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  “Elliott,” Matt said to Elliott Jamison, “let’s start with you. Overall, how does Haskell’s marketing division look?”

  “Not bad, but not great either. They have too many managers here, as well as in the regional offices, and too few sales reps out in the field selling the products. Their existing customers get lavished with attention, but the reps don’t have time to open up new accounts. Considering the high quality of Haskell’s products, Haskell should have three or four times the number of customers they have now. At this point I’d tentatively suggest adding fifty reps to their sales force. Once you have the Southville plant constructed and operating, I’d suggest adding fifty more.”

  Matt jotted a note on the yellow legal pad on the table in front of him and returned his attention to Jamison. “What else?”

  “Paul Cranshaw, the marketing vice president, will have to go, Matt. He’s been with Haskell for twenty-eight years and his marketing philosophy is antiquated and foolish. He’s also inflexible and unwilling to change his ways.”

  “How old is he?”

  “His file says fifty-six.”

  “Will he take an early retirement if we offer it to him?”

  “Possibly. He’s not going to quit on his own, that’s for sure. He’s an arrogant son of a bitch and openly hostile about Intercorp’s takeover.”

  Tom Anderson lifted his gaze from an admiring study of his paisley tie. “That’s not surprising. He’s a distant cousin of old Haskell’s.”

  Elliott looked at him in surprise. “Really?” he said, reluctantly fascinated with Tom’s ability to ferret out information without ever seeming to try. “That fact wasn’t in his personnel file. How did you find it out?”

  “I had a delightful conversation with a charming old gal down in the records section. She’s been here longer than anyone else, and she’s a walking diary of information.”

  “No wonder Cranshaw was so damned abrasive. He’ll definitely have to go—he’s a tremendous morale problem, among other things. That’s it for generalities, Matt. I’ll meet with you next week and we can go over specifics.”

  Matt turned to John Lambert for financial information.

  Taking his cue, Lambert glanced at his notes and said, “Their profits are good, we knew that before, but there’s plenty of room for streamlining and cutting down on expenses. Also, they do a lousy job of collecting their own receivables. Half their accounts take six months to pay, and it’s because Haskell hasn’t made it a policy to be more aggressive with their collections.”

  “Are we going to have to replace the controller, then?”

  Lambert hesitated. “That’s a tough call to make. The controller claims that Haskell was the one who didn’t want the customers urged to pay up any quicker. He says he’s tried for years to implement a more aggressive procedure, but old man Haskell wouldn’t hear of it. Putting that aside, he runs a pretty tight ship. Morale is very high in his division and he’s a good delegator. He has just enough supervisors to get the job done, and they do it well. His department is lean.”

  “How did he react to your invading his realm? Did he seem willing to adapt to change?”

  “He’s a follower, not a leader, but he’s conscientious. Tell him what you want done, and it’ll be done. On the other hand, if you want innovations and aggressive accounting procedures, he’s not likely to come up with them on his own.”

  “Get him straightened out and on the right track,” Matt said after a moment’s hesitation. “When we name a president here, he can keep an eye on him. Finance is a big division; it seems to be in good shape. If morale is high there, I’d like to keep it that way.”

  “I agree. By next month I’ll be ready to discuss a new budget and pricing structure with you.”

  “Fine.” Matt turned to the short blond man who specialized in all matters pertaining to personnel and personnel policies. “David, what’s the story in human resources?”

  “It’s not bad. Pretty good, actually. The percentage of minority employees is a little low, but not low enough to get us in the headlines or lose us government contracts,” David Talbot replied. “Human resources has done a good job of establishing and maintaining sound hiring and promotion practices, and so forth. Lloyd Waldrup, the vice president who heads that division, is sharp and well qualified for his job.”

  “He’s a closet bigot,” Tom Anderson argued, leaning forward to pour himself a cup of coffee from the sterling silver coffee service in the center of the table.

  “That’s a ridiculous allegation,” Talbot said irritably. “Lloyd Waldrup gave me the reports showing the number of women and minorities within the various job categories, and there’s a fair percentage of them with management titles.”

  “I don’t believe the reports.”

  “Jesus, what is it with you, Tom!” he snapped, turning in his chair to glower at Tom’s imperturbable features. “Every time we acquire a company, you start in on the human resources managers. What is it, specifically, that makes you nearly always dislike them?”

  “I guess it’s that they are nearly always power-hungry ass kissers.”

  “Including Waldrup?”

  “Especially Waldrup.”

  “And which of your acclaimed instincts leads you to believe that of him?”

  “He complimented my clothes two days in a row. I never trust anyone who compliments my clothes, particularly if he’s wearing a conservative gray suit.”

  Muted chuckles broke the tension building in the room, and even David relaxed. “Is there any other reason to believe he’s a liar about his hiring and promotion practices?”

  “Yep, there is,” Tom said, carefully keeping the plaid sleeve of his jacket out of his coffee as he reached for the sugar bowl. “I’ve been wandering around this building for a couple of weeks now, while you’ve been busy doing your job down in human resources, and I couldn’t help noticing one little thing.” He paused to stir the sugar in his coffee, which annoyed everyone in the room except Matt, who continued to regard him with calm interest, then Tom leaned back and propped his ankle atop his opposite knee, the coffee cup in his hand.

  “Tom!” David said testily. “Will you get to the point so we can go on with the meeting! What did you notice while you were walking around this building?”

  Completely unperturbed, Tom lifted his shaggy brows and said, “I saw men sitting in private offices.”

  “So what?”

  “What I didn’t see were any women sitting in them, except in the accounting division, where there’ve historically been women managers. And only a couple of the women who did have offices had secretaries sitting outside of them. Which made me wonder if your buddy Waldrup isn’t handing out some fancy titles to keep the ladies happy and make himself look good on his employment reports. If these women actually have management-level jobs, where are their secretaries? Where are their offices?”

  “I’ll check it out,” David said with an irritated sigh. “I’d have discovered it sooner or later, but it’s better to know it now.” Turning to Matt, he continued. “At some point in the future we’re going to have to bring Haskell’s vacation policy and salary scales into some sort of alignment with Intercorp’s. Haskell gives their people three weeks vacation after three years employment and four weeks after eight years. That policy is costing the company a fortune in lost time and the constant need to hire additional temporary help.”

  “How do their wage scales compare?” Matt asked.

  “They’re lower than ours. Haskell’s philosophy was to give employees more time off but pay them less. I’ll meet with you and go over this in more detail when I’ve had a chance to work up some figures and recommendations.”

  For the next two hours Matt listened while the remaining men reported on their individual areas and debated solutions. When they were finished discussing Haskell, Matt brought them up-to-date on developments in other divisions of Intercorp that might concern them now or later, developments that ranged from a threatened uni