All the blue-collar hourly men seemed unaccustomed to being strapped into shirts, ties, and jackets. A white or white-striped short-sleeved shirt, with polyester tie and no coat, seemed the most prevalent ensemble, though a few sported what must have been their Sunday suits. As usual Hank stood out among the crowd with a French-cuffed white shirt, silk tie, and pleated navy-blue trousers supported by his trademark cordovan leather belt. The cuff links and tie tack were obviously supplied by the union since, even from a distance, the colors and shape of the IBEW international emblem were easily recognizable. Everything was shined, pressed, and tastefully coordinated. So much that it would be easy to mistake him for one of the owners rather than an hourly paid senior day electrician. Bozin finished his introductory remarks and everyone began to collate into their respective groups. Brent headed toward Hank, knowing that, as Ricky Ricardo would say,He had some explainin’ to do.
“For a guy who’s not in the loop you’re sure right here in the middle of things,” his old friend said.
“Me being here is as much a surprise to me as it is to you.”
“How’d it happen?”
He motioned toward Bozin. “I received a special invite from him.”
“I guess they figure you can’t help with me unless you see the show for yourself.”
“Sound familiar?”
Hank smiled. “Tough being a double agent, huh?”
“I don’t like it.” And he hoped Hank got the message.
“You going to be here for the whole thing?” Hank asked.
Brent nodded.
“I like it.”
He shook his head. “You don’t hear a word I’m saying, do you?”
“I try not to.”
Arguing was pointless. So he whispered, “Have you had your usual chat yet with Hamilton Lee?”
“Saturday night.”
He knew how things happened. “So this is all a dog-and-pony show.”
Hank nodded.
“It’s a done deal. These folks just don’t know it yet.”
10:20A.M.
JON CASUALLY ENTERED THE CROWDED NEGOTIATIONS ROOM DRESSEDin his usual business suit. His public appearances at company functions were rare, but he needed to survey the situation and speak with Bozin.
The older man immediately noticed his presence and walked over, asking in a low voice, “Anything to report?”
He stepped close and whispered, “An attempt was made to enter Reed’s house on Saturday but was unsuccessful. Another attempt will be made soon.”
“Please keep me posted.”
“I will. I also wanted you to know I have a guard outside to help if needed.”
“How thoughtful. I’ll let the unions know.”
He excused himself and left.
Outside, Victor Jacks stood next to the double doors, dressed in the uniform of a Southern Republic guard. No one, including Bozin, knew his true identity. Jon walked by and threw his associate a knowing look.
One that said to keep his eyes and ears open.
12:00P.M.
