Free The Backup Asset by Leslie Wolfe Page B

case?” Sam probed.
    “Yeah, they all are . . . to some extent.”
    They both burst into laughter at the same time.
    “Not nearly as interesting as our last case, Sam, not even close. Just the typical, run-of-the-mill case.”
    “Just be patient, that’s all. This country has many powerful, motivated enemies. Their interests will flush your Mr. X out from whatever hole he’s been hiding in, and you’ll be right there to nail him. Just hang tight, and I promise you he’s out there and you’ll get him one day.”
    “I’ll hold you to that, OK?”
    “Deal!”
    Minutes after they’d hung up she still stared into the cell phone screen that displayed the end message of an encrypted phone call. Just a few months earlier, she hadn’t even known she could encrypt calls on her cell. Now she didn’t conceive of making or taking a call without encrypting it.
    Things did evolve, and did change. With these changes, always came a change in perspective. That’s what she needed, a change in perspective.

...14
...Tuesday, March 15, 1:44PM EDT (UTC-4:00 hours)
...Walcott Global Technologies Headquarters
...Norfolk, Virginia
     
     
    Quentin Hadden read his latest email, clenching his teeth. His boss wanted to see him. Not good. Lately, their relationship had turned from bad to worse, his conflicts with the idiot in charge—as he liked to think of Bob McLeod—evolving from technical disputes into full-blown arguments followed by sit-downs and feedback sessions eagerly delivered by the idiot with arrogance and condescendence.
    He decided to face the music now rather than let the thought of it torment him for much longer. He walked briskly down the hall and entered McLeod’s office after a quick tap on the door.
    “You wanted to see me?” Quentin prompted.
    “Yes. Sit down, please.”
    McLeod took his time shuffling papers, making Quentin feel how insignificant he was. Quentin didn’t matter . . . he could wait. What an asshole.
    “I called you because of the installations project on the Lloyd . Your team has fallen behind schedule. Again.”
    McLeod liked to underline the points he was making with movements of his hand, almost like an orchestra conductor, increasing the perceived arrogance of his demeanor. The man was insufferable.
    “Bob, we encountered issues with the installation, and I filed the documentation with you two weeks ago. You knew about that . . . we discussed it.”
    McLeod leaned back in his chair.
    “I am tired, you know, tired of how I can’t get the message through to you. Not now, not ever. All I want you to do is own your issues, so we can work with them and make you and your team better professionals.”
    “But, Bob—”
    “You have filed the paperwork. I heard you the first time. You’ve covered your ass with paper. Do you think that’s what I care about? Do you think that’s what you should care about? We have a client who’s not able to deploy his vessel on time because of us, and we have a contract with the Navy that specifies penalties for all delays.”
    “Bob, listen, please. The readiness assessment for the Lloyd was altogether wrong. The weapons control system was incompatible with this installation. I filed the findings, the change order, and the amended schedule with you and the client immediately after we discovered the discrepancy. It’s really not my fault. What was I supposed to do?”
    “I’m gonna tell you again, although I can’t really figure out why I keep explaining. Quentin, you’re a smart engineer, talented, bright, yet you decide to oppose the company’s direction and mine with every opportunity. Your mind is hermetically closed, watertight even. Every piece of feedback I share, you take personally and decide to fight the change instead of embracing it. How am I supposed to work with you if you won’t accept any feedback? If you won’t make the tiniest effort to change, and if you consider your judgment to be above everyone else’s? This is a collaborative