Thawing A.C. Nielsen--Sharing Ch. 4

Hi again,

Today I am sharing chapter four of my new novel. I hope you'll read it and maybe tell others about it!

 I am wondering if any of you would consider reviewing the book. It will be released on Amazon/Kindle on October 18th. I need reviews posted to amazon on the release day, if possible. You get a FREE pdf, word.doc or kindle copy and plenty of time between now and mid-October to read it. Let me know, friends!

In chapter four, Kate meets the inventor Mike Burgess and his nephew Franklin, a retired TV character actor. They hope to hire her to be the research brainiac for their company ExitStrategy. The Winston House hotel was based on the Palmer House, a downtown old-school ritzy hotel. All you Chicagoans will recognize it!

CHAPTER FOUR

Wednesday, the big day. Aria dropped Kate in downtown Chicago at the front door of the Winston House on Wabash Avenue, a classic old hotel with a gorgeous lobby full of enormous Oriental rugs, leather chairs, dark walnut and rosewood coffee tables, crystal chandeliers, dual curving marble staircases leading to the mezzanine level—swag, swag, and even more swag. At any moment, one might expect to see Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers glide into the room doing the tango. Kate, dressed smartly in a black suit with a peach-colored blouse, approached the main desk. She was fifteen minutes early, which to her meant she was on time. Her father had drilled some old-fashioned good habits into her when she was a teenager. She had hated them at the time, but now, especially with him gone, she appreciated that he had done so. In a few minutes she was escorted into meeting room C.

“Good morning, Miss Pearson, please have a seat,” a gentleman with a deep baritone voice said, bowing slightly and extending his hand. “My name is Franklin Burgess. I’m part of the ownership of Energy Source. We’re the ones interested in your expertise.” Franklin was tall, at least six one and had a deep tan but very few wrinkles for his age, which was fifty-five, she guessed.

“Good morning,” Kate said, shaking hands with Franklin and then with the other gentleman present.

“And I’m Mike Burgess, Franklin’s uncle. We’re so happy to meet you today.” Mike was a hefty man and even taller than Franklin. You could tell they were family. They both came across as very friendly and gracious. “If you don’t mind, we’d like to skip talking about the weather and just cut to the chase, as they say—tell you about the position and why we’re so interested in you. Is that all right?”

“Well, of course, I’m all ears and, frankly, I’m excited to be here for this interview.”

“That’s wonderful, Miss Pearson,” Mike said. “Our company is called Energy Source and we’re a privately owned enterprise. The ownership consisted until recently of me, Franklin here, our associate Dr. Enzo Saltieri, another major shareholder who lives in California like Franklin, and then a few people with quite minor stakes in the company. Dr. Saltieri recently passed away and we are interested in filling his position. We’re located in Northbrook and we are a private energy-provider to North Shore corporate complexes. We also run a bioresearch project called ExitStrategy, which Dr. Saltieri headed. I’m the CEO of the whole shebang, and we have a small but dedicated staff. Shall I continue?” he asked, smiling.

Kate’s jitters were already going away. The man was a charmer. “Certainly.”

"Dr. Saltieri had recently fallen ill right in the midst of some important bioresearch. He was battling cancer and, sad to say, Alzheimer’s disease. We wanted him to get more-intensive therapy, but he kept putting it off. He was placing our research ahead of his health and his future. We were all saddened when he passed a few months ago. He was a great man.” 

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Burgess.”

“Thank you. He went quickly. So now we need someone to keep the research going forward and we think you just might be the right person.” Kate sat up taller. Research—just what she wanted. This sounded very promising so far.

“We’re impressed with your résumé and all the research projects you’ve been part of,” Mike said, thumbing through all the documents in hand. “First of all, the person we’re seeking needs to know their biology down to the most minute cellular level. That’s you for sure.”

“Thank you,” Kate said. “I spend a lot of time with microscopes. A whole lot of time. The opportunity to do major research has been my goal since I was eight or nine. Yes, I’m a biology nerd—totally.”

“Understood,” said Franklin Burgess. “My uncle Mike is also a supernerd. Engineering. You will get along famously in our Northbrook Nerdsville location, I’m sure. And honestly, Miss Pearson, we also need younger blood in our company—many of us are on the wrong side of fifty.” Franklin smiled.

Kate smiled back. Yes, Kate, remember to smile and be personable. Don’t look grim—or desperate. Use your people skills.

 There was a knock on the door. Room service entered with a cart of fresh coffee and pastries.

“Oh, this looks good, doesn’t it?” Mike exclaimed. “I’ve got a weakness for sweets; you can see it by my waistline. Please, Miss Pearson, avail yourself before my nephew and I hog the offerings. Coffee?”

“Yes, please. This is a nice surprise. And I’ll just grab that little brioche there, too.”

“Of course,” Franklin said. “You’ll find that Mike and I appreciate many of the smaller delights in life. In fact, Mike hired a chef recently to create cooked-to-order lunches for our employees. No more need for them to run out and buy fast food!”

“Very nice,” Kate affirmed. “A wonderful idea.”

“So, as we were discussing,” Mike said between bites of a cinnamon roll, “we need someone to look at Dr. Saltieri’s latest research and see if they agree that he was onto something, something big. We want to hire someone with fresh eyes and no preconceptions about the research. Your Northwestern University track record is impressive, as are all your references. We also hope you don’t mind that we had a consultant read through your master’s thesis.”

“Oh, yes,” Franklin interjected between gulps of his coffee, “I have a copy here. ‘Transcriptional Activators as Antirepressors,’ et cetera, et cetera, and something-or-other ‘Polyphonic Pathway Genes.’”

“That’s pentose phosphate, not ‘polyphonic,’ sir,” Kate said.

“Well, of course it is—you’d know the title of your own thesis,” Franklin said sheepishly. “Maybe I’ll have to give in and finally get bifocals.”

“The point is,” Mike said, “our consultant was impressed. And then we saw something that grabbed us from your work experience—the cryogenic research you’ve done over the last few summers. You’ve stated that the project included research on new cryoablation treatment methods for breast cancer—new techniques that might revolutionize approaches to treatment. Could that be overstepping a bit? An exaggeration, Miss Pearson?”

“Well, no, not at all. And I didn’t actually use the word ‘revolutionize.’”

“Oh, I was paraphrasing, not a problem,” Mike said.

“We’ve found ways,” Kate explained, “to finely control not only the cryo level of the needle probe but also directly deliver real protection to the healthy cells nearby. I hope what I have summed up in a few words in the résumé doesn’t appear to be a gross misre—”

“Oh no, Miss Pearson, you don’t need to defend yourself.” Mike waved off her concerns. “We’re not here to attack you. I was trying to see how passionate you are about this topic. Cold—heat—the whole spectrum of its effect on the human body; this is precisely the area of research that Enzo—Dr. Saltieri—and I have been working on for years.”

“Wait, I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand,” Kate said. “You’re an energy company but also do bioresearch. Is that what I heard?”

“Yes. And I’m not a doctor or a biologist,” Mike pointed out. “My expertise is in cryotechnology, as an engineer.”

“That’s right, my uncle is the master of all things cold—very cold,” Franklin said, about to mount an attack on a French cruller.

“Actually, Franklin, I don’t make things cold as if I were Jack Frost—I design cutting-edge heat-transfer systems. Everything in our world contains some amount of heat. Heat-transfer systems simply move precise amounts of heat from one place to another. It’s all one big canvas that can be painted on—hopefully without Jackson Pollack results.”

“Uncle, I stand corrected.” Franklin bowed his head.

These two are entertaining, Kate thought. This all sounds very interesting. And they’re not cookie-cutter businessmen.

“Miss Pearson,” Mike continued, “we want to keep investigating the intersection of biology on the cellular level with new ideas in cryogenics. That, in the proverbial nutshell, is the job. Interested so far?”

“Very. This is what I want to do: research. Nothing makes me happier than being in a lab running a hypothesis through its paces. When people call me a lab rat, I take it as a compliment!”

“And just to clarify,” Mike continued, “your job has nothing to do with the energy-provider part of the company. That’s a no-brainer I run. It creates income on a monthly basis that goes toward our bio research.”

“Understood. So what’s next?” Kate asked. Oh my God, this sounds like a dream job. Keep up the positive vibe—smile, be professional. I hope they are okay with me being so young.

“Just so you know,” Mike said, “I was employed at a well-known corporation for years. I know full well what people hate about job interviews. I must have interviewed hundreds of people over the years to fill positions in my department. So, what’s an interview question people hate? Go ahead, speak freely—and this isn’t a trick question!”

“Well, I would say when they ask you what your weaknesses are.”

“Precisely! A ridiculous question,” Mike said. “One we won’t be asking you. And just so you know, our other large shareholder, the other one from LA, is coming in Friday to meet you personally. If Miss Dunham asks you that question Friday, we will shush her, right, Franklin?”

“Yes, we would do that. She’s elderly and sometimes speaks out of turn, just so you know. And, then, what is the other thing people hate about interviews, Miss Pearson?”

“Well, the other one is that until you jump through all the hoops you don’t have any idea of the salary. You’re poked and prodded, but all the while kept in the dark. Of course some salaries are posted I sup—”

“Precisely, again,” Mike said. “So we will tell you now the starting salary. I see no reason to withhold that information. You’ll know it now and have less anxiety when we meet again. We’ll start you with a two-year contract at a salary of two hundred fifty thousand dollars per year with options for continuation, plus very generous benefits. What do you think?”

“I think I am seriously interested in this position, Mr. Burgess… and Mr. Burgess,” Kate said nervously—she was having problems taming the ridiculous butterflies that had just fluttered in her stomach. “It sounds like a dream job to me.”

“Excellent!” said Franklin. “And if you would agree, we have set up some standard preemployment screening tests. In addition to doing the usual due diligence like any other company, we have to screen out possible hires who might be prone to leaking proprietary information. We have very new research areas that cannot be compromised. Understand?”

“Of course. I can do whatever you need. When would that be?”

“Can you do tomorrow at eleven a.m.? The screening firm is in Evanston.”

“Eleven a.m. is fine. I’ll make it work.”

“All right, here’s my business card, their address is on the back. After that we’d like to see you here Friday—say ten in the morning again?”

“Not a problem. I look forward to it. What is the company name again, the part you need me for?”

“It’s ExitStrategy,” Franklin said. “In a sense, it refers to being prepared for what’s next in life—like the old saying ‘when a door closes, a window opens.’ And if you’re going to go through that window, you better have a strategy in place, right? You’ll see what it all means Friday. You know, it’s rare that anyone bothers to ask about the name, but you did. Shows you’re attentive and curious!”

“I like the name. It captures your imagination.”

“What Mike and Dr. Saltieri have been doing is just that—imagination on an epic level,” Franklin said. “I think you’ll be impressed once you learn more, Miss Pearson—actually may I call you Katherine?”

“Yes, of course, but I go by Kate most of the time.”

“Well, then, ’til next time, Kate. We’ll see you here on Friday.”