The Meeting

I leaned back in the comfortable padded chair. The varnished wooden desk in front of me looked like an inviting foot rest. I restrained myself however; my secretary was still in the room.
"When Mr. Pagnol gets here, please show him in, Susan." I said.
"Right you are, Mr. Johnson. Will that be all?" She smiled that teasing little smile of hers. I liked it when she smiled like that. It always tended to match what she wore. Today she was all in white. Her dress was longish, and she had a matching belt around her middle which helped to accentuate her sleek curves. I couldn't help thinking that if I wasn't in my position I would quite likely be tempted to spoil her a little.
"Yes, Susan, that'll be all, thank you."
"I'll be right outside, should you need anything. Check up on you in half an hour." With that she turned around and walked sensuously towards the door. When she was gone, I put my hands behind my head, leaned back even further against the luscious upholstery and, whistling the Tri-Ex anthem, put my feet up on the desk.
As I scrutinized my loafers, I thought about the forthcoming meeting. Mr. Pagnol would arrive any minute now. He was the First Chief Co-ordinator and Chairman of Tricor Industries, a big-league player in the field of chemicals and pharmaceuticals. Mr. Landmann, Supervising Head of CiviTol Consolidated, had said he'd been delayed. Today I awaited our meeting with subdued excitement. Boy, did I ever have some news for those two this week.
The weekly meetings of the three largest subsidiaries of the European nation-corporation Tri-Ex were mostly interesting, and always important. But this Tuesday afternoon was also going to be a triumph for Lancer Inc: I had an ace up my tailored sleeve.
There was a knock on the door, and the sunny countenance of my secretary appeared.
"Mr. Pagnol has arrived with his secretary." she said with that cheeky smile plastered firmly onto her cute little face.
"Show the man in!" I said invitingly loudly, "Oh, and make some coffee would you," I added.
"Whatever you say, Mr. Johnson." I savoured the way she always kept the top three buttons of her dress undone, which, together with the well-rounded forms beneath, hinted at cleavage but never quite showed it. She made way for the altogether more sobering form of the permanently nervous Mr. Pagnol. He was still deep in conference with his assistant.
"Yes Mary, I will. Calm down, will you? No, it's not me who's nervous. I'm never nervous. Yes, I've taken my pills. No I haven't forgotten anything. I'll call if I need you." He sidled away from the door in his usual unsettling manner. One of the secretaries closed it. He was dressed in a conservative grey suit that looked awkward on him; the shoulder pads balancing precariously on his slender build. Held tightly clamped against his body was his familiar matt-black lap-top.
I got up and we shook hands. His clammy grip went limp as I squeezed.
"Great to see you again, Mr Pagnol. Hope you had a nice week!" I said with warm familiarity. I knew he hated this. "How are the wife and kids!" I gave him a firm squeeze at the shoulder. Tiny beady eyes observed me coldly from behind the little, round, crystal panes of his platinum-rimmed spectacles.
"They haven't written to me in three months." he said solemnly. It was to be expected.
"Sit down! Take a seat! I have some excellent 2036 Mont Blanc wine, if you care to join me." I poured myself a glass of the clear liquid.
"No thanks." he answered drily. "We have important matters to discuss."
"Shouldn't we wait until Mr. Landmann gets here?" I enquired politely.
"What?" He looked around, slightly startled, and added impatiently: "Yes, I agree we must wait." He indicated towards the wine and I poured him a glass. It was not a proper wine glass. The rented conference chamber was obviously not of the highest calibre.
Pagnol sank into one of the plush seats, opened up his computer and proceeded to amuse himself by frantically tapping at the keyboard. His fidgety behaviour always corroded my good humour.
"Tricor Industries is not in the least bit happy with the situation." he burst out all of a sudden. I had guessed that. "The Lancer Incorporated take-over of the Belsham Group is not entirely to our liking." he said, getting straight to the point. Pagnol always had preferred to take the direct approach.
"No, I can fully understand your point of view." I soothed. At that point Landmann burst in dramatically, throwing the leather-padded door against the wall with a dull thump, and sending the hyperstrung Pagnol half a metre into the air. Landmann wore a deep-scarlet, double breasted three-piece suit; the height of fashion. Landmann's broad face glowed a healthy shade of pink, pearly sweat beading on his forehead, and a big grin parted to show a bright white set of teeth. He looked at each of us in turn, his eyes disconcertingly bright.
"Jack!" he boomed, sandwiching my warm greeting between both his chubby hands. "So good to see you! So good!" Pagnol gave him his usual reluctant handshake with the jelly-like grip that one just could not respect. "Mr Pagnol!" he said in his German accent, "Plenty has happened this past week, would you not say?" Pagnol had to agree with him on that point, but seemed more concerned about the hand which had disappeared within that enthusiastic grip.
"I gather you're not necessarily talking about the peace treaty between Tri-Ex and Greenland?" I prodded subtly.
"He's talking about your fifty-one percent buy-out of the Belsham group, is what he is!" said the ever-to-the-point Pagnol. Then he stared nervously at his watch. "I have to go in twenty minutes," he informed us, and tapped away on his lap-top again.
"So we all do, so we all do, my dear fellow." said Landmann. "But first we must clear up this small inconvenience."
"Our buy-out was completely validated and went through the proper Tri-Ex channels." I told them calmly.
"Yes, yes. We know that," interrupted Pagnol's nasal voice, "but you see, Mr. Johnson, Tricor Industries have been busy too you know." For the first time Pagnol's thin lips hinted at a smile. I felt the colour slowly draining from my face; my collar becoming uncomfortably tight. Anything that involved a smile on Pagnol's face just had to mean bad news. He never seemed to smile for any other reason. I glanced at my Rolex, then buried it back under the sleeve of my well-cut shirt.
"What have you been up to then, old fruit?" asked Landmann, making the sentence sound ridiculous in his thick German accent. I nearly let out a nervous sman. Pagnol tapped some more. After a while he seemed to have found what he was looking for. He stared intently at the screen. When he was satisfied, he showed us the display triumphantly. This was getting worse by the minute.
It informed me that Tricor Industries had got hold of a fifty one percent stake in Amalgamated Holdings, one of the largest European investment companies. I relaxed; my company had sold him that. It was pretty much insignificant compared to what I had accomplished with the money. Landmann had taken a deep breath, and was now letting it out in a long, drawn-out hiss.
I decided to get the annoying old man back for giving me such a fright. I decided to play my ace.
"It just so happens, that the Belsham group, in which we bought a majority stake last Thursday, owns fifty one percent of Tricor Industries." I said calmly, savouring the look on Pagnol's face. He was not as shocked as I would have liked him to be. The left corner of his mouth started twitching erratically, but that was all.
"B-But- That's not--That's not--" he stuttered back.
"We found old documents in their master safe! They had not been computerized! No one could have known!" I couldn't help laughing hysterically for a moment. This would annoy the rotten old sour pot.
"Oh yeah?" he said, his ash-grey face slowly turning beetroot colour. "Oh yeah?" His voice carried threatening overtones. "Well it just so happens, that Amalgamated Holdings, which we bought from your company, Lancer Inc on Wednesday, owns a fifty one percent stake in CiviTol Consolidated!" At this point I spewed a mouth-full of clear Mont Blanc wine across the white top of the desk as if it had been mouth-wash. I had burst out laughing again.
Miraculously, the same had happened to Landmann. Pagnol gave Landmann a very confused look, as if expecting a little more disdain.
"Well we!" shouted Landmann as he laughed clutching his potbelly, "Well we, that is CiviTol Consolidated, bought einundfünfzig percent of Oaker International from Tricor Industries on Friday!" His face now matched his suit as he laughed.
"So?" cried Pagnol shrilly.
"They owned einundfünfzig percent of Lancer Inc!" He laughed so hard, his padded chair fell over backwards, but he nevertheless landed softly. I dropped my wine glass and the clear-plastic beaker bounced unharmed, spilling its contents on the expensive white rug. I had stopped laughing.
Pagnol and I waited till Landmann had recovered sufficiently to clamber back into the recesses of his chair. He calmed down fast. There was a moment of silence as we looked at each other.
"We seem to have a problem, gentlemen." I said finally.
"Yes." said the other two.
"Let me get this straight. We own Tricor, Tricor owns CiviTol, and CiviTol owns Lancer. Am I correct?"
"Yes" they agreed.
"We are therefore one big company."
"Yes!" they cried. Now came the clincher. The one all-important dilemma running through our minds.
"Then which one of us three is the boss?"
Pagnol was quick to help us out of this sombre predicament.
"That is obvious. I am the Chairman of the board. Therefore it stands to reason that I am in charge--"
"No, no, no, no. You are mistaken, Mr Pagnol." said Landmann, "Chairmen are just figure-heads. They have no real power. Supervising Head. Now that is a position of power!"
"Head Supervisor?" screeched Pagnol. "Head Supervisor! That kind of head sounds like he belongs on the factory floor!"
"I'll have you know I've never even seen the factory floor!" retorted Landmann.
I decided I had to put a stop to this nonsense.
"Look." I said in my calmest, most soothing voice. "I am the Executive Manager of Lancer Inc, and technically Tricor Industries, and therefore technically of CiviTol Consolidated as well."
"We can all say that, you stupid European nincompoop!" shouted Landmann and thumped me in the stomach with one of his big, fat-fingered fists. I fell and ended up in a crumpled heap on the soft floor. Pagnol had lost it completely. He was now hiding under the table crying for his mother. I felt a strong urge to join him. But I was of a far more resilient disposition. Although my tummy hurt badly, I knew that I was supposed to be the leader. I felt it in my heart; felt sure of it. I just had to be! My secretary would soon sort out this bully.
"Suuuusaaaan!" I wailed, and to my relief, she was already standing protectively over me in her white dress and white hat.
"Mr. Landmann!" cried his secretary. "Any more behaviour of that sort will mean three days in the confinement chamber. We wouldn't want that now, would we."
"Noooo! Please! I will be good, I promise!" squealed Landmann. I watched with vengeance as he got the 'jacket, and Pagnol was hauled out from under the table blathering hysterically. Two secretaries in white restrained him against the soft floor, while a third gave him a dose of sedative to relieve his chronic stress levels.
"Served 'em right." I mumbled, satisfied with the conclusion of the meeting.
"Yes, Mr. Johnson," said my secretary, and her wide grin was reassuring. "The meeting is over. Next week we'll have another. Okay?"
"Okay." I agreed, smiled, looked at Pagnol and Landmann in turn and told 'em: "Served you right!"