“You may not know this, but Robbie was offered that chance too. He refused. He was, indeed, difficult to work with.”
“It doesn’t surprise me. Robbie was a good union president, he looked after his people, but there are many ways to get the job done. You gotta be tough. That’s true. But you don’t have to be an asshole.”
“You must have been thrilled at the time, though. An offer to act as the ultimate deal maker between the unions and management.”
“Every negotiation since has run a thousand percent smoother.”
Bozin nodded. “How do you get the other two unions to go along? That has to be difficult.”
“I’ve been lucky there. The presidents of IAM and UPIU have always been friends. They listen to me.”
“The deals you helped forge have been good for everybody. You understand things, Hank. And you never lose sight of the ultimate goal. Keep the mill operating. Keep people working. That’s what’s important.”
“I say a steady paycheck is far better than some onetime fat raise, or overly generous benefit, that will ultimately have to be paid for in lost jobs.”
They talked for another half hour.
More about the negotiations, the company, and Concord.
Bozin seemed to genuinely enjoy bantering with Hank, and Brent enjoyed watching the two older warriors. It was 8:30 when they were standing back in the foyer saying goodbye.
The front doorbell rang.
Bozin opened the carved-paneled door.
A man stood outside.
He was tall, with a sinewy, hard, athletic physique. Early forties, brown hair faded to a dull sheen by gray streaks. A gravitas look dominated the chiseled face, which cast a nothing stare reminiscent of a funeral director. Brent vaguely recalled seeing the face once before, at the opening of the negotiations yesterday. The man had talked briefly with Bozin.
“Jon, I don’t know if you know these gentlemen or not.”
“No, sir. I don’t believe I do.”
The voice was soft and low, no syllable given any overt inflection.
He was introduced as Jon De Florio, chief of company security.
“I’ve heard your name, but this is the first time I think I’ve ever actually met you,” Hank said.
“I believe it is,” De Florio said. “I can come back later.”
Bozin waved him off. “There’s no need. Brent and Hank were on their way home.”
Bozin escorted them onto the front porch. “It was good of youto come. I enjoyed our talk. I hope it was enlightening. Maybe we can get together again before I go back to Atlanta.”
Brent and Hank headed for their vehicles.
“We need to talk,” Brent whispered to Hank, keeping his gaze straight ahead.
“I saw you called a few times. About what?”
“Those numbers. I found something.”
“Since you’re telling me this, does that mean the list is not nothing?”
“What day did you get it?”
“The night you got back to town.”
