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From: "Bill Morgan" <morg1058@chartervt.net>
Subject: {ASSM} rp/rev SIX-MONTH TURNAROUND 2 of 2  from MORGAN M/F Rom
Date: Sat, 18 Aug 2001 16:10:01 -0400
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<1st attachment, "6month 2.txt" begin>

The following is a work of fiction regarding sexual
relationships.  If you feel that it is illegal, immoral, or
otherwise improper for you to read this, then *Don't Read It.*

*  *  *

*Six-Month Turnaround*

Copyright (C) 1992, 1998, 2001 by Morgan.  All rights reserved.

Please note the original copyright date.  This story was
basically written nine years ago and was originally posted in
1988.  As a result, you will likely find obsolete references. 
I'm afraid you'll just have to live with it; it's too tedious
trying to keep up with the latest and greatest.  It was
previously posted on ASSM in 1998, but not since then.

Incidentally, you will find occasional entries, _word_.  The
reason for this is that MS Word's Auto Format function puts a
word preceded and followed by an underscore in italics; that's my
intent.  Similarly, *word* results in the word appearing in bold
face.  If you use Word's Auto Format, it will take care of
things; if you don't, you at least know why it's there.

More of my works are posted on my site <www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Morgan/www> 
If you like it -- or if you don't -- please let me know at
morg105829@aol.com.

*  *  *

*Chapter 8*

On the following Monday, Sandy came into Cliff's office carrying
a stack of papers and looking puzzled.  "Cliff, there's something
wrong here.  I need help.  I've been going over the Stores
Division local-store accounts and I can't figure it out."

"Let me guess," Cliff replied.  "We've got too much money in the
store accounts?"  She looked at him, amazed.  He just grinned and
continued, "We've got about seventy-five stores around the
country, each with its own account.  They're run on an imprest
basis at amounts ranging from $2,000 to $5,000.  That means they
run like petty-cash accounts.  The balance we carry on our books
is fixed, and we balance it against deposits and payments.  I
guess the large majority are around the $2,000 level, so our
total book balance on the accounts is around $200,000 or so.  Am
I close?"

"It's $225,000," Sandy said, still puzzled.

"Okay," he continued, "Each store deposits its receipts into its
account each day.  We clean out the accounts from here.  So I
guess you're puzzled because you found about $25 million or so in
accounts that are supposed to have about one-tenth of that?"

Sandy looked stunned.  "It was over $30 million!  Didn't I do
something wrong?"

"Not at all.  You just found the money to pay for reconditioning
our production equipment and then some."  His smile widened into
a grin.  "Now what do I get for solving your problem?  Something
nice, I hope?

"Sandy, I've been teasing you.  I did a little checking awhile
ago and expected about what you found.  It works this way: 
First, the $2,000 level is fixed.  The people in accounting who
balance our bank statements never look at the absolute numbers,
they just reconcile them.  Our typical store does about $50,000 a
week in volume but we only clean out the accounts and bring the
money in once a month.  Assuming four-week months -- and there
are 4.3 weeks, actually -- an account with a nominal $2,000 has
about $200,000 at the end of the month.

"Then with the usual accounting delays, it's probably mid-month
in the following month before a check is written to bring the
account back to its imprest level.  But by that time, there's
another two week's deposits, or $100,000.  Keep in mind, I'm
rounding low.  First, there are 4.3 weeks, not four, and I'm not
allowing for clearing times.  We could easily be three weeks into
the new month before the check hits the bank.  So, when our
accounting says an account is back to $2,000 it is really still
greater than $150,000.  How does that sound?"

"It sounds like I hope our children get their brains from their
father, not their mother!"  Suddenly, Sandy glared at him. 
"Clifford Fitzpatrick, you are a beast!  You can access all my
data on your computer screen and probably did.  You knew I was
going over and over these numbers, and you never said anything! 
You just wanted to see me suffer.  I hate you!"

"Golly!" Cliff said with a grin, "You didn't hate me last night.
In fact, I would have to say you were... quite affectionate."

She put her nose in the air.  "That was different.  I was so
frustrated, I needed some affection.  You lured me to your bed
under false pretenses!  It doesn't count."

He tried to look puzzled but his grin kept breaking through. 
"Lured?  Gee, I sort of remember being attacked by a slim young
woman who wasn't wearing many clothes... any clothes at all, as a
matter of fact.  I guess it must have been someone else."

She gave him a light kiss.  "It had better have been me!  Anyway,
Clifford Fitzpatrick, back to the mundane.  Given the glint I saw
in your eye, there's an easy way to handle the problem.  What is
it, so I don't have to reinvent the wheel?"

"There are a couple of things we need to do first.  Number one:
How are we coming on the proposals from the big banks?  Number
two: I've got to check with Steve Muller on that West Coast store
chain that's interested in buying our units."

"As far as the banks are concerned, I've received proposals from
all except one," she replied.  "As it stands now, the best offer
by far is from Bank of Chicago.  They're committing to a $50
million line of credit, as well as being prepared to work with us
on our cash management program."

"Okay, here's what we're going to do," Cliff said.  "We'll get
depository transfer checks and shift the store accounts to
deposit only.  When the store manager makes his deposit, the form
he uses combines a deposit slip with a no-signature transfer
check.  There's a postage-paid envelope he uses to mail the check
to a regional clearing bank.  The regional bank wires each day's
collections to our principal bank.  This way the full amount of
the deposit is taken out each day.  We could even fine-tune it
after it's up and running, by running a negative book balance
with the deposit banks depending on how good or bad the mail
service is.  But that comes later.

"Miss Treasurer, it sounds like you just picked up about $30
million.  There's one more thing.  For any local payments the
store manger writes checks on a zero-balance account at Bank of
Chicago; for payroll, we'll do something similar, although we'll
need local paying banks to cash the paychecks.  Several states
don't look kindly on what they see as playing games with their
voters' paychecks."  He looked at her and smiled.  "How does it
sound to you?"

"It sounds like we're in some money," she replied.

Just then there was a knock on the door.  Bill Stevens came in
with a load of papers.  "Cliff, I got the information you asked
for.  The machine tool company's estimate just came in.  It came
to just under $6 million!  Now where in hell are we going to get
that kind of money?"

"Our esteemed treasurer has already taken care of your problem. 
The key question now, Bill, is how long is it going to take for
repairs, particularly for the five operating machines?"

"Cliff, you're serious about the money, aren't you?" Bill said. 
Sandy and Cliff both nodded in unison.  "What do I need to do to
get the authority to move ahead?  I've got a couple of my guys
working on an investment proposal, but as financial writers,
they're pretty good operating people."

"What investment proposal?" Cliff asked.  "Those guys will take
more time writing the proposal than it will take to overhaul the
equipment!  Have you combed through the estimate?  Do you have
other quotes?"

"Yes, sir!  The estimate is complete.  The one we want to accept
is from the people who built the machines.  We got four other
prices, three of which were higher.  The fourth is a little lower
but we're not satisfied the company knows how to handle the
equipment we have.  It's at least semi-custom stuff, and I don't
think this is a time to learn-while-you-earn, particularly when
they would be learning on us."

"What do you say, Sandy?  Go for it?" Cliff asked.

She put her thumb up.  "Let's do it.  Bill, could you get me the
name of Micronics financial type?  That's the company isn't it? 
I may be able to save a few more dollars on payment terms.  I
understand they're about three times our size and very highly
rated for credit.  You wouldn't have any problem with at least a
partial prepayment, would you?"

"Not at all!  Anything that moves the project along faster has to
help.  I'll be right back."  Bill went back to his office, made a
phone call and came back with a slip of paper which he gave to
Sandy.  She looked at it and went to her office.  Thirty minutes
later she came back with a big grin on her face.  Bill and Cliff
were reviewing the staffing proposals:  Neither was happy with
the picture that emerged.  They both looked up when Sandy
returned.

"I think I just saved between $120,000 and $150,000," Sandy said
proudly.  "I agreed to a $2 million payment up front, in return
for a four-percent credit.  Then we're getting 2 percent for cash
on the balance.  I agreed to pay invoices within ten days by
Federal Reserve wire.  And I was invited to join the Association
of Corporate Treasurers.  Bill, the slip you gave me said M. A.
Kahn.  It turns out the M is for Marcia."

She glared at Cliff and added, "And as for you, you have been
holding out on us again.  It seems Marcia is a fan of yours,
having read several cash management articles you wrote... which,
of course, you neglected to mention."

The glare changed to a grin.  "She asked me to give you her very
best wishes for a great success at Murphy, and she's delighted
we're working with her company again.  Incidentally, Bill, she's
going to get her people on this right away.  It seems there's
nothing like a chunk of cash up front to stimulate a supplier's
interest.  A crew could be here as early as this afternoon.  Are
you ready for them?"

"I'll call my guys who are sweating on that investment proposal
and liberate them.  We should be all set.  Sandy, I think you
ought to know what we've been talking about.  There are going to
have to be major work realignments on the shop floor.  Over the
last few days a junk dealer has been taking away that dead
inventory.  It'll mean an asset write-down on the balance sheet,
but actually, we're way ahead.  Incidentally, you'll be getting a
big check from the scrap company.  We don't have the final
numbers, but they've been hauling it out as fast as they can load
trailers.  We're getting about 30 tons to a trailer, and I
suspect we're already over 500 tons.  The price per ton isn't bad
at all.

"The problem, though, is all the quality checkers.  Believe it or
not, it turns out we really do have two people checking for every
person making!  It is far worse than anyone thought.  Cliff and I
agree there will have to be a major layoff.  There's just no way
normal attrition will take the work force down to where it needs
to be.

"Cliff, how about if Sandy calls a meeting of the Grievance
Committee?  Normally, we only have the regular meetings plus any
the union asks for.  But we have the right to call for one
ourselves, although I don't think we ever have."

"It makes a lot of sense to me, Bill," Cliff replied.  "Sandy,
why don't you check with Max and explain what we want to talk
about.  He may want to bring a somewhat different group of people
with him."

Sandy agreed and went off in the direction of the shop floor.

When she returned, Cliff was alone in his office reviewing
customer reports and planning on a trip to visit key customers
starting with Magna Motors.  He didn't like what he was seeing. 
A major change from the Flood days was that the sales reports
read very differently now.  It was clear Flood didn't like to
receive bad news.  As a result, the sales reports used to read as
if Pollyanna had written them: "Every day, in every way, things
are getting better and better!"  Following the planning meeting,
it was clear the sales force had taken the need for accurate
market intelligence to heart.

There had been a sudden and dramatic change in the tone of the
reports.  The one on Magna, particularly, scared him.  The list
of product complaints was too long, particularly coupled with
Murphy's prices, which, while a bit lower than Ajax's, were not
low.

Before turning to Sandy and the union, he called Bill Stevens
again.  "Bill, it's Cliff.  I'm going to visit Magna Motors in
the next couple of days.  What can I tell them about product
quality?  How soon will we be able to make promises?"

"I'm not sure, Cliff."  Bill replied thoughtfully.  "What does
Sandy say about meeting with the union?  It's largely up to the
workers... and I'm not confident about their morale at all!"

"Last question," Cliff continued.  "When will the revamped
cafeteria be ready?  With the upcoming layoff, it's more
important than ever."

"With a little overtime, we can be all set on Monday.  How's
that?"

"That's great, and do it.  I'll get back to you after Sandy and I
talk."

Sandy was seated in a chair waiting for him to get off the phone.
 When he hung up, she said, "Cliff, they can meet at four this
afternoon, and I set it up.  I heard you ask about the cafeteria.
 Could we hold the meeting there?  I'd like to get the workers as
comfortable as possible, because the subject matter is going to
be rough."

Cliff called Bill again.  "Can the cafeteria be in shape for a
union meeting at four?  We could start with a little
show-and-tell.  If we can reopen formally on Monday, we ought to
be in pretty good shape now."

"Can do, Cliff.  You might pass the word to the union folks
though, so they don't bother to dress up."

Sandy made the call and was back quickly.  "What are we going to
tell them, Cliff?  There are some people who are going to be very
upset."

"I wish I knew."  He smiled at her.  "Trust me?  I don't have the
faintest idea what either of us is going to say.  I _do_ know the
situation we're looking at is real.  We're not trying to pull a
fast one on anybody.  Care to wing it with me?"

Instead of answering, she climbed on his lap, put her arms around
his neck and gave him a long, lingering kiss.

* * *

They were waiting in the cafeteria when the union representatives
came in.  Clarence Budd was obviously nervous, not knowing what
to expect from the meeting.  Bill and Janet Simmons gave a tour
of the revamped facility.  Since it had been in operation while
the renovation was in progress, Janet focused on the
behind-the-scenes changes that they were less likely to be aware
of.  Kaufman liked what he saw and said so.  Janet's people had
set up a table for them in the back of the room, and they all sat
down while Janet went in back to rejoin her staff.

Sandy opened the meeting.  After the formal segment, she turned
her notes face down on the table.  "Max, we've got a problem. 
Its dimensions just became clear this morning and we wanted you
and your people to hear it from us as soon as possible.  This is
the Grievance Committee, and I'm not even sure it's the right
forum.  That's why I talked with you this morning about the
subject matter."

Sandy had already noticed that the union group had five more
people than it had had the previous time.  "It's not a grievance,
it's a layoff.  Bill will explain it to you."

Stevens reviewed for the union people the findings of the
planning session.  They had all seen the stale product being
trucked out and a crew from Micronics was already busy
dismantling one of the good machines.  This brought Bill to
individual responsibility and inspections.  "Guys, believe it or
not, we really do have twice as many people inspecting as we have
making.  There are some companies that brag about things like
that.  We are no longer among them.  What we want to do is make
each person responsible for his own quality.  We're building up
the maintenance staff so we're not going to have the equipment
problems we have all been living with for so long.  Things should
be a lot better for all of us."

Then he explained how the statistically-based quality control
system would work, and finally came to the layoffs: "What it
means is nearly half the work force is looking at a layoff.  We
can't figure out a productive way to use them.  What we've been
doing is living with poor raw-materials utilization and terrible
scrap rates, combined with lousy delivered quality.  The company
can't survive that way."

Bill looked very unhappy as he said, "How do you want to proceed
now?"

Kaufman looked around the table at his people.  They were visibly
upset by the news they had just received.  He asked if they could
meet alone at the table for a few minutes.

Cliff rose to his feet, followed by the other management
participants.  "Max, we're going to get some coffee and take it
out on the floor.  Why don't you ask one of your people to come
and get us whenever you're ready?  There's no rush:  Take as much
time as you want.  Come on folks."

He got a cup of coffee in a paper cup and left followed by the
others.  He was amused to see Budd scurry off in the direction of
his office.  "I wonder who he's going to call," he said.  "I'll
bet it's the estate trustee,  Ezra Stiles.  Sandy, what about
Stiles?  We've still got about five months to go."

"I don't know, Cliff.  I don't think he's going to like what he
hears, but I think your contract is solid.  I don't think there's
anything he can do."

They walked around the plant and spent some time watching the
technicians from Micronics working on a machine tool.  Bill
talked with the crew chief and came back to report they had found
the machine in better shape than they expected so the price would
be adjusted downward, at least on the first unit.

Then they just continued to walk around the floor.  At one point
they were near the cafeteria and could hear the sound of angry
voices coming from inside.  "I don't like the sound of that,"
Bill said.

Cliff shrugged his shoulders.  He didn't, either, but there was
nothing he could do.

Sandy was looking very worried.  "I'm scared," she said finally.
"It's taking much too long.  They've been going at it for over an
hour."  They walked out to the parking lot in time to see
Clarence Budd scurrying towards his car.  Cliff noted it was well
back in the line indicating he hadn't arrived very early that
day.

"I don't like to see that, either," Sandy said.  "And he doesn't
look like he's going home."  She turned to Cliff, "I hope your
agreement with Stiles is as solid as I think it is!"

Suddenly, she grinned at Cliff and added, "Just because I own
this joint is no reason you need to pay any attention to me, but
I think Mr. Budd is about to be numbered among the missing,too."

Bill Stevens had looked at her in astonishment when she referred
to her ownership.  He knew it, of course, but didn't know Cliff
did.  "How long has this young man known about you, Sandy?"

"Since he was here about a week," she replied with a smile. 
"Jane spilled the beans, and frankly, I'm delighted she did." 
She took Cliff's arm in hers and squeezed.  "I've developed a
close working relationship with my new chief executive officer!"

Bill kissed her on the cheek.  "I noticed the way your eyes glow
whenever Cliff's in range.  And I always assumed the way he
looked at you was a function of a weak mind.  But I guess love is
like that sometimes."

He looked at the couple standing arm in arm.  "You know, the
Murphys would be very proud.  The two of you are going to be
taking this company places... very good places."  He put out his
hand to Cliff.  "Congratulations.  I assume this is your secret,
so of course I'll maintain it.  Nevertheless, I think you're a
very lucky guy.  She's a very special girl.  But looking at you,
I think you already know that."

"Thanks, Bill.  I appreciate it.  As far as being lucky, I
certainly know that, too."

He looked around, saw they were alone, and kissed her soundly. 
She ignored Bill and wrapped her arms around Cliff's neck and
melted into his arms.

Bill tapped them on the shoulder.  "Someone's coming."

Cliff checked his watch.  It was five-thirty; the union people
had been meeting for nearly an hour and a half.  He saw it was
Max, coming alone.  The union leader looked like he had been
through a fight, and from the sounds they had heard, he had.

He joined the three of them.  "Can we find a place to sit for a
few minutes?  I want to rest, brief you and let my guys cool
off."

They found a couple of small stacks of lumber to sit on, and
Cliff noticed that Sandy didn't even bother to look before she
sat down.  Obviously she felt this was no time to be dainty.

Max wiped his forehead with his handkerchief and looked at the
three of them.  "Where's Budd?  Is he going to be in the next
meeting?"

Sandy said, "No, Max.  And -- for you, alone -- I think he'll
soon be numbered among the missing.  Does that bother you?"

The union leader smiled for the first time.  "Not at all!  It
makes it simpler, in fact.  I'm going to level with you.  The
people trust Bill and they trust Sandy.  Cliff, you're the new
kid:  We don't know you.  On the other hand -- and I said this to
you at the time -- you sure started off right.  They're prepared
to give you the benefit of the doubt.  But they don't trust Budd
nearly as far as they can throw him... and at about 250 pounds,
that's not very far.

"I've got a deal to offer.  It's not a very good deal, but it's
the best I could do.  I guess you know we had a war in there.  It
was the old-timers like me against the kids.  You know unions: 
They are political organizations.  I'm kind of proud of our
local.  We are pretty democratic.  But there are times -- like
right now -- when I wish we weren't.  I trust you people.  I'm
convinced we are on the same team.

"The problem is talking to my people.  With seniority rules, they
say it's easy for me to trust you.  I've got more than enough
seniority to keep my job.  The kids don't.  They want to hit the
bricks.  We said the only thing that would get them is the
prospect of being the highest-paid people in the unemployment
line.

"Mr. Fitzpatrick, there are some of us who have learned to read
financial statements, too.  We also see the conditions: the lousy
product we ship, the machines that are so worn out they can't
maintain tolerances.  Yes, and the absurdity of two people
inspecting a single person's work.  We know we can't survive that
way.

"We heard a lot about what went on in the planning meetings.  It
wasn't supposed to be a secret was it?"  Cliff shook his head,
no.  "Everything we heard made sense.  If this can be made to
work, this company is going to survive and then prosper.  It will
be a much better place for us to work, and for the next
generation, too.  I don't disagree with a single damned thing
you're doing.  I only wish it had been done years ago.

"The kids don't understand, though.  Some of them don't know the
difference between a real job and make-work.  Worse, many of them
are economic illiterates.  If they see a number on a balance
sheet in seven digits or more, it's more money than the Mint. 
They don't realize how fast it can blow away in a big company. 
Anyway, you know there's been a fight in there.

"The best I could come up with is this:  We will allow you to
address a general meeting of the membership, any way you want. 
Give a speech, make a presentation, answer questions, whatever. 
It's up to you.  Then we put it to a vote and see what happens. 
What do you think?"

Bill Stevens was the first to speak.  "I guess that's what we'll
do then.  Max, I'm going to impose on you one more time.  Who do
you think should speak?"

"Bill, I think you all should.  Look, I know there are only a few
of us who know who Sandy really is.  I'm going on what you've
told me.  The company's back is to the wall.  I believe you.  The
kids think this is an impersonal big corporation like Magna
Motors and Ajax Industries.  I think we just have to let it all
hang out.  Let them know there is a Murphy that owns this
company.  Let me ask you, what are the risks of doing it?"

Sandy swallowed hard.  "Max, when is the meeting?  You're putting
me on the spot, you know?  This is for your ears only:  The
problem is, I don't control the Murphy stock formally until
October 1, and that's almost four months away.  Right now, Ezra
Stiles votes it as trustee.  While you were meeting, Budd
scurried out to his car and went off... somewhere.  We're pretty
sure it wasn't home, and our guess is it was to see Stiles.  I
know Charles Purcell was a Stiles informant in the company.  He
and Budd were as thick as thieves, so I wouldn't be surprised if
he is, too.

"The problem is, we don't know what Stiles _could_ do!  Frankly,
the answer could be nothing, but it could be a lot.  I had my
personal lawyer review Cliff's contract.  He considers it
unbreakable.  However, it _can_ be litigated, and that could be
just as bad, or possibly worse.  If Stiles got some friendly
judge to issue a restraining order, even if we ultimately win in
court we're tied up in the meantime.  And we can't afford to be
distracted right now, let alone tied up.  Max, it's the company
I'm worried about, not me.  Can I think about it and talk it over
with these guys first?"

"When is the meeting, Max?" Cliff asked.  "I would like to get it
over with as soon as we can."

"How about Thursday evening?  I think that's about as soon as we
could schedule it.  Sandy, please think about what I said. 
Everyone knows and trusts you.  I understand your problem.  I
just hope you'll be able to find a way."

The group went back to the cafeteria.  It was obvious to the
three management people that tempers on the union side had not
completely cooled down.  They had a very brief meeting with Max
formally presenting the union offer of a meeting which was
accepted for Thursday evening.

The meeting adjourned, and the three went back to Cliff's office.
 "May I ask Janet to join this seance?" Bill said.  "It seems to
me there are two things to think about:  The first is how
important Sandy's participation will be to the workers.  I think
Janet could be a big help.  She has a good feel for things like
this.  The second is Stiles, and neither of us can comment on
that one."

"It makes sense to me, Bill," Cliff replied.  "What do you
think?" he asked Sandy.

She nodded agreement and Bill went off to get Janet.

Then Sandy picked up the phone and called Ezra Stiles.  As she
guessed, he was still in his office.  "Hi, Uncle Ezra!" she said.
 Although her voice was bright, she made a face to Cliff.  "We
had an interesting meeting with the union today."

She listened for a few moments.  "My, you get your information
quickly!  I'm impressed."  She made a thumbs down sign to Cliff
as Stiles continued to talk.  Finally he stopped speaking and she
continued, "The reason for the call concerns my inheritance.  I
haven't said anything, but you know quite a few people know that
the Murphy family is only me.  Is it supposed to be a secret?  I
can't recall ever asking you before?"

She had earlier motioned to Cliff who had picked up the phone on
her desk.  When Bill returned with Janet, on impulse he turned on
the speaker feature on the phone so all three could listen.  The
speaker was on as Sandy asked her last question.

"No, Sandy," Stiles replied.  "There's absolutely nothing in the
will or anything else I know of regarding maintaining your
inheritance as a secret.  It's just something we've done going
back to when you went to work for MacDougal.  If I remember
correctly, it was your idea, wasn't it?"

"I think so, Uncle Ezra.  As a matter of fact, I'm sure of it
now.  I only wanted to check to see if there was a more
compelling reason, and you say there's none at all, right?"

"That's right, Sandy.  There's none at all."

She concluded the conversation and hung up as the others came
into the room.  "I'm glad you were listening.  Did you all hear
his reply?" she asked.  They all had and said so.  "I don't know
why, but I have a feeling it's important that you all heard it. 
Particularly Bill and Janet: you're impartial.

"That's one thing out of the way, though.  I can talk.  Now
should I?  Cliff, I'm most concerned about you.  I would rather
cut off my arm than do anything that would be seen as undermining
your authority.  What do you think?"

"None of us have had a chance to talk about what Max said, but
personally, I agree with him.  I would like you to speak.  You're
a real person: the owner.  I'm the boss: hired help.  I think
they'll listen to me, but I think you can swing them.  My vote is
for you to speak.  Janet, Bill had the excellent idea of asking
you to join us.  What do you think?"

"Sandy, I agree with Cliff.  Bill told me some of what Max told
you earlier.  You can't believe how economically ignorant some of
these kids are!  If an amount is more money than they ever carry
in their _pocket,_ for heaven's sake, it's more money than the
Mint.  'The union will take care of me.  We have a contract!'  As
if the contract will magically produce the money to fund it.  I
think you should."  Janet continued, "I have a question, though.
What's the risk?  Aside from Stiles, I mean.  Maybe I'm missing
something."

Bill spoke up: "I think Janet has said it all, and raised the
real question:  Why not?"

Sandy looked at Cliff speculatively.  "I don't think it will
change the way you feel about me.  I guess there is no reason.  I
just had this idea of playing secretary to try to learn how a
company works.  I guess I ought to see about joining the Junior
League or something.  Okay, I'll do it."  As she spoke the words
she looked very dejected.

Cliff thought the time had come to let the cat out of the bag a
little more.  "Darling, I hope you'll stay.  You are not just
Assistant to the President, you're the assistant general manager.
 Everyone sees it.  I've heard it said that we seem to be two
people sharing a single brain.  I've had the eerie experience of
starting a sentence and having you finish it... in the same words
I would have used.  Do we have to cripple the company?  Can't the
Junior League wait awhile?"

She had been looking at him as he spoke.  By the time he
finished, she was beaming.  Instead of answering, she put her
arms around his neck and kissed him slowly and lovingly.  When
they finally broke, Janet gave Cliff a kiss and then kissed
Sandy.

Cliff was surprised to see tears in the older woman's eyes.  She
had her arm around Sandy's waist as she looked at Cliff and said,
"I've been a widow a long time, Cliff.  I remember when Sandy's
parents were killed.  My God!  That was nearly fourteen years
ago.

"You probably gathered that Sandy grew up at the plant.  I tried
to be a mother to her, and I still think of her as my little
girl.  She even used to bring her report cards to me.  I've been
waiting so long for the right guy to come along.  Cliff, she's
really a one-man woman, and I think you're the lucky man.  I
think of her as my daughter, and I'm so proud of her... of both
of you."

"Mom," Sandy said after kissing the woman, "when are you going to
let Bill Stevens make an honest woman out of you?  Will you do it
if I tell you Cliff and I are going to be married?  We are."

"Looking at the two of you together, that's certainly no
surprise!  Cliff, please take care of my little girl."

"Little girl, indeed!" Sandy said, feigning indignation.  "I'm a
five-foot eight-inch woman!"

"I certainly will," Cliff replied to Janet.  "I guess we're
agreed, then.  Sandy will give her talk.  Now the question is
what kind of talk do we give?  My thought is we keep it simple. 
I think anything elaborate -- a slide show, for example -- will
make the suspicious ones think we're trying to put something over
on them.  I think we do it best by keeping it as simple as
possible.  What do the rest of you think?"

"Let's do it!" Bill and Sandy said in unison.  Everyone laughed
at that point.

Cliff and Sandy went home to Sandy's apartment.  Cliff had moved
in, but had installed an unlisted phone number of his own.  The
phone in his apartment used the call-forwarding feature to divert
any calls for him to his phone in Sandy's apartment.  He used to
tease Sandy about "his and hers" telephone answering machines.

In bed that night he noticed Sandy was more relaxed.  He asked
her about it.  "I guess it's the fact that more things are coming
out into the open, Cliff.  I'm beginning to understand that, deep
down, it's bothered me to have to play a role."

"Does that extend to playing wife?" Cliff teased.

She ran her hands over his body, and snuggled closer.  "I can
live with that," he heard her murmur, "And I plan to, for a long,
long time!"

* * *

Thursday morning there was more news from Max Kaufman.  The
meeting was scheduled for eight in the evening.  And in spite of
their differences, the union people had united in keeping the
subject quiet.  They didn't want the press to hear of it.  It was
scheduled at a nearby hall the union often used for membership
meetings.

Bill, Sandy and Cliff went over to the hall together.  Sandy had
given a lot of thought to her clothing for the evening, and
finally wore a simple beige dress that looked very good on her. 
Max called the meeting to order.  They had agreed that Bill would
speak first, followed by Cliff, and ending with Sandy.

Bill explained the situation in the plant quickly and succinctly.
 Then Cliff got up and spoke about the layoffs.  He finished his
speech by saying, "I'm sorry about this.  It's certainly not your
fault, but it isn't mine, either.  I came in and found the mess.
We just can't survive if we try to have one person producing and
two people inspecting what he's produced.

"We're going back to the way things used to be.  You people are
craftsmen!  You're good.  You know how to do it right, and we're
upgrading the equipment to make it possible.  Why in hell do we
need _two_ people looking over your shoulders?  It wasn't that
way when John Murphy, Sr., founded this company.  And it's not
going to be that way when his granddaughter, Sandra Donnell, gets
control of her stock.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I think you all know Sandy.  Not many of
you know she _owns_ this company!  Or at least, two-thirds of it.
 Sandy?"

Sandy got up and went to the podium.  Cheers, particularly from
the old timers, rang out in the hall.  She had no prepared
speech, so she just waited for the hall to quiet down.  Finally,
it did.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm here tonight for two reasons.  First,
to say that I've been involved every inch of the way in the
decisions Bill and Cliff reviewed with you.  I don't like it any
more than you do.

"But my job is to save this company!  We are in tough shape right
now.  If our competitors had the slightest hint of how bad things
are, I would fear for _all_ your jobs.  Some of you think owning
a company is easy:  All the owner does is cash the dividend
checks.  It's never that easy.  I started to work in this plant
ten years ago when I was only sixteen.  I have a union card.  I
operated machine tools... although not even Cliff knows that. 
I've personally performed just about every job there is in this
plant, certainly all the grubby ones.  There are a lot of
familiar faces here who can tell you that what I just said is
true.

"Well, what I'm telling you now is true, too:  We have to have
these layoffs.  It's why managers get paid what they do.  It's
not to make the easy decisions.  It's to make the tough ones. 
This is a tough one, believe me.  It's got to be.  For those of
you directly affected, I'm sorry.  With luck, we'll build this
company back to where it ought to be and you'll all be rehired. 
That will be one of the happiest days of my life.

"Until then, let's hope.  Let's work to make it happen!  Let's
work to re-create all those jobs!"  There were tears visibly
running down her cheeks as she finished.

She stood up straight looking out over the hall as some men rose
and started to applaud.  The applause spread.  Soon, the entire
hall was on its feet applauding the young owner.  There were no
cheers, no whistles.  They were applauding someone they felt was
on their side.

They had been prepared to spend most of the time fielding
questions.  Max joined Sandy at the podium and waited as the
applause wound down.  "Are there any questions?" he shouted. 
There was silence in the hall.  "This meeting is adjourned!" he
declared.

As he held Sandy's arm to guide her back to the others, he could
see the tears still rolling down her cheeks.  She went into Max's
arms and he held her.  "Sandy, thank you.  No one else could have
done what you just did.  It worked because there are too many
guys out there who know you and know it's true.  I had forgotten,
but now I remember you on your hands and knees scrubbing wash
rooms.  You did do all the grubby jobs.  Did you ever wash dishes
in the cafeteria, though?"

Sandy smiled through her tears and held up her hands, "How do you
think they got this awful?"

Max took them in his.  "They look awfully good to me.  I guess
you recovered."

He looked at the others.  "We scheduled a vote for tomorrow but I
think you won it tonight.  Sandy, let's get those jobs back. 
Okay?"

Cliff had loaned her a handkerchief, and she was drying her eyes.
 She gave him back his handkerchief and put her hand out to Max.
"It's a deal!  Let's make it happen quick."

The vote the next day was a formality.  The strike vote was
heavily defeated.  Subsequently, Sandy got a call from Ezra
Stiles.  He pointed out to her that she had revealed herself as
the Murphy heir, and that was contrary to the spirit, if not the
letter, of the will.

Again, Cliff was listening as she responded, "Mr. Stiles, that's
interesting.  I asked you that very question a few days ago.  You
said there was no problem.  It's curious, too, Ezra.  There were
three other people who heard you tell me that, so I would suggest
you not try to make an issue of it.

"Incidentally, it has become necessary to terminate Mr. Budd as
personnel director.  We were planning on giving him six-months
pay in lieu of notice.  Do you think that's fair enough?"

Stiles agreed that it was.  He hung up, obviously miffed that his
plan had been circumvented.

Cliff pretended to be stern.  "Miss Donnell, hiring and firing
are the prerogatives of the chief executive.  Are you presuming
to encroach?"

Before she could say anything, he had her in his arms, and kissed
her.  She could feel her knees buckle as she clung to him.  When
they separated, her eyes were glazed.  Although Cliff tried
teasing her again, all he got from her was a loving
murmur.*Chapter 9*

Cliff was visiting Jack Crowther, vice-president of purchasing at
Magna Motors in Troy, Michigan.  The meeting was not going well.
Crowther had reviewed the business Magna had given to Murphy and
the reasons for it.  Then he dropped the bomb: "Cliff, I'm sorry
you came over today.  You would have received the word in
Milwaukee tomorrow.  We're cutting off Murphy as a supplier,
effective at the end of your current order.  I guess that's in
about three or four weeks.  I'm sorry, Cliff, but your quality is
not nearly good enough.

"Until now your prices were lower than Ajax, so we still gave you
some business.  But Ajax has just informed us they will meet your
prices and deliver their quality.  I can't fight that.  Their
quality is substantially superior to yours.  I appreciate what
you told me about the upgrading you have in process, but I'm
afraid it's too late.  Ajax quality is here now.  It's a known
quantity.

"You hope to get there, and frankly, I hope you do, too.  We like
to have at least two suppliers for important products like those
you supply.  But I can't live with the level of rejects you've
been shipping me over the last few years."

The two men were alone in Jack's office.  Nevertheless, Crowther
looked around and then continued in a confidential tone, "Cliff,
we have done business with Murphy since your company got started.
 We feel we owe you, so I'm going to tell you something that
could get me fired.  We're alone, so if you even hint at it, I'll
flatly deny anything was ever said.

"Cliff, did you have something going with George Simpson's
daughter?"  Cliff admitted that he did.  Crowther nodded and
said, "Simpson hates you with a passion!  We were told that price
was not an issue.  Ajax would match your price at _any_ level. 
Then the son of a bitch starts yelling that no one could say
goodbye to his daughter."  He looked at Cliff thoughtfully, "Did
you?"

Cliff didn't know what to say.  He found Jack to be a very
straightforward guy, a guy he would like to work with.  Since he
knew much of the story anyway, Cliff saw no harm in telling him
the rest.  "Jack, she referred to me as her fiance.  I _never_
proposed marriage -- or anything else -- to her.  Then I met
Sandra Donnell.  Jack, I'm madly in love with her.  She's... 
Well, she's going to marry me."

Then commenting on the cancellation, he added, "Jack, I can say
just one thing.  We're going to beat Ajax on price _and_ on
quality.  I've been at Murphy for less than two months.  My
people know you're right... unfortunately.  I'm sorry this has
happened, but I understand.  I hope you'll see me when I come
back in a few weeks with guaranteed higher quality.  Will you?"

"I sure will, Cliff.  Just between us, George Simpson is an
insufferable son of a bitch.  I don't like him, but more
importan, _we_ don't like him.  He does deliver reliable quality,
though.  But do you hear what I'm saying?"

Cliff nodded, left the office and went to a pay phone.  He called
Sandy back in Milwaukee.  "Hon, the roof  just fell in.  We just
lost the Magna Motors business.  I don't have to tell you where
that leaves us."

There was silence for a few moments.  Then Sandy said, "Cliff,
I'll tell Steve immediately.  I guess we'll just have to hustle
for business to try to make it up.  Darling, I love you and miss
you.  Please, may I pick you up at the airport tonight?"

"Honey," he replied, "I would love it.  You have the flight
information.  I'll call you at the office or at home if anything
changes."

When Cliff hung up, Sandy called Steve Muller.  "Could you come
in here right away?"  He said he'd be right there, and moments
later was.  Meanwhile Sandy was on the phone to the Bank of
Chicago, and Charley Adams.  "Charley, this is Sandy Donnell. 
I'm calling to alert you that we're going to be drawing into our
line next Monday.  The first take-down will be $25 million.  Does
that cause you any problems?"

"Of course not, Sandy.  And since you called, I want to thank you
again for your business.  You and Cliff told me what you would
do, and you're doing it precisely as you laid it out.  I
appreciate it and so does the bank's top management.  I also
appreciate the courtesy of the phone call.  You'll have the $25
million in your account on Monday morning."

She went into Cliff's office and went behind his desk with Steve
following.  She felt it was time to act like the alter ego Cliff
had said she was.  "Steve, I've just had terrible news from
Cliff:  Magna has canceled it's order.  The business we ship on
the present contract is the end.  You know as well as I do that
it's over 50 percent of our volume.

"Fortunately, we're in an excellent cash position.  I just picked
up another $25 million from the bank.  Along with the savings
from the layoffs, the cash management pick up, and the money from
the sale of our stores, we're in good shape that way.  But,
Steve, we've got to get some new business."  She avoided a grim
facial expression as she spoke to him.  "I wanted to tell you
alone.  Now what do you want to do?  My inclination is to have a
council of war in the board room with whichever senior people you
have in the office today.  Do you agree?"

As Steve looked at her, he realized three things.  First, she
wasn't panicking.  Second, she was doing exactly what he figured
Cliff would do if he were here.  Finally, she owned the place,
but most importantly, she _knew_ it.  "Let me get the guys
together, Sandy.  Could we meet in thirty minutes?  I may be able
to reach some more people who aren't in the office right now. 
And thanks for telling me alone.  I appreciate it."

Thirty minutes later Sandy was standing in the board room with an
easel pad set up.  Steve and Jane came in.  Jane told her how
sorry she was.  Looking into Sandy's eyes she saw that her
ex-roommate was quite calm.  Jane gave her hand a warm squeeze
and took a seat.  In a few minutes there were seven senior sales
and marketing people in the room.

Sandy began with her voice grim, "I just received very bad news
-- the worst possible news.  Magna Motors has canceled its
contract with us.  With the cancellation goes over half our
volume.  I'm sorry to tell you so baldly but there's no way I
know to sugarcoat news like this.  All we can do is pull up our
socks... or our stockings," she said, smiling at Jane, "and get
more business.  But where are we going to get it?"

Jane was the first to speak.  "Sandy, I have an idea but it's so
far out, I need some help.  Could we get Bill Stevens and Max
Kaufman in here, quick?"

Sandy didn't ask questions.  She called the shift superintendent
and said she needed to see Max Kaufman in the board room
immediately.  She then called Bill's office.  In moments the two
men arrived in the room.  Sandy quickly briefed them on Cliff's
message.  Then she turned back to Jane and said, "Okay, roomy. 
You have your audience.  What now?"

Jane plunged right in.  "Last week I met with Kenichi Saito, the
general manager of the Kaga Motors plant in Michigan, along with
his top people.  It was a fascinating meeting.  At the beginning,
I didn't know whether to bow or shake hands, and neither did
they.  It was odd.  As you know, we've never called on them
before.  It turns out no other American parts supplier has,
either.  The result was I didn't see the junior purchasing guy I
had an appointment with.  Instead, I saw Mr. Saito himself and
his entire executive staff!

"They were surprisingly pleased to see me.  It seems they have
two major problems:  The first is the distance from their
suppliers in Japan.  The lead times for ocean transport are
murderous.  The result is there are a lot of parts shipments that
come by air: JAL to Anchorage and then on to Detroit.  I don't
have to tell you what that costs!  The second problem is the very
strong Japanese yen.  They are producing cars here to avoid
getting killed by incurring yen costs and selling in dollars. 
Net, they're very interested in working with us.

"But there's a very big 'but'.  They are used to zero defects and
just-in-time shipments.  The way it's supposed to work is that
when they're down to the rings and valves to assemble about two
more engines, a truck drives up with more rings and valves.  I'm
exaggerating obviously, but not by very much.

"Frankly, the service and quality they're used to is what Cliff
is trying to gear the company to provide to all our customers. 
The question is, Mr. Stevens and Mr. Kaufman, dare we try for it
now?  I can virtually guarantee us an order. _One!_  Can we
produce against it?  It's scary.  I didn't even tell this to the
father of my future children."

She looked at Steve and said plaintively, "I'm sorry, honey.  I
was scared.  I thought I would put it on the back burner and save
it for when we were really doing what we all know we can and
should do.

"Dare we go for it now?  Remember, this is all or nothing.  I
don't see us getting two trips to the plate.  We get a hit or we
forget it."

Sandy's face had been impassive throughout Jane's recital.  When
Jane finished, she looked at Bill Stevens.  "Bill, you heard our
key accounts manager.  We have a shot at a major new account. 
What's the status of our production equipment right now?"

Bill swallowed hard and said, "We've got six machines in A-1
condition: better than new.  I'll have a seventh next week and
could have the eighth the week after.  Whether we'll need all
ten, I don't know.  But Sandy, we have an important friend at
Micronics.  If we ordered new machines, I think we could get two
brand new ones in one hell of a hurry.  Our statistical quality
control is in place -- on paper.  We've done it for practice, but
I've been waiting for Cliff before we shift over.  I guess that's
about it."

"Thanks, Bill.  Make the move to the full-bore statistical
control effective with the next shift.  Now, Max, it comes down
to the people.  It's up to the machine operators.  They've got to
do what we all know they can do.  They'll be making different
valves and rings, but they still power internal-combustion
engines," she said with a grin, "so they can't be _that_
different.

"You know, Max, there's a lesson here for all of us.  Sales has
teed up the ball.  The company has upgraded the tools to a
produce at a level of precision we haven't had in years.  I guess
I'm saying management has done all it can.  Now the question is
do the workers want their jobs?  If they do what they're capable
of doing, I mthink we'll make it.  If they don't, we're in deep
trouble.  We may fold.  We've just lost over half our sales
volume.  What do you say, Max?"

Max smiled at her.  "I say what I said a few weeks ago.  All the
Murphys would be proud... real proud.  Would you like to talk to
the men, Sandy?"

"No, Max.  Thank you.  There are two reasons:  First, if anyone
from management talks to the people, it has to be Cliff.  Second,
I don't think it should come from us at all.  It isn't an order.
It can't be.  I think it should come from you and your people in
the local."

Max was initially stunned by her reaction.  Then he realized the
significance of what she was saying.  He looked at her with deep
respect in his eyes.  "Thank you, Miss Donnell.  You're saying
the union represents the workers.  It's our job to make them see
where their own interests lie -- their personal interests.  I
like that, Miss Donnell.  I sincerely hope we make it.  This is
becoming a very interesting and a very good company to work for.

"Bill, could we have a special break so I can talk to the people
right now?  I assume Miss Miller is waiting to call Kaga, pending
the outcome, right?"

Sandy nodded, and Bill called the superintendent.  Moments later,
the plant whistle blew signaling stop work.  Max went down to the
shop floor followed by the rest of the people who had been in the
meeting.  While a portable PA system was being set up, Max
hurriedly briefed the other officers of the local before he went
to the podium and started speaking.

"Brothers and Sisters!  A few weeks ago we had a meeting.  We
talked abut the changes that were coming.  We heard that under
the new arrangement the workers would be responsible for quality,
not a bunch of inspectors.  We heard the owner, and we believed
her.

"Today, the company received terrible news.  Our contract to
supply Magna Motors has been canceled.  That's over 50 percent of
the company's sales.  It was canceled because of very poor
quality, by the way -- the very thing the new program is designed
to address.

"We can't blame management.  Mr. Fitzpatrick identified the
problems and moved to solve them faster than anyone would have
thought possible.  He was unlucky.  Magna didn't give him the
time to get our quality back to where it should be.  He's doing
all the right things, but he didn't come in here last year or the
year before.  He only came here a couple of months ago. 
Nevertheless, he has done what he said he would do:  Our
production equipment is better than it's ever been.  Our floor
layout makes sense for the first time in years.  Now it's up to
us.  It's _really_ up to us!

"We have one of the finest industrial sales organizations in
American industry.  The company's top salesman... saleswoman,
Jane Miller, has developed an opportunity for us.  I've heard you
all bitching about the damned Japanese.  How they work for coolie
wages... even when we know it's not true.  The fact of the matter
is we're jealous!  They build first-rate automobiles.  The fit
and finish are beautiful.  They don't rattle or fall apart.  They
are very well made is why.  We wish we could do as well, and we
know damned well we don't.

"Jane Miller has provided us with a new opportunity.  We have the
opportunity to supply rings and valves to Kaga Motors at its
plant in Michigan.  Now the question is, can we?  Are we good
enough craftsmen to build precisely to specification every damned
time?  Are we?  The equipment Miss Donnell has given us to work
with can.  But are we good enough?  There's a big risk.  I can't
stress this too much.  We have only one chance!  If we blow it,
it's gone for good.  If we make it, we've saved the company,
saved our jobs, and started on the road to more jobs to rehire
our brothers and sisters who were laid off.

"Today, I asked Miss Donnell to address you people.  She refused.
 She said the union speaks for the workers.  That's what we're
here for.  It's clear that management has done everything it can.
 Are we going to work to save our own jobs?  Are we going to
accept the challenge?  Can we perform as well as Japanese
workers?  Well, _can we?_  What do you say?"

There was a moment of quiet as the amplified sound of Max's voice
reverberated around the plant.  Then a cheer began.  It built as
more workers picked it up and made it louder.  In moments the
roof was shaking from the roar of noise.

At that point, Sandy went up to the podium.  She took Max's hand
and raised it up with hers.  She hit the PA's volume control and
yelled into the mike, "That's the answer I wanted to hear!  We're
going for it!"

Max took her around a corner where they could be heard.  The
cheering continued unabated.  "Sandy, you are a piece of work.  I
don't know what to say, except I'm very proud to be working for
you."  She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and went back up to
the office and the board room.

Everyone was present except Jane who came in a few minutes later
and said, "Sandy, you're going to have good news for Cliff.  I'm
going over first thing in the morning to work out the details of
the first order.  Incidentally, they didn't even ask about price.
 Their concerns are quality and shipment reliability.  It's not
Magna's volume, but it's a start."

They spent the rest of the afternoon reviewing their position
customer by customer.  By the end of the day, including an
estimate of Kaga's initial volume, they had recovered about half
the lost Magna volume from other customers.  The sales people
were set to move the next morning to convert the potential to
actual orders.

* * *

Sandy was waiting at the security barrier when Cliff came up the
concourse.  Her heart fell as she saw how defeated he looked. 
She spoke softly, "Hi!  Looking for a hot date for the evening,
mister?"

Cliff heard her and immediately perked up.  "I might be
interested.  Are you giving samples?"

She went into his arms and melted him with her kiss.  Passers-by
turned and gaped at the tall couple locked in a passionate
embrace.  Cliff gently eased her away to catch his breath.  "The
sample was okay -- no, to be fair, it was better than okay.  It
was... It was almost good."

He smiled tiredly, "It was great!  I must have looked about
knee-high to a snake's belly coming up the concourse.  At least,
that's how I felt.  How did you make out after my call?"

"Make out how?  I only make out with you, Clifford, and you
weren't even here," she replied with a grin.

"Sandra Donnell, I think I shall strangle you.  But I will give
you one more chance.  I can tell you what you did.  You called
Steve and told him.  Then you had a meeting in the board room
with all the sales and marketing people.  Then what happened?"

"How did you know?" she asked.

"Because it's what I would have done if I had been there, so I
know it's what you did.  Now quit screwing around and tell me
what happened."

"Can we stop in the bar so I can tell you in a more private
setting?"

They found a quiet table in the cocktail lounge that was very
quiet now that the evening peak for flights had passed and they
ordered beers.  Sandy told him about Jane's meeting with Kaga and
its requirements.  Then she told about the meeting with Bill and
Max, and finally Max's meeting with the membership.  Finally, she
told him about the Kaga order and the others that she thought
looked pretty good.

Cliff nodded and shook his head.  "I think it's a good thing you
told me here at the airport.  This way I can stay and get the
next connection to Hawaii.  You sure don't need me around the
office.  Honey, you were brilliant.  I love you dearly, but I
don't need a beer, I need you... badly!  Let's just go home,
okay?"

Sandy looked worried.  "Cliff, you're not too mad, are you?  All
I did was what I thought you would want me to do.  Was it all
right?"

"Honey, it was perfect!  You know, I just had a thought.  Neither
you nor Jane are bra-burning women's libbers, although neither of
you needs the bras you wear.  Nevertheless, you are sure
advancing the cause of women in business.  I'm particularly
impressed with what Jane did with Kaga.  That was absolutely
brilliant.  Can we go home and go to bed now?  Please? 
Otherwise, I'll check around the airport and see if I can get
some better offers."

Sandy had to pull Cliff out of bed the next morning to get ready
to go to work.  Neither had gotten any sleep to speak of. 
Whenever one had been about to fall asleep, the other would
initiate another round of lovemaking.  It had been a wonderful,
if sleepless, night.*Chapter 10*

Early the next week, Cliff had a rare staff meeting to review the
company's condition subsequent to the Magna cancellation.  He was
surprised to find that things were as good as they were.  The
sale of stores had progressed far faster than he had expected. 
They had concluded the sale of the western stores and a
surprising number of buyers -- three -- were interested in all or
parts of their northeastern properties.

The search for new business had gone remarkably well.  They had
made up almost half the lost volume.  But Cliff realized their
success was highly dependent on the success of the Kaga work. 
With the hoped-for Kaga volume added to the other new business,
they would have made up all of the lost Magna volume.  Everyone
had his fingers crossed on that one.

He turned to Jeff Stover.  "How do things look to you, Jeff?"

"Very good!" was the reply.  "We seem to be cutting raw material
waste to the bone.  Of course, we're saving big money on
personnel due to the staff reduction in production.  We hope to
cut sales allowances, too.  Then we've done a pretty good job on
below-the-line costs, as well.  We've shed some fairly
high-priced executive payroll.  Finally, Sandy's cash management
program has succeeded far beyond anything I would have believed
possible.  Between the sale of property and the cash freed up
there, we may even be cash ahead.

"Cliff, the key to this whole thing is the effect it's having on
our cost position.  When we looked at the business in the
planning session we were cost disadvantaged against Ajax and had
inferior quality.  I think we may now be the low-cost producer. 
I'm sure we're lower-cost than Ajax, at any rate.  Now the
question is product quality."

"Yeah," Cliff said, "Product quality.  Bill, what about it?  How
are we doing?"

"Cliff, we're doing better than I could possibly have hoped.  My
people have their fingers crossed.  We think the statistical
system for quality assurance is working, but we can't really tell
until the customers use the stuff.  But we couldn't have a better
attitude on the floor than we do now.  What we can't be sure
about is whether we can maintain it.  There's still a sense of
euphoria from the meeting Max ran.  The people still seem all
charged up.

"What we're hoping is that as the euphoria wears off -- and it
has to -- it will be replaced by a sense of accomplishment as
they see what they really can do on their own, without a
battalion of inspectors looking over their shoulders.  If a sense
of accomplishment comes, that _can_ be maintained.  Let's hope!"

Bill continued, "Cliff, I have a question.  You're the one guy
around here who doesn't seem to be surprised at our
accomplishments.  We always worked on a basis of redoubling our
inspection efforts and clearly that wasn't the way to go:  We had
the wonderful combination of sky-high costs and lousy delivered
quality.  Why did you think this approach would work?"

"First, Bill -- your choice of words is apt: 'You think'.  I
would have used the word 'hope' myself.  However, there are two
parts to the answer:  First it works elsewhere, and in places
requiring less skill than we require.  Second, but related to it,
is the idea people _want_ to do a good job.  We spend a lot of
our time working.  We do a hell of a lot better if we do
something we like, something that gives us satisfaction.  I'm
relying on these people to derive personal satisfaction from a
job well done.

"You can see that having bunches of people looking over your
shoulder can be counterproductive.  You feel that you aren't
being trusted.  And you know what?  You aren't!  It's easy for a
person to get the feeling that it doesn't matter whether his work
is good or bad.  Then it gets bad because he doesn't care
anymore.  Let's keep our fingers crossed and hope the experiment
works."

Then he turned to Sandy and asked, "Do you want to summarize? 
How does the position of the company look to you?"

"I think it looks about as good as it possibly could under the
circumstances.  In fact, based on what Jeff says, I'm going to
pay down the $25 million we borrowed from the bank.  Strangely
enough, Charley Adams will love us.  There's nothing quite like
having a customer paying interest on a loan when the money never
even left the bank.  From the sound of it we lost revenue but
reduced our expenses even more.  Is that right, Jeff?  Do you
think profits may be ahead of where they were?"

Jeff nodded and smiled.  "That's exactly the way I see it, Sandy.
 I didn't really say it very clearly because I know what a shock
the loss of the Magna business was.  And I also know how tenuous
our position is with Kaga.  But the fact is right now I believe
our profits are up.  If we lose out on the Kaga order, though,
things could change for the worse in a hell of a hurry.

"Also important is how well we do with our stores in Southern
Region.  We're spending a lot of money on warehousing, new
inventory and store upgrading.  Basically, that's marketing
spending.  As Cliff stressed in the meeting, the reason Market
Penetration as a strategy is considered very high risk is the
activities have little or no salvage value.  If we can't build
volume through the stores as a result of improving their physical
appearance, the money is essentially down the drain."

"Good point, Jeff," Cliff said.  "Steve, with your permission and
Jane's, I would like to visit Kaga Motors.  What's the general
manager's name?  Saito?"

"That's right," Jane responded.  "I'm sure he would be very
pleased to see you.  I'll set it up.  When would you like togo?"

"When is the first trial order scheduled to be shipped?"

"Tomorrow night to arrive at ten o'clock Thursday morning. 
You're not thinking..."

"I sure am thinking," Cliff smiled.  "What do you think about the
idea of being at their plant to welcome the first shipment of
Murphy Manufacturing's parts?  Would Mr. Saito allow it?"

"I'm almost certain he would," Jane replied.  "In fact, I think
he would consider it an honor.  You know how so many Japanese in
the States feel that they aren't really welcome?  I think he
would be very pleased.  Can I call him now?"

"Please do!  Let's see if we can make this work."

Minutes later Jane returned to the room grinning from ear to ear.
 "Mr. Saito asked me to say that he would be most honored if the
president of a major United States auto parts supplier
condescended to visit his humble facility.  And Cliff, that's
more or less a direct quote.  He was so excited, he referred to
welcoming Fitzpatrick-san to his plant.  Boss, you started me
thinking.  Would it be overkill if we tried to get a banner made
or something.  You know, 'First Shipment of Murphy Manufacturing
Company Parts to Kaga Motors, USA'.  Something like that?"

Bill Stevens jumped on the idea.  "I think it's great.  And I
have an idea I want to bounce off Max Kaufman if you approve the
banner idea."  Cliff grinned at his colleagues and was delighted
at their enthusiasm.  Plans went forward, although Bill never
told him what he wanted to see Max about.

It was about six-thirty in the evening when Cliff and Sandy
walked through the plant on their way to his car.  Sandy had
decided that everyone knew where they were sleeping and no one
seemed to care, so her contribution to the economy drive was her
gas money.  They both felt good about the way the whole facility
was starting to look.  Not only were the production machines
sparkling after their overhaul, but getting rid of dead inventory
had freed up a lot of space.  They had noticed that a lot more
attention was being spent on housekeeping to make the place look
like the precision manufacturing facility it was.

Then Cliff was surprised to see working lights still on in the
area of one of the production machines.  They walked over and
found Bill Stevens wth a machine operator.

Bill was looking at a bright set of rings he was holding
carefully in his hand.  "Cliff, I don't think you've ever met Jim
Wozlowski.  He's one of our machinists producing rings.  He
talked to his supervisor, and I'm really glad he did.  Jim has
been working on the Kaga order.  He has the idea that they could
get better engine performance if they used a different
metallurgical formulation for the ring metal.  This is another
benefit of your talk, Sandy.  Everyone took it to heart, and the
communication both ways has never been better.

"At any rate, Jim has been working on his own time to machine a
set of rings to Kaga specs, but using the different metal.  Our
tech people agree with Jim, by the way.  Of course, we don't know
nearly enough about the internal arrangement of their pistons,
operating temperatures, pressures and so forth.  We produce to a
specification, but we seldom know how the specification was
derived.  But what do you think?"

Cliff looked at Sandy and winked, then looked back at Bill and
Jim.  "I think it's great.  Jim, you probably know I'm going over
to meet the first shipment when it arrives at Kaga.  Do you
suppose we could get a fancy box -- you know, like a jewelry box?
-- and put a set of rings in it?  I would like to present it to
Mr. Saito.  And Jim, let's enclose a card.  I would like you
personally to sign it.  Sandy, could you help with the wording?"

As they continued their walk to the car, he said, "It's working.
Damn it!  It's working!  Let's pray it's good enough."

* * *

Jane and Cliff drove up to the entrance of Kaga Motors in a
rental car at nine-thirty Thursday morning.  He didn't know what
to expect except he knew they were most welcome.  When they
arrived at the main entrance to the plant office, they found Mr.
Saito and all his senior plant staff waiting outside to greet
them.  There followed the usual East-meets-West fumbling. 
Neither group was quite sure whether to bow or shake hands so
they ended by doing a bit of both.  The one constant was the very
rapid dealing of business cards among the people.

When they finished, Mr. Saito led them up to his office.  Cliff
had done business in Japan, and it was easier when there were
only three of them in Saito's office.  He bowed gravely to Mr.
Saito and presented him with a box wrapped in gay floral paper.

At the same time one of the general manager's senior assistants
appeared with two boxes which he placed on his boss's desk. 
Saito -- he informed Cliff his name was Kenichi, so please call
him Ken -- opened the box and saw the set of beautifully machined
rings.  Neatly folded on top was the letter Jim Wozlowski and
Sandy had prepared.  He unfolded it, carefully read it through,
and then read it again.  Then he carefully studied the rings
without touching them.  Finally, he presented gifts to Jane and
Cliff "as a small remembrance of your visit."

After they took seats Saito looked thoughtful and said, "Mr.
Fitzpatrick, I am very impressed with this gift.  Would it be
possible to get eleven more sets for testing?  They would be
shipped by air to our research center in Japan.  As you may know,
we work differently with our suppliers than your auto companies
do here.  We look for commitment.  We look for ideas.  It never
occurred to me that your people could possibly care enough about
us to think seriously about our requirements.

"I was wrong.  Mr. Woz... Wozel... Jim... thought a great deal. 
He is apologetic that he doesn't know our pressures,
temperatures, and so forth.  I will make sure you have a full set
of our technical data to bring back with you to Milwaukee.  This
counts for a very great deal with us.  Thank you very much, and
please thank him."

Just then they heard the loud squawk of a diesel truck's air
horn.  Cliff glanced at his watch, and noticed Saito did, too. 
They both smiled.  It was exactly ten o'clock as the truck with
the big red Murphy banner rolled into the yard.

Saito smiled and said, "Score another for your company, Mr.
Fitzpatrick.  It's clear you understand the way we work.  Ten
o'clock is ten: not eleven, but not nine-thirty, either."

"Ken, I would appreciate it if you would call me Cliff.  Everyone
does.  Now shall we go and inspect the shipment?"

It was obvious to Jane and Cliff that things were going as well
as they possibly could for them at Kaga.  Clearly, the things the
Murphy people had done were being received in the spirit
intended.  When they reached the truck, Cliff was amazed to see
Max Kaufman standing with the driver.

He presented him to Saito.  "Mr. Saito, it's my pleasure to
introduce you to Mr. Max Kaufman.  Mr. Kaufman is president of
the union at Murphy Manufacturing.  Frankly, I have no idea what
brings him over today.  Max, this is Mr. Kenichi Saito, general
manager of the Kaga Motors plant."

Cliff and Jane watched in amazement as Max made a deep bow to Mr.
Saito who gravely returned it.  Max then took a large scroll and
presented it to Saito who untied the ribbon securing it and
unrolled it.  Cliff was in a position to see it over Saito's
shoulder.  It was a handsomely prepared scroll that said the
workers at Murphy Manufacturing believed they were as dedicated
to quality as they knew the people at Kaga were.  Accordingly,
each of the production workers involved in the trial order from
Kaga had signed below, indicating his personal dedication to
producing the quality he knew Kaga expected and needed.

Meanwhile, the truck had backed up to the receiving dock and the
unloading had begun.  Cliff saw quality control inspectors
selecting random boxes to be opened for checking.  This was the
moment of truth.  Ken asked Max to join them and asked if he
could give them a tour of the plant, an invitation they gladly
accepted.  First, Cliff was interested, and second, it beat
sitting and chewing his nails while waiting for the inspection
report.

The facility was as clean, neat and organized as Cliff had
expected it would be.  Finally, they went back to Saito's office.
 There was a piece of paper in the center of his desk: the
verdict.  Saito studied it carefully.  "The shipment meets our
specifications.  Thank you very much."

He then reviewed the report with Cliff and Max.  It met spec...
but just.  They talked about ways to improve, and Cliff was
pleased to see Max was taking very careful notes.  Afterward,
they went to the cafeteria to eat.  As at Murphy, everyone in the
facility ate in the same place.

They returned to Ken's office and prepared to leave.  Then Saito
asked if Murphy had a fax machine, and Cliff said they did and
gave him its number.  He said it was the preferred method of
communication in his company.

Finally he said, "Thank you, Cliff, and you, Max, for coming
over.  It is premature, perhaps, but not by much, for me to tell
you that I sent a fax to Japan recommending that Murphy
Manufacturing be accepted as a regular supplier.  Jim's rings are
now on their way by air to Japan.  I will file a full report with
my headquarters.  I will tell you, though, they will be very
impressed.  The new metallurgy, whether it works or not, counts
for a great deal.  It demonstrates you are very interested inus.

"I gather, Cliff, you did not know Max was coming or that the
workers prepared the lovely scroll for us.  That, too, says
something very important to me and to Kaga Motors.  It says that
your people care about us as customers.  It says they care deeply
about Murphy, as well.  It is a tribute to you and your
management.

"Finally, may I congratulate you on being represented by Miss
Miller?  She has done the best job of any salesperson calling on
us in terms of taking the time to understand our requirements and
the reasons for them, and, in turn communicating these
requirements in Milwaukee.  We hope she will continue to call on
us.  Thank you so much for coming.  May I visit you, someday, in
Milwaukee?"

Cliff assured him he would be welcome at any time, and they went
back to the car.  When they were driving toward the airport, he
was the first to speak.  "Are you taking the plane?  If the wind
weren't in the wrong direction, the way I feel I could just float
back to Milwaukee.  Jane and Max, you've just saved the company.
That's all I can say."

Jane smiled at them both.  "Max, do me a favor?  Give me a big
whack on the back to start me breathing again?  Cliff, that has
to go down as the best day of my business career, bar none, and
at the same time, the most nerve wracking.  I feel like laughing
and crying at the same time... and if either of you even _thinks_
'emotional woman,' I'll kick you in the shins!"

"I know just how you both feel," Max said.  "You know, what came
to my mind was when my wife had our first child.  It was great
when it happened, but it was agonizing right before!

"I want to say something else:  Cliff, I was right about you...
more right than I knew.  You came into Murphy and did all the
right things from the very beginning.  Even some things, like
chopping the product line, that scared hell out of me.  The boys
and me...  Well, we know about your contract.  We know it has
performance requirements in it, although we don't know what they
are.

"Frankly, we don't give a shit.  I also know you and Sandy have
been coming and going in the same car, and I don't think it's a
car pool.  We do care about that.  We love it!  With you two
together, we really feel good about Murphy.  Damn, it feels good
to win one once in a while!"

"Max," Cliff said, "Let's drink to that!  I'm buying when we get
to the airport."*Chapter 11*

Three weeks had passed, and they were good ones for Murphy
Manufacturing.  As expected, two days after the visit to Kaga,
Cliff received a firm order for production quantities.  Quality
of production was even better as the crew got used to the new
system.  Finally, the previous Friday they had heard that the
preliminary tests on the new piston rings were very promising.

Cliff had asked for the PA system to be set up as it had been
when the Kaga order was first discussed.  He addressed the
workers this time.  "Folks, I have a letter I want you all to
hear.  It's from the managing director of Kaga Motors in Japan. 
He is writing to inform me we have been selected as the first
American auto parts supplier to be designated a preferred
provider for their company.  He continues by saying this
selection is based on a number of criteria:

"The first is product quality.  The trial quantity met their
specifications.  The first production shipment _exceeded them_...
substantially.  The second is timely delivery.  He says they do
not get as good service from their long-term suppliers in Japan.
But the final criterion is attitude.  Mr. Saito, general manager
in Michigan, sent to company headquarters near Tokyo the scroll
you people signed and sent with the first shipment.  That's
dedication, the very best possible attitude.  He wants me to tell
you that he and his fellow directors in Japan are mostimpressed.

"Finally, and this is the real reason for calling you all
together.  I am now quoting from his letter: 'Please extend our
deepest appreciation to Mr. Jim Wozlowski of your company. 
Preliminary tests indicate the rings Mr. Wozlowski fashioned may
be significantly superior to the ones we are now using.  My
technical people express their astonishment that Murphy
Manufacturing could possibly have workers who are so good and so
dedicated that they can improve on our design without even
knowing the technical specifications of our engine. 
Nevertheless, he seems to have done so.

"'Mr. Fitzpatrick, this indicates dedication to your company's
interests and to ours.  This is the finest possible attitude. 
Needless to say, if Mr. Wozlowski's ring is adopted, Murphy
Manufacturing will be the preferred worldwide supplier for them.
In addition, we will, of course, pay you a royalty on all rings
we use made from that design produced by any othermanufacturer.'

"Folks, all Miss Donnell and I can say is, thank you.  You are
doing what you set out to do.  Incidentally, where's Jim
Wozlowski?"  Jim waved his hand.  "What are you standing there
for, for chrissakes?  Your plane for Orlando leaves in only three
hours, and I hope to hell you're not going to go looking like
that.  As a very small expression of the company's appreciation,
we have first-class tickets for you and your entire family to
Florida and an all-expense paid trip to Disney World.  And Jim,
you'll get a significant piece of any royalties the company
receives.  Now get the hell out of here!"

There was a great cheer as Jim ran out to his car.

"Before you all go, there's just one more thing I wanted to say.
Miss Donnell and I recognize that dedication is a two-way street.
 Jim demonstrated it, and we're trying to reward him for it.  The
same thing applies to all of you.  Once again, thank you all. 
You're really doing the job I knew you would!"

Sandy was sitting in his office and they were drinking their
coffee.  "I guess the honeymoon's really over," Cliff sad sadly,
"when a guy has to subsist on company coffee instead of a hearty
breakfast."

Sandy glared at him while trying to hide a grin.  "If you were
closer I would kick you, and you know where.  First, it takes a
damned crane to get you out of bed, and then you sexually assault
me in the kitchen while the eggs burn.  Then you have the gall to
complain about no breakfast.  The nerve!"

Cliff tried to look innocent.  "Now wait a minute!  The reason it
takes a crane is you sexually attack me all night long!  And
maybe I wouldn't assault you in the kitchen if you had more
clothes on... if you had _any_ clothes on!"

They both grinned and Sandy stuck out her tongue at him.  He
changed the subject.  "How do you feel about coming down to
Charlotte with me?  There are some bankers down there to see, and
I know JL and his boys would love to see you, too.  This is the
second big bet.  What do you think about the prospects for our
renovated auto parts business?"

"I have my fingers crossed," she replied.  "But I would love to,
even though Charlotte can get pretty hot this time of year.  Do
you want me to make plans to come with you?"

"I sure do!  We might as well both be hot.  Sandy, this is a
stupid question, I know, but do you play golf?"

"I thought you would never ask!  Yes, I play golf.  And God
knows, it took you long enough to get around to it."  She grinned
and added, "Are you thinking of taking up an _outdoor_ sport?  I
thought you were...  Never mind what I thought you were.  But why
do you ask?"

"Because they take their golf seriously down there, and JL asked
me to bring my clubs.  Do you have any to bring?  If not, we can
always rent you some."

"Yes, smarty, I have clubs.  I also have a handicap.  I will also
beat the pants off you.  Want to bet?"

"Sure, I'll bet.  What's your handicap, by the way?"

"I'll tell you when we play.  I don't want to frighten you off
too soon."

They caught a United flight to Charlotte and were met by JL at
the airport.  Jeff Stover was right.  This was a big risk.  In
the planning session JL Wilson and his people sounded like they
knew the business and knew their market.  Everyone would soon
know if they really did.  With the Kaga business, Murphy was out
of the tank.  But if the Southern Stores project really bombed,
they would be right back in it again.  They went to claim their
baggage and JL was surprised that there were two golf bags.

"Sandy Donnell, you've been holding out on me again!" JL said, "I
never knew you played golf."

"Come on, JL!" she replied with a grin.  "A girl's got to have
_some_ secrets."

They went to the hotel, checked in, and then went out to one of
the renovated auto parts stores.  It was a unit Cliff had seen on
his first visit but now he didn't recognize it.  The lighting had
been vastly improved, and was very effective after dark, giving
the store a bright, attractive appearance.  JL told them they had
extended the hours of operation and were using numbers of
permanent part-time people to handle it.  They walked in and were
surprised at the weekday evening activity.

"How long has this place been reopened?" Cliff asked.

"We re-opened ten days ago," JL replied.  "It sure looks good to
me.  How does it look to you?"

"It looks like you're doing a land-office business.  Sandy, what
do you think?"

"Hell," she said, "I'm only the treasurer.  What do I know?  JL,
how are the numbers?  Or do you know yet?"

"Ma'am, they are just great!  One of Kevin O'Rourke's guys was
down and set up our accounting system on one of those personal
computers.  It works great!  We're running 300 percent of last
year.  How does that sound?"

"That sounds great to me," Sandy replied, "but as I said, I'm
only the treasurer.  What do you think, Cliff?"

"Any time sales increase by a factor of three, I'm in favor."  he
replied.  "What do we do now?"

"How would you like some real Carolina barbecue?  It's not like
anything you ever get up North.  Care to try?" JL asked.

They both agreed, and JL took them to a family barbecue
restaurant.  JL ordered for the table.  What they received was
barbecued pork, not the spare ribs they had expected.  There were
a bunch of other dishes with it.  JL was a little concerned, with
Sandy present, that the place only served beer and soft drinks.

Before she had a chance to answer, Cliff spoke for her, "Sandy is
a beer drinker from way back.  Remember, she's from Milwaukee,
the home of a whole bunch of beers and a lot of beer drinkers."

They had a very pleasant evening together.  JL dropped them off
at the hotel, and they went up to their rooms.  Then Sandy took a
coin from her purse and looked at Cliff.  "Heads or tails?"

"Heads," he said.

She flipped the coin, caught it, and placed it on the back of her
left hand.  Making sure Cliff was looking, she removed her right
hand covering the coin.  "It's tails.  You lose."

"What did I lose?" Cliff asked.

"We sleep in my bed, not yours," she answered dryly.  "Get your
razor, and let's get to bed."  Once in bed, Sandy molded herself
to his body and fell asleep.

They spent the next day visiting other stores in varying stages
of renovation.  Two were complete, although they had not yet had
their official "Grand Re-Opening" celebrations.  Sales in all the
units were going very well.  When they returned to JL's office,
Cliff asked him what he thought the cause was.  "Well, sir, I'll
tell you.  I think about 40 percent is the new merchandise
assortment, 40 percent is the store renovation and improved
layout, and the last 20 percent is better employee morale.  They
feel like they belong, not like they're a bunch of step-children.
 I'll tell you, it hasn't been like this in a long, long time."

They went over the sales reports for the entire Southern
Division, store by store.  Finally, Cliff looked at the other two
and said, "Damn!  I think it's going to work.  It's really going
to work!  Congratulations, JL, this is even better than we hoped
for.  You and your people are doing a great job!"

That evening JL and his wife, Marlene, took them to a fine place
for dinner and dancing.  During the evening, Sandy learned that
Marlene was an avid golfer.  "Hey, guys!" Sandy said.  "Marlene
and I are taking you on in golf tomorrow.  Full handicaps, of
course.  JL, Cliff and I have a little side bet, but Marlene and
I will play you two in a $20 Nassau, okay?"

"You're on, little ladies," JL answered.  He looked at his wife
affectionately.  "But damn!  Marlene and I were counting on
trimming the damnyankees again, too!"

The next morning, JL picked them up at the hotel and drove them
out to his club.  They had a nine o'clock tee time, and arrived
at the club early.  Sandy and Cliff went to the practice tee to
warm up.  Cliff hadn't swung a club in over a year, and was
pretty sure Sandy hadn't played in months, at least.  He did some
limbering exercises and then started hitting balls, beginning
with his very short irons.

Meanwhile, Sandy had gone to the opposite end of the tee.  Cliff
could have been a very good golfer if he played more.  After
taking a few shots with various clubs, he got up to his driver. 
He started pounding out shots that appeared to be carrying 250
yards or more.  His notorious slice seemed to have disappeared.

Then he looked up and watched Sandy.  It came as no surprise to
him that she had a very graceful, fluid swing.  At 5 feet 8
inches, she was a tall girl, and she used her height effectively.
 She was not as long as he was, but was far longer than any woman
he had ever played with.

They went to the first tee.  Cliff played to a USGA handicap of
sixteen.  On this course, it became a playing handicap of
eighteen.  He asked Sandy what her handicap was and was told it
was a twelve on the course.  He was getting six strokes, but was
giving her the distance between the men's and women's tees.

"What's our bet?" he asked Sandy.

"I'll tell you when we're done," she replied with a grin.

The men teed off from the white tees.  Cliff's layoff of nearly a
year showed on his first drive.  The slice that had disappeared
on the practice tee came back with a vengeance on his first tee
shot.  Although he sliced it into the woods, it seemed to be
close enough to the fairway to still be in play.  JL obviously
played a great deal.  He wasn't as long as Cliff, but a lot
straighter.  Marlene hit her tee shot off the forward tee short
and straight.

Then Sandy addressed her ball and swung with the very fluid,
graceful swing Cliff had seen on the practice tee.  She hit the
ball beautifully.  It landed just to the right of the fairway
centerline with a slight draw on it.  The draw -- really top-spin
-- caused the ball to roll, adding to its distance.  She was
almost 200 yards out in the middle of the fairway.  Cliff had
been watching the women tee off.  After Sandy hit, he turned to
JL and said wryly, "Why is it I think this is going to be a very
long and expensive morning?"

The front nine became a match between Sandy and JL.  The man was
sweating.  He was far more practiced than she was, and it was his
home course which gave him another advantage.  For her part, she
was nearly as long off the tee as he was, and was deadly inside
125 yards.  Her short game and putting were devastating.  As they
made the turn, the women were up by two holes.

"Cliff, do you feel rich and foolish?" JL asked.  "How about
pressing them on the back side?"

"Let's do it," Cliff replied.  "It doesn't matter if I don't have
any money to live on for the next six months.  There's a lesson
here somewhere I need to learn."

The match had evened by the time they reached the 18th hole.  On
a par three, Cliff had put his tee shot just a few feet from the
pin and won the hole with a birdie.  On the top handicap hole on
the back nine, Cliff and Sandy both had pars, but he won it
because of the stroke she gave him.  If the men won the last
hole, they would be the winners.

Although they had lost the front nine, the back nine was worth
twice as much because of the press, and they would win the match.
 If the hole was even, they would be even on the nine, even on
the match, and down $20 for the front nine.  The way the day had
gone, losing only $20 would be a moral victory.

The last hole was 475 yards for men, but only 400 for the women,
played to an elevated green.  The hole was a par-5, and the 8th
handicap hole for men.  Cliff didn't get a stroke.  During the
round Cliff had finally controlled his slice.  His tee shot was
his best of the day.  He got his full power into the ball and
powered it over 250 yards.  JL hit his usual straight ball but
not nearly as far.  Marlene hit, and finally Sandy.

She, too, had her best drive of the day.  The ball traveled over
225 yards.  Playing from the forward tee, her ball was ahead of
Cliff's on the fairway.  As they walked down the fairway, JL was
shaking his head.  "I used to say my mommy didn't raise any dumb
children, but now I just don't know.  Why is it I feel this young
lady is sandbagging us?  You know, Cliff, she is good -- I mean
_real_ good!  You mean to say she hasn't been practicing all
summer?"

Cliff grinned at the older man.  "JL, I can assure you she hasn't
had a club in her hand since I joined the company on April 1.  I
wouldn't say it to her, but it's fun watching her swing.  I
agree.  She is very good and beautiful to watch."

JL grinned back.  "And that's not limited to her swing, either!"

It was a very warm day in July, with the temperature in the
nineties.  Because they had chosen to take caddies not carts, all
four were feeling the heat.  JL and Marlene hit their second
shots well, but it didn't look like they would be in contention
on the hole.

It was Cliff's turn to hit.  He looked at his partner and said,
"How about if I go for it?  I don't think we're going to win if
we play it safe."

JL gave a rebel yell that startled some golfers on an adjacent
hole.  "That's what I like to hear!  Go for it!"

Cliff forced himself to relax as he addressed his ball with a
3-wood.  He caught it beautifully.  The ball hit just in front of
the green and bounced up moving to the right of the pin.  Sandy
had watched him and then went to her ball.  She also took a wood,
grinned at Marlene, and hit her ball.  It, too, hit just at the
crest of the hill and bounced over, going straight for the pin. 
Cliff and JL looked at each other and shook their heads.

"Damn!" JL said.  "This is the last time I play against a
treasurer.  They just can't stand to give up any money!"

By the time they reached the green, JL had to sink a very long
putt for a par, and Marlene was playing for a six.  Cliff was
just past the pin in distance, but on the right edge of the
green.  He had a very long putt -- 60 feet or so.  He lined it up
and stroked it.  It was long and very difficult because the green
sloped down back-to-front.  He had a good line but not quite good
enough.  The green broke more than he had estimated and his ball
rolled below the cup, leaving him a four-footer coming back.

Sandy's ball had rolled past the cup and was about twenty feet
away with a downhill putt.  She didn't hesitate.  She looked at
the line for a moment, stood over the ball and stroked it.  Her
putt was perfect, rolling right for the center of the cup and
dropping in for an eagle three.  She and Marlene hugged each
other, and then went to shake hands with the men.

Cliff ignored Sandy's hand.  He gathered her in his arms and
kissed her soundly.  Then he released her, took his putter and
sank his own putt for a birdie four, even though the match was
over.

"I just had to do that," he said.  "It's the first time in my
life I ever had two birdies in a single round!"  They walked back
to the clubhouse and went to the terrace for lunch.

"Gee, guys," Sandy said after they were seated, "I hate to bring
it up, you understand, but that's $100 you owe each of us.  The
way I count, it was $20 on the front, $40 on the back, and $40
for the match.  Then there's Cliff's side bet with me."

Marlene was laughing while Sandy was speaking.  JL asked her,
"What's so funny?"

"Before I answer, JL, I want to ask Sandy something.  Sandy, JL
subscribes to a lot of golf magazines including one that reports
on all kinds of tournaments.  Watching you today bothered me. 
There's something in the back of my mind I just can't reach. 
Tell me, did you play tournament golf?"  Sandy nodded.  "Of
course!  I seem to recall some mentions of amateur tournaments in
the Midwest.  College, too, maybe?"  Again Sandy nodded.

Cliff watched in amazement.  "Sandra Donnell!  You promised me:
no secrets!" he said accusingly.

Sandy grinned sheepishly.  "We were talking about the company and
about us.  We never spoke about golf.  This doesn't count."

"Sandy!" he exclaimed.

"Well, I played a little golf when I was younger," she admitted.

"And what's 'a little golf'?" Cliff persisted.

"I was captain of the Wisconsin women's golf team and runner up
in the Wisconsin and Midwest women's amateur championships," she
said in a very small voice.

"And your handicap?  Is that real?"

"It sure is!" she said.  "I didn't play much at all for the last
couple of years.  You can't keep a handicap in single digits
unless you play a lot."

Cliff spoke to JL.  "We were had!  Remember the strategy
discussions in Milwaukee?  I feel like a damn fool.  I broke the
very first rule in the strategy book:  Know the competition.  JL,
I feel I ought to pay your share, too.  It was my blunder."

"No, sir!" JL replied emphatically.  "It's my fault more than
yours.  I've known this girl a lot longer than you have.  And I
hope you noticed my wife knew.  And she knew from reading
magazines with _my_ name on them!  No sir!  There's more than
enough blame to go around!"

They ate lunch, and JL asked if they would like to go swimming in
the club pool.  Everyone was in favor, but Sandy said she hadn't
brought a bathing suit.

JL grinned.  "This is my lucky day!  We hate to let that money
get out of state.  As it happens, the pro shop sells bathing
suits, too.  Now why don't you just take some of that money and
buy one?  I know Marlene would love to help you pick one out."

The girls went off to the shop, while JL and Cliff went to the
locker room to change.  "I wouldn't say it with the girls
around," JL said, "but that was the best damned match I've played
in years.  And you know what else?  There's no way I mind losing
if the opponent shoots an eagle to win.  Cliff, we didn't lose. 
They won.  There's a difference."

They went out to the pool deck and sat in the sun.  Cliff closed
his eyes.  He opened them again when he heard a sound, like a
collective indrawn breath, from the people on the deck.  He
turned and saw Sandy and Marlene.  Marlene had insisted that
Sandy buy a white bikini which was spectacular on her.  With her
auburn hair, green eyes, and light tan, coupled with her perfect
figure, she was breathtaking.

Cliff just said, "Wow!"

Marlene grinned, while Sandy looked like she wanted to hide.  The
older woman said, "What do you two think?  There's a funny side
to this bathing suit.  It's been in the shop for months. 
Everyone has been looking at it, but no one had the nerve to buy
it.  I think it's perfect on Sandy, don't you?"

JL said appreciatively, "I think Sandy would look perfect in a
potato sack, but it sure does look great."

They swam, soaked up the sun, had a snack, and finally JL took
them back to the airport to get a late flight home.  When they
were seated on the plane, she looked at Cliff, "Are you mad at
me?"

"Why, in hell, should I be mad at you?" he asked, puzzled.

"Because I cheated you in the match and embarrassed you with the
bathing suit, is why," she whispered.

"You did not cheat!  You just won.  As far as the bikini is
concerned, you don't know much about men.  You looked
spectacular, honey.  All I could think of was all those poor guys
eating their hearts out 'cause you're mine.  You are, aren't
you?"

"Sure am!" she whispered, and kissed him softly.*Chapter 12*

It was late July and a very hot summer day in Milwaukee when
Cliff got a call from Steve Muller.  Steve sounded excited and
asked if he could come over to see him.  Cliff told him to come
anytime and a few moments later he came into the office followed
by Sandy Donnell and Carlos Murphy.

Carlos was their find of the year.  He was a third-generation
Argentinean, educated in the States.  Despite its spelling, his
last name was pronounced Mur-pee; Carlos told of his grandmother,
a native-born Argentine, who never spoke a word of Spanish in her
life.  And, he claimed, never understood what she called "that
heathen tongue," referring, of course, to Spanish.  Carlos was
from a town in Argentina named Murphy, as well.

Steve was never sure if they found Carlos or he found them.  He
was only twenty-six years old and had earned his MBA from Babson
College.  He had joined the company to lead its drive to increase
export sales, and had just returned from his first sales trip to
South America.

One look at their faces told Cliff the trip had been a success. 
He whispered something to Sandy who grinned and left the office.
"Carlos, how did it go?"

"Well, Boss, they loved our special Latin American program!"

The young man grinned broadly as he said it.  The special Latin
American program consisted of the most elementary things:
translating the packaging materials and instructions into
Spanish, preparing normal export documentation, and accepting
export letter-of-credit financing.  Murphy Manufacturing had
never done any of those things before.  Moreover, as far as
anyone in the company knew, Carlos's trip was the first time
hanyone from Murphy had ever visited Latin America on business.

"I only went to Mexico and Venezuela on this trip.  It was the
funniest thing I have ever seen.  My first stop was Mexico City.
I had a couple of names and telephone numbers of companies that
had bought from us in the past on our usual export terms.  I
called the first name on the list."

The "customary terms" had been cash in advance, with buyer taking
delivery at the Murphy shipping dock.  Any special export
arrangements were the buyer's problem.  The only thing Murphy did
was provide heavier-than-normal crating, and even that had been
provided with great reluctance.

"At any rate, I introduced myself and asked for an appointment. 
I thought the guy was going to faint when I said I was down from
Milwaukee and actually spoke Spanish.  Anyway, he wouldn't hear
of me coming out to see him.  He came dashing down to meet me at
my hotel.  I guess he made a call or two before he left his
office, though.

"I wasn't off the phone five minutes when it started to ring. 
Other auto supply people heard I was in town.  Anyway, the first
guy, Sr. Gonzalez, arrives at the hotel, and I meet him in the
bar.

"Cliff, I never got out of the damned bar.  And I didn't even pay
for a drink.  Incidentally, you know what impressed them the
most?  The fact that Murphy Manufacturing had an export sales
manager, and was actually interested in supplying them on a
consistent basis.  Their history with us -- and a bunch of other
American auto parts companies, apparently -- is we only sell them
if, as and when we have a little extra capacity.  They're
typically turned off more than they're on.

"Anyway, here's what I got."  He took a stack of signed orders
out of his briefcase.

Sandy noted that every one had a letter of credit attached.  She
said, "These are prepaid orders, if I understand this stuff. 
Moreover, every one of the LC's is on an American bank.  As I
understand it, we ship the stuff.  When it's received in Mexico,
the LC is released and we have our cash.  Right?"

"Right!  Then I went to Caracas, and the same thing happened,
only more so.  They have more money and more big US-built cars. 
We haven't totaled it all, but it could total almost as much as
the first Kaga order!"

Just then there was a knock at the door, and Sandy got up.  She
returned to Cliff's desk with a brown paper bag that had been
handed to her.  Then she took out a cold six-pack of beer and
opened cans for everyone.  "This calls for a celebration!  It's
hot, this is a manufacturing company -- we get our hands dirty --
so beer's in order.  Cheers, Carlos, and congratulations!"

That afternoon, Sandy buzzed to say there was a Kelly Cameron to
see them from Snyder Securities in Chicago.

"Oh, shit!" Cliff said.  "I completely forgot, and the tone of
your voice says I never mentioned it to you, either.  Cameron is
a securities analyst.  I think he's the only one who follows
Murphy.  I was supposed to see him in April but I ducked.  I
guess we have to see him.  Do you have time to put on your
treasurer's suit?"

"Sure.  I'll ask Betty to go bring up Cameron, and I'll join you
in a few minutes."

Betty Ames was looking beautiful when she showed Kelly Cameron
into the office.  Cliff was surprised to find that Kelly was a
girl, and his surprise showed on his face.  The young woman
appeared to be under thirty and was very attractive.  She was
five feet four, with short, dark hair.

She smiled and introduced herself.  "I apologize for the
misrepresentation, although it really isn't.  My name really is
Kelly.  My interest is manufacturing companies, particularly
automotive-related ones.  A lot of your colleagues in the
industry don't like dealing with women, so I guess I go out of my
way not to mention that I'm female."

When Sandy entered the office and introduced herself, Kelly
looked at her closely.  "Miss Donnell, you're the Murphy family
of Murphy Manufacturing, aren't you?"

Sandy was startled, but decided the meeting was essentially on
the record.  Lying to an analyst wasn't smart and could possibly
cause problems with the SEC.  "Yes, I guess I am, if you mean the
family stock is mine.  It is... or will be in a couple of
months."

Cameron took a seat and started right in.  "Mr. Fitzpatrick,
Murphy hasn't been going anywhere to speak of.  I estimate your
current sales are in the range of $500 to $600 million.  For the
last few years -- too many years -- the company has been earning
about 1 percent on sales, net.  That generates five to six
dollars in earnings per share on the one million shares
outstanding.  With no growth and uninspired profits the market
has been giving you a multiple of about five.  The trading range
for the last few years has been $20 to $30 per share.

"I recently received a tip there are major problems here and came
to find out about it.  First, I will tell you what I have heard,
and then you can comment.  Number one:  You have been cut off as
a supplier to Magna Motors.  That was reported on the broad tape.
 It's about half your valve and ring business, maybe more.  I
would estimate the loss at about $200 million a year in sales. 
Number two:  You have sold off a whole bunch of your auto parts
stores.  I would guess maybe two-thirds of them.  That's another
drop in sales of about $65 million or so.

"Add those together, Mr. Fitzpatrick, and Murphy has lost about
50 percent of its sales give or take a bit.  I'm looking for your
profits to drop like a stone.  How am I doing?  Oops!  One more
thing: the word around is George Simpson of Ajax hates your guts
and wants to destroy you.  Comment?"

"With no flattery intended, I'm impressed.  You obviously know
the businesses you follow and not all of your colleagues do.  Let
me take your comments in order.  First, the history is obviously
correct: the level of sales, profits, number of shares, and so
forth.  With respect to Magna, you are also unfortunately
correct.  We lost the business because of poor quality."

Kelly's eyebrows rose on his admission.  "However, I have a
letter I would like to show you.  We have been named the first
mainline American supplier to Kaga Motors' plant in Michigan.  I
have a letter here from the managing director in Tokyo I will
share with you.  In fact, I'll give you a copy if you promise not
to show it to anyone until I can get express permission from
Japan to give it to you."  He took out the letter from his file
and gave it to her.

She read it and let out a low whistle.  "Mr. Fitzpatrick..."

Cliff interrupted.  "Please call me Cliff.  We're very informal
here, and I tend to do a double-take and look for my father when
someone says, 'Mister Fitzpatrick.'  Will you?"

"Sure, and please call me Kelly.  I don't think I'm letting down
the bars too much.  Anyway Cliff, if I understand this letter
correctly, although you lost the Magna business on quality,
that's the very basis on which you got the Kaga business.  And
with all due respect to our friends in Troy, Kaga would throw out
what Magna terms 'commercially-acceptable quality' as totally
unacceptable.  What happened?"

Sandy entered the conversation.  "Cliff Fitzpatrick happened.  He
junked a ton of old, unsalable product.  There's a significant
asset write-down I guess you didn't hear about, also.  It's a
write-off of finished goods inventory.  He found that two of our
ten production machines were incapable of producing parts within
required tolerances and three others weren't a whole lot better.
We had far more people inspecting than we had making.  We don't
any longer.  We have had a huge employee layoff and almost took a
strike that would have buried the company.  Cliff persuaded the
workers they could produce product every bit as good as the
Japanese.  The rest of the letter speaks for itself."

Cliff smiled at the two young women.  "As usual, Sandy fails to
mention her critical role in all of this.  She is the one who
spoke to the workers.  The union president was certain the people
were going to walk out.  Sandy spoke to them as the owner, and
they believed her.  They voted to stay.  I think the letter from
Kaga speaks for itself.

"Incidentally, that's half of the lost Magna volume now and
growing.  The latest word is the new ring our guy made is going
to become Kaga's standard, so there will also be royalty income
we have never seen before."

"Could I go down to the factory floor?" Kelly asked.  "When I
visited several years ago, I was strongly discouraged from doing
so."

"Of course!  We would be delighted.  I hope you don't mind
wearing a hard hat?  Oh... there's something else.  We've got
coats for visitors, too."  He looked at Sandy who went out and
came back with a white coat with MURPHY in red capital letters
across the back, and a neatly stitched badge saying Visitor on
the breast.  The hard hat was adjustable and from the way Kelly
went to work to size it, this was a familiar process to her.

She noticed that Cliff and Sandy had their own coats with
Fitzpatrick and Donnell lettered on them.  Kelly decided that
Sandy looked very good in her coat with the red hat that matched
the lettering.  She was impressed with the coats, both in terms
of Sandy's appearance and because it suggested they often visited
the shop floor.  When they reached the floor, she was dazzled. 
Every worker was also wearing a MURPHY coat.  Obviously there
were three colors -- workers, supervisors, and managers.

It was as smooth running as any manufacturing facility she had
ever visited.  The production machines looked brand new, and she
could see where two new ones were being installed.  There
appeared to be substantial room for expansion.

Cliff pointed out a small quantity of Spanish-language packing
materials, and then took her to the cafeteria.  When they closed
the door, the room was silent.  Kelly noted that both Sandy and
Cliff were greeted by first name by everyone.  No one seemed at
all impressed by the fact they were on the floor.  Clearly, it
was routine.  They got coffee and took a table in the rear.

"We closed our dining room, so everyone eats here, now," Cliff
told her.

"This is the nicest looking plant cafeteria I've ever seen!"
Kelly said.

Sandy noticed that the girl looked hungry.  "Kelly," she said,
"Do I detect skip-lunch-diet hunger pangs?  If we don't feed you,
you look like you'll eat the table, and I'm not sure it's paid
for yet."

The girl grinned and accepted the invitation.  They went through
the line again, because Sandy and Cliff hadn't eaten either. 
When they returned to their table, Kelly was even more impressed.
 "Who runs this place for you?" she asked.

"We do it ourselves," Cliff said.  "We have an outstanding
manager, Janet Simmons, who's been with us for years.

"Incidentally, I showed you the Spanish-language packaging.  I'm
going to tell you a competitive confidence.  We have a new export
sales manager who just returned from South America.  He only
returned this morning, and we're still totaling the orders he
brought back with him.  It appears, however, that we have enough
business -- paid in full, with accompanying irrevocable letters
of credit -- to increase our total sales volume significantly in
spite of the loss of Magna.  I mentioned it's in confidence.  The
confidence doesn't extend to the income effects, but I would just
as soon not advertise to our competition how good Latin American
business can be."

When they returned to the office, Kelly said, "Cliff, I'm
impressed.  What you're telling me is you have more than covered
the loss of the Magna business, and, I infer, although neither of
you said anything, at substantially higher margins.  There's been
an asset write-down, but that was junk, anyway.

"Would I be way off base if I guessed your costs are way down,
too?  For example, I don't see the normal piles of scrap lying
around.  I would guess your raw-material utilization is very
high, and your rejects are very low.  I would estimate you may be
looking at a 10 percent pretax profit now.  Would that beclose?"

Sandy and Cliff looked at each other.  Cliff shrugged and Sandy
said, "If we think in terms of a reasonable range, I think you're
in the ball park."  Sandy continued, "Now, you mentioned our
Stores Division.  You're right, we did get rid of over two-thirds
of our units.  We got an excellent price for them, by and large.
It seems they're worth a lot more to some other people than they
were to us.

"The result is we plowed some of the money back into our Southern
Division which is all we have left.  We moved the buying function
down to Charlotte for the Division, changed our merchandise
assortment, extended hours, and renovated all the stores.  Within
sixty days, our sales per unit have tripled with profits up much
more.  The result is, Kelly, we haven't lost any sales from
Stores to speak of, and are looking for substantially higher
numbers next year.  Our profits are... very pleasant."  Sandy
finished her comments with a grin.

Kelly was listening carefully and was now wide-eyed.  "What I'm
hearing is that miracles have occurred here at Murphy.  You will
have sales roughly even with last year or better, but with much
higher profits.  If nothing at all happens next year, sales will
be up substantially.  Moreover, I saw the new machines being put
in place.  That looks like a 20 percent capacity increase to me.
By the way, you mentioned worn-out production equipment.  That's
the most un-worn-out stuff I have ever seen!"

Sandy grinned.  "The folks at Micronics who built it just
finished reconditioning the last machines.  They tell us they're
better than brand-new and our machinists agree.  That's where
some of the money went."

Cliff picked up the narrative.  "Then, of course, we have the
confidential activities of our brilliant treasurer, Sandy, who
installed a new cash management system.  I think it's all in now.
 She picked up about $75 million so we're in better shape on the
balance sheet than we've been in years.  There's essentially no
debt.  The cash pickup paid for the modernization."

"One last question," Kelly said.  "Where do you stand with Magna
Motors right now?  I will make an observation, and I'm not asking
for comment.  I think you are the low-cost producer in this
industry right now.  Based on the Kaga letter, I have to believe
you couple that with the highest quality.  When I was in business
school, lowest costs and highest quality were a very tough
combination to beat.  That's my observation.  Now back to the
question.  What about Magna?  Do you think you'll get back in?"

Cliff answered.  "Yes, Kelly, I do.  But you know them far better
than we do.  They are very slow to move... in any direction.  I
believe we will get back in, but I couldn't guess when it will
happen.  Fair?"

"More than fair.  Now one more question, completely off the
record.  When are you two going to get married?"

Sandy and Cliff both started to laugh.  She answered, "Does it
really show that much?  Of course, I _do_ worship the ground he
walks on, but I didn't think it was so obvious.  The answer is we
haven't set a date.  And this whole thing is very much off the
record, please?"

Kelly grinned and nodded.  "It certainly is.  I'll be honest,
though.  I intend to send you a very nice wedding gift when you
do because I am going to make an awful lot of money on Murphy
stock.  There's something else, though.  I wasn't just being
nosy.  To a person like me who tries to figure out what makes a
company tick, it's very important because I know you are _both_
vital to the company.  You are also great people.  This has been
the most enjoyable visit I have had in years, and it's going to
be the most profitable one as well.

"Cliff and Sandy, do you follow the market closely?"  They both
shook their heads.  Kelly grinned.  "That's great, because if you
did that, too, I would be in trouble."

Her face became serious.  "The reason I asked is because
something strange is going on.  It was the reason for my comments
at the beginning.  I'm here because of an anonymous tip.  You
both know what the short interest is, don't you?  The extent to
which shares of a company are being sold short?"  They both
nodded.

"Well, the short interest in Murphy is big and getting bigger.  I
thought I had it all figured out, and was toying with the idea of
joining the bears -- the folks selling thestock short expecting
its price to drop like a stone.  You know, I think we're seeing a
bear raid."

"I've heard of them," Sandy said, "but I never knew exactly how
they worked.  Money is made when a stock's price drops, but it
never seemed like a lot of money.  After all, if a stock trades
at 50 and then the price falls to 40, all the short seller made
was ten points.  There's a lot more room on the upside."

Kelly smiled at the question and explained, "Your numbers are
correct, Sandy, but you're overlooking something.  Big money is
made because the deal involves massive leverage.  Let's take a
guy with $1,000 and your example.  If the guy bought the stock at
50 he would have 20 shares.  Selling at 40, he loses $10 a share,
or $200.  To keep it simple, I'm ignoring transaction costs.

"Now take a short seller.  What does he do?  First, he sells
1,000 shares at 50.  But he doesn't have 1,000 shares; he has
none in the classic situation.  What he does do is borrow the
1,000 shares to deliver against his sale, paying interest on the
borrowed shares.  Now the stock price drops to 40.  He buys 1,000
shares at 40 using the $40,000 of the $50,000 he got when he sold
the 1,000 shares.  After returning the 1,000 shares he's just
purchased to the owner of the borrowed shares, he's made $10,000
less the interest expense that he paid to borrow the shares in
the first place.  He's made a profit of nearly $10,000 on
virtually no investment.  His ROI is enormous."  Looking at Sandy
she asked, "Did you follow that?"

"I sure did," Sandy replied.  "But what's a bear raid?"

"That occurs when an individual or a group starts selling lots of
shares in a company short, betting the price will fall.  First of
all, the mere act of selling lots of shares serves to drive the
price down, other things being equal.  But couple that with the
expectation of bad news about the company, and the share price
can drop like a stone.  Clearly, that's what the bears expect,"
Kelly explained.  "But guess what?  Based on what I just learned
from you and Cliff, the raid is almost certain to fail.  And you
know something else?  I'm buying.  Could I use a phone outside,
quick?  Then I'll tell you more."

Kelly left the room, and Sandy looked at Cliff thoughtfully. 
"Now who do you suppose would be doing that?" she said.  "It
bothers me -- although not for the usual reasons of ego.  One of
the finance department classics is a bit of doggerel, 'He who
sells what isn't his'n pays the price or goes to prison.' It
refers to short sellers.

"The bothersome thing is there is so little float in the stock. 
There are only one million shares out, and the family has more
than 65 percent.  It's a prescription for a classic squeeze on
the shorts.  They borrow the shares they sell against the
prospect of a price decline.  When the price drops, they buy the
shares in to replace the shares they borrowed from the original
owners at a lower price.

"However, what happens if the price rises -- sharply?  The
short-sellers get killed:  They have to buy the shares at a
higher price, and lose their shirts!  And I think that's what's
about to happen as a result of Kelly's report.  Honey, would you
humor me if I do something dumb?  Like losing a ton of money?  It
is mine, though."

He grinned at her and said, "Darling, I never mentioned it, but I
bought 10,000 shares of Murphy Manufacturing before I even
started work here at prices that average about $22 a share.  It
represents just about every dollar I have been able to beg,
borrow, or steal.  We've never talked about money, but you must
get a pretty nice income from your stock.  Do you, or does it go
somewhere else?"

"Mostly it comes to me.  You can see I don't spend a lot.  And
we've been saving on entertainment by mostly spending weekends in
bed!  No, I'm okay.  Cliff, one thing.  Would you please humor me
and ask Bill to beef-up security?  I'm thinking of getting a big
agency like Pinkerton to send some plainclothes people in.  What
do you think?"

Before she even finished, as soon as she mentioned the word
security, Cliff was on the phone.  "Bill, it's Cliff.  Here's the
story:  Someone is selling our stock short, and it's about to
start moving up strongly.  It's a classic situation for
industrial sabotage.  See about getting a big security team in
for the next eight weeks.  No, make it ten weeks.  I want to be
sure the extra coverage extends past October 1.

"And Bill, I want it to start right now!  They may want a
short-notice premium for a few days, but I don't care."  He hung
up the phone and said to Sandy, "Is that enough humoring for you?
 I think you're absolutely right."

Kelly returned to the office with a big grin on her face.  "I
have a question.  Has either of you sold any stock?"  They both
shook their heads.  "How about buying?"

Sandy said, "Cliff bought 10,000 shares before he joined, and I
have been buying off and on for years.  I don't remember when the
last transaction was.  Is it important?"

"Not really.  I just sent out a bulletin on the company, and on
to Dow-Jones for the broad tape.  My prediction is for earnings
higher than last year's.  Cliff, I took the liberty of using your
name.  I said you had announced today that Murphy had been
designated the first American preferred supplier to Kaga Motors.
The selection had been made on the basis of quality of product. 
I know you didn't announce it before, but technically you should
have.

"Did you buy any stock, or did anyone else in the company buy
between the Kaga letter and today?  Actually, I don't think it
matters because the price has been slowly drifting down.  If they
bought, they sure in hell didn't tell their friends.  Or else
their friends are as financially naive as you two!"

She grinned broadly as she said the last words, but Cliff and
Sandy were both chagrined.  They knew about insider trading, but
it had never occurred to them to make an announcement.  Yet they
both knew they should have.

"I'm sorry, Kelly, and thanks a lot.  For that matter, I guess we
should have announced the loss of the Magna business, too.  That
was certainly material."

"It was, but don't worry.  Ajax did that for you.  Anyway,
there's no harm done.  Incidentally, I'm liquidating everything I
own to go against the short sellers.  I can see a classic squeeze
coming.  There won't be any shares to buy to cover their short
position.

"I remember reading a case in Financial Markets on a flooring
company.  In fact, I think it was quite similar.  Like Murphy,
most of the stock was held by the family.  I think it started
with the shares trading around $10.  When the squeeze hit,
trading was suspended at about $25.  When it reopened, it jumped
to about $60 in thirty minutes or so and was suspended again.  At
that point, I think the two sides negotiated surrender terms. 
The shorts were wiped out."

She smiled and added, "I have always remembered that story.  It
always seemed like a great way to make big money, so I'm going to
try it with you.  Do you mind?"

Sandy looked at Kelly thoughtfully.  "You are a registered rep,
aren't you?  You can handle customer's accounts directly?"

Kelly nodded.  "I sure am.  I don't have many, though, but I am
trying."

Sandy avoided Cliff's eyes.  "Kelly, do me a favor?  I propose to
call my bank and ask them to send you $2 million to open an
account in my name.  Could you do that?"

Kelly's jaw dropped.  "Sandy, you're saying you want to open an
account with me at Snyder Securities for _$2 million!_  Cash?"

Sandy grinned.  "My, you're a fast learner!  That's exactly what
I said.  Is that enough for an account with Snyder?"

"Enough?  You're joking!  Just a minute."  She picked up the
phone on Cliff's desk and called her office and asked to speak to
her manager.  She told him she was being given $2 million to open
an account for Sandra M. Donnell, the Murphy Machinery heiress. 
There was silence from Kelly for a few minutes.  Then she
essentially repeated the story for someone else.  Finally, she
spoke again, "I'll ask her, sir.  I don't think there's a
problem.  Just a minute."  She turned to Sandy, "This is Jack
Snyder, the managing partner of Snyder Securities.  He would like
to speak to you, if he may."

Kelly appeared very nervous as Sandy took the phone.  "Hello, Mr.
Snyder, this is Sandra Donnell."  She listened with a smile on
her face for a few moments, then said, "I only met Miss Cameron
this afternoon, and I'm absolutely delighted to have had the
opportunity.  I invest money from time to time, and was most
impressed with her knowledge of our industry and my company."

Kelly and Cliff laughed at the face she made when she said "my
company."  She continued, "Miss Cameron makes a great deal of
sense to me.  I was prepared to wire money to you now, but I will
be happy to give her a check to bring back."

There was a period of silence while Snyder was talking.  She
ended by saying, "Thank you, Jack.  I look forward to meeting you
in Chicago, soon."

She hung up the phone and looked at the others.  "He welcomed me
as a customer of the firm."  She rummaged through her purse, took
out her checkbook, wrote a check, and gave it to Kelly.

The girl looked at it in awe.  "My God!  Two million dollars!  I
sweat more than that writing a check at the supermarket!  Sandy,
thank you!  Now, who do I have to kill?"

"Kelly, there are only two strings:  First, for now it's a
treasury for you to use to buy into the bears' selling.  The
market is still open.  Can we start right now?  I don't want to
move the price up a lot.  I just want to keep it from going down.
 The buying will come from others, and we may push it up to... 
What do you think?  Thirty?  Maybe thirty-five?"

Kelly just grinned and picked up the phone again.  This time she
asked for the trading desk.  "Bill, it's Kelly.  I have a good
one for you.  Buy Murphy Manufacturing on the Amex.  We have two
and a quarter million dollars to use.  At today's prices that's
about 90,000 shares.  Just push, Bill.  I don't want to see a
down-tick.  Regardless of the money you have placed, stop buying
at thirty-two if it gets that high.  If it does, put a buy in
with the specialist for the balance of the money at thirty-two
coming down.  Okay?  I think we're going to have some fun.

"And Bill, this is most important: Time-stamp the order right
now!  For you privately, this is insider money.  An announcement
went out about thirty minutes ago on the broad tape.  It's
essential that we are all covered on this.  Buying came _after_
the public announcement.  Bill, I'm in Milwaukee imposing on some
folks.  Call me at this number if it starts to move, or if
anything interesting seems to be happening.  In any event, call
me after the close and let me know what happened."  She hung up
the phone.

"Kelly," Sandy asked, "are you a beer drinker?"

"I sure am, but don't you have a bar?"  She looked around.  "No,"
she answered her own question, "not in this place.  This is the
home of precision parts, and alcohol doesn't mix well with
precision."

Sandy left the office, and Kelly followed her out.  "Sandy, I
have a favor to ask?  Could your secretary make a hotel
reservation for me here in Milwaukee for tonight?"

Sandy laughed, and picked up the phone.  She made a reservation
for that night and guaranteed it to Murphy for late arrival. 
"Kelly, since you know everything else, you ought to know I am
Cliff's executive assistant, otherwise known as his secretary.  I
would invite you to stay with me but Cliff and I, but...  Well,
things get a little rowdy once in a while."

"You're a very lucky girl, Sandra Donnell.  I think you caught
one of the live ones."  Kelly looked at Sandy carefully, then
grimaced.  "What a stinking shame.  I couldn't even give you a
fight.  My God!  To have your looks and money on top!  It's just
not fair."

Then she grinned and added, "On the other hand, maybe it's a good
thing.  You're a one-man woman, and it's obvious he's a one-woman
man.  So he's out of action, but so are you.  I guess that's some
consolation for a working girl.  And besides, you two are going
to make me rich!"  The two girls shook hands, and went back to
the office after Sandy made another call.

When they reentered the office and sat down, Cliff told Kelly
about the increased security.  He grinned at her.  "I might as
well tell you about it, since you're one of the family now.  By
the way, Sandy said two million, and I heard you tell Bill two
and a quarter.  Where's the rest of the money come from?"

Kelly blushed prettily.  "That's mine.  All I can say is that's
every dime I've got... and then a few.  You two have a hell of a
business going here.  There aren't too many opportunities in the
Rust Belt."

A few minutes later there was a knock on the door.  Sandy brought
back another brown paper bag and opened three cans of beer. 
"Cheers!" she said.  "Kelly, this is twice today.  The first time
was just before you came when we found out about the South
American orders."

"Damn!" Kelly exclaimed, "I forgot to mention it earlier.  I also
added in the announcement that 'other full-price orders' had been
received fully covering the lost Magna Motors business.  Anyway
-- even though us investment types aren't supposed to drink beer
-- cheers!  You know," she said with a grin, "I much prefer pizza
and beer to white wine and Brie."

Sandy and Cliff looked at each other, made a thumbs up sign, and
laughed.  They were still chatting when Cliff's private line
rang.  It was the number Kelly had given her trader.

Cliff answered the phone and passed it to her.  "Hi, Bill, what's
up?"  She listened intently and nodded her head.  She took out a
pad and started writing down numbers as a big grin started
spreading across her face.  Finally she said, "Thanks, Bill. 
Keep me posted."

She hung up the phone and exclaimed, "Damn!  It's moving. 
There's heavy action, with a lot of selling.  Bill thinks it's
more short selling.  It's trading at twenty-seven now, up a point
and a half.  The important thing is, other people are starting to
buy, too.  We're going to win this one.  I can feel it."

"What do we do now?  Just wait?" Sandy asked.

"I guess so.  Incidentally, you have invested about $200,000 at
this point, Sandy.  Why don't we fill out these dumb forms I need
to open an account while we wait for the closing?"

She took forms from her attache case, and Cliff went down the
hall to Steve Muller's office.

Betty Ames gave him a big smile as he walked in.  Cliff noticed
how beautiful and happy the woman was now that John Flood was
gone.  Steve was on the phone.  He waved and gave Cliff a big
grin.  "Yes, sir, I'm sure he'd be happy to talk to you.  In
fact, he just walked into my office."

He put the phone on hold and said, "It's Jack Crowther of Magna.
He said he just received a report on the broad tape -- what's a
broad tape? -- of our contract with Kaga.  I told him it was
true.  He wants to talk to you.  Do you want to take it?  But
since I blew it by telling him you're here, I guess you haveto."

Cliff took the instrument, and Steve punched the line button. 
"Hi, Jack!  This is Cliff Fitzpatrick.  What can we do for you?"

"I just saw on the Dow-Jones broad tape an announcement of your
selection as the first American prime supplier to Kaga USA in
Michigan.  Is that true?"

"Yes, it is, Jack, I'm proud to say.  We also developed a ring
for them that seems to be on its way to becoming their new world
standard.  Of course, we get all the business on that we want and
a royalty on the rest."

"But, Cliff!" Jack said, "I shouldn't say this, but their quality
standards are light-years ahead of ours!  And you _meet_ them!?"

"No, Jack.  We don't meet them, we exceed them.  Based on
information faxed to us today, we are now the top-quality
supplier to Kaga USA.  That, of course, is a field made up almost
entirely of Japanese suppliers.  I am delighted to tell you we
are entering discussions at long distance about our ability to
supply their domestic production.  I don't expect much, honestly,
but it's an honor to be considered.  Then, of course, there is
the very strong yen..."

Crowther had obviously been doing some fast thinking as Cliff
spoke.  When Cliff finished he said, "How soon could you ship
trial quantities of rings and valves?  I'm sure you still have
the specs and everything."

"I'll have to check with our production people, Jack.  How fast
would you like to have them, when, and where?"

Crowther responded quickly, "Cliff, could you call me tomorrow
with availability?  I'll have the rest of the information for you
then.  And of course, I will need a price quote."

"We will be happy to quote, Jack.  What quantities?"  Crowther
told him the quantities, and Steve saw Cliff's eyebrows raise. 
"Thanks, Jack.  I'll call you in the morning."

Cliff hung up the phone.  "Steve, the _low_ number he quoted for
quantities was our old production number.  The high number is
_triple!"_

The two men cheered and started dancing around the office.  Betty
came in to find out what had happened.  When they told her, she
joined the dance.  Bill picked up the phone to call Bill Stevens.
 He asked Bill to get Max and join him in Steve's office. 
Moments later the two men arrived.  As Cliff told him what had
happened, Bill's eyes widened.  When he told them the quantities,
they both cheered.

Cliff said to Max, "I would like you to use our handy portable PA
system, Max, and tell the guys what's happened.  It's strictly
your show.  Without the quality those guys have been turning out,
it couldn't have happened.  Do you mind?"

_"Mind?_  My God, this is the best news in weeks, and you want
_me_ to announce it?  Not you or Sandy?"

"No, Max.  This is yours.  Bill, how soon could we add machines
to double our capacity?  And Max, I don't have to tell you this
is a quality sell.  Our quality can't slip... not the tiniest
bit.  What about people?"

Max beamed.  "That's not a problem.  Guaranteed.  When can the
machines be in?"

"Bill?" Cliff asked.

"I'll have to check with Micronics, but largely due to the way
Sandy has been handling things, they honest-to-God love us!  I
don't know how long it will take, but I double-your-money-back
guarantee you, no one -- _no one_ -- could get them faster.  What
about the trial order?  How soon, and how much?"

"I'll know tomorrow for sure, Bill.  But you know Magna's trial
quantities.  What do you think?"

Bill looked at Max and held up five fingers.  Max nodded.  "I can
have normal trial quantities in five days.  The quality will blow
them away.  They have never seen stuff as good as they will be
getting."

"Okay, guys.  It's a deal.  Bill, did you speak to Max about
security?  He and all the people need to know.  Why don't you
brief him, and he can add it to his speech?"

Bill quickly reviewed the short selling of Murphy stock and the
fear that someone -- about to lose a fortune -- might stoop to
industrial sabotage to prevent Murphy from performing on its
contracts.  He ended by saying, "Max, I think we have a real
family here.  The nice thing is everyone pretty well knows
everyone else.  You and your people will be alerted to the
Pinkertons.  You will know who they are.  If anybody sees
_anyone_ he doesn't recognize -- whether he's acting suspicious
or not -- we want the Pinkertons alerted."

Max laughed loudly.  "What's that saying, 'Things that go around,
come around?'  The irony is wonderful.  Pinkerton really grew as
a company of strikebreakers one-hundred years ago or so.  Now
they are on our side.  I think it's great!  But you know what? 
I'm afraid it is one only a few of us old-timers will appreciate.
 Cliff, I'll do it!  And, I don't need to tell you this, but I
will anyway.  It's our company, too."

Cliff went back to his office.  Checking his watch he found it
was nearly quitting time.  Then he told the girls it was time to
pack it in but didn't tell them about the talk with Crowther at
Magna.

As usual, they went out through the plant.  His timing was
perfect.  Max was just about to start his speech, and Sandy
stopped to listen.  They heard Max tell about the test order from
Magna.  "We got it, folks!  We really got it!  Now all we have to
do is give them our usual product.  Those turkeys will freak out
when they see the quality we routinely ship to Kaga."  He went on
and ended by telling the workers about the chance of sabotage. 
He finished by saying, "Remember, those clowns are out to destroy
_our jobs!_  We know one another.  You'll know the Pinkertons. 
Anyone else -- and I mean _anyone else_ -- tell the Pinks.  Any
questions?"

There were a few, but the thing Cliff noticed immediately was
they understood the threat to their jobs.  The noises he heard
were ugly.  He wouldn't want to be a person found trying to
tamper with the machines.

They walked on out to the car, leaving Kelly's rental in the lot.
 "Cliff," Sandy said sweetly, "you are a bastard.  We hear we're
back in at Magna -- at up to triple the old volume -- from our
union president, for chrissakes!  Just for that, you get the
check tonight.  We are celebrating with dinner and dancing. 
Kevin O'Rourke is joining us.  I may -- or may not -- be speaking
to you!"

Cliff just grinned and said nothing.  They went to Kelly's hotel,
and she checked in.  He smiled at Sandy while they waited for her
to wash up.  Sandy tried to glare at him, but without great
success.  When Kelly returned to the car, Sandy was in his arms.

"Golly, folks," Kelly said.  "I hope I'm not interrupting
anything."

Sandy stretched broadly and gave Cliff another kiss.  "Nope.  He
wasn't very nice, so it's too early to go to bed with him.  Are
you all set?  And are we corrupting your morals?"

"Corrupting, no.  Jealous, yes.  Let's go.  Who is Kevin, by the
way?"

"Kevin O'Rourke is a delightful guy.  Of course, you'll have to
talk to him in equations or hexadecimal language.  I think that's
what computers speak, isn't it Cliff?" Sandy asked.  "Anyway,
it's something like that.  Maybe you can baffle him with some
interesting regression equations on earnings growth or
something," she finished airily.

"Sandra Donnell, I thought I liked you, but now the real you
comes out.  You are hateful!  Just because you have captured a
girl's dream is no reason to rub it in.  I'll have to think about
it for a while, but I'm pretty sure I am not speaking to you ever
again.  Or at least tonight.  Or at least until we get to where
we're going," Kelly said with the grin audible in her voice.

When they arrived at another hotel, Kelly was surprised.  "Why am
I not staying here?" she asked.

"Because I thought as a young professional woman you would be
interested in getting your rest.  This place has rooms that are
reputed to be noisy: the guests running from room to room and
that sort of thing," Sandy replied.

"Now I _know_ I hate you," Kelly said in a very flat voice.  "You
didn't mention that my hotel serves tea to maiden ladies at
four-thirty every day.  I missed it, by the way."

"Kelly, dear, I just wanted you to feel secure," Sandy replied.

Cliff was finding it was all he could do to try to keep a
straight face as they went to the main dining room where a combo
was playing.  From the girls' banter, it was obvious they liked
each other a great deal.  Kevin was sitting at the table waiting
for them, and he rose as they approached.

Cliff heard Kelly say in a whisper to Sandy, "I don't care if he
only speaks Gaelic!  My God, where has he been all my life?"  It
hadn't occurred to Cliff that Kevin was also six feet three with
brilliant blue eyes and very dark hair.

Kevin was introduced to Kelly and it was obvious he liked her
immediately.  "With a name like Kelly, there's got to be some
Irish in the family, Miss Cameron," he said.

Kelly smiled at him warmly.  "My mother's maiden name was Kelly.
Indeed there is.  I must get my interest in finance from my
father who is a Scot, as I am sure you guessed."

The combo was playing, and Sandy and Cliff got up to allow the
other two to become acquainted.  Every time he held her in his
arms on a dance floor, Cliff was dazzled.  She just seemed to
float.  He whispered in her ear, "A penny for your thoughts?"

"Darling, I am so happy, it's sinful.  This was such a wonderful
day!  First, the South American orders, then Kelly, then Magna,
and finally getting her together with Kevin.  Would you care to
bet they spend the night together?  Unless Kevin's fifty times
dumber than I think he is, of course.  That girl is in love!"

As she said it, she saw Kevin and Kelly on the dance floor
together.  Because of the height difference, even with high heels
she scarcely reached above his chin.  But the look on her face
was one of rapture.  "Mr. Fitzpatrick, you didn't respond.  Do
you care to lose some money?  Ten dollars, perhaps?"  She
whispered up to his ear as she felt herself floating around the
dance floor.

"Sandra Donnell, you are impossible!  My meager fortune is tied
up in this company, but you insist on having everything.  If I
end up working nights as a gigolo, just remember it's all your
fault!" he replied.

They went back to the table and their drinks.  Kelly and Kevin
joined them a few minutes later.  Even Cliff, who was normally
impervious to such things, could see the stars in both of their
eyes.  Without saying anything, he took out his wallet, folded up
a ten-dollar bill and passed in under the table to Sandy.

She took it and quietly smiled at him.  "Thank you, dear," she
whispered.

It was obvious Kelly had explained the short sale and its
implications to Kevin.  Cliff looked at the young analyst and
said, "I assume that news of the Magna work will really cause
problems for the short sellers.  Am I right?"

"You certainly are," Kelly replied.  "In the vernacular, they're
in deep shit!  As usual, the rule of the day is 'bulls make
money, and bears make money, and pigs get slaughtered!' 
Nevertheless, I'm sorry we didn't buy even more than we did.  By
the way, Sandy, with all that garbage we were fooling with this
afternoon, I forgot a basic question.  I have been assuming you
want the stock you buy in street name, that is, the registered
owner will be Snyder Securities?"

Sandy let out a little yelp.  "Good grief, yes!  Absolutely!  I
have a feeling...  Cliff, if I had to bet money, I would bet it's
Ezra Stiles who's behind all this.  Incidentally, Kelly, I will
make arrangements to transfer all my holdings at the other broker
to you tomorrow.  There's just one thing:  On September 30, I'll
need something very official from Snyder Securities saying I am
the beneficial owner of X thousand shares of Murphy
Manufacturing."

"Sandy, I have a question," Kevin asked.  "How big a percentage
of the company are you going to inherit?"

"About 66 percent.  Why?" she answered.

"What's the percentage to change the bylaws of the corporation? 
To call a special election, or to change the term of directors?"
Kevin continued.

"I can answer that," Cliff interjected.  "Before I became...
familiar... with Sandy I read that stuff.  It's two-thirds."

"That's sixty-six and two-thirds," Kelly said, excited now. 
"Sandy, you said you bought stock off and on in the past.  How
much do you have?"

"I'm not sure.  About seventy- or eighty-thousand shares. 
Something between seventy and eighty, I'm sure.  Why?"

"Bingo!  We've won already," Kelly said elatedly, "and those
turkeys don't know it.  Your other shares are in street name,
Sandy?" she asked.

"Yes, but I don't understand...  Oh, yes I do!  If it's only
70,000 shares -- and I'm sure it's more -- that's seven
percentage points!  Along with the family's sixty-six, that's 73
percent!  My God!  Cliff, you will support me, won't you?"

"Only if you give me my ten bucks back," he replied loftily.

She reached in her purse and took out his ten-dollar bill and
handed it to him.  It was all she could do to keep from laughing.
 Nevertheless, Cliff kept a straight face.  "Since you asked so
nicely, the answer is yes."

Kelly looked puzzled.  "What is the ten dollars for?" she asked.

"Oh... nothing!" they replied together.

Then they started laughing.  Their laughter grew in intensity to
the point they ended hugging each other to keep from falling off
their chairs.  Kelly and Kevin looked at each other and then
looked at the other two.  They didn't understand a thing.

Sandy regained control and said, "So it's over?"

"I really think so," Kelly replied.  "What I heard from Cliff is
your attorney, Stiles, may be trying to pull a fast one.  Didn't
I hear something about Cliff having performance targets to
reach?"

"You sure did... or at least, you could have.  They exist, and it
doesn't look like there is a snowball's chance in hell of
reaching them.  Although the way things are going, we might reach
them a couple of months after the deadline.  But why did you
ask?"

"Cliff, as a schemer, you're a great business strategist," Kelly
replied.  "Let's say I'm shorting the stock.  It starts to rise
on the basis of a complete operations turnaround.  Then the word
gets out that the guy who made it all happen is out and some of
the turkeys who caused the problems in the first place are back
in.  What does the stock do?"

"Yeah, I know: three guesses, and the first two don't count.  It
goes in the tank.  But what can we do?" he asked.

Kelly smiled at Cliff affectionately.  "It's a damn good thing
you are going to have a very smart wife.  Just remember to do
what she tells you.  Cliff, with 70 percent of the stock, you can
do anything!  For example, you can call a special meeting of
stockholders to elect all the directors.  Does Murphy have
staggered terms for directors, by the way?"

"Yes," Cliff answered, "it does.  As a matter of fact, it's over
a four-year span.  Only 25 percent of the board is up for
election each year.  In fact, the numbers are two, one, two, and
two."

"We're there!  That's it, I'm sure.  Sandy, even if you wanted to
use the family shares to throw out the Board, it would take four
years to do it, and three years to get a simple majority. _But_
with 70 percent, you're there!"

"Of course!"  Sandy picked up.  "I can call a special meeting of
the Board to consider bylaw revisions, and use my 70 percent to
waive notice of the meeting.  I then use it to amend the bylaws
to have all directors serve one-year terms.  Then I call for a
special election of directors, and replace them all!"

Kelly stuck out her hand.  "I love a smart woman!  Damn it,
Sandy, this smells right!  One more thing: Do you know how a
corner on a stock works?  Or should?"

Sandy's face fell.  "I have no idea.  How does it work?"

"Let's look at the Murphy situation because the numbers are so
easy:  First, let's say you own 78 percent of the stock -- that's
780,000 shares.  Now, there are two kinds of shorts:  The first
are the ones who sold Murphy, rented stock from an owner --
usually an institution or a brokerage firm -- and delivered the
rented stock to the buyer.  He must replace the borrowed stock.

"The second type is what it looks like we're seeing now.  These
are people who put in sell orders assuming they can borrow shares
to deliver.  But we are already pretty sure that the total number
of shares sold exceeds the total number of shares outside the
family holdings.  Murphy will almost certainly be in that
position in a day or so if things don't change.  They can't
deliver.  It's numerically impossible!

"Now here's where the fun begins.  It's really the same in both
cases.  The short seller must deliver shares to the buyer or to
the owner from whom they were borrowed _or the value of the
shares._  We have some free shares -- more than you need for your
control positions.  We can sell those shares _at any price._  And
the price at which we sell becomes the market.  We have the only
shares available to anyone at any price.  The price we set
becomes the settlement price for those who need to settle their
positions in cash.

"Sandy, you _never_ sell your stock to the shorts.  You ransom
their position.  In other words, instead of selling them enough
stock to cover their position, you get a huge price from them to
repay their lenders.  The important thing is to _never_ let the
shorts actually get their hands on the shares.  They must go from
you to the lender: the one who loaned shares to the short to
deliver against his original sale.  Understand?"

"Of course!  If the short has the shares, for even a couple of
hours, he can use them for their votes.  And what you're saying,
Kelly, is a burned lender is unlikely to make the shares
available to the same person again.  Right?"

"Absolutely!"*Chapter 13*

The next morning Cliff and Sandy were having their usual morning
coffee when Kelly arrived.  They looked at her carefully.  Cliff
reached into his wallet and extracted the still-folded ten-dollar
bill and gave it to Sandy.  "You won it fair and square," he
said.

Kelly was bleary-eyed, but her eyes glowed.  "What is that bill
you two keep passing back and forth?  You were doing it all last
night, too."

Cliff looked at her and said, "You obviously need coffee badly. 
How do you drink it, Kelly?"

"Just black this morning, please," she replied.

Cliff was already on his feet and headed for the coffee pot,
leaving the girls alone.

"Kelly Cameron, how does Kevin look this morning?  Better than
you do, I hope."

"He's worse!  He couldn't...  Sandra Donnell, what are you
saying?"

"Oh, nothing," she said blithely.  "You asked about the ten
dollars, though, and I was just answering you.  It was a small
wager I made with Cliff.  I just said you two would spend the
night together and obviously you did.  That's all."

Kelly tried to glare at Sandy, but ended up grinning.  "Sandra
Donnell, I would like to hate you but it's very hard.  Yesterday
was absolutely the greatest day of my life!  It started off well
with you and Cliff and just got better.  And the way it ended...
Wow!  Professionally, financially, and personally!

"Sandy, Kevin has a real brain!  And he's not frightened of me. 
I have spent my entire social life on the sidelines, just
watching.  I have always been so jealous of the airheads who go
gaga over any guy who just opens his mouth.  I've even tried it,
but can't make it work.  Sooner or later I'll say something -- or
show I know something -- that's out of character, and I'm dead. 
But not last night."

Sandy got up and shook hands with the other girl.  "I know just
what you mean.  With me it's the same result but for a different
reason.  I was always a tomboy, so I ended up every guy's best
friend's little sister.  It's a great prescription for romance! 
The guys pat me on the head and ask me if I want to throw a
football around."

"Oh, I see!" Kelly said brightly.  "That's what you and Cliff do
all night!  Throw a football around?  Of course.  Sandy, I sent
your check down to Chicago, Federal Express, last night.  Now I'm
going to call the office and put out the word on the broad tape
about Murphy getting a trial order from Magna.  I hope you don't
mind me cluttering up your office, though."

"Not in the least!  You have done a tremendous amount for the
company in the last twenty-four hours.  Kelly, I'm not sure
either of us said anything but we certainly recognize that the
call from Magna came as a direct result of your broad-tape
release.  Thank you."

Cliff returned with the coffee, and the girls took theirs.  Kelly
got on the phone and called her office.  She spoke to several
different people, one after the other, and finally hung up. 
"That was funny.  I sent your check to Jack Snyder, and FedEx did
its thing.  He was still staring at it when I called.  His
reaction was identical to mine:  He's never seen a personal check
for two million dollars.  I gave them your fax number so they can
send us a copy of the broad tape piece on Murphy and Magna when
it runs.

"Then I talked to Bill.  Trading has just opened in New York, and
it's looking very interesting."  She changed the subject. 
"Sandy, were you at Michigan in the MBA program?"

"Yes, why?"

"Because I think I remember seeing some reference to you in the
alumni bulletin.  I guess I must have been ahead of you by a
couple of years.  This is what I always dreamed of.  Securities
can be pretty dull sometimes, but now you can feel a real dynamic
at work.  You can feel the market.  And Murphy is small enough,
and the stock float is small enough...  Wait a minute!"

She picked up the phone again and called Bill on the trading
desk.  "Bill, I forgot something.  No one knows this, but watch
the Murphy volume!  Because of the family control of the company,
they never paid much attention to the stock or the stock price. 
They never traded it.  But Bill, there are only one million
shares, and -- this is the secret -- Sandra Donnell already owns
or controls about 75 percent of it.

"There are only about 250,000 shares out of the family's hands. 
What happens if a panicked short sells and _can't_ deliver?  If
there just aren't any shares to be had?  Let's face it, you guys
don't normally think about the total number of shares
outstanding."  She listened for a few minutes and grinned. 
"Thanks, Bill.  Keep in touch."

She hung up the phone.  "Bill thinks it may have started already.
 He's started pushing, and the stock is at thirty-two.  He thinks
volume has already been as much as 100,000 shares this morning! 
He can't be sure, of course because it's hard to get the total
shares by issue until the exchange closes.  But guys, there were
60,000 shares traded yesterday.  And that's the official number.
"If Bill is anywhere near right, all but about 90,000 shares of
tradable stock have changed hands _in less than twenty-four
hours!_  He asked me to thank you, too."

"What do we do now, Kelly?" Cliff asked.

"We wait and keep the pressure on.  If I'm right, Murphy
Manufacturing will be suspended from trading within a couple of
days.  There are five days to settlement, the day the seller has
to deliver the stock he sold.  If he doesn't have it, he has to
get it... at any price!  Do you follow me?"

"I sure do!" Sandy said.  "The next few days are absolutely
critical.  Let's just enjoy the coffee, shall we?"

She grinned and took the cups for refills.  She came back later
and dashed back out again.  When she returned the second time she
had papers in her hand.  "I think this is what we've been waiting
for," she said as she gave copies to the other two.  She had made
copies of the faxed Dow-Jones news wire and they all read the
release.

A moment later Cliff cheered.  "I think this is going to do it! 
I just wonder...  Kelly, do you know George Simpson of Ajax
Industries?" he asked.

"Sure do," she said, making a face.  "Why?"

Cliff explained his former relationship with Stephanie and the
circumstances surrounding the loss of the Magna business:  Ajax
breaking its pattern and cutting price to meet Murphy with the
private understanding they would meet any Murphy price.

"Kelly, let's say you're George Simpson.  You see on the broad
tape that Magna is receiving test quantities from Murphy.  What
do you do, if anything?"

"I just might go berserk!  I just might call Magna and tell them
they can't buy from Murphy."  Kelly replied looking very
thoughtful.  "Excuse me again.  Do I have to leave quarters with
the treasurer for all of these phone calls?  I'm really sorry.  I
should be using my credit card."

"You do, and I'll kill you!" Sandy said quickly.  "You're making
money for us in big bunches."

Kelly looked in her notebook and dialed a number in Chicago.  The
phone was answered moments later.  "Hi, Bill.  It's Kelly Cameron
from Snyder Securities.  I just saw a piece on the broad tape
that Murphy Manufacturing is shipping test quantities of valves
and rings to Magna.  I thought you folks at Ajax had all that
business, or at least all of yours plus what used to be Murphy's.
 Do you have a comment?"  She listened for a few moments and then
spoke again.  "Thanks, Bill, but I'm not in my office.  I just
called in, and they told me.  Can I call you back in... say, an
hour?  Thanks a lot.  I'll do that."  She hung up the phone.

"I think I just waved the red cape in front of the bull.  Bill is
in financial public relations at Ajax.  George Simpson can't
react to what he doesn't know.  He'll know in a matter of
minutes.  Do you mind if I take a walk so you people can get some
work done?"

Sandy grinned at her friend and said with a wink, "Kevin's office
is down the hall on the right.  I hear his couch is very
comfortable."

"Sandra Donnell, you are terrible!" Kelly said.  But she went
down the hall looking at offices on the right.

Forty minutes later Cliff's phone rang.  It was Jack Crowther
calling from Magna.  "Hi, Jack, how are you?  I've got the
answers for you, I think.  My people tell me if you want normal
trial quantities we can ship in five days.  Is that goodenough?"

"That's great, Cliff."  He gave Cliff the plant location to which
the test quantities were to be shipped.  "There's something else,
though.  I guess I stuck my neck out to my top management a few
minutes ago.  I'm taking your personal assurance on the Kaga
quality thing."

"I'm glad you reminded me, Jack.  What's your fax number?  I
received the permission from Japan I expected, and will be happy
to fax you a copy of the managing director's letter to me.  You
can have it in seconds."  Cliff jotted down the number, and Sandy
went to the fax machine.  "It's on its way.  Now what's this
business about sticking your neck out?"

"Cliff, this is all in confidence, okay?  I'll tell you what you
can use later.  Apparently George Simpson at Ajax just went
berserk.  I gather there was a broad-tape announcement that you
had been asked to submit test quantities of rings and valves."

"I hope that wasn't premature?" Cliff asked.

"According to our general counsel, you had to make the
announcement.  Obviously, it doesn't amount to much at our end,
but it certainly does at yours.  No, he says what you did was not
only correct, it was legally required.  That's not the problem."

Crowther paused for a moment to collect his thoughts and then
continued, "Cliff, in some ways we're a strange company.  People
think we're slow moving, and I guess it's generally a fair
comment.  However, we don't like to be pushed around.  Simpson
went right to our Chairman.  He told him if we bought ten cents
worth of product from Murphy, Ajax would cut us off across the
board.  It's fair to say our Chairman was not pleased.  I gather
he told Simpson some unpleasant places he could go and said we
buy from the most qualified supplier.  Period!

"Just a minute, Cliff.  I just got the Kaga letter, and I want to
read it."  There was silence on the phone for a few minutes. 
Then Cliff heard Jack yell "That's it!" and tell his secretary to
make a copy of the fax and hand-carry it to the Chairman
immediately.

"Thanks, Cliff.  My neck's off the block.  That letter says
exactly what you told me and a lot more.  I just asked my
secretary to take it to the Chairman personally.  Here's the
deal.  I told him you were now a fully-qualified supplier of
top-quality components... based on the letter I hadn't seen until
just this minute.  He instructed me to set up a phase-in schedule
for Murphy parts, scaling up to a volume that would be your old
volume plus all of Ajax's.  As a purchasing officer, I feel like
a fool, but can you do it for approximately your old price? 
Let's say the old price, plus 5 percent?"

"That's a fair price, Jack.  Yes, we can handle the work.  I'll
get you the timing as soon as possible.  Obviously, the key
consideration is availability of machine tools from Micronics. 
Now, Jack, what announcement can I make?  Your counsel said it: 
It may not be material to you, but it sure as hell is to us. 
What you're talking about will triple Murphy's gross sales. 
Hell, we'll be over a billion in sales!  Now what am I authorized
to say?"

"You can say you have received a letter of intent from Magna
Motors to purchase parts at a volume equal to triple your former
level.  You'll have the letter in less than five minutes on your
fax.  The order is guaranteed for twenty-four months from the
date of achieving full-scale production.  In other words, Cliff,
the time it takes you to scale up to our production requirements
doesn't count against the contract term.  Murphy is
price-protected with prices scaled to the Department of Commerce
Producer Price Index.  Is that fair?"

"That's more than fair, Jack.  It's a deal, and you're going to
be amazed at the quality you get.  Our people tell me you have
never seen product as good as we'll be shipping.  Thanks for the
confidence.  I'll be back to you as soon as we know about the
production scaling."

He looked up at Sandy.  "Did you get the drift of the call? 
We're back in with Magna at a scale triple our old volume at a
five-percent price increase, with price protection, _and_ a
twenty-four month supply contract!  It's absolutely unheard of. 
It's just never done!"

Kelly had returned to the office to call Ajax back.  Cliff
briefed her on his call from Crowther at Magna.  "Do you know
what you have done young lady?  In less than twenty-four hours --
on your initiatives -- we've gone from no place to Magna's top
supplier.  And Kelly, in confidence I'll tell you our costs have
come down to such an extent, we will absolutely mint money on
this contract!"

Sandy had left the office.  When she returned, she again had
papers in her hand.  They were copies of the Magna letter that
had just been received.  Kelly read it and then read it again. 
"This is unreal!  Letters like this are just not sent in the
automotive industry.  Orders are forward rolling with some leads,
but they are almost never long term.  Well, it's back to the
telephone."

Again she called her office in Chicago.

While she did, Cliff and Sandy talked.  Finally, Sandy grinned
and nodded.  She tapped Kelly on the shoulder and asked to speak
to Jack Snyder before she hung up.  Kelly nodded and continued to
dictate an announcement of the Magna contract.  She asked for
Jack Snyder and passed the phone to Sandy.

"Jack, this is Sandy Donnell again.  Kelly tells me you got my
check this morning.  Jack, I have a request to make.  Kelly
doesn't know anything about this.  You have two million dollars
of my money.  I don't know if you're aware of the fact she put in
$250,000 of her own.  I know a broker is always supposed to
execute a client's order ahead of his own.  I want to change
that:  On the Murphy purchases, I'm going fifty-fifty with Kelly
until she runs out of money.  Of course, anything beyond that is
obviously mine.  I want that to be effective with the first
orders yesterday.  If you need something in writing, just fax me
up what you want me to say, and I'll sign it.

"Jack, I can't tell you how important Kelly has become to me. 
She's certainly worth a lot more than the commission she'll get
on my trades.  Understand?  Incidentally, she's handling my
entire portfolio which is in process of being transferred to you.
 Okay?  Thanks so much."  She hung up and laughed at Kelly whose
jaw had dropped.

"Sandy, that's too much.  I mean... things just don't happen like
this.  You're in a rough, tough, dirty-fingernails kind of
business.  You're not supposed to behave this way!"

"Kelly," Cliff said, "let me tell you something about Sandy.  The
company means everything to her.  Money doesn't.  I really think
she sweats Monopoly money in the board game more than her own. 
We've been living together for months now.  I can tell you she
lives on her pay as a secretary, for God's sake.  Believe it or
not, I never thought of her dividend income until you mentioned
it yesterday.  I suspect the only time she does, either, is at
tax time.  Strange, perhaps, but very true.

"Of course the real reason she did it is when Murphy stock goes
in the tank, you two go together.  Sandy's a cautious investor. 
She likes her broker to be in it with her."  He grinned with the
last words.

Kelly just shook her head and picked up the phone and called
Ajax.  "Bill, it's Kelly again.  Any reaction?  By the way there
is something that just came to our office from Murphy.  They
announced a two-year supply contract from Magna Motors. 
Apparently it's all of their old volume plus all of yours."  She
listened for a few moments.  "I'm sure it will be on the broad
tape."

She continued listening and then said, "I understand, Bill. 
Look, I'm not going to use what you just said.  Why don't you go
back to Simpson...  No, wait a minute.  I like you, and I don't
want you to get fired.  Give me your fax number and I'll have the
office fax you a copy of the broad-tape announcement when it
comes over.  I'll call you late this afternoon.  Thanks."

She leaned back in Cliff's chair, then sat bolt upright.  "My
God, I'm dumb!"

Sandy and Cliff looked at her in bewilderment as she grabbed her
attache case and took out her financial calculator along with a
pad of paper.  She started egoing over her numbers, checked them
again, and picked up the phone.  "Kathy, it's Kelly.  Get out a
flash to all our customers and put it on the broad tape if
Dow-Jones will take it.

"I am predicting earnings for Murphy Manufacturing of at least
$30 per share pretax for next year, rising to $100 pretax the
year following.  The basis is estimated sales well above $1
billion within two years, coupled with substantially improved
operating margins.  I think 10 percent pretax on sales is
possible.  And for God's sake, bury anything at all negative on
Murphy I ever wrote.  I'm a raging bull!  Okay?  Thanks."

She hung up the phone and grinned.  "My God, what a jackass!  It
hadn't even occurred to me, and that's what they pay me for!  You
people are about to mint money!  The present stock price is
ridiculously low against your earnings prospects.  Sandra
Donnell, your damned stock will be trading around five-hundred in
a year or so!  My God, that's a value to you of over
three-hundred million dollars!"

Sandy looked very thoughtful.  "Cliff, could you loan me twenty
dollars?  Kelly says I'm rich, so we ought to eat steak tonight."
 She looked at Kelly quizzically.  "How about if we go shopping?
I don't think you want to wear those same clothes all week."

The girls left and Cliff immediately called a staff meeting.  He
was chagrined to realize how much had happened this morning, and
no one knew it but himself, Sandy, Kelly, and the rest of the
financial world via the broad tape, but not his own people.

They assembled in the board room.  Again, he had asked Max to
join them.  Only this time he had asked him to bring his
executive committee or whomever else he might want.  With all the
people present, the room was crowded.  Cliff was amused to see
Kevin looking much the worse for wear, but with a very different
look in his eyes.  He rapidly brought them up to date.  When he
concluded the update, he grinned at the group.

"Guys, I think we're out of the woods, but we've got a lot of
work to do.  First, Max, how do you want to handle the
announcement.  It's up to you, but I was thinking about the
speech Sandy gave when she said it would be our objective to
provide new jobs for all the people who were laid off.  I think
we may be in a position to do that and maybe go beyond.  All I
can say is if you and your people hadn't done the job they did,
this could not have happened.

"I want you to know we know it, appreciate it, and want to do
something about it.  Specifically, we're thinking of a
profit-sharing program for the whole company.  With the results
we're expecting, beginning next year, there should be some real
profits to share.  At any rate, Sandy made the first speech.  Do
you think she might be the one to announce the rehiring?"

Max looked at his people and saw grins and nodding heads.  "Yes,
sir, I certainly do.  Incidentally, Peter Schmidt has something
he'd like to say.  Could he?"

"Of course, Max.  What's on your mind, Peter?" Cliff asked.

"Mr. Fitzpatrick, I just wanted to say publicly that you and Max
were right, and I was wrong.  I was one of the guys who said we
should go out on strike.  Max said it would bury the company. 
There is no question Miss Donnell's talk turned things around. 
We were going out until she spoke, and I still voted to walk. 
That was probably the dumbest thing I ever did in my life.  You
know something?  You and Miss Donnell had more confidence in us
and our ability to produce than we did ourselves.  Thank you, and
thank you for giving us the tools to work with.  I agree
completely with Max.  She should talk to the workers."

The discussion moved on to scheduling and new equipment.  Cliff
was amazed at the scale-up speed Bill and his people had in mind.
 He looked at Steve Muller who had been shaking his head, and
said, "Cliff, I have been wondering what I'm doing for a living.
I feel like the guy sitting on top of Old Faithful, just getting
shot up in the air.  I feel like I'm just along for the ride!"

"Don't worry about it, Steve.  That's the way I feel all the
time.  There's just one more thing, guys," Cliff said.

He then briefed them very quickly on the possible corner in the
market for Murphy stock.  "We believe there are people who have
sold shares who will not be able to get the shares to deliver
against their sales.  Don't ever forget the rat!  It's most
dangerous when it's in a corner with no place to run.  I think
our rats are in a corner, and like the four-footed ones, are very
dangerous.  I'm very serious.  People will do desperate things if
they're facing financial ruin... and I think some people are."

Cliff's talk sobered up the people in the room who had been
euphoric at the company's prospects.  "Guys, let's make damned
sure the prospects become reality.  Okay?"

When the two girls returned in time for lunch, Kelly was wearing
a new dress.  She had obviously come back by way of her hotel to
clean up.  He briefed Sandy while Kelly went off to lunch with
Kevin.

* * *

When they all returned to his office after lunch, Cliff's private
line was ringing.  It was Kelly's trader, Bill, for her.  She
listened on the phone for a few minutes, then said, "Are you
absolutely sure?  You are?  My God!  We did it!  Thanks Bill,
that's great news.  Keep buying if there's anyone selling, okay?
Great!"  She hung up the phone.

"Obviously, that was Bill.  He's confident that trading over the
last two days has hit 300,000 shares -- the price just hit forty!
 There aren't 300,000 shares to trade!  It's a damned corner, and
I think we're the only ones who know it!"

Sandy was thoughtful for a moment and then spoke to her friend. 
"I just want to be sure I understand something:  There have now
been more shares sold than there are to be sold.  It's possible
someone sold today what he bought yesterday -- some canceling
trades -- but let's say there are just a few.  What exactly
happens?"

Cliff quietly left the office before Kelly replied.

The broker said, "In the vernacular, the shit hits the fan. 
Remember the doggerel!  Within a matter of hours, the sellers are
going to find there are no shares to deliver.  It's not a matter
of price, either.  The shares simply do not exist!  God!  I
almost feel like flying to New York just to see what happens on
the floor.  I would, too, except this is so arcane, no one would
know what he was seeing!

"Sandy, do you and Cliff mind if I stay around for another day or
so?  Needless to say -- although maybe I should have said it --
Jack Snyder wants me to do anything -- everything!  -- to keep
you happy.  In case you didn't know it, you are our firm's
largest account by far.  Incidentally, we've received your
securities portfolio.  Again, thank you for your business."

"Kelly, would you like an office?  An apartment?  I have already
provided a lover, so that's taken care of.  By the way, that glow
in your face doesn't look like the gleam of avarice.  It predates
the invention of money by quite a few millennia!  That wouldn't
be in your thinking about staying over, would it?"

"Would it matter?" Kelly asked in a small voice.

"Of course not!  I think you're going to find out something, if
you haven't already.  When you're loved -- and I mean really
loved -- it's so damned great, you want everyone to know it and
feel it themselves.  And I'm so desperately in love with Cliff I
can't stand it sometimes.  I just want to hold him and be held. 
Do you understand?"

"I don't think I would have twenty-four hours ago, but I
certainly do now!  Sandy, is it always this good?  I mean...
Kevin and I... It was _all night,_ for God's sake.  I didn't
think it was physically possible for a man..."  She had reddened,
but still grinned.  Sandy grinned back.

"I guess sometimes it is.  Of course, with Cliff and me, since
we've been together so long...  I mean we don't do an all-nighter
more than three or four nights a week anymore.  I don't want you
to get the wrong idea, though.  We try, but just collapse.

"By the way, you're invited for dinner with Kevin if you would
like to come and if he's available.  Would you care to?"  Kelly
accepted and went off to ask Kevin.

Just then Cliff returned with a tall young man Sandy didn't
recall ever seeing before.  "Sandy, this is Sam Johnson.  Sam, I
would like to introduce you to Sandra Donnell who owns the
company.  Sandy, Sam is the director in charge of the Pinkerton
detail, and I wanted to be sure he and his people are fully
briefed.  Where's Kelly?"  Just then Kelly returned, beaming. 
She was introduced to Johnson.  Cliff asked her to brief him
about the market.

"Sam, have you ever heard of a corner in the stock market?"

"Vaguely," he replied.  "I thought it was something involving the
robber barons that went out at the turn of the century or
something."

Kelly grinned and said, "It sort of did.  The only way it can
happen is the way it's happening now.  Not many shares of stock,
and the bulk of it in a single pair of hands.  But it needs
something else:  There must be short sellers.  There can't be a
corner if people are buying and selling what they own.  If they
do, and there are a lot more people who want to buy than want to
sell, then the price just goes up fast.

"This appears to be a classic corner.  As of two days ago, there
was a very large short interest.  These were people who had sold
short, borrowed stock to deliver, and are waiting for the price
to drop to cover their positions.  Within the last twenty-four
hours, though, there have been more shares sold than there are
shares.  Now, there can always be some day trading: someone buys
at ten o'clock, say, and sells at two.  There can be some of that
contained in the numbers.

"Nevertheless, there's a devastating pattern for someone.  First,
it appears shares have been sold that cannot be delivered. 
Second, there are the shorts from two days ago who delivered
borrowed stock they will have to replace.  There just aren't
enough shares in existence.  Do you see the problem?"

Johnson had been listening intently.  "I sure do!  Am I correct
in assuming these people benefit if something bad happens to
Murphy Manufacturing?  Something that would cause a lot of
shareholders to want to sell?"

"Absolutely right!" Kelly replied.

"And conversely, anything good that's announced just pulls the
noose tighter around their necks, right?" he continued.  She
nodded.  "Then am I correct in assuming the time of peak danger
to the company is the next seven days?  After that it's probably
too late to help the shorts."

"You're there, Sam," Cliff said.  "That's why we're meeting right
now.  I wanted to be sure you fully understand the problem.  The
other thing is we want to do everything possible to protect
ourselves.  Bill Stevens made the arrangements with your people.
He couldn't have explained this to them because we didn't know it
ourselves until a few minutes ago.  Now, do you have all the
manpower and equipment you can use, and, if not, what more do you
need and how fast can you get it?"

"May I use your phone, please, sir?  I want to talk to my
regional director."

"Of course!" Cliff replied.

Johnson picked up the phone and dialed a number.  He asked for a
name Cliff didn't pick up and then started speaking.  "Boss, it's
Sam.  I'm at Murphy Manufacturing, and they have a very dangerous
situation over here."  He quickly explained the reasons for the
danger.  Then he listened intently and started taking notes. 
Finally he said, "Thanks, Boss.  That sounds like it ought to do
it."  and hung up.

Turning back to Cliff he said, "I don't want to pat myself on the
back, sir, but I think it's lucky you called us.  We're big, and
have a lot of resources we can deploy on short notice.  I should
warn you, though, this isn't going to be cheap.  What we're
proposing is this:  First, we would like to put an armed guard in
every truck leaving Murphy and have it trailed to its destination
with an unmarked car to cover against hijacking.  Next, we're
going to get some teams here and put them on the roof tonight. 
We have special infrared equipment that can light up the
surrounding area so it's like daylight if you have the right
glasses.  Finally, we propose to double the plain-clothes detail
in the plant during working hours, and put attack dogs in the
plant at night."

He grinned, and continued, "All I can say is I wouldn't care
_ever_ to meet one of those damned dogs in a dark plant.  Only
you don't meet just one.  They run in packs.  I went in one night
after the dogs trapped an intruder.  They're trained to hold a
person who's still.  They don't attack, then, they just hold. 
This poor clown was scared stiff.  Even with the dogs gone, he
literally could not move.  He was taken to jail on a stretcher. 
Anyway, how does the program sound?  We'll plan on seven days and
see what happens."

Sandy nodded, and Cliff said, "It's fine.  When do you start?"

Johnson smiled again.  "Before I hung up the phone.  By now, your
place is going to be crawling with our people.  I better dash and
get them all deployed.  It's been delightful meeting you all. 
Let's keep our fingers crossed!"  He shook hands all around and
left.

It was time for Sandy to give her speech so they went down to the
plant.  Cliff was very pleased to see faces he didn't recognize
spotted around the plant pushing brooms, and apparently handling
boxes, but in all cases being very alert.  A broom-pusher stopped
near by and spoke to Cliff without looking at him.  It was Sam. 
"I just heard about the speech to the workers.  Obviously, my
people are on the alert, because this would be the perfect time
for someone to move.  All the workers are in one place with the
machine tools uncovered."

Sandy was introduced and started speaking: "Ladies and gentlemen,
we may be out of the woods.  This morning we received an order
from Magna Motors.  It is for three times the volume we used to
have!  As soon as equipment can be installed, we'll be expanding
production and rehiring.  A few months ago I stood here and said
I recognized an obligation to the people we were forced to lay
off.  We have the obligation, and we have not forgotten:  With
luck, they will all be back at work within ninety days.  I want
you to know it was _your work_ that created these jobs.  The
quality of product we're shipping now is the best it has ever
been in the company's history.  We're rebuilding this company on
quality: the quality you're producing.  I can only say, please
don't stop.  Personally, I don't think you will.  I learned
something from Cliff Fitzpatrick.  He said workers want to do a
good job.  I hoped he was right, but I wasn't sure.  Now I _am_
sure!  You're doing it.  Thank you for your support."

The workers cheered.  She waved, and they cheered louder.  Then
she brought Max and Cliff to the podium, and they cheered even
louder.

Finally, Max waved for quiet.  "Thanks, Sandy!  Brothers and
Sisters, that is all I can say or need to say.  Management --
ownership -- kept it's word.  Sandy said if we did the job, we
would have the jobs back.  She was dead right.  I'm proud as
hell, and I know you are, too.

"There's just one more thing:  I can't go into the details, but
you must be on your guard for the next seven days.  You know the
Pinkertons are here.  There are people who we are almost certain
will try to sabotage our operations here within the next five
days.  If you see anyone -- and I mean _anyone_ -- you don't
recognize, notify a Pinkerton immediately.  They know their jobs,
but they don't know our people.  You do.  You point them to the
stranger, and they'll do the rest.

"The owner took care of us as she promised she would.  I promised
her we would take care of her plant.  That's _my_ promise and the
union's promise to her.  Make damn sure we deliver on that
promise!  Now let's all get back to work!"

They went back to Cliff's office and Sandy took off her white
coat that she wore for the speech.  Kelly said, "I wish I could
have heard your previous speech to the workers, Sandy.  My God! 
I have never seen anything like it.  You could have heard a pin
drop while you were speaking.  They believe in you!  They really
do, and it's so great to see."

There was a message waiting for her to call her trader which she
did immediately.  "Bill, it's Kelly.  What's up?" she said.  She
listened and quickly mde a thumbs-up sign for the others to see.
"My God!  you're kidding!  It's at forty!"  She continued to
listen, and then thanked him and hung up.

"Murphy closed at forty.  Bill's certain there's a corner.  It
jumped beginning thirty minutes before the close.  He doesn't
think they'll be able to open trading in the morning."

Then she dialed another number.  It was the financial public
relations man at Ajax.  "Hi, Bill.  It's Kelly again.  Do you
have any word for me?"  She listened intently, and finally said,
"Thanks, Bill.  I know it's not for publication, but let me know
as soon as you have anything official.  You know how to reach
me."  She hung up and leaned back in the chair.  "Folks, the
champagne is on me tonight.  Where can I get some Dom Perignon?

"Sandy, based on your instructions, Bill got us another $300,000
in Murphy averaging about thirty-five.  I guess our shares have
an average cost of about thirty over the two days, so that's a
total of 1,600 or 1,700 shares.  I'm out of money, but the damn
stock is now at forty!  I have made eight thousand dollars in one
day!"

They went back to the apartment, and Cliff helped Sandy with
preparations for the dinner.  He continued to be impressed at how
organized she was.  At seven-thirty, the doorbell rang.  It was
Kevin and Kelly with two bottles of champagne.  He put one in a
wine cooler and put the other in the refrigerator.  Then Kevin
started opening a bottle which was already chilled.  Sandy came
in with hors d'oeuvres as Kevin poured the champagne.

Cliff looked at his glass and then looked at Kelly.  "I don't
know which is bubbling more, Kelly, you or the champagne.  I
think you are."

The dinner was a smashing success with Sandy serving a roast
sirloin of beef.  After coffee and cognac, Kevin and Kelly
excused themselves, mumbling something about it being a very long
day.  Sandy didn't even kid them about the longer night to
follow.*Chapter 14*

It was Tuesday morning following a very eventful week.  Kelly's
estimate from a week earlier proved to be correct.  First the
financial papers, then the business sections of the daily press,
and finally the general-interest press including TV and the news
weeklies, discovered Murphy Manufacturing Company and the first
corner on a securities market since the Hunt brothers tried to
corner silver.  But unlike the Hunt situation, which even experts
argued over, Murphy was easy to understand.

As one anchorwoman said, "It's nice of them to have an even one
million shares.  It makes the percentages so easy to calculate."
And it sure did.  It now appeared that there were nearly 100,000
shares sold which couldn't be delivered -- nearly 10 percent of
the company's stock.  One thing had not happened: The sellers of
the shares had not yet surfaced.  Today was the settlement day
for Tuesday's trades, so it was only a matter of hours.

As Bill had predicted, they had tried to open the stock the
previous Wednesday, but ultimately could not.  The specialist on
the floor reported to the exchange governors that he had bids in
his book as high as sixty, but there were no sellers.  He had
sold out his own position the previous day.  When he was
criticized for his failure to make an orderly market in the
stock, he pointed out how thin the market for the stock was and
how few shares were normally traded.  The inventory of shares he
had would have lasted two to four weeks at any time over the
previous three years.  Now they went out in a matter of a couple
of hours as he tried to make a market.

The governors asked around but could not find any shares for sale
even at a hypothetical $100 a share.  They gave up and formally
suspended the stock from trading.  Now they watched and waited.

So far the company security was holding solidly.  Too solidly for
a couple of kids who were taking a shortcut through a previously
unnoticed hole in a fence, and too solidly for a poor pizza
delivery man who sheepishly showed the guards surrounding him a
large pepperoni pizza he was delivering.

Sandy was sitting across from Cliff with her coffee, giggling to
herself.  He looked at her strangely.  "What's got into you?  I
didn't think you were the giggling type."

"I was just thinking about yesterday in the cafeteria.  You
missed the funniest scene in years.  I didn't want to embarrass
the other two by telling you yesterday afternoon while they were
around, and last night we had other things to do.  Anyway, you
know how in a crowded place, every once in a while there's a
moment of quiet?

"Well just as one occurred, everyone in the place saw Kelly
standing against Kevin's chest and heard her screaming up at him,
'I can't marry you!  I refuse to be Kelly O'Rourke!'  The whole
place just broke up.  It's been the talk of the plant.  They all
think it's great.  They were wondering who that beautiful
dark-haired girl is.  Now they know."

She looked up just as Kelly came in.  "And speak of the devil! 
Here she is!"

"Would you two please do something about this... this Irish
wolfhound who keeps following me around!"  She came in followed
by Kevin, who grinned at the two of them and winked at them over
Kelly's head.  "Sandy, do something!  You own this joint.  Can't
you get him to do some work or molest a secretary or something?"

"Kelly, you must be thinking of two other people.  All I do is
get the coffee.  No one reports to me.  I don't even get to share
a secretary.  Wait until I address the Midwest Women Financial
Executives meeting in Chicago in November!  (I didn't tell you,
Cliff, but they invited me down as the featured speaker.)  Wait
until I tell them that I do your correspondence, get your coffee,
and perform... other personal services.  Boy, are they going to
hear about it!"

"But what about your treasury duties?" Kelly asked.  "Who does
those?"

"I do those, too.  Cliff says that once a good cash management
system is up and running, all you have to do is watch the wheels
turn."

"So what do you do?" Kelly persisted.

Sandy shrugged.  "I watch the wheels turn," she replied with a
grin.  "You'll have to ask Cliff about Kevin.  He's the CEO."

"Okay, Cliff, you do it!" Kelly demanded.

Cliff pretended to look puzzled.  "Do what?"

"Damn it!  Tell this big lug to get to work and quit bothering
me.  That's what!"

"Oh, dear!" Cliff said plaintively.  "I can't do that.  Kelly, I
guess you don't know much about systems people, do you?"

"I guess not, Cliff," she replied sarcastically, "but I sure know
when I'm being conned!  But please continue."

"Kelly, they're very scarce.  Good ones are nearly impossible to
get, and unfortunately, Kevin's one of the very best.  Hell, I
can't tell him to do anything.  Ask Sandy.  She'll tell you that
it takes at least an hour of discussion to try to figure out what
sort of mood he's in.  We have to wait for just the right time,
or he'll get mad and sulk... or something worse."

He smiled at her.  "Actually, Kelly, I want to thank you.  His
mood has been so much better since you have been around.  He
hasn't smashed a computer since you have been here and that's
almost a full week now!"

By this time everyone in the room including Kelly was laughing. 
She and Kevin collapsed in the sofa.  "Okay then, both of you. 
Just tell Kevin I can't possibly marry him because the name,
Kelly O'Rourke, sounds absolutely ridiculous.  It's really a
stupid name, isn't it?"

"I don't know.  I think it sounds very nice... a bit ethnic, but
nice," Cliff said with a straight face.

"A bit ethnic, my ass!  Kevin O'Rourke, if you persist, so help
me I'll have the map of Ireland tattooed on my chest, right over
my boobs.  What do you think about that?"

Kevin looked thoughtful, and then visibly brightened.  "I think
it's a fine idea.  A bit dramatic and not really necessary, but a
fine idea.  What do you two think?"

By this time, Sandy was laughing too hard to do anything except
slowly shake her head.  Cliff just held up his hands in a sign of
surrender.  "You keep us out of this!  I have one question,
though.  Kevin, you're Catholic, aren't you?  How about you,
Kelly?"

"My father is Presbyterian.  Only my mother is Catholic," she
said.

"What about you?" Cliff persisted.

"I'm Catholic," she replied reluctantly.

"Great!  When is the wedding?"

"I'll think about it," she mumbled.

Then she turned on the sofa, grabbed Kevin, and melted into his
arms.  Awhile later she came up for air.  They heard her whisper,
"Of course I'll marry you, you big lug.  I feel sorry for you. 
And I love you so damned much.  But Kelly O'Rourke, indeed!"  She
went back into his arms.

Just then Cliff's phone rang.  Again, it was Bill from the Snyder
trading room for Kelly.  She reluctantly pulled away from Kevin,
straightened her clothes ostentatiously, and took the phone.

"What's up, Bill?"  She listened for a while, while she was
looking at Sandy.  "Bill, exactly how many shares do we have now?
 Okay, but you know the drill:  Placed back with the original
owners, with the voting rights retained by us until October 15. 
If they don't like it, tough.  It's a condition of the sale."

She hung up the phone and looked at the others.  "The pot is
starting to boil.  Bill says he's never had so much fun -- or so
many phone calls.  Suddenly, Snyder Securities is famous as the
only place in the country with a known holding of Murphy
Manufacturing shares outside of the family.  The phone is ringing
off the hook, and we're about to ransom some positions.  Sandy,
we bought 16,000 shares Monday and Tuesday.  So far we've only
received 7,000.  I propose to do this:  We will ransom the 7,000
shares back to known lenders.  They must establish prior
ownership.  You heard me tell Bill we retain voting rights until
October 15.  The price is $1,000 a share."

Sandy was aghast.  "You did say $1,000 dollars... per share!...
didn't you?"

Now it was Kelly's turn to tease.  Her face fell and she looked
as if she was going to cry.  "It's not enough?  You're convinced
I'm leaving money on the table.  Well, Sandra Donnell, I have to
live with myself.  Any more than... $2,000 a share?... would be
cruel!  Don't you agree, Cliff?  Cliff?"

"Don't bother me, Kelly.  I'm too busy dreaming.  I own ten
thousand shares, remember.  Cameron, that's ten million dollars!
Would you like to sell one thousand shares for me?  Then I can
get out of hock to the bankers, and maybe have enough left to buy
my future bride an engagement ring.  A pretty one."

"Are you serious, Cliff?" Kelly asked.

"I sure am!" he replied, "But it's on the same basis as you're
doing it.  Kelly, it's time for me to join the crowd.  Where are
the forms for me to sign to make you my broker, too?  I'll
arrange for my shares to be transferred to Snyder.  One thing
more:  What about the eight thousand shares you haven't
received?"

Kelly grinned again.  "It's simple.  The seller buys out of the
contract at the present market price for Murphy shares -- $1,000
-- unless, of course, Bill's greed gets the better of him and he
pushes the price up higher.  He is greedy, too.  I think $1,000
is just a start.  But do you see what's happening?  These little
deals _are_ the market.  The fact that the stock's listed on the
AMEX has nothing to do with nothing.  These sales will be duly
reported to the Exchange and go out on the tape.  We _are_ the
market!  We have the only shares available at any price.

"Whoops, I nearly forgot.  I have to call my friend at Ajax
Industries.  He's been trying to reach me."  She picked up the
phone and dialed the number.  "Hi, Bill.  It's Kelly Cameron.  I
was told you've been trying to reach me."

She listened, and made noncommittal noises of comprehension on
the phone, but it was obvious she was extremely excited.  She was
jumping in her chair although her voice remained impassive. 
Finally she said, "Thanks Bill.  When will this be on the wire?"
She nodded, and said "Thanks for the confidence.  I appreciate
it!  Stay in touch."

She hung up and exclaimed, "George Simpson is out at Ajax!  The
Board demanded his resignation.  Apparently, some Board members
were advised by Magna of what Simpson had done.  They confronted
him and he admitted telling the Chairman of Magna that Ajax would
cut them off if they bought from Murphy.  That's an antitrust
felony, and Magna threatened to sue for treble damages in an
antitrust action.  The Board had no choice, so Simpson is
history."

Sandy excused herself to make a phone call while the others
considered the effect of the action.  Cliff said, "I think that
makes it easier for us.  We have reason to believe Ajax has
rather high total costs.  They carry a corporate overhead charge
that won't quit, including a whole fleet of corporate aircraft. 
I don't think they can come after us on price, and I don't
believe they can do it on quality either.  My God!  I think,
we're home free!"

Just then the plant's emergency whistle screamed.  Cliff and
Kevin raced for the door with Cliff grabbing his hard hat on the
way out.  They raced down to the plant floor.  As they reached
it, they heard screaming police sirens coming their way.  At one
of the production machines a man they didn't recognize was lying
face-down on the floor covered by Pinkerton guns.

He recognized Sam Johnson quickly securing the man's hands behind
him with handcuffs.  "What happened, Sam?" Cliff asked.  He could
see other Pinkertons roping off a clear area for the police,
while others went back on patrol.  A few minutes later, police
started to arrive on the scene.

"We caught this guy starting to tamper with the machine.  Look."
An inspection port was nearly off the machine.  Sitting nearby
was a bag of what appeared to be very fine-grain sand.  The
police were about to help the man up when Johnson's walkie-talkie
squawked.  He had an earpiece so others couldn't hear.  Suddenly
his face became grave.

He turned to a police sergeant who was obviously in charge of the
detail.  "Sergeant, you better take a couple of men along the
back fence.  You'll see a couple of my men about halfway along. 
This is now a murder investigation:  One of my guards is dead!"

Sandy and Kelly had just come up to them and overheard what
Johnson had said.  Cliff saw them both go pale.  Sam spoke
quietly into his microphone, obviously giving out the news and
new orders.  Cliff realized that things had taken a sudden, very
deadly turn as he saw the Pinkertons loading their weapons and
checking them.

The sergeant returned and went to his radio car where he called
for homicide detectives and the morgue wagon.  When he rejoined
Sam, he extended his hand.  "I'm terribly sorry," he said.  "I
knew your man when he was on the force.  He was a damned good
cop.  I think we ought to let our friend lie there until the
detectives arrive.  From the looks of Jack's head back there, I
think we're going to find a blackjack or something similar on
this joker.  And you know what?  Our lab is going to send him to
the chair with the forensics."

The detectives arrived and searched the man.  As the sergeant had
predicted, there was a sap filled with lead shot in his pocket. 
It was wet with blood on one side.  The police crime lab people
were soon on the scene.

Bill asked if he could have a small sample of what was in the
bag.  The material looked like fine-grain sand, and they gave him
some in a small plastic bag.  As the technician did so, he
suddenly became interested in the material himself.  He warned
Bill to be careful with it.  "I don't know exactly what this
stuff is," he said, "But I have a hunch it's not just sand."

A now-somber group went back up to Cliff's office, accompanied by
Sam Johnson.  Sam was the first to speak.  "I just talked with my
office, Mr. Fitzpatrick.  This changes things for us...
dramatically.  We tend to take it very personally when one of our
men gets killed in line of duty.  It's not you and them any more,
sir.  It's them and _us!_  I have been asked to advise you of a
proposed change in arrangements.  The Pinkerton Detective Agency
proposes to work at our cost until this is cleared up.  Clearly,
it isn't yet.  Is our proposal satisfactory?"

Cliff looked at Sandy who was nodding her head.  "It's very
satisfactory.  There's only one thing, Sam.  We're called Sandy
and Cliff around here.  I'm sure you noticed, and we'd appreciate
it if you would call us that, too." d
Sam smiled and said, "Sure, Cliff.  One thing I should mention to
you:  This is the finest, most cooperative groups of workers it's
ever been our good fortune to work with.  We couldn't ask for
better cooperation.  And your people know our history.  They kid
us about it, in fact.  Anyway, I want you to know we appreciate
it.

"There's one more thing:  It may sound personal, but it's
professional.  Sandy, what happens to the Murphy stock if
something happens to you?  What if you're hit by a truck?  Who
inherits?"

"Sam, I don't know for sure.  After October 1, it's Cliff. 
Between now and then, I really don't know.  Specifically, I don't
know if the shares are mine to bequeath now.  If they are, the
answer is Cliff again.  If not, I don't have a clue.

"While we're all being so forthcoming, there's something else you
should know, too.  Cliff and I suspect the trustee of the estate,
Ezra Stiles, may be behind this.  We don't have one tiny shred of
evidence, though, but it's the only thing that seems to match up
with behavior we've observed."  She went on and explained the
theory of the corner on the market and the two-thirds voting at
the meeting October first.  Sam grinned when he heard Sandy
already owned over 74 percent of the stock, so any such plan was
already doomed to defeat.

He picked up the phone and called a number.  He explained what he
had just learned and hung up.  "I'm sorry," he said.  "We don't
like playing target.  This gives us a place to start looking, and
we're really very good at looking.

"The answer to the question I asked about the stock is you don't
know and believe you can't ask.  I agree.  Under the
circumstances, we propose to cover you with bodyguards.  I know
it sounds melodramatic, but they work sometimes.  Will you allow
us to do it, please, Sandy?"

"My God!  I guess so.  But it sounds so... so creepy!"

"Okay, then.  I'll be running the bodyguard detail because we
know one another, assuming that's all right with you?"  Sandy
instantly agreed and Sam said, "Well, I'm off."*Chapter 15*

It was a Monday evening in late August.  Cliff was trying to
watch a preseason Monday Night Football game while Sandy was
trying to distract him.  They were both having fun when Sandy's
phone rang.  It was Sam Johnson calling from his car out front. 
There was trouble at the plant, and he wanted them to return with
him to the plant at once.  He offered to take them in his car. 
Sandy put her clothes back on with some reluctance, and Cliff
rearranged his. 

As they drove towards the plant Sam explained what had happened.
One of his rooftop teams had seen two men cutting through the
wire in the rear of the plant.  They were allowed to come through
the fence and move well away from the wire before the floodlights
were turned on.  The men were told to stand still while guards
were called.  Instead, they drew guns and started shooting.

Sam said, "It wasn't their brightest idea.  The guys I have on
the roof are all veteran snipers from Vietnam days.  As one of
them told me one time, he's heard enough incoming rounds to last
him.  Anyway, my men smoked them.  I think one is dead and the
other was hit pretty hard.  We'll see."

When they reached the plant, there seemed to be dozens of police
cars with their emergency lights casting blue and red beams of
light all around.  As they reached the location where police cars
were concentrated, they found the patrol sergeant calling for the
bomb squad.  The lawmen knew each other.  The sergeant greeted
Sam and introduced himself to Cliff and Sandy.

Smiling at Sandy he said, "You look even better in person than
you do on TV.  I saw you interviewed about that stock corner
thing.  I'm very pleased to meet you.  The guys who are down
apparently have enough explosives with them to level this place.
Miss Donnell, someone doesn't like you very much."

Meanwhile, Sam checked his men.  They were all in position and
very alert.  Sam looked on while his men gave their statements to
the police.  When they finished up, Sam took one more look around
and then drove them back to the apartment.  Sandy asked him if he
could join them for a beer.  He grinned and accepted.

They entered the apartment and saw the football game was still
on.  Sandy said, "I know when I'm not wanted!"  She brought out
beer and pretzels, and went back for cheese and crackers.

Green Bay was playing the Jets in a preseason game at the
Meadowlands and the Packers were actually winning.  In spite of
what she said, Sandy was an avid football fan.  All three were
watching the game closely right to the end which came about
eleven.  The Packers had hung on to win.

Sandy produced more beers, and the three relaxed.  Cliff was the
first to speak.  "Sam, it never occurred to me to ask.  Were
those guys you picked up tonight identified?"

"I didn't make them," Sam replied.  "And that reminds me: As far
as I know, there's no make on that killer from last month,
either.  This whole deal bothers me.  For that matter, I haven't
heard of an identification of that substance he had.  Last I
heard, it was being sent to the FBI crime lab.  One thing is for
damn sure:  somebody doesn't like you a whole lot!

"But there's something in our favor:  There have been two
attempts in thirty days.  Both attempts left bodies on the
ground.  It sounds weird, I know, but it makes it a hell of a lot
easier to keep my men on their toes.  There's nothing quite like
shots being fired to maintain a guy's concentration."

He got out of his chair.  "I had better get back to the car. 
Thanks very much for the beer, Sandy.  I enjoyed it.  Good night,
folks."

* * *

On Saturday morning, Sandy had an early appointment at the beauty
parlor.  She was going to sneak out but decided it would get the
detectives on duty in trouble.  She had learned that Sam was an
ex-major in the Marine Corps.  She decided he could strip flesh
from bones with his voice, and she didn't want to be the cause of
it so she called the number she had been given.

The voice at the other end said very pleasantly, "Please wait,
Miss Donnell."  A moment later, the voice came back and said,
"You will be taking your car from the garage, ma'am?"  Sandy said
she would be, and the voice said it was clear to proceed.

Sandy thought it was a lot of cloak-and-dagger nonsense, but she
played the game.  Her beauty parlor was located in a shopping
mall.  After parking in the large parking area she walked towards
the entrance.

Suddenly, an arm grabbed her around the neck from behind, and she
felt something sharp at her back.  Then she heard the word she
had been told to expect:  "Drop!"

She did exactly what she had been told.  Letting her body go limp
she dropped straight to the ground while ignoring the sharp
object.  Instantly, shots rang out and a heavy body fell on top
of her.  Even covered as she was by the body on top, she could
still hear more shots fired, then the squeal of tires followed by
the sound of a car crash.  Seconds later, the body lying on top
of her was pulled off.

Again it was Sam Johnson.  Although she was starting to shake,
she managed a grin.  "For Heaven's sake, Johnson, don't you ever
go home?  And what did I do this time?"

He looked her over and whistled softly.  "Sandy, I'm afraid
you're going to need a new blouse.  And maybe we better get you
to a hospital.  I think he nicked your back with his blade."

Sandy glanced at the body lying on the ground and quickly turned
her head away.  Magnum bullets had torn the assailant to shreds.
"Sam Johnson, we will do no such thing!  I'm fine, and...  Holy
cow!  I'm late for my appointment.  They'll cancel me."

Sandy sprinted off.  Sam waved and two Pinkertons, one of them a
woman, ran after her.  Sam was both concerned and amused.  Sandy
had done it perfectly even though he had been unable to get her
to rehearse.  He smiled as he thought about the police reaction.
He could hear sirens already racing to the scene.

The man who had grabbed Sandy was dead.  Three Pinkertons had
been shooting, including himself.  Sam knew he and at least one
of the others used .357 Magnums so the assailant was in pieces. 
_My God!_  he thought, _She didn't even blink.  This is a girl
worth guarding!_

When the police arrived, they took the two men in the getaway car
into custody while the morgue wagon was on its way to retrieve
the assailant.  On this investigation, the patrol sergeant
quickly gave way to a lieutenant of homicide, Lemuel Collins. 
Clearly, the Milwaukee Police Department was getting tired of the
attacks involving Murphy Manufacturing.

Sam explained what had happened.  He said he was in charge of a
bodyguard detail covering Miss Donnell and told how she had been
grabbed from behind.  "Lieutenant, it looked like a kidnaping. 
It's the only reason I can think of for two guys in the getaway
car.  We yelled at Sandy to drop, and she did.  I think her back
was cut by his knife on the way down.  As soon as she was out of
our firing line, three of us cut loose.  I think we may have
overdone it a bit.  The guy is shot to rags.  Anyway, we have the
other two.  Now I would love to know where they intended to take
her."

"Where is Miss Donnell now?  At the hospital?" Collins asked.

Johnson grinned and shook his head.  "No, sir.  At the beauty
parlor over there.  That's why she's here.  She ran in, afraid
she would lose her appointment."

Collins looked at him strangely.  Finally, he decided Johnson
wasn't kidding.  "Shall we have a talk with the intendedvictim?"

They walked over to the beauty parlor and waited while the
operator finished with Sandy.  Finally she emerged from the shop.
 As they walked over, the female Pinkerton was assuring her that
Cliff would love her hair.

Sam introduced her to Lieutenant Collins who walked around her
looking and then said, "Tell me I'm seeing things.  Miss Donnell,
is your blouse being held together with Scotch tape?"

Sandy smiled at him, "I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but it's the best we
could do.  Does it really look that bad?  It's not bleeding
through the fabric, is it?"

Collins started to laugh.  "Miss Donnell, you absolutely take the
cake!  You're the victim of an attempted kidnap.  The assailant
is shot to pieces right on top of you.  And then you use Scotch
tape...  and Band-Aids?"  Sandy nodded as Collins continued,
"...to fix the damage."

Sandy looked at Sam.  "Would it be an awful lot of trouble to
swing by a hospital on the way back?  I think Cliff would kill me
if I didn't at least go through the motions of being checked."

Collins asked, "Miss Donnell, would you mind if I joined you? 
This whole thing is becoming a major-league embarrassment to our
department, and we don't like being embarrassed."

Sandy agreed and a caravan, led by Lieutenant Collins with his
flasher on, drove up to the emergency room of a nearby hospital.
In addition to Collins there was a patrol car and two cars of
Pinkertons.  Collins escorted Sandy in, explained the situation
and turned Sandy over to a nurse.  The female Pinkerton, Sally
Ellsworth, accompanied Sandy into the examining room.  A doctor
came into the room and told Sally that relatives had to wait out
front.

Sally said, "I am not a relative.  I'm police, and I'm staying
here!"

The doctor was startled, but acquiesced.  Sandy carefully took
off the remains of her blouse and then the doctor looked at the
long scratch.  "What did you scratch yourself on?" he asked.

Sally answered, "She didn't scratch herself.  An assailant, now
very dead, did it to her this morning.  It was a knife or an ice
pick.  I didn't stick around to find out which."

The doctor visibly paled but regained his composure.  He asked
Sandy about tetanus shots and, when she couldn't recall when she
last had one, gave her another.  He put some antiseptic on the
scratch and smiled.  "Young lady, I gather you were very lucky. 
There shouldn't be any mark at all, and you probably you won't
even get a scab.  The only possible risk is tetanus, and we've
taken care of that."

Sandy put her bra back on and carefully put on her shredded
blouse.  She thanked the doctor, and she and Sally went back
outside.  When the whole crew went back to the apartment, Sandy
asked if they would give her a few minutes alone with Cliff.  She
told Sam she would call him on his car phone.

When she let herself in, Cliff was still sleeping so she shook
him awake.  He peered up at her, bleary-eyed.  Suddenly, the
events of the morning hit her, and she started to cry.

Instantly Cliff was wide awake.  "Honey, what happened?  What's
the trouble?"  She went into his arms and continued to cry.  As
he held her, he felt the Scotch tape holding her blousetogether.

Finally, she regained control and told him about the events of
the morning.  "Cliff, Sam and the police are outside waiting. 
Would you mind letting them in while I clean up a little?"

He got dressed quickly and let the others in while she went to
the bathroom to clean up.  Cliff called Sam, and a few minutes
later he arrived and introduced Lem Collins.  Cliff had made
coffee for the group when Sandy joined them after washing her
face and putting on a new blouse.

Collins started off:  "Mr. Fitzpatrick, frankly, we're baffled. 
I have never seen a case with more people in custody and less
knowledge on our part.  We have the guy who killed the Pinkerton
man and tried to sabotage your machine.  We have the survivor of
the two who tried to blow up your place.  We have two guys from
the getaway car today.  In addition, we have two fresh bodies in
the morgue.  But we haven't identified anyone!  They're _all_
still carried as John Does.

"I have been on the force for over twenty years, and this has
never happened before.  More to the point, I can't find any
indication of it ever happening _anywhere_ before.  Not even the
FBI has been able to get a make on these clowns yet!  Do you or
Miss Donnell have any ideas?  Any place to start?"

"We have a suspicion, that's all.  We don't have a shred of
evidence," Sandy said.  "We suspect Ezra Stiles, the attorney who
is trustee of my estate until the first of October.  As I said,
there is no evidence.  However, Cliff and I and some of our
friends came to the conclusion by working backward from a motive.
 He's the one we came to.  He knows the company."

She explained the Board meeting on October first and the corner
in Murphy stock.  She finished by saying, "Lieutenant, let's be
honest:  Murphy Manufacturing is a small company.  We've been
listed on the exchange for a lot more years than I've been alive.
 Similarly, there have been one million shares outstanding since
before I was born.  Why the movement now?  What's different?  The
only thing different is Cliff Fitzpatrick."

She then explained the loss of the Magna business, the Kaga
contract, and Kelly's input.  "So you see, a short sale was a
pretty good move... if you didn't know about the Kaga contract,
our export plans, and the Stores Southern Division.  Finally, we
have reason to believe Stiles was blinded when we fired the
treasurer, Purcell, and then the personnel director, Budd.  Worst
of all, from his position, the loss of his eyes couldn't have
come at a worse time.  He had knowledge of the losses, but he
didn't know about the offsetting gains."  She looked at the two
detectives and asked, "Does that make any sense to you?"

"Miss Donnell, it's scary.  Have you mentioned your suspicions to
anyone else?" Collins asked.

"Yes, Lieutenant.  To Sam Johnson.  Sam, have your people found
anything yet?"

"Sandy, I'm embarrassed.  My people keep running into blind
alleys.  I agree with the Lieutenant:  We've never encountered
anything like this before.  And we're not alone.  Lieutenant, you
might as well know that the FBI is on the case, too.  The SEC
brought them in because of possible Federal securities law
violations.  The last I heard, there is still no word on who is
caught in the corner on Murphy stock.

"I understand they tracked a huge chunk of the short sales to a
bank in the Cayman Islands.  All anyone could get is it is acting
as the agent for a Cayman Islands Trust and cannot reveal the
names of the principals because of the country's bank secrecy
laws.  In some cases they're tougher than the Swiss, and this is
apparently one of those cases.  The Swiss will give the
government a hard time on tax cass, but they are murderous on
securities fraud.  In fact the Swiss are a hell of a lot tougher
than we are.  Over there, you go to jail and they throw away the
key.

"Lem," Sam said, "What about the guys you've got in custody? 
It's utterly inconceivable there are no records -- not even a
traffic ticket, for chrissakes.  Those guys aren't amateurs, I
guarantee it.  Why, in hell, can't we get a make?"

The phone rang and Sandy answered it.  "Lieutenant, it's for
you."  She gave him the phone and he identified himself.  Then he
listened and a smile started to appear for the first time.  He
thanked the caller and hung up.

"This may be the break.  Remember that material the first guy
had?  The stuff that looked like very fine-grain sand but wasn't?
 My God," he reflected, "it's been like everything else in this
case... in our hands but we don't know what we have.  Anyway,
that was the lab.  They just heard from the FBI.  Incidentally,
the Feds must be taking this case seriously, too, if they're
working Saturdays.  It seems that is very nasty stuff.  It comes
from a very small company in Minnesota.  Mr. Fitzpatrick, do you
have a Bill Stevens working for you?"

Cliff was immediately concerned, "Yes, of course.  Why?"

"No trouble, sir.  The lab says they gave him a small quantity of
the stuff, and they need it back.  The Feds want it, and they
want it all!  Apparently it's a very rare material:  There's only
one company in the world known to make it.  For purposes of
sabotage, it couldn't be better.  It is gritty and will chew up
machinery like sand.  But it can become explosive.  In the spot
where the guy was going to put it there's apparently an oil sump.
 This stuff -- and they didn't even tell us its name -- blends
with the oil and starts wearing at the bearings and such.  But
then, when the machine is going flat out and heating up -- high
production volumes -- the stuff, mixed with oil, becomes
explosive.  Very nasty stuff.

"There are two points here:  First, there is only one known
producer.  Second, this is _very_ sophisticated stuff.  For
security reasons -- and I'm damned if I know what it's made for
-- no mention has ever appeared in a general interest magazine or
anywhere else.  In other words, some joker didn't just happen to
find out about it.  He had to look and look very hard.  We just
may have a break.  Sam, one final question:  How hard are you
folks riding Stiles?  This is absolutely off the record, but you
private investigators have been known to do things that get us
civil servants cut off at the knees.

Sam smiled.  "We're riding him hard, and about to ride him even
harder.  Lem, my people -- the top management of the agency --
are taking this case very personally.  We come out of a long
tradition, too.  We were President Lincoln's intelligence
service, remember.  But let's put it this way:  We'll be able to
tell you the brand of cigarettes he smokes, if he ever smokes. 
Last question for you, Lem.  When do you think someone will have
something on the stuff?  And who's chasing it?  The FBI?"

"I guess so.  Hell, I hope so.  I don't really know.  Sam, let's
get out of these people's hair.  Thanks very much for your time,
and Miss Donnell, that was a remarkable bit of work this morning.
 Sam told me about it.  It is absolutely the correct procedure,
but it almost never works in real life.  I'm sure glad it did
this time!"

"Lieutenant," Cliff said, "Before you leave, I have one more
question.  In your opinion -- and in yours, too, Sam -- was this
a kidnaping or a murder attempt?  Your answer is important."

"Sir, I think it was a kidnaping.  How about you, Sam?"

"I agree.  Why, Cliff?"

"It may relate to the voting rights question with the stock.  We
suspect Ezra Stiles, and we told you why.  As a result, we
haven't asked him about the will provisions.  Lieutenant, wills
are on file at the courthouse.  Could you find out what the will
provisions are with respect to ownership -- and most particularly
voting rights -- on the Murphy stock?  Let's face it:  The stock
has got to be the key."

"I understand.  I'll see what I can do.  Let's go, Sam."

"Are you in a rush?" Sandy asked.  "I have a brainstorm I would
like to try out on you.  And since it's probably nothing but a
waste of time, I'll even throw in lunch.  Can you stay awhile?"

Lem shrugged and said, "This is my only case.  They're very
serious about it downtown.  I have time.  How about you Sam?"

Sam chuckled, "I'm the bodyguard detail.  This keeps me closer to
the body I'm supposed to be guarding.  What's your idea, Sandy?"

"First, let me review a few things you guys have said or
inferred:  Sam, your people are on Ezra like a blanket but you
haven't found anything to link him to the crime.  Has there been
anything at all suspicious?"

"Not really, Sandy.  No."

"What do you mean by 'not really'?  It sounds like something
isn't quite right," she persisted.

"Well there are a few strange-sounding phone calls, but they're
all to other directors.  It could be we just don't know your
business as well as we should."

Sandy beamed.  "Perfect!  Now listen:  What if Stiles plays the
role with others that Purcell and Budd were playing for him?  An
information source... a go-between?  What if it's a group of
directors?  Murphy has a small board.  There are only seven
members.  Now, in the years Stiles has been running things, there
have been three new directors elected:  Homer Cartwright, Palmer
Metcalf, and Luke Foster.  They're all from out of town.  Foster
is in Chicago, and Metcalf is in Minneapolis.  When Sam mentioned
Minnesota as the location of the company that makes the stuff, it
started me thinking.  Finally, Cartwright is in Miami.  What if
there's a real cabal rather than a single mastermind?  Does any
of this make sense?"  She had an additional idea.  "One more
thing:  The car this morning.  Where did it come from?"

She smiled at Cliff and said, "Honey, could you lend me twenty
dollars?"

Cliff grinned and gave her two tens.  "Now you guys see why she's
so rich and I'm so poor!  She only spends my money!"

Sandy ignored his jibe.  "I'll bet you each ten dollars that the
car was stolen -- probably from some suburban driveway -- this
morning.  Further, if your guys look, Lieutenant, they'll find a
rental car parked less than a block away.  Remember, you have to
have some kind of identification to rent a car.  All their ID
will be in the rental car, probably in the glove box.  If my
guess is correct no one had any ID, right?  None of the others
did."  Sam and Lem looked at each other and shook their heads. 
Each reached into a pocket and took out his shield case and
handed it to Sandy.

"What's this all about?" she asked.

Lem spoke for both of them.  "Since you're the only one using a
brain around here, you ought to have the badges, too.  Just a
second.  I want to show my people how smart their lieutenantis!"

He picked up the phone and made his call.  "Sergeant, it's
Collins.  Did you get a trace on the car used this morning? 
Fine.  Send a cruiser out to that area.  Have the boys start at
the house and just go around the block.  I'll bet there will be a
rental car -- they're all marked -- within less than a block.  It
will probably be up the block on the next cross street.  When
they find it, tell them not to do anything except radio their
report.  You can call me at this number.  Thanks."

Collins hung up the phone and turned to Sandy.  "You asked if
your idea makes sense?  Make sense!  Sandy... may I call you
Sandy?... it's absolutely brilliant!  Now let's see what
happens."

In the meantime Sam was on the phone requesting that the three
men be checked out.  "Jack, pay particular attention to Metcalf.
That strange stuff came from a very small place in Minnesota. 
See if there's any connection."

Sandy prepared soup and sandwiches for lunch.  While the foursome
were eating, Sandy's phone rang.  "Lieutenant, it's for you."

The officer took the phone and identified himself.  As the person
on the other end spoke, he started smiling and reached for his
wallet.  Finally he said, "Great work, Sergeant.  Now, fax all
the ID material we have on our John Does to Miami P.D.  See if
they know these guys.  You can reach me at the same number for a
while longer.  I'll call or radio when I leave."

Lem had taken a ten-dollar bill from his wallet and given it to
Sandy.  Sam did the same.  Sandy took the money she had borrowed
from Cliff and returned it.  "Thank you, dear.  Now I want you
both to see I pay my loans back, so you won't pay attention when
he bleats about it again."

She grinned at Cliff and thanked the officers.  "Now tell us what
happened," she said.

"You called it, Sandy.  The car was stolen this morning from a
suburban driveway.  You did everything except give us the damned
street address.  The cruiser found a rental half-a-block away. 
And guess what?  It was rented early this morning at the airport.
 There aren't many flights at that time because of noise rules. 
The only flight -- and the one named on the car-rental
reservation -- came in from Miami.  I have some guys out there
now.  They're waiting for a guy from the rental company with
another set of keys.  I'm sure you've heard Miami has become
something of a crime capital.  I'll bet we get a make on most of
the guys from the Miami police.  Give us a chance to get our
money back, Sandy?"

"Of course, Lem.  Are you in, too, Sam?"  He nodded.

Minutes later the phone rang again.  Collins took the call. 
"Bingo!  It's all there in the glove compartment.  ID on all
three guys.  We don't know if it's real, but we will in a very
short time.  There's something a little odd, though.  The car was
rented for a week on a prepaid basis.  The week isn't odd, but
the prepay is.  It came from a travel agency in Chicago, of all
places.

"What if we find our friend..."  Lem checked his notebook and
continued, "...Foster... made the reservations?  It's possible
that all the care was taken at this end.  In other words, very
careful about Milwaukee contacts -- code communication between
Stiles and the others, for example -- but no particular care
beyond that.

"Sam, did your people tape the calls?"

"They sure did!  Just give me a minute."  Sam picked up the phone
and called his office.  He asked for the technical center, spoke
to the supervisor, and explained what he wanted.

Then he hung up and returned to the table.  "They're going to
sift over the tapes and put all the strange-sounding calls on a
single tape.  I suspect they're going to make a hell of a lot
more sense now that we know what we're listening for. 
Incidentally, you'll be happy about one thing, Lem:  We didn't
use phone taps.  Instead, we used ultra-sensitive noninvasive
listening devices... all very legal."

Lem picked up the phone and called another number.  He identified
himself and waited.  He finally spoke to someone named Bill and
asked if he would care to join them.  He gave the address and
hung up.

"Who was that?" Cliff asked.

"That's Bill Owen in the local FBI office.  He's on the case from
the Federal side.  They are now _very_ interested.  There's
something about the stuff that has their interest, there's the
securities angle and now there's attempted kidnaping.  Ever since
Lindbergh, they've been death on kidnaping.  He's coming right
over.  I hope you two don't mind?"

A short time later the FBI agent arrived.  They briefed him on
the progress they had made, with Lem stressing it all came from
Sandy's idea.

"Do you folks have any plans for today?" Owen asked Cliff and
Sandy.

"I have taken care of my only date this morning, Bill.  I had my
hair done," Sandy said with a grin.

"Sam, I hate to impose, but I would really like to hit the ground
running on Monday," the FBI agent said.  "The other thing is the
possibility of getting a break by locating the place they
intended to take Sandy.  My guess is it's in or near Chicago. 
That makes our participation very official.

"At any rate, Sam, could all of us go to your place and listen to
the tapes?  I think we have to have Cliff and Sandy.  You said
your people weren't sure what they were hearing.  With these two
listening we can drop obvious business calls and concentrate on
what can't be more than a few others.  They probably have a
pretty simple code, if there's any at all.  And my folks in
Washington love to break codes!  Cliff, are you willing?"

"Are you kidding?  We're the targets!  Of course we're willing! 
By the way, Sam, I didn't have a chance to thank you for taking
care of Sandy this morning.  From what Lem said, it must have
been pretty hairy."

"It was all Sandy.  She did it just right.  Bill, I yelled,
'Drop!' and she just dropped like a stone.  The guy just stood
there like a silhouette target on the pistol range... and that's
how he ended up.  I'm going to call our lab and see how they're
coming."

He picked up the phone and made the call.  "They'll be ready for
us in less than an hour.  That's about the time it will take to
get there.  Shall we go?"

The group was set up in a conference room at the Pinkerton office
with a technician present to handle the special high-speed tape
recorder.  He put on the first tape and explained what they were
going to hear.  "We have Stiles' office covered like a blanket. 
You'll hear sound shifts and changes in background sounds
depending on which sound source we used for a sound bite.  We
have at least three to choose from on each.  There's one thing
more:  The voice on the other end is going to sound strange.  We
use a special mike and a computer to reconstruct sounds.  You can
hear the words okay, but it does sound a little weird."

The first tape was made on the morning before trading was
suspended in Murphy stock.  They heard him talk to Miami.  Cliff
was the first to speak.  He motioned to the technician to stop
the tape.  "My God, Sandy, you are brilliant!  He's talking to
Cartwright in Miami, and I think that's a reference to the Cayman
Islands trust.  I'll bet Cartwright is the contact!"

As the afternoon wore on, they heard veiled references to all of
the things they were concerned with most particularly including
the sabotage, the attempted bombing, and the kidnap attempt. 
Although Cliff and Sandy recognized them, it was easy to see why
the Pinkerton agents had missed the connections.

Owen was quickly on the phone, ordering an FBI raid on the
suburban Chicago Northside location where they planned on holding
Sandy.  He then called the office and was connected to the
Special Agent In Charge, the SAIC in the FBI's lexicon.  He asked
for the U.S. Attorney to request court permission to put taps on
the phones of the four men as soon as possible.

Because of security laws, interstate kidnaping, and the
mysterious stuff, there was no lack of Federal jurisdiction. 
Based on the tapes, there was strong evidence of a federal
criminal conspiracy.  When it was all over, they leaned back in
their chairs.  The law enforcement officers were all smiles.

"Sam," Owen said, "your people have been doing an absolutely
outstanding job on this case.  Between the Pinkertons and the
Murphys, the paid law-enforcement agencies have been getting a
free ride.  By the way, that fact is not lost on my SAIC.  He's
more than a little chagrined.  As a result, he's on the horn to
Washington to make damn sure we get into this act in a big way
and fast!"*Chapter 16*

Several weeks later, all of the pieces were fitting into place. 
There was a conference in progress in Cliff's office.  Sandy had
made some changes in the executive office layout.  In just a
couple of weeks she would be elected Chairman of the company and
an office was being built for her next to Cliff's.

Cliff had teased her because her furnishings were quite modern. 
He pretended to grump, "It's going to cost us a fortune to
redecorate the entire executive floor.  No one cared as long as
everything was 1950's business traditional, but now you've
started something."

They also had a new secretary.  Sandy had hired Stacey Evans who
had formerly worked for Stephanie Simpson.  Sandy had called the
girl as soon as she heard about George Simpson's termination at
Ajax.  It turned out the girl was married to a graduate student
and lived in Kenosha, Wisconsin, closer to Milwaukee than
Chicago.  She was delighted to leave Stephanie.  sWith Simpson
out at Ajax, they doubted if Stephanie was still with the public
relations firm but no one cared enough to find out.

Stacey brought in a tray with coffee for the group which included
Sandy, Sam Johnson, and Kelly.  Sam was briefing them on results.
 "It looks like the turkeys are ready for roasting.  It's
remarkable what a little knowledge can do to get people to talk.
It's also clear, Sandy, that your theory of the cabal was
accurate.  There was great care taken in Milwaukee, but
apparently nowhere else.  When the FBI raided the house near
Chicago where they were intending to take Sandy, the people there
were cooperative.

"It turns out Metcalf was the link to the stuff as we suspected.
He's a friend of the president of the little company.  In fact,
we understand he had been invited to join its board.  Cartwright
has the Cayman Islands contacts.  Apparently he's been shuttling
back and forth, and there are dozens of telephone calls from his
office to the Cayman Islands bank that's the source of so many of
the uncovered short sales.  He also has the Miami underworld
contacts that provided the manpower.

"We're not certain about that, and it doesn't matter a whole lot,
but the contacts for the people could have been initiated in the
Cayman Islands.  There's a lot of drug money down there.  Foster
in Chicago seems to be the guy with most of the money.  He
doesn't seem to have taken as active a role as the others,
although he was pulled in because they needed a place within
reach to keep Sandy.  That still puzzles us a bit.  We have been
unable to figure out what they were intending do with her.  They
still haven't covered their short position, so they are
financially destroyed, or soon will be.

"This brings me to the reason for our visit:  The police and FBI
are ready to move on the gang now.  However, they recognize the
case would still be open if it weren't for your cooperation and
your idea about the cabal.  Actually, they did an excellent job
of screening themselves here in Milwaukee.  If it hadn't been for
Sandy, I don't know where we would be.  On the other hand, they
did next to nothing out of town to cover their tracks, so we
worked the case from the outside in.

"Anyway, they're ready to move.  When would you like us to?  Our
thought is to wait until the voting rights are signed over to you
and then arrest them.  We would hate to see the company tied up
in knots because the voting trustee is in jail leaving no one
with the power to act.  We're willing to wait until October 1 to
make the arrests.  How does that sound?"

Cliff looked at Sandy, who shrugged.  "Why don't you do it then,"
Cliff said.  Sam got up to go.

Stacey saw the meeting was breaking up and brought in the mail. 
There was a very large Federal Express mailing tube for Cliff,
marked "Personal & Confidential".  He opened it, curious about
its contents and found that it was a large calendar.  Along with
it was a rather lengthy letter from JL Wilson.  Cliff glanced at
the letter, then unrolled the calendar.  He asked Sam if he had a
minute, and asked Kelly and Stacey to come and look also.

"Sandy, this is a secret... at least for a few more minutes.  I
want these people to look first."

The three gathered behind Cliff's chair and looked over his
shoulder.  Auto parts suppliers specialize in cheesecake
calendars they distribute to garages, service stations, and
service departments of car dealerships.  This calendar, JL's
letter said, was _not_ for distribution.  There had been a very
limited run, just enough for the stores.  It showed Sandy wearing
the white bikini she bought in Charlotte and lying on her back
resting on her elbows.  With her back arched, her breasts were
prominent, and her auburn hair was hanging down loose.  Cliff
recalled the pose because she was looking at him when it was
taken.  She looked gorgeous.  In large letters below the picture
were the words, "Our Owner."  Below the picture, in very small
type, was the identification, "Sandra M. Donnell, majority
stockholder, Murphy Manufacturing Company, the owner of Southern
Auto Parts."

The girls pretended to study it carefully.  Kelly was the first
to speak.  "Stace, don't you think it's a little too...
conservative?"

Stacey cocked her head.  "Well... a little, maybe."

Then Sandy came over, her curiosity getting the better of her
desire not to give Cliff the satisfaction of seeing her acting
curious.  As she came toward the desk, Cliff laid the calendar
out flat and turned it around to face her.  After placing some
weights on the corners to keep it flat, he began to read JL's
letter carefully.

"My God!" Sandy exclaimed.  "This is awful!  Where did it come
from?  It had to have been taken when we were in Charlotte, but I
don't remember any cameras.  I know we didn't have one, and the
Wilsons didn't, either.  Cliff, I feel awful!"

"Maybe this will make you feel better," he said.  "JL writes that
a member of his club had a camera with a long lens and took it. 
He gave the picture to JL who later got the negative."  Cliff
glanced at the calendar itself and continued.  "You can see the
calendar itself is different.  The dates begin with August of
this year and run through December next.

"JL got the idea because he heard how effective your speech to
the workers was here in Milwaukee.  He felt it was even more
important to his people because they're scattered all over the
South and aren't in parts manufacturing at all.  Furthermore, he
feels that his people tend to be a lot more motivated by personal
loyalty than by loyalty to some big company.

"He kept the whole thing a secret from us and apologizes to you,
Sandy.  However, he wanted to see what would happen.  What
happened was sales in the units nearly _doubled._  He sent this
Federal Express because he said sometime this morning Kevin
O'Rourke or Jeff Stover will be running in with the sales
results."

There was a knock on the door.  "Speak of the devil!  Stace, you
want to see who's there?"  Kevin and Jeff were at the door.  Jeff
was holding a stack of papers.  As they walked in, Cliff removed
the paperweights and allowed the calendar to re-roll.  The two
were obviously agitated.

"What's the problem, guys?" Cliff asked.

Jeff replied, "Our computers have gone crazy.  It's Southern
Stores.  Jamie Carothers is beside himself!  He's afraid you're
going to fire him because he didn't insist on using the mainframe
here in Milwaukee."

"You still haven't told us what happened.  What did?" Cliff
persisted.

"Cliff, you know how our sales through the stores nearly tripled
because of the upgrades, and the rest?  Well last month they
almost doubled again off the higher base!  At least that's what
the numbers say.  The puzzling thing is, though, they actually
add up.  There are significant out-of-stocks for the first time,
and there are also major increases in warehouse movement.

"What should we do?" Jeff asked.

Sandy's face was impassive as she said, "Why don't you send them
a fax for retransmission to all the stores saying something like,
"Last month's results were the best in history.  Thanks guys, and
keep up the good work!  Sign it Sandy Donnell, Owner."

Kevin and Jeff looked at each other, utterly baffled.  Cliff
unrolled the calendar for them.  "Here's the secret weapon.  It's
called motivation!  He picked up his phone and called JL in
Charlotte.  When JL came on the line, he activated his speaker
phone.  "JL, it's Cliff.  Sandy's here with me.  While she was
trying to recover from a galloping case of embarrassment, Kevin
and Jeff came in with the sales results.  They're here, too.  I
got the letter, obviously, but we wanted to hear it from you. 
What's the story?"

JL laughed.  "Folks, in the South, we call it motivation.  I
don't know what you Yankees call it.  Sandy, I surely hope it
wasn't too embarrassing for you.  But what it's done for my
people!  Wowee!  I don't know how much you know about our
business, but the big traffic location is the parts counter. 
Well, folks, the fairly typical arrangement is to have that
calendar right behind the parts counter protected by acetate, and
in at least one store, by Plexiglas.  When we sent it out... 
Well, I have never seen anything like it.

"Sandy, it was a good thing you came down with Cliff and visited
some stores.  There were a lot of our people who got to meet you.
 Well, their phones were ringing off the hook.  The guys who
hadn't ever met you were calling their friends who had.  They got
the same answer, every time:  'Yes, sir.  That's our owner, Miss
Donnell!  Ain't she a beauty?'

"I don't know if you noticed, but our guys did.  There's a tiny
line that says 'unretouched photograph,' and by God, it surely
is.  Well, folks, that calendar has been the biggest sales
motivator I could possibly imagine.  And it's given me another
idea:  We're going to have a convention in Hilton Head in late
February.  We've never had one before, so it would be wonderful
if you all could come down.  After the way things are going,
Sandy, I _know_ those boys would just love to meet you in person.
 Do you think you could make it?"

"JL," Sandy said, "If I possibly can, I will.  Could we maybe
bring some other Milwaukee people down with us?  I think it would
be a good idea if our people got to know one another.  And there
are a lot fewer of us than there are of you.  Besides, JL,
there's something you should know:  One of my ancestors fought
for the South in the Civil War.  I guess they didn't get up to
Milwaukee till after the turn of the century.  If anyone's
interested, I'll try to find out his name and unit.  It was my
great-great grandfather, plus or minus a great.  Any interest?"

"Of course I'm interested," JL replied.  "But I'm just a little
concerned.  Sandy, my boys would go to hell and back for you
right now!  If I told 'em you're a daughter of the Confederacy,
I'm not so damn sure they might not start marching on Washington!
 But I would sure love to see it."

Cliff said, "JL, I need to talk to the people here for a bit. 
Are you going to be in your office for a while?"  JL said that he
would.  "Good.  I'll try to get back to you later today."

Cliff hung up.  "Sandy," he said, "something just occurred to me.
 Would you have a big problem if we restructured the Southern
operation?  I'm thinking we ought to make it a subsidiary of
Murphy, rather than a division.  We could incorporate it as
Southern Auto Parts, Inc.  My idea is we retain 80 percent or so
of the stock.  We let JL and his key people buy the other 20
percent.  Furthermore, we structure the stores in the same way as
subsidiaries of Southern.

"Then the local manager and his key people have an equity
interest in their unit.  If they do a good job, they share in the
profits, regardless of how well any of the other units do.  This
has been used very effectively elsewhere.  There's a baking
company in the South that runs this way.  The real motivation
comes from the minority interest.  What do you think?  How would
you like to be Chairman of Southern Auto Parts, Inc.?"

"Cliff, I think it's super!  Kelly, you're our financial advisor.
 What do you think?"

"Sandy," the girl replied, "it makes all kinds of sense to me." 
She smiled at Sandy, "That photograph of you -- it's really
gorgeous, by the way -- proves the power of motivation.  I'm all
for Cliff's idea."

"Does anyone object?  Kevin?  Jeff?  No?  Okay, it's a done deal.
 Hang on a minute, and I'll call him and see what he thinks." 
Cliff placed the call again and talked with JL.

At first, JL was speechless.  Finally, he found his voice.  "Do
you mean to say we would be partners?  Me and my boys would be
owners?  Cliff, I'll tell you what I think.  I think me and my
people are so damn sure it would work, we would give you a profit
guarantee.  If we don't make more money for you, we won't take
any.  How's that for sure?"

"JL, keep it under your hat for now.  We have to do it after the
October Board meeting.  But consider it done, okay?  I guarantee
it will happen.  And you know something else?  Sandy will
announce it -- with your permission, of course -- at the meeting
in February.  Fair?"

"Fair isn't the word," JL responded.  And you say Sandy's going
to be Chairman and I'm president.  What are you going to be?  We
need you, Cliff.  Will you be a director?"

"Sure will, JL.  And we're counting on a golf game when we're
down there.  Is it a deal?"

"It sure is.  Folks, you'll never regret this.  I absolutely
guarantee it!"

Cliff hung up the phone, and the group went down to the cafeteria
for lunch.  Sandy was still a little embarrassed thinking of
herself as a pin-up in auto parts stores throughout the South,
but finally decided that the men seemed to love it, and it was
sure helping sales.

After lunch, Kelly joined them in Cliff's office.  They still had
not fully settled the personal financial impact of the corner on
Murphy stock.  However, Cliff had received a check for over $1
million, and Sandy and Kelly had divided over $10 million between
them.

Steve and Jane Muller joined them, having recently returned from
their honeymoon.  Jane had just returned from a visit to Kaga,
and Steve had been over to Troy to see Jack Crowther at Magna. 
Together, they went over the present position and near-term
prospects for Murphy.  The present situation was excellent and
prospects were even better.  There were now twenty-five
production units including seventeen brand-new ones.

Steve reported on something Crowther had told him during his
visit:  "He told me he had visited one of the Magna plants the
day before and saw a forklift operator moving a flat of parts out
to the production line.  A supervisor asked him if they had been
checked by quality assurance.  His response was, 'They're Murphy
parts.'  Clearly, that was all the supervisor needed to hear. 
Cliff, they have never seen the quality we're giving them.  They
have all kinds of ideas for other machined parts they would like
us to consider making for them.  We're the geniuses of precision
parts as far as they're concerned.  The situation for us couldn't
be better!"

Jane reported that the Wozlowski ring was about to become the
Kaga Motors' world standard.  "Cliff, they want to know how much
of the world production we would like.  I never thought I would
see the day.  This is tough selling!  I admire my tan, mentally
calculate commissions, and try to figure how much of their
business we want.  It's absolutely ridiculous!  What should I
tell them?  It's all open to us, up to 100 percent of _world_
requirements.  Whatever we don't take, we get a royalty on. 
Sandy, have I told you lately what a hell it is trying to make a
living in sales?"

Bill Stevens came in, and they spent the rest of the day trying
to work out the production schedules and plant expansion
requirements.  At the end of the day Jeff Stover came in with the
latest forecast numbers for the end of September.  Cliff and
Sandy laughed at how close to his financial commitments the
company was going to be.  Jeff said, "Actually, we are so damned
close I could make them come out!  And you know what else?  Sales
and profits are growing so damned fast, by the end of October, no
one could know the numbers had ever been fudged."

As they left the building, Sandy asked Kelly a question.  "Kelly,
I would like you to serve on my reconstituted board of directors.
 Will you?"

Kelly was delighted.  "Sandy, thank you.  It's a real honor. 
I'll try to advise you on the market, but for the life of me, I
don't think you need it.  Nevertheless, I consider it a very
special privilege.  Thank you."

* * *

October 1 was a brilliantly clear day in Milwaukee.  The Board
was scheduled to meet at ten o'clock.  Everyone was present
including Bill Owen with a couple of FBI agents, as well as Lem
Collins with a plain-clothes group of three Milwaukee police
officers.  Sandy, Cliff, and Sam were in position at the table
when the directors started to arrive.

Stiles took his usual seat at the head of the table and called
the meeting to order.  There was no old business.  There were
only two items on the agenda, the first of which was Cliff's
report to the Board.  He passed out copies and reviewed it.  He
stressed that while the objectives had not been met because of
the need to sacrifice some volume before moving the compny sales
ahead, the company's present growth track was far steeper than
had been originally projected.

Stiles looked at him sourly.  "Thank you, Mr. Fitzpatrick.  I
assume you have your letter of resignation prepared?"  Cliff
passed it to him.  "Thank you."

"The next order of business is to elect a new chairman," Stiles
continued.  "Sandra Donnell is the nominee, succeeding Mary Small
who has resigned as a director.  Are there any other nominees for
the position of chairman?  Hearing none, all in favor say'Aye'."

Sandy was elected unanimously.  Stiles started to rise to give
her the seat at the head of the table, but she waved him back and
just took the gavel.  "Mr. Stiles, I assume I receive the voting
rights to the Murphy shares today.  You have the papers with
you?"

Sandy had been in touch with Stiles ahead of the meeting about
the voting rights.  Stiles produced the papers from his
briefcase, and she looked them over carefully, putting them under
a file she had in front of her.

Sandy took the gavel and said, "The next order of business is to
request the resignation of Messrs. Stiles, Cartwright, Metcalf,
and Foster from the board of directors.  Gentlemen, it has come
to our attention that the Federal Government and the State of
Wisconsin are having a dispute over where you'll be spending the
next twenty to forty years.  Gentlemen?"

Sandy spoke the last words loudly enough to reach the law
enforcement officials waiting outside.  Moments later FBI agents
and Milwaukee police took the four men into custody.  They were
in a state of shock as they were led away.  The remaining
directors also resigned on the spot.  Within less than thirty
minutes, things had returned to normal.  Sam Johnson shook hands
and excused himself to organize the departure of the Pinkerton
task force.

Sandy sat at the end of the board table now feeling suddenly
drained of energy.  She hadn't realized the extent to which she
had been keyed up until now that the excitement was over.  When
she glanced at Cliff, he looked the way she felt.  Finally, she
spoke to her lawyer, Tony Doyle, who was present and serving as a
new director and corporate secretary.

Tony had prepared the legal script for the special election of
directors, and so forth.  She said to him, "Tony, could you just
prepare the Board minutes with all of this garbage in them.  We
promise we'll swear it all happened, but frankly I just don't
have the energy even to go through the motions.  Whoops!" she
amended.  "There's just one thing.  Add that Cliff Fitzpatrick's
letter of resignation has been rejected.  He's stuck with us."

Tony grinned, nodded, and gathered up his papers.  The other new
directors were Kelly, Cliff, and Bill Stevens, and there were two
Board vacancies.  Stacey Evans knocked on the door.  "There are
some people here, Cliff.  Can they come in?"

Cliff grinned and told her to ask the Chairman.  Sandy, still
relaxed at the end of the table said, "Sure, Stace.  Just leave
the door open and come in yourself.  I think it's fair to say the
Executive Offices of Murphy Manufacturing are closed for the day.
 As a matter of fact, before you come back in, tell the rest of
the people they can go home."

Steve and Jane Muller came in.  They were soon followed by Janet
Simmons and then Max Kaufman.  When Max came in, Sandy got up and
went to him.  She gave him a kiss and teased him about being away
from the floor.  "Max, we're not doing a damn thing, but
someone's got to work to support us in the style to which we
would like to become accustomed!"

Suddenly, Kelly Cameron said loudly, "Damn!"

The others were startled.  Cliff said, "What's the trouble,
Kelly?  Did we forget something?"

The girl grinned broadly.  "No, I'm afraid not.  I just thought
how dull things are going to be.  This has been the most exciting
and eventful few months of my life.  You folks have done such a
spectacular job about all that's left for me to do is count the
money.

"Cliff, I do have one question, though.  Does planning always
work out this way?  It seems like its being done with mirrors. 
In business school I always thought a strategic plan was full of
high-sounding words and brilliantly innovative strategies.  With
all due respect, friends, this is just plain vanilla."

Cliff laughed.  "Just remember, Kelly, for all the attention
given to zingy flavors like pistachio and butter walnut, over 65
percent of all ice cream sold is just plain vanilla.  That's
where the money is.  You're right, though.  Our strategy _is_
plain vanilla.  And because it is, it's easy to understand for
the folks who have to make it work.

"The secret is simplicity.  The problem with the
super-sophisticated strategies isn't that they're wrong.  Often
they're very good.  The problem is the only person who really
understands it is the guy who wrote it, and unless it's an
awfully small company, he can't execute it all by himself.  If
the guys who have to make it work don't understand it, it won't
work.  It can't work!  Remember the Army training axiom, KISS:
'Keep it simple, stupid!' That's what we did.  Satisfied?"

Kelly grinned, "I guess so.  But it still sounds too easy!"

Sandy sat down again next to Cliff who reached into his pocket
and took something out.  "Sandy, am I correct in assuming we're
not in session?  We're trying to gather enough energy to get out
of our chairs and go home?"  She nodded, yes.  Suddenly, she felt
totally exhausted.  "Sandy, will you marry me?" he asked.

Her eyes popped open.  "Of course, darling.  Now it can be
anytime you want.  But why did you ask me now?  Isn't it a
little... public?"

"Sort of, I guess.  But Sandy, not only are these the people who
are putting Murphy on the map, but I happen to know they're also
your very best and oldest friends.  So I think it's appropriate.
Besides, I have something for you.  Can I borrow the third finger
of your left hand?" he asked.  Sandy held out her finger, and
Cliff took the ring he was holding and slipped it on.

She looked at it, dazzled.  Suddenly everyone in the room was
gathered around.  Stacey quickly left and returned momentslater.

Kelly was the first to speak, "My God, what a stone!  Sandy, he
sold some stock and said it was to pay off the bank and buy you a
ring.  I thought he was kidding, but looking at that diamond I
don't think he was.  It's the most magnificent diamond I've ever
seen!"

Sandy pushed her way through the group to Cliff who was standing
by this time.  She kissed him and held him in her arms.  "I have
just one question, darling.  When?"

By this time a caterer had entered and set up champagne and food
for the impromptu engagement party that followed.*Epilogue*

Cliff and Sandy returned from their honeymoon just in time to go
down to Hilton Head for the Southern Auto Parts meeting.  It was
planned as a three-day affair.  The first day was devoted to
meetings on elements of store operations while the second day
began with JL explaining the new corporate structure of Southern
Auto Parts.  The general meeting was followed by individual
meetings to review the business implications of the local
subsidiary structure and indicate specific steps for each unit
and its manager to take.

The big dinner was scheduled for that second evening.  A whole
contingent of people came down from Milwaukee including Bill and
Janet Stevens, who, along with Kelly and Kevin O'Rourke, had been
married in the meantime.  Jane and Steve Muller completed the
contingent along with Sandy and Cliff Fitzpatrick.

Before their wedding Cliff teased Sandy about all the time she
was spending on arrangements for the convention with JL.  She
replied that since she was no longer working her fingers to the
bone as his secretary, all she had to do was watch the cash
management wheels turn.  "Besides, Cliff," she concluded, "you
warned me months ago of the temptation to over-engineer a good
cash system.  This keeps me out of trouble."

When they went in for dinner, Cliff, who had now been filled in
on Sandy's plans, and Sandy were wearing their Milwaukee coats. 
When they returned from their honeymoon, there were two brand-new
ones.  The lettering on the breast now read S FITZPATRICK and C
FITZPATRICK.

Dinner was served early, with JL mumbling something to his people
that the bar would be open afterwards.  "There's something about
clearing the room or something," he said.

When the people walked in, there were assigned seats and tables.
The seating was by state, with an appropriate state flag in the
middle of each group.  All were states of the Confederacy. 
During dinner, a glee club from a South Carolina college sang
songs of the South from the Civil War period.  At the end of
dinner, JL introduced Sandy as the featured speaker.

"Gentlemen," he concluded, "it gives me great pride and pleasure
to introduce to you a true daughter of the Confederacy.  Her
great-great granddad fought with Stonewall Jackson and was
wounded at Chancellorsville where General Jackson was killed. 
Gentlemen, the Chairman of the Board of Murphy Manufacturing
Company, the owner and our boss, the Chairman of Southern Auto
Parts, Sandy Fitzpatrick!"

The men in the room stood instantly and cheered their boss.  The
applause reverberated from the ceiling while she waved to the
crowd.  When they quieted and were seated again, she began her
speech.  She thanked them for the brilliant performance of the
previous six months.  Sales were almost triple the best full year
the company had ever had.  She talked about the reasons for the
new organization, and how it was thought that additional
motivation would make things better still.  Cliff was amused
because, in addition to wearing her plant coat, Sandy had her
auburn hair up in a bun and was wearing horn-rimmed glasses that
he knew had clear lenses.  She didn't wear glasses.

As she got to the end of her speech, she commented on her attire.
 "In Milwaukee, everyone in the plant recognizes me in this coat.
 It's like the one everyone else in the plant wears.  It's come
to my attention, though, that I'm recognized somewhat differently
down here."

With that, she stepped out from behind the podium, took off the
glasses and the lab coat and yanked out a pin that had been
holding up her hair.  Her auburn hair flowed free and she was
standing there, tanned from her honeymoon, wearing her now-famous
white bikini.  There was a stunned silence in the room for a few
moments and then a thunderous roar.  The men were standing on
their chairs cheering.  Sandy stood with her arms up, waving for
quiet.  Finally, the group quieted down.

She turned to JL who had been leading the cheers and who was now
grinning broadly.  "JL, you were right.  They do recognize me
quicker this way!"  Again there were cheers from the floor. 
"Guys, I have something for each of you.

At that point, large envelopes were delivered to each table. 
There was an envelope for each person.  Inside was a new pin-up
picture of Sandy with a personalized inscription to the man and
his store.

Before there could be more cheering, JL went to the microphone. 
"There are three people who don't have envelopes, GC Mitchell,
Tom Casey, and Billy Joe Jenkins.  The reason is we have
something different for you all.  These men had the largest
percentage sales increases in the company last year.  We have
something special if you all will please come up.  In addition to
the special award, there's one more thing:  Tomorrow, we're
having a golf tournament.  These three are playing with our
Chairman, Sandy Fitzpatrick.  Now Sandy was captain of the
University of Wisconsin golf team and did very well in regional
tournaments.  I happen to know she played a lot of golf on her
honeymoon.  She has something else to say while we're waiting for
the boys to join us."

"Guys," Sandy said, "there's someone else I want you to meet. 
He's the love of my life, and the man whose ideas permitted the
success Southern Auto Parts is now enjoying.  I want you to meet
the president and chief executive officer of Murphy
Manufacturing, and a director of Southern Auto Parts, my husband,
Cliff Fitzpatrick!"

Cliff came over and joined Sandy, who gave him a kiss to further
cheers.  He whispered in her ear, "Darling, you are brilliant. 
Do you have any more?"

She winked and showed him crossed fingers.  Cliff spoke a few
words of congratulations.  By this time the three top-performing
managers were on the stage.  Sandy greeted each of them and gave
them very large tubes.  Each was about three feet long.  JL took
Mitchell's and opened it.  He withdrew a roll of paper and gave
one end to Mitchell while he unrolled the other.  It was over six
feet long and nearly three feet high.  When it was fully
unrolled, they flipped it so it could be seen by the whole room.
It was a true life-sized picture of Sandy lying down still
wearing the white bikini.  It was autographed to GC Mitchell and
all the people in Batesville who set the record for the greatest
increase in sales in company history and it was signed, Sandy
Fitzpatrick.

JL went to the microphone.  "There are no promises, but Sandy
says she may do this again for the top three stores this year. 
But if you want one for your store, you're really going to have
to work!  Do you want one?"

Again the cheers thundered out.  While she waited for the room to
quiet down a band had entered, and the members arranged
themselves in the back of the room.  Finally, the room was quiet
as they waited for her to speak again.

Instead, she sang _a capella_ in a very clear voice, "Oh I wish I
was in the land of cotton, old times there are not forgotten,
look away... look away... look away, Dixie land..."  There was a
momentary silence in the room as the band came in on the next
bars, "for I wish I was in Dixie, away, away..."  The room
exploded as everyone in it was on his feet and joining the
singing.

The room rocked as men removed the state flags from their rests
and waved them in the air.  When they finished, the band started
over.  When it ended, there were thunderous cheers.

JL came up to Sandy as the room started to quiet a bit.  "By God,
Sandy, you were right!  If we don't beat last year's numbers by
the end of next month, some people here are dead!  And I sure
don't think they are!"

Cliff came up and gave his bride a big hug.  "Honey, that was
marvelous!  I didn't know you could sing."

She hugged him tight and whispered in his ear, "I didn't think I
could.  That's why my fingers were crossed.  Did it sound all
right?"

"All right?  Honey, those men worship the ground you walk on. 
But what caused the change?  I knew what was going to happen, but
you stood there in the bikini looking so happy and proud, when
you used to be so down on yourself and your appearance.  What
caused the change?"

"You did.  I guess I finally decided I glow with love for you so
much, maybe I am pretty.  And you've been brainwashing me,
besides.  Darling, maybe I am pretty good at motivating people to
do the things you figured out they can do.  How's that for a
division of labor?"

*The End*

* * *

Comments and constructive criticism are sincerely welcome.  Let
me hear from you.  morg105829@aol.com

*Six-month Turnaround* Copyright (c) 1992, 1998, 2001 by Morgan.
<morg105829@aol.com>

All rights reserved.  No part may be reproduced or transmitted in
any form or by any electronic means, including photocopying,
recording or by any information and retrieval system, without the
written permission of the author. <1st attachment end>


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