Misdirection

Prologue

It was small group of six young men and women that waited quietly in the well-appointed reception area directly outside of the chief executive’s office. Their idle conversation was interrupted when the door to a small private conference room opened and an attractive young administrative assistant stepped out. You can come inside now, she informed those gathered. The president will join you shortly. She held the door as the six shuffled inside. Coffee and soft drinks are on the table, she advised. Please help yourself. After they had entered the conference room, she gently closed the door.

In less than a minute, they were all seated around the highly polished conference table. No one sat at either end of the table and no one opted for a beverage. The mood around the small room was strained and unusually quiet. Each attendee was a successful salesperson, gregarious and outgoing, so it was completely out of character for them to remain so quiet. Concern was clearly etched across each person’s face since most of them had never before been called to a meeting with the president of the company. Anxiety was comfortably in attendance this chilly morning.

Suddenly and without warning, a second door on the opposite side of the room opened and the president of the company marched into the meeting, his heavy leather wingtips vibrating the floor with each deliberate step. The atmosphere coursed with electricity as the president moved to the head of the table and sat stern-faced awaiting the start of the meeting. He slowly and methodically looked around the room staring at each attendee for a few seconds. Still no one said a word.

With a few moments after the president’s arrival the main door to the room once again opened startling several around the table. The final attendee looked around the table then sat in the last open chair at the end of the table opposite the president. As the door slammed closed, the original six immediately opened their beige colored company-provided binders and shuffled through the papers inside. There were now eight seated around the table. As the meeting teetered uneasily on the cusp of starting, the sound of senseless activity slowly filled the small room. The commotion broke the suppressed apprehension as conversation around the table quickly ratcheted up and isolated instances of laughter broke out. Suddenly the annoying ring of someone’s cell phone shattered the muted uneasiness in the small room. Unfortunately for the group, the untimely interruption broke the unofficial truce.

Turn that goddamn thing off! the president demanded as one of the young women fumbled for her cell phone in her black leather shoulder bag. Give me the skinny concerning our losing bid for the Global Optics contract, he demanded as he pounded on the conference table with his large fist, which caused the empty water glasses in the center the table to rattle. I can’t believe that we lost another critical bid to those bastards in Atlanta. I understood from this overpaid marketing team that this one was going to definitely fall our way. Relying on your assertions, I even told the board last month that our financial results would be higher next year with the inclusion of this contract. To say I’m disappointed is a gross understatement.

Not a single brave soul seated around the table responded to the president’s contentions. He continued to unmercifully badger the group. I’m waiting for an explanation, he growled as he stared intensely at each attendee one by one until they looked away to avoid prolonged contact with his piercing eyes.

The young marketing officer responsible for assembling the final bid package looked up timidly from his notes and hesitantly replied, I don’t understand what happened? I was certain this contract would be awarded to us Mr. Witter. We did our homework and I know we beat our competitor’s bid by over a million dollars. My contacts at Global Optics assured me that the contract was ours to lose. He looked directly at the chief executive, flashed a pathetic limp grin and shrugged his shoulders.

The president glared at the young man without saying another word, his steely black eyes shooting daggers across the table. Did I hear you correctly? he bellowed. You don’t understand? he shouted as he repeated the young officer’s ill chosen words. This was a multimillion deal and you lost it. Plain and simple, that’s how I see it. Can you understand that?

The young man wisely did not challenge the president’s conclusions. The chief executive was bitterly angry and the best move was to let him blow off steam by wailing at the staff. Anything said now would only escalate an already impossible situation.

With his admonishing tone somewhat unabated, the president continued in his attack. I pay this group handsomely to completely understand all of the dynamics of the market forces at play in each and every bidding situation. I expect you to bring in every piece of profitable business that is available in the marketplace. From where I sit, I see that you have failed miserably. He focused his anger directly at the marketing officer responsible for the bid. You not only let down your team on this bid but more importantly, you let this company down. To make matters worse, this is not the first time you have come up short on a critical task. The president exhaled heavily then took a couple of deep breaths. Let me assure you that this is the last time you will fail me.

The young marketing officer shot a worried look in the direction of his immediate manager, the director of marketing, who sat opposite the president at the end of the conference table. Again he shrugged his shoulders, signaling his total inability to manage the situation. The young man look down at the surface of the table then shuffled through the stacks of reports and charts sitting directly in front of him in the vain hope that an answer to his predicament would somehow miraculously materialize.

At first the marketing director kept his silence. He rolled his eyes in his head to display his displeasure with the tone of the meeting. He was accustomed to these tirades by the president but they were new to his young protégés. For a few intense minutes, an atmosphere of uncomfortable silence swirled around the room.

The president, growing tired of his subordinate’s lack of responsiveness, rose from his chair slightly, leaned across the table and with his long arms grabbed the young man’s portfolio. Without any hesitation he slammed it closed with a loud crack. If you don’t have the answers that I need, you are excused from this meeting, he stated harshly. Return to your desk and clear out by the end of the day.

In unison, the other attendees gasped, each silently praying that the president would not task them to answer for the unsuccessful bid. Before the president was able to select another victim for slaughter, a lone voice arose challenging the chief executive. Give the kid some slack Dave, the director of marketing interjected breaking his silence. His words echoed down the table in the direction of the president. A collected sigh was heard from the other attendees.

Surprised by the director’s challenging tone, the president fell back in his chair. The director then placed his hands on the edge of the table and pushed his chair back. He slowly stood and began to walk around the table to a spot near the president, who sat steaming in his overstuffed leather chair. With each deliberate step he continued to address his boss. It’s not his fault we lost the bid.

The president’s eyes followed the director’s every movement and gesture. Then whose fault is it? he snapped. Your team is responsible for new business development.

It’s no one’s fault, he argued as he rested his hands on the back of one the chairs. Hell it’s everyone’s fault. Our competitor has consistently outperformed us when it comes to industry intelligence. They have beaten us for years and you better than anyone here knows that sad fact all too well. How many times in this very room has the executive team been told that this company needed a total revamp in its marketing strategy? he asked panning his arms. Once we have it, our execution, and more importantly our success rate will improve tenfold.

The president leaned forward and challenged the director’s claim. Our products are the very best available. Why can’t your team sell them? he complained.

The marketing director took a deep breath. There is no question that our products are by far the finest on the market. But products, no matter how superior to anything else on the market don’t sell themselves.

The president saw his opening and thundered, Exactly my point! That’s why we have a marketing team, most of who are gathered around this table. But these little boys and girls stink, he said in a gruff tone as he pointed at many of the attendees most of whom held their heads low.

The director sighed and rolled his head from side to side. The president had a bone to pick and the director was well aware that once he sunk his teeth into a matter that had his interest, he had a nasty reputation of not backing down. We wine and dine our customers as well as anyone in our industry and still we need more tricks in our marketing bag. Our overall marketing program does not address the current expectations in the market today.

Expectations? the president shouted. What do our customers expect, the finest whores served up on silver platters?

Several of the young men and women around the table laughed at the president’s off color remarks. He looked at the officer to his right and in a huff chastised the young man sitting in the adjacent chair. What are you laughing about?

Stop it Dave, the director said chiding the president with some noticeable attitude beginning to surface in his tone. We need a detailed formalized program to seriously complete in our market space. Our marketing strategy is at best ten years past its prime.

If you have a recommendation, put it in writing and submit it for consideration by the board of directors. All I ever get from you and your team here is lip about what they think that we fail to do. I never get cold hard facts. When I ask for specifics regarding why we lost this bid, all I get from junior here is a lack of understanding, he said as he pointed across the table. If the company’s approach needs a major overhaul, then make your case.

The director looked around at the blank faces gathered at the table and decided this was not the right time to discuss a matter as important as corporate strategic marketing. He glanced at the president. I think you made your point and this meeting is over. Can the two of us step into your office to conclude this sidebar conversation? I don’t believe this is the appropriate forum for this topic.

Without another word spoken, the president stood, pushed back his chair and walked toward the door through which he earlier entered the room. He did not address the group nor did he dismiss them. Beyond the door was his private office. The director of marketing dismissed the group then quickly followed the chief executive into his office. As he entered the adjoining office, he firmly closed the door so that no one would hear his comments to the president.

Once inside the office, the president moved behind his desk, picked up his messages and thumbed through them quickly. The marketing director moved near the president’s desk and continued his conversation. Here’s the bottom line. Our main competitor has a significant leg up on us when it comes to wrangling business out of government officials and big contractors. They have developed a very sophisticated marketing program that outlines in detail bid strategies for each situation. Sometimes, they give a college scholarship to an executive’s child. Other times they make a sizable donation to the customer’s favorite charity. Moreover, yes with certain companies, they parade a gaggle of the finest whores through their management team. If all else fails, I understand they will grease the skids with an outright bribe. In most instances a substantial bribe placed in the right hands is all that is needed to secure a large multiyear contract.

That sounds illegal as hell, the president snorted. What are you suggesting we do? Bribe our customers and prospects to do business with us?

Of course doling out bribe money is illegal. But don’t forget we have been known to cross the line of legality whenever the bottom line comes calling, the director emphasized. We just don’t have a formalized plan outlining when to pay and when not to pay.

The president rubbed his large bony hand across his mouth. Okay so they pay a few bribes. We can do the same if you think that’s what we need to do to get more business. How much are we talking here, a couple million? More?

The marketing director sighed. You missed my point Dave. It isn’t merely the payment of bribes that brings home the business. It’s their complete approach which in some limited instances involves the payment of bribes. Our competitor refers to their program as their playbook.

The president scoffed at the reference to a formal playbook. Playbook? You know I hate the use of sports references in business.

They maintain a master binder of critical information on all aspects of their business customers. It is the accumulation of invaluable insights and corporate intelligence gathered over decades. It has names, dates, amounts, personal interests and so on. Like any good team, they know the plays that will work effectively in each situation because they know how they worked in the past.

The president looked at the director with apparent skepticism. Do you know this for a fact, the existence of this formal playbook? he asked rolling his head from side to side. You make it sound like we’re up against one of our government’s spy agencies.

At times I absolutely feel that way, the director confessed. How many times have we gone into a competitive bidding opportunity believing that we had the inside track only to find out when the award was made that we weren’t even in the running, he complained. You asked me how I know about the playbook. Well, over the years we have hired several of our competitor’s midlevel executives and this is what they consistently report. Many have provided details where they attended meetings in which high level executives openly discussed checking with the playbook.

Interesting, the president acknowledged starting to take a little interest in the discussion. This playbook as you refer to it appears to be something we need to get our hands on if we expect to improve our success rate against these guys. Do you think you can get a copy?

The director stepped near the president’s desk and sat down in one of the side chairs. I understand it’s like the formula for Coca-Cola. It stays locked away from prying eyes and only a select few of the most senior executives in the company have access to it. If there are copies floating around, my bet is that they are in the hands of only a few and that they are very closely guarded.

The president leaned back, turned his chair slightly and placed his heavy leather shoes on the top edge of his desk with a loud thud. The director detected a tight smile course across his face. Then the president placed his hands behind his head and challenged the director. I want a copy of this playbook. Get it at all costs. Our very future may depend upon your success in this endeavor. He reached out to shake the director’s hand to signify mutual agreement. You have carte blanche on this one so get it done.

The director took a deep breath. You do understand Dave that the playbook will be a difficult item to secure, he advised. If our actions are discovered, it may prove embarrassing.

The president brushed aside the director’s concerns. I don’t care about the details. That’s your problem.

It might get ugly before we see success, the director warned. This will not be a walk in the park. We are going after something they will do anything to keep it under wraps.

You want to talk about ugly. If we lose many more contracts like Global Optics, I guarantee it will get ugly around here for your marketing team, he stressed. He patted the surface of his desk with his hand and said, I want that playbook on my desk as soon as possible.

The director drew in a deep breath. I will do whatever is necessary so long as you understand that there may be ramifications.

Don’t bother me with the finer points of your new assignment, the president insisted.

I

A late model navy blue Jeep Wrangler pulled to a stop at the security gate of PCR Assembly, an ultra high-tech manufacturing company located southwest of the Perimeter Center in Atlanta, Georgia. Normally, the security gate automatically opened as vehicles approached, but today the gate remained in a down position. Within a few seconds a uniformed security officer stepped out of the security center and marched to an invisible spot adjacent to the driver’s door.

Without any hesitation, the driver lowered the side window and addressed the guard. Is there a problem this morning? he asked with a smile. Why didn’t the gate open?

The guard’s expression remained stoic as he responded to the driver’s question. May I see your PCR security badge Mr. Scheffy? We have been instructed to verify all badges this morning before allowing our associates to enter the complex.

The guard’s half response irritated the driver. Hell if you know who I am, why on earth do you need to see my security badge? Kyle Scheffy shot back beginning to allow his frustration over the delay to bubble to the surface. I will ask you again. Is there a problem? Scheffy looked closely at the guard and immediately realized from his stoic expression that he was dead serious about checking security badges. He drew in a deep breath, relaxed slightly and retrieved his wallet from his back pocket. Next he removed his credit card size security badge and handed it to the guard.

The guard scanned the security badge for almost a half minute verifying all of its identifying features. Once he was satisfied that it was in order he returned the badge to Scheffy. Before he released the vehicle to enter the facility, he reached inside his heavy coat and removed a small piece of folded paper. He stumbled as he unfolded it and read its contents out loud. Please tell Mr. Kyle Scheffy to proceed to Mr. Templeton’s office immediately upon his arrival.

Scheffy slid his security badge into the breast pocket of his neatly starched shirt, raised the window to his vehicle and prepared to enter the facility. As he watched the gate open, he noticed to his right several police, fire and emergency vehicles parked in front of one of the company’s secondary office buildings, their lights flashing continuously. He failed to notice these vehicles when he initially pulled to a stop at the gate. Before he released the brake to his vehicle, he once again lowered his window and addressed the security guard who had not moved. Why are the police here? he inquired. Do you have any idea what is going on and why they were called?

The guard, now more relaxed rested his hands on the doorframe of the Jeep and leaned near the ear of the company’s chief administrative officer. In a soft voice he replied, I came on my shift at five this morning and they were already here. I’ve heard nothing about why they were called. Frankly, I’m scared to ask anyone.

Great! Scheffy snapped. Just what we need today is a fucking fire drill to start the week on a positive note. The guard stood upright and stepped away from the vehicle. Scheffy pressed hard on the accelerator and the Jeep leaped through the gate. He carefully maneuvered his vehicle through the large parking lot and pulled to a stop in his assigned parking place at the company’s main office building.

Directly in front of the company’s headquarters building stood a massive eight-foot tall slab of highly polished red granite with the word Alpha carved deeply into the surface. PCR’s campus style complex consisted of four large office buildings, an immense manufacturing facility, and an independent power plant combined with a maintenance facility. Each building was identified by one of the first six letters of the Greek alphabet, Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, Epsilon and Zeta.

As Scheffy exited his vehicle he observed a large crowd of company employees standing on the lawn in front of Alpha hoping to score a glimpse of what was transpiring at Gamma. Without saying a word, Scheffy treaded his way through the group. He realized that they were inching their way ever so slowly toward Gamma with each passing minute. After entering the main doors to Alpha, he proceeded immediately to the security desk.

He pointed to the crowd outside and in a stern tone addressed the two guards. Get outside and tell our employees to return to their workstations. If anyone gives you static, report them to personnel. I want them gone in sixty seconds. Both guards did not delay. Without hesitation they sprang from their seats and started to run to the door.

Scheffy called out to them. I didn’t mean for you to completely abandon your station. Only one of you is needed outside to handle crowd control and I want the one who remains here to call the security desks at the other buildings and tell them to do the same. I also saw employees standing outside at the other buildings in our complex.

Scheffy walked around the security desk and into a waiting elevator. He depressed the button for the fourth floor. As the elevator doors opened on the fourth floor, Scheffy quickly exited and walked swiftly down the hall to the president’s office suite. The receptionist was not at her desk, so Scheffy walked unannounced into the president’s office. As he passed the door, he glanced at the polished brass nameplate. It read Edward Templeton, President and Chief Executive Officer. It’s a goddamn zoo out there Ed and I’ve been called to the principal’s office, he announced as he entered. What happened in Gamma?

Sit down Kyle and let me bring you up to speed, Templeton said in an unusually serious tone as he walked from behind his desk and stood near the window. This morning, one of our employees was found murdered over in Gamma. As he made the disclosure, Scheffy saw that all of the signs of worry were present, liberally splashed across the president’s face.

Scheffy sat down in the nearest chair and gasped. Murdered? he repeated. Are you sure?

Templeton stared out the window and replied, his voice solid and unwavering, Yes I said murdered. At this time the police aren’t saying for certain that is was murder, but the signs point to it. It’s going to take an autopsy to make that final determination. Naturally, they suspect murder, especially given the nature of our business. He turned away from the window and returned to his desk. He sat on the edge of his chair and placed his right elbow on his desk with a thud. He slowly rubbed his hand across his chin. Here’s what I need from you Kyle, he started as he looked directly into Scheffy’s eyes.