“Thank you for the cover ID, Miss
Pension.”
“Not a problem, Corporate
Man.
That Donald Jackson person you had me cook up is a real piece of work.”
“He had to be or they wouldn’t have
noticed my resume.”
“I suppose. Half of his financial credits are for
companies he bankrupted and the other half for corporate giants who laid off
half their workforce during their most profitable years. It’s sick, if you ask me. And if what you suspect is true… I mean, it
sounds like The Greed all over again.”
“I’m not so sure,” Corporate Man
said. He set a file folder in a black
briefcase and snapped the hasps closed.
Then he walked over to the Coffee Maker in The Breakroom at The Office (the
secret mountain base of The Union) and poured himself a cup of efficient
black. “This is something new. Something a little different.”
“What’s the name of this place
you’ll be working?”
“Great American Business Company.”
“Never heard of them,” Miss Pension
said. She picked at her lunch. A battered paperback lie, unopened, beside her
plate.
“Nationally, they’re invisible, but
they’re number one in their region, and for all the right reasons. But now…”
“The Greed. Gotta be.
We’ve seen it before.”
Corporate Man shook his head and
sat down at the small break room table.
He sipped his coffee.
“I don’t like it that you’re going
in alone.”
“Can’t be helped. Business Woman is working the international
market. John Q Public is still off grid
after that business with The Crash.
Normally I’d send Junior in ahead of me but–”
“That matter with the Corporate
Mind Hive. Yes. Junior Executive is still recovering. I wish you’d wait for back up.”
“I don’t think we have time. Something’s insinuated itself within the
walls of Great American Business Company and, from what I gather, it’s
spreading fast.”
“You’ll check in daily, yes?” Miss
Pension said.
“You know I will.”