Unnatural Acts

17

Herbie slept his usual six hours and made it into work at seven-thirty a.m.. He walked into his office, which was oddly dark, and felt for the light switch. He was in the wrong office.

“What do you think?” Cookie asked from behind him.

Herbie looked at her, then turned back to the strange room. It was now lit by lamps in the four corners and one behind an Eames lounge chair, with a matching ottoman, which seemed to have replaced the desk. A glass coffee table sat next to that, and a leather sofa on the opposite side, with matching armchairs on the other two sides of the table. A beautiful oriental rug glowed golden in the light from the lamps. Sunlight was shut out by venetian blinds that matched the wood in the floor.

“Do I work here?” Herbie asked.

“You do, if you want to,” Cookie said. “I can send it all back, if you don’t like it.”

Herbie went and sat in the beautiful chair and put his feet on the ottoman. His back didn’t hurt. “I like it,” he said. “No, I love it. Where’s all my stuff?”

“In the credenza at your right hand,” she replied. “There are four file drawers and eight ordinary ones.”

Herbie reached to his right and his hand fell on the phone. Next to that was a marble pencil box. He looked around and saw handsomely framed pictures on the walls and a Chinese terra-cotta horse in the center of the coffee table.

“It’s T’ang dynasty,” she said, “about eleven hundred years old.” She handed him a sheet of paper. “Here’s the bill for everything.”

Herbie looked at it: $54,540. “You’re nearly five grand over budget.”

“Tell me what you’d like to send back,” she said.

Herbie looked around. “Absolutely nothing. How’d you get this done so fast?”

“ABC has people who are accustomed to putting together whole rooms for movies and TV commercials in short order. I know one of them.”

“Cookie,” Herbie said, “how’d you like to redo my apartment in your spare time?”

“What’s my budget?”

“You can go to half a million, if you have to, but that won’t include art-I like the art I have.”

“My fee is five percent of what I spend,” she said.

“You’re hired.”

She poured him a cup of coffee, and it tasted much better than it had the day before.

“This isn’t my usual coffee,” he said. “It’s a lot better.”

“I’m glad you like it,” she responded. “Excuse me, I have to get to work on your closing Friday morning.”

“We’ve got a real estate department for that,” Herbie said.

“I know how to put a closing together,” she said, “and it will take me a third less time than if they do it.”

“Then go to work.”

Herbie looked around for his phone messages: there were two, one from Stone Barrington and one from Mike Freeman. He called Mike first, and was surprised when he answered his own phone. “Hey, Mike. Don’t you have a secretary anymore?”

“She doesn’t get in this early,” Mike said. “Only the boss does.”

“Thank you so much for sending your team down to High Cotton,” Herbie said.

“They’re back this morning-they’ve got the whole building to wire.”

“That’s great. With your help, I’ll turn this little venture into a real business.”

“From what Marshall Brennan tells me about their ideas, that will happen very quickly,” Mike said. “Tell me, Herbie, how’d you like a new client?”

“I’d like nothing better!”

“I hired a guy yesterday, and he’s going to set up a new division for me that will specialize in bodyguard training. We’ve always done that for our own people, but now we’re going to offer the training to our clients’ employees. We’ve bought an old road racing track upstate a ways that we’ll turn into a high-performance, defensive-driving school, and there’ll be four firing ranges, too-everything from handguns to automatic weapons.”

“Sounds terrific, Mike. How can I help?”

“I’d like you to create a corporate framework for the division, set up the accounting and a purchasing system for equipment. Though it’s wholly owned, I’d like it to operate like a separate company.”

“I can do that.”

“The guy I’ve hired, who’ll be the CEO, is called Josh Hook. He’s ex-CIA, spent a little over twenty years there, in operations. His experience is broad and deep. I’ll have him call you.”

“I’ll look forward to hearing from him, Mike, and I’ll go ahead and set up the company as a client. You have a name yet?”

“Strategic Defense,” Mike said.

“Got it.”

“You’ll hear from Josh later today.” Mike said goodbye and hung up.

There was a knock, and Herbie looked up to find Bill Eggers leaning against the doorjamb. “What the hell is this?” Eggers asked.

“Come in, Bill, and have a seat.”

“I didn’t authorize you to redecorate,” Eggers said.

“No, and you didn’t pay for it, either,” Herbie pointed out.

“In that case, I’ll have a seat.” He settled into an armchair and looked around. “I didn’t know you had taste this good, Herbert.”

“I don’t,” Herbie said, “but I have good taste in secretaries. She’s out in her cubicle right now setting up a real estate closing for Friday.”

“We have a department for that,” Eggers said.

“She’ll use their checklist, but she can do it faster and cheaper. You can bill High Cotton Ideas for your department.”

“You only got this piece of business yesterday, didn’t you?”

“That’s right, but it’s not a business yet, just a collection of ill-groomed computer geeks. I’m turning it into a business.”

“So I heard. And I hear you’ve got Strategic Services involved, and an architect, too. Are we going to make any money out of this?”

“I billed fifteen hours yesterday, and my associate as many. By the way-thanks. I like Bobby Bentley.”

“Good.” Eggers stood up.

“Oh, and I got a new piece of business this morning.” Herbie told him about his conversation with Mike Freeman.

Eggers listened, nodding, his face not betraying much. “Herbert,” he said, when Herbie had finished. “How much did this new stuff cost?”

Herbie picked up the bill and handed it to him.

Eggers folded the bill and tucked it into his coat pocket. “I’ll take care of this,” he said.

Herbie smiled. “Thank you, Bill. Oh, and I’d like to give my secretary a fifteen percent raise.”

Eggers nodded. “I’ll take care of it,” he said, then he turned and walked back down the hall.

“Cookie!” Herbie yelled. “Get in here!”