michael’s secretary said quietly.

  “Put him through.”

  “Mike,” Guy said firmly. “You’ve got to do something about Margaret.”

  “Teddy Roosevelt said something along the lines of ‘You have a choice, I can either govern the nation, or I can govern Alice. No man can do both.’ Why should you think that I would have any better luck with Daisy? She hasn’t even spoken to me during the last eight years.”

  Guy sighed loudly. “Do you know what that girl has done?”

  “Why don’t you just calm down, Guy, and tell me what she did to get you so worked up?” Michael replied patiently.

  “She quit. In a huff. She took all of her sales records with her. She took her appointment calendar with her. Now, she is threatening to sue the company for sex discrimination.”

  “Does she have a case?”

  “Of course she does. I wouldn’t be worried otherwise. But you didn’t hear that from me. And I will deny ever saying it. Look, I just thought that you would want to know that she’s resigned. I thought that you might be able to make her come to her senses.”

  “She’s supposed to be at Natalie and Chuck’s this weekend. I was planning to talk with her anyway. Or, at least, I was planning to try to talk with her this weekend. This silence has gone on too long.”

  “Natty told me that she expected you. Honestly, Mike, couldn’t you have arranged this so that you didn’t risk Natty and Margaret’s friendship?”

  “Have I ever done anything in the way that you think that it should be done?” Michael asked dryly.

  “Bottom line, Mike. I can’t afford to let her walk away with those kind of proven sales contacts,” Guy stated, ignoring the question.

  “Then you had better come up with some way of luring her back,” Michael replied firmly. “She isn’t usually unreasonable.”

  “How can you say that after the way that she has treated you during the past few years?”

  “I’m sure she had her reasons. I don’t know what they are, but I am positive that they aren’t frivolous.”

  “I don’t need this, Mike. One of my senior executives dropped dead this morning from a massive coronary. He was supposed to take over the European operations. I’ve got to scramble now to find someone to take his place.”

  “Daisy would fill that job well. She knows sales and your product line. She is reasonably well traveled and speaks German, Spanish, Italian, and French. She has management skills. And she is just bloody minded enough to be a formidable adversary over a negotiating table.”

  Guy laughed boldly after a minute. “Oh, I knew that you would find an answer to our problems. Put her in the European VP slot. That takes her out of your hair as well so she isn’t likely to embarrass you during the election. And she could handle the job.”

  “You never did tell me, specifically, why she walked out on you, Guy.”

  “No, I didn’t,” Guy replied before he broke the connection.

  Susan McLaughlin walked into the Georgetown townhouse she shared with her husband, Michael, when they were in Washington. She looked into the mirror, examining her reflection carefully.

  She was no longer the brash, beautiful, young engineer whom she had been when she had fallen in love with Michael McLaughlin. Now, at the age of thirty- six, fine lines were beginning to show around her eyes. Now, she had to have her beautician touch up the strands of gray which were beginning to appear in her raven hair.

  Part of her wondered how long it would be until Michael’s attention began to wander towards a younger woman.

  No, she resolved as she looked at her own reflection, she wasn’t about to let that happen. Michael was hers. And she was never going to let him go. Never!

  With that resolve, she went into the bedroom to change her clothes so that she could go down to the weight room. There was no sense in letting herself lose muscle tone.

  Hunt Thomas leaned over the pool table in Chuck Ferra’s game room. The grandfather’s clock in the corner of the room just rang off noon.

  Chuck and Hunt had been college roommates and had maintained the friendship over the intervening years. People wouldn’t have particularly cared to meet either of them in a darkened alleyway. But, unlike most tall, muscular, men, they were both faster, stronger, smarter, and—from time to time—much meaner, than they looked.

  “You want to tell me that again, Hunt.”

  “I’ve decided that it is time that I get married. I want you and Natty to help find me a wife,” Hunt stated easily as he missed a shot.

  “I don’t believe you,” Chuck responded as he easily put the 7 ball in the corner pocket. “You’ve never been a cold-blooded type.”

  Hunt leaned back against the wall. “There’s nothing cold blooded about this. It’s time to settle down. Are you going to introduce me to some women, or not?”

  “I’m sure that Natty would be only too happy to make some introductions. There’s one of her friends in particular who sticks in my mind. Maggie O’Shay. She’ll be here tomorrow.”

  “Tell me about her?”

  “I think that I had better let you draw your own conclusions about Magpie. And don’t tell Natty that I am promoting any relationship between you and Magpie. My wife is very protective of her friends.”

  Hunt laughed. “I’m not quite sure that I like the way that sounded.”

  “Face it, Hunter,” Chuck replied dryly. “Natty doesn’t trust you as far as she can throw you.”

  Hunt smiled broadly. “And here you have always claimed that Natalie was such a good judge of character.”

  “She is,” Chuck replied easily as he lined up a shot that finished clearing the table.

  The only light in the darkened room was the glow from the computer monitor. The only sounds were the incessant hum of the fan on the system unit and the quick click of the keys. Then, a high pitched computer generated tone through the modem said that the connection had been made. The tone was followed by a sign-on screen for the bulletin board. A few keystrokes brought up the ‘situations wanted’ screens. A few more keystrokes left messages for a select handful of finalists. A smile passed over the face of the computer hacker. Soon, very soon, Margaret Mary O’Shay would cease to be a potential problem. Soon, very soon, her death would serve a purpose few could imagine.

  Backing out of the bulletin board, the hacker then infiltrated the AT&T system and erased all records of the previous long distance call, as well as of the current call.

  After leaving the phone system and exiting from the communications software, the hacker shut off the computer and the monitor, plunging the room into both darkness and silence.

  Darkness and silence, what an appropriately descriptive phrase, thought the hacker. Too bad that Margaret Mary would not be around to appreciate the appropriateness of the description.

  Chapter 2

  Steering her convertible onto the private drive that led to Natty and Chuck’s big house in Connecticut, Maggie knew the number of cars parked at the house said Natty was having another of her famous parties. When they had spoken the previous week,
Natalie insisted that Maggie come up for the weekend, but neglected to tell her that the house would be full of pre-Christmas merry makers. She chuckled lightly to herself before climbing out of her car with her dress bag, small suitcase, and cosmetic case.

  Maggie wasn’t surprised at the party. For Natty, life was nearly a perpetual party. No reason was insufficient for Natty to use it as an excuse for throwing a party. With Christmas less than a month away, Maggie supposed that this had to be some sort of pre-Christmas gathering.

  Maggie rang the bell. Chuck answered. As usual for one of Natty’s quite elaborate parties, he was dressed in an immaculately fitted, custom made, suit of evening clothes. Chuck was not a classically handsome man, but in evening dress, he was devastatingly appealing. In his normal enthusiastic mode, he picked her up by the waist and swung her around, after closing the door.

  “This is a surprise. We didn’t expect you until tomorrow.”

  “I could leave,” she offered teasingly as he swung her around.

  Chuck laughed boldly. “You do, and my dear wife will have my guts for garters. Let me look at you.” He held her out at arm’s length, continuing to hold her by the waist with her feet a half meter above the floor.

  Maggie was by no means a small woman. At five-foot-ten in her stocking feet, she easily dwarfed most of her female friends. But, next to Chuck Ferra, she felt like a midget.

  Chuck had earned his living playing professional football in the position of line backer. But now, at thirty-five, he was retired. Football, Chuck had been quick to point out, was a young man’s sport. At thirty-four, Chuck had decided to retire. He could have continued to play. His old team had offered him a very lucrative contract, in order to entice him to stay with the team. Football had been good to him, but he had wanted to be able to think back on the sport fondly, so he had retired while he was at the top of his personal form, while he was still free of any crippling injury.