- 10 - Mary Ruth Cramer

My father isn’t running Caliber anymore. And the board members are dead weight. I am in charge.

She turned onto main street at breakneck speed. The rear passenger side wheel left the ground.

A black and white patrol car was parked in front of the Caliber building partially blocking her driveway.

Mary Ruth veered around their vehicle hopping one curb easily. Her driver met her at the curb as she brought the car to a stop to take the keys.

“Quite the entrance Ms. Cramer.” The driver said with a smile.

“Now who are these men?” Mary Ruth asked him.

“Two policeman, one a detective.” He replied.

The policemen stepped out of their patrol car and walked forward together.

Mary Ruth frowned.

Arriving without an appointment. And cluttering up our road. Why is everyone trying my patience today?

“Andrew, are these men on the schedule?” She asked.

“No Ms. Cramer.” He stammered. “I have not seen any additions to your schedule since this morning.”

“As I thought.” She said and strode to meet the two men.

The first of the two men was broader than the other. His uniform was the deep blue of patrolling officer. He wore a slapjack on his belt as his only embellishment. His cap sat on his head squarely and his full mustache was round. He seemed gloomy, upset to be here on this day and time.

At least send a sergeant. They know enough to make an appointment.

The second man fell back a step behind the patrolman. He was lanky, to say the least, and bookish with haunted eyes used to reading in low light. He had paused to give Mary Ruth’s car a quick look.

He wore a blue suit in the police inspector’s style. He was somehow gifted with the genes to be skinny and also carry a gut. He walked with the jacket unbuttoned in the heat of the day. His badge hung from his vest pocket. He wore spectacles, yet he squinted, as if it were too bright outside for his temperament or his corrective lenses weren’t quite correct. His hair was of ear length like a French Calvary man.

He caries a revolver in that bulge under his left armpit. Not able to afford a tailored suit then, he dresses off the rack. And it’s last year’s style, he is single then, without a second opinion or a reason to dress better.

“Ms. Cramer I presume?” The officer asked. “I’m officer Monroe, this is inspector Travers.”

“Yes. Hello Officers. What seems to be the matter?” She asked.

“We need a moment of your time ma’am.” The officer said.

She looked at him expectantly and he continued uncertainly.

“A shipment of guns was stolen.” He said. “Last night.”

“And an artifact.” The inspector said. “We believe the two incidents are related.”

“And what does that have to do with my company gentlemen?” Mary Ruth asked.

“Well the shipment was a delivery from your company, Ms. Cramer.” The Inspector said.

Mary Ruth laughed.

“The only shipment I know of happening last night is a delivery to the police. Are you telling me that the police department has been robbed?”

Mary Ruth made a small effort to hide her smirk behind her hand.

“The fact of the matter is, the stolen artifact was evidence locked up in relation to a certain cold case. One that your father has been particularly interested in.” The inspector said.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

What is my father getting mixed up in now? Something for his political associates? Or is it family business?

“What are you implying Inspector? My father does not run this company. I do. This company is a legitimate enterprise. If we are involved at all, it would be as victims. I imagine the department will be expecting another delivery, free of charge, since it was stolen. From one perspective Caliber is the victim here.”

“We’d like to take a look around.” The inspector said. “It would be a sign of goodwill towards the department.”

“If you had sent a man ahead of time, you would know that I am not available now.” Mary Ruth said. “I’m on my way to a board meeting. Contact the front desk and let them know you will wait until the meeting is concluded. There is a public lounge in the lobby at your convenience.” She said and promptly turned away.

The four men stared after her mouths slack. Andrew recovered first and fell into step behind her.

“Ms. Cramer!” Detective called after her. “How long is the meeting?”

“It’s a short one, only about two or three hours.” She replied over her shoulder. But then she did stop and turn.

“Or you could make an appointment for tomorrow morning.” She said sweetly. “8 am sharp is good for me.”

-

“In conclusion. We cannot green-light this new project yet, until it has been fully vetted. We understand that your family interests align with the public view of Caliber and while that is a sound investment to a point. Well, this may be far past that point.” Mr. Mouch spoke clearly, droning on and on without saying no.

To accept delay is to accept defeat. Mouch was one of the board members named on the list.

Seven other members of the board around the table nodded in agreement.

The majority are more concerned about their pocketbooks than the future of this company.

“Gentlemen. Respected members of the board. I understand the risk involved. And yes, my father and I have concern for the state of our city, without question. I believe all of us in positions of power, those who are able to do something about the state of our fair city, I believe we should act.” She stood. "I believe Caliber should act."

Mr. Mouch nodded to give up the floor and he sat down.

“There is quite a large sum of money to be made in this enterprise. And I believe Caliber is particularly positioned to capitalize on this market opportunity. Before the other companies do.” She said with conviction.

“Have you had the project analyzed?” Mr. Chapman asked.

The thinking machine took some convincing. Very specific parameters had to be changed for it to consider a valuation of the lives of the population.

“I have. And the machine estimated high returns on our investments. Five times the amount committed, over 15 years.” She replied.

The board members grumbled. Many of them avoided her gaze, shuffling the papers with the project details she had prepared for each of them.

It won’t be enough for them. They will want to see quicker turn around and a higher rate of return. Or lower construction costs.

“What was your father’s take on this?” Mr. Chapman asked.

“My father, while an interested party in spirit, is not an active member of this board. Decisions steering the course of this company will be made in this room by this board.” She said.

And me.

Board members traded looks around the room. The fiery speech from the well educated young woman did not do much to stir them.

They are motivated by dollars, not ethics.

“It is something that we will need to proceed to test runs to quantify. There is potential to lower the initial investment, and bring in outside businesses to buy up the liability. I intend to start initial conversations with the banks once I have the boards approval.”

She checked for eyes around the room then, and saw the talk of money and banks had their attention.

“We could potentially see returns closer to eight times our investment within 10 years.” Mary Ruth said. A few heads leaned her way in agreement.

“This all sounds good. Let’s put it to a vote.” All this in favor of proceeding to gather data raise their hands.”

The show of hands was 11 out of 14. A strong majority.

“Proceed for now. And we will review the new information at next quarter’s meeting.” Mr. Chapman said.

“Until then. Thank you.” Mary Ruth said smiling, but her eyes stayed sharp.

14 board members stood to leave the board room. Most of them wandered over to the private cocktail lounge made available for their exclusive use.

People down on the street can’t afford a loaf of bread but these men can drink and flirt with waitresses in the sky lounge.

A few board members passed by to express their support of Mary Ruth’s idea. She shook their hands and thanked them before they too flocked out the doors.

Mewling petty old men that can’t spend a dollar without being promised ten in return.

“Ms. Cramer. I’ll have these notes typed up for you within the hour.” Andrew said once they were alone.

There are some men who understand their responsibilities. There may yet be hope for the city.

“What do you think of the project Andrew?” She asked.

“It is an ambitious venture. Building new affordable, fast, and cheap housing. Your ‘prefabrication’ concept intrigues me. I admit I’m no engineer but I’d like to take a look at the schematics.” He said.

“Perhaps.” She said as she turned to leave. “But don’t hold your breath.”

“You would need to acquire land and permits as well. It is not without risks.” Andrew said thoughtfully.

“All good ventures are. That’s why they are worth pursuing.”

Fully self sustained residential super structures. Housing 500 families each, with green spaces for agriculture, water reclamation, and classrooms. They will be perfect.

-

Mary Ruth was back on the second floor. She walked past a vase that was owned by her mother's grandfather. Walking the gallery always helped her clear her head.

Mother had loved to view the gallery.

She stopped at the portrait of her family.

Ten years has passed so fast. Mother is gone and I'm the woman of the house now. Father does his best but she was his driving force.

"Mother, the convertible drives like a dream. I took it down the boulevard and out into the industrial district to visit a refinery. It had no trouble passing those boats full of fat cats. You would have loved it."

She thought back to the intersection without power.

"The city is getting worse. It is sick but I will fix it." She said.

She turned to stroll over to the display of the early prototypes of the Cartridge gin. There were several models, the oldest was not a replica, she had an engineer confirm it. It was one of the backbreakers that had been built in a dark alley, back in the bad old days. It's struts were fashioned out of an old refrigerator, and cobbled together with a Darvish artifact brought back from the war.

It was not long ago that men were shooting each other in the streets of New Amsterdam. This company was built on the backs of people cranking these gins to defend their families.

"Carlton Castellanos. That Bastard." She said and clenched her fist. "What are the odds he would stick his beady eyes up out of the dark today?"

She replayed the conversation in her mind and he frustrated her all over again until something clicked into place.

How could he be there? Boldly calling me cousin. What has him so confident?

"He is well informed. He knew enough to get in bed with our supplier. He could just as easily know about he delivery and the artifact. If the Castellanos are involved then this could get messy."

Mrs. Trilby did not have any Castellanos on her list. Is she not aware that Carlton is playing games? Who is he acting for? Who gave him the orders? Is he an approved play?

She stopped her tour of the gallery at their selection of pistols. An entire wall of firearms bore down on her.

Trouble on all sides. Lets see them take their best shot.