Business Doctors - Management Consulting Gone Wild (7 page)

The ugly brawl continued for a few minutes till Nick returned with Joe and Martin in tow, and screamed, “Enough!”

“I told you guys to stay put and just watch,” yelled out Joe as he helped Schneider on his feet. “These are all our guys.”

Our guys? What a way to show camaraderie within the team! Martin was numb after the unexpected and bizarre turn of events.

As the other guys got up and walked back towards the pub, there was a loud screech as a car pulled up on the road behind the ground. Nick turned around and screamed, “Bloody Hell! Skaros. Get down everyone.” Before the group could react, a hand with an Uzi submachine gun emerged out of the rear window of the car, and let out a burst of bullets. A high-powered HID lamp, mounted on the side of the car using an improvised fixture, was aimed in their direction, in an attempt to temporarily blind them, as the trigger-happy passenger in the rear did his job. This was an unusual technique that Nick and team were not used to, and an effective one as well. The deer-in-the-headlights effect worked on humans too. One bullet hit one of the gang members square in the chest. Schneider felt a sharp pain in his calf as another bullet cut through his muscle. Nick pulled out his gun and fired in retaliation in the general direction of the car as it sped up and disappeared into the next alley.

* * *

“What did the doctor say?” Woody asked Schneider the next day at the golf course back in L.A., as he tried to putt the ball. “A few days rest and I’ll be off the wheel-chair and back on my feet.” Schneider said struggling to get the wheelchair moving on the slopes. He felt someone behind him grab the handles of the wheelchair and with a little tilting action helped him get over the sudden incline.

“Good,” Woody responded, as he tried another putt. “Meet my wife, Angie.”

Schneider turned around to see a pair of familiar brown eyes looking straight at him. Déjà vu
.

“Hello, Mr. Schneider,” Angie was still holding on to the wheelchair and helping him maneuver it. Their hands briefly touched, sending sparks through Schneider.

“Hello - and thank you,” said Schneider, his eyes alight at first and then a cloud of tension overtaking his senses. He turned back at Woody, “But I still don’t understand what that was all about yesterday at the pub?”

He tried to maintain conversations while still comprehending the presence of Angie and its implications.

“You witnessed, or rather experienced, your first initiation ritual. It’s a rite of passage for new recruits. It demonstrates their courage, their fighting skills and more importantly their psychological make-up. I heard that you demonstrated some of those skills out there too and held your own? You are tougher than I thought. It wasn’t meant to end the way it did. I think it was stupid of Joe to take you along. I may be partially responsible for it as well, as he moved out to take my call. So I apologize.”

“That’s a rite of passage?” Schneider was still having difficulty understanding the earlier part of what Woody said and ignored the compliment and the apology. “That’s crazy, and more importantly totally unjustified and inhuman. What else do you do in the name of initiation?”

“This is our favorite. But we have other methods too.”

“Like what?”

“Like the Russian Roulette, the Blood-In-Blood-Out approach, catching a flag, being punched in or circled In -”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa…slow down. What does all this mean?”

“Many of these involve beating the hell out of a new guy as he tries to accomplish a task - such as reaching a flag or picking up coins from the ground or getting into a circle of WFB members. Think of it as being a reality show, only that it is more real than the unreal reality shows you might be watching on TV. Only the best fighters survive these tests,” Woody seemed proud of the atrocious rituals.

“However there are exceptions for the special ones, such as kids and relatives of current gang members. For me, being born in the Woody family ensured that I never had to go through any of this. Lucky me, huh?”

Schneider was still grappling with the wheelchair.

“But that’s the normal way of recruitment. People come to us. They want to join us. For the money, for the power, for the respect. In emergencies, we reach out to people. But only if we think they can be convinced to join the fraternity and can deliver the goods,” explained Woody.

“How do you do that?” Schneider wanted to know.

“We have our ways. In most cases, people that we approach feel honored to have been contacted by an established, well-respected organization. It requires very little coercion. However there are times
when we have to go that extra distance to make them join.”

“I’m guessing you mean, using violence?”

“Depends. Different strokes for different folks. Sometimes money does the trick. Sometimes a gun placed between their eyebrows has the same effect. Sometimes it needs to be placed a little lower, and at times even used.”

Woody appeared to be enjoying this little discourse. He enjoyed and tried hard to cultivate the tough-guy image.

“By the way, what you also experienced yesterday was a drive-by-shooting, another initiation ritual that’s common. Unfortunately, our rival gang got a whiff of our plans at the Eagle and sent one of their own recruits to prove his mettle.”

“Skaros?” Schneider remembered the name from the previous night just before the shooting started.

“Yes. They used to be called the Scarecrows in the early days. Maybe the dumbfucks found it too long and just cut it short to Skaros. I’m guessing they’ve just got themselves a new guy today. We’ve lost one and gained two. But I would still consider it a big loss for us - I mean, the guy we lost. Well, there’s nothing that’ll replace the many years of experience and contacts we lost along with our guy. I think you shouldn’t venture out too much over the next few days. Get the information you are looking for by talking to people here.”

A chill ran down Schneider’s spine.
Damn! Now the rival gangs have seen me with Woody’s men and will think I’m part of the team
.

“The camera recordings that you requested for from Las Vegas have
come in. They are lying at our house. Maybe you could come over to collect them and spend the next few days looking at them. Your bones and muscles will get some rest.”

“They sure look like they could do with some relaxation,” added Angie making sure Woody did not hear it. She came around in front of Schneider and scanned him from top to bottom before looking straight into his eyes. Schneider uncomfortably shifted his gaze away from her.

“Crap! Another miss,” screamed out Woody, “I’m losing touch with this fuckin’ game.”

* * *

“Good meeting with Mr. Woody?” Martin asked Schneider when he reached the office.

“I am a dead man,” replied Schneider.

“What?” Martin wasn’t sure what Schneider was talking about. “Angie, Woody’s wife. I met her at
a pub several years back, and we ended up spending the night together.”

“You’re kidding! You slept with the wife of one of L.A.’s most wanted criminals!” Martin still didn’t seem to
o sure of what Schneider was talking about.

“I didn’t know it then,” Schneider tried to justify.

“She was alone at the bar when I approached her…and she was very attractive…sizzling hot would be a better word! I had been pleasantly surprised to find out that she wasn’t the typical dumb blonde I initially perceived her to be. And you know, it takes more than big you-know-whats to get me interested.”

“Yeah, yeah, inner beauty and stuff,” Martin scoffed mockingly.

Schneider ignored Martin’s interjection and continued, “She came across as a breath of fresh air. She was intelligent, smart and well-read. Unlike the other girls you’d bump into at these places, she had a point of view on the general state of the economy and even quoted a few philosophers. She said she was new in town and didn’t know too many people around. And like a dumb fool, I fell for her stories. Maybe it was just the alcohol.”

“Gawd! Michael, what were you thinking, dude?” Martin couldn’t help blurting out. “There are 1.6 million single unmarried females concentrated in and around this city with thirty percent being made up of a floating population,” Martin’s penchant for statistics came out naturally in the most unlikely situations. Many of his friends had advised him not to do so, as it made him sound like an overenthusiastic
number crunching nerd. “From that entire big pool, you had to zero in on the first lady of L.A.’s underworld? I can’t believe this – the odds of this being a coincidence are just too high!”

“I know. It was a mistake, I realize that now. I was
single and just a little high. It just happened. I never ever thought I’d bump into her again in such odd circumstances. Anyway, that’s history. And I’m not even sure if she was married to Woody then.”

Martin was shaking his head. Schneider changed the topic.

“Speaking of Woody, I got the news that the recordings are here. Do you think you’d be able to go over to Woody’s residence and pick them up?”

“
I could. But I’d have to go in the opposite direction and spend a lot of unwanted time on the road. It’s closer to your place. Why don’t you pick it up on your way to office tomorrow?”

“Ok. I’ll do it,” said Schneider.

Chapter 6

Schneider reached Woody’s residence, Woodyvilla, at ten in the morning on Thursday, hoping to pick up the recordings before heading back to office. He had started half an hour early for this detour. He had friends and contacts all over the city and many outside. But this was the first time he had paid a visit to this posh locality. This was where most of the celebrities from the entertainment industry retired to at the end of a hectic day’s shoot. So their cribs had to be comfortable, lavish and ridiculously expensive. Though Schneider’s nest in L.A. and the location that housed it weren’t too shabby, he felt a little out of place here. The house in Boston where he grew up was much bigger.

“Woody’s work and reputation may have kept him out of Starmaps, but judging by the grandeur of this place, I’m guessing it must be worth at least fifteen million dollars,” Schneider thought. He rang the bell and waited. A few seconds later the door opened and Schneider found himself staring into the familiar seductive, deep brown eyes again.

“Hello, Mrs. Woody,” Schneider nervously attempted a polite greeting.

“Angie. I thought you would remember the name,” Angie smiled sweetly. “C’mon in,” she said, turned around and started walking. 

Angie was wearing her purple satin gown from last night and Schneider could almost see the two pieces of clothing she was wearing underneath.

“I’m just here to collect the recordings. I have to be at the office for a meeting,” Schneider struggled to find an excuse to get away from this awkward situation. He wasn’t sure why an event that had occurred many moons back and had little relevance to the current circumstances still made him uncomfortable.

Angie, on the other hand, appeared supremely calm and sensuous. Schneider felt maybe it was the latter that was causing the discomfort and tried to block those thoughts. This was a professional visit and there was no need for his mind to go ballistic.

“It’s ok, Michael. I’m not going to bite you -” said Angie, paused for a while, brought her lips close to his ears and whispered, “- well, unless you want me to.”

Seeing Schneider wiping the sweat off his forehead, she got her voice back to a business-like tone. “Not to worry, it’s ok. Make yourself comfortable. Maybe I can help you with the information you are looking for. I promise I’m not going to play with you anymore -” and without warning she sat down on the dark brown chaise styled sofa, parted her legs ever so little to give a peek of the lovely pair of long legs and switched back to her seductive whisper, “- unless you get down on your knees and reeaaallly beg me to.”

“Warm today, isn’t it?” Schneider loosened his tie and followed Angie into the house.

The house interiors wore a striking contrast to what he had anticipated of a gangster’s house from his visit to the Dungeon and other hangouts. Instead it was tastefully designed and had a classy feel to it. The upholstery and curtains were in rich textured cream, which gave it an elegant look. The natural wood finish to the floor created a cozy feel. The fireplace was deliberately retained in spite of modern day heaters, to add a romantic shade to the spacious interiors. The personal touch given to the individual design of the furniture was clearly noticeable. The palatial villa interior had a warm welcoming look. Schneider could not but help comment on it - “Very nicely done. It must have cost a fortune.”

“Not really. The right choice of colors can do the trick. I always felt I had a flair for interior design. I am glad someone appreciated it.”

“Mr. Woody got my reference from you? I thought you would’ve thrown out the card. Where’d you get my number from?”

“Oh, your fancy business card?” Angie asked. “I decided to hang on to it. I’d never gone out with a business consultant before. Thought I should retain the card and add it to my small collection of relics.”

“So do you hang out a lot in the nightclubs of L.A.?” Schneider’s confidence levels were slowly returning back to normal.

“Only when I start feeling suffocated in this artificial ambience,” replied Angie. “I like being with
real
people in the
real
world. Unfortunately I cannot do it too openly, for security reasons.”

“Is it just for security reasons?” Schneider tried probing a little further. He was more comfortable turning the direction of the spotlight away from him.

“- and for the fact that Woody is too protective of his trophy wife. From the look in his cronies’ eyes, I get the feeling most of the horny bastards probably want to bang me and are barely holding on to the leash that’s keeping their dicks in control. However they put up a show of respect whenever they are in my presence. Woody would kill them if they got too close.”

“Would you like something to drink? Here, take your pick.” Angie opened the fridge and pulled out two bottles – a Heineken and a Minute Maid orange. Schneider’s eyes pried into the fridge to take a quick inquisitive look.
Did the underworld families have unusual content in their fridges as well? Designer food?
He dismissed the thought and responded, “I’ll take the juice. Thanks. So, pub hopping is your way to get away from all that
respect
and attention.”

“You could say that,” said Angie. “I’m sure Woody knows his wife isn’t too ignorant about all those ‘
business meetings
’ and overseas trips that he overindulges in. He doesn’t try too hard to hide it either. In fact, he flew out in the morning to New York.”

Alarm bells starting to ring in his head, he asked, “And you don’t mind that?”

“Mind what?”

“His
business
meetings.”

“I used to, in the earlier years. Now, I just don’t care.”

“So how did you land up here? Were you already married when we last met. Wasn’t that about two years back? And what about all the stories? You being a college student, an intern -” Schneider was firing from his loaded question-bank faster than Angie could respond.

“Cool it! I had to cook something up. Nobody likes to flirt with an underworld don’s wife, isn’t it?”

Michael realized he wasn’t going to get much out of this. This wasn’t going to be the last time they met and there’d be opportunities to re-load and fire at a later date. So he changed topics.

“It’s a large house, a palace really. You are all by yourself the whole day? How do you keep yourself occupied?”

“I like to read. I have an entire library. I stock it up with books that I think I’ll enjoy. But there’s still a lot of it out there that I haven’t touched.” Angie said pointing to the library.

Schneider quickly scanned through the library. “Philosophy, history, psychology, science, politics - quite an eclectic collection you have here,” he picked up a book on corporate scams and flipped through the pages without reading anything.

“I see that you aren’t much of a fiction buff.”

“I’m not. There’s enough drama around this place anyway.”

“So you also aren’t the student of philosophy that you claimed to be at the pub. Were you married then?”

“Would you have continued the discussion if I had said I read fashion magazines all day?” After a short pause, she continued. “I did not tell you this earlier, but at the time we met, I was
a promotional model. I was lucky to bag those advertising assignments while I was still in college. I got my break through an acquaintance who owned an advertising agency. He was looking for a fresh face to launch a beauty product. And I guess my face was fresh enough for him. After that the assignments kept coming. It was a lucrative career compared to other professions where I would probably be spending eight to ten hours a day at the desk - waiting for the month to end and the paycheck to fall in my lap. I also can’t say I didn’t enjoy the perks of the job - the attention, the glamour and the lifestyle. I sometimes wished I were a bit taller for ramp-modeling. The money there is bigger. I always envied the tall, skinny gals who walked the ramp. The haute couture magazines, the paparazzi, the fashion designers.” Angie sighed. A long, deep sigh. “I guess you can’t have it all. In hindsight, I feel I was lucky to have gotten what I did.”

“Anne Courtney got married two years back, didn’t she?” Angie continued and waited for Schneider’s response.

“You know Anne?” Schneider couldn’t control his impulse.

Anne was Schneider’s first and perhaps his last real girlfriend till date. They were a couple for about five years. Schneider was too busy with his work and had no intentions to marry and have children. He didn’t feel he was ready for the added responsibilities. Anne, on the other hand, had a nagging feeling of insecurity about their relationship and kept pressuring Schneider to take it to the ‘next level’. These and several other unsorted issues led to the split. Schneider hadn’t heard from her since they parted ways. He had no clue, how Angie would’ve known about her and about them.

“Anne was a close friend of mine during my modeling days. She was part of the creative team during one of my assignments and we instantly clicked. She would talk about you. She had also shown me your vacation photos from Miami. I see that you’ve taken good care of your body and haven’t changed much,” Angie scanned Schneider from top to bottom with a sly smile on her face. “The chance encounter in the pub brought back those memories. I’m surprised you are still single.”

Schneider was feeling increasingly uncomfortable with the way this conversation was going. His client’s wife knew far too much about him than he could’ve imagined.

“Do you help out with Mr. Woody’s business?” Noting that their conversation kept veering to the wrong side, Schneider tried valiantly yet again to change lanes.

“No, he doesn’t like that,” Angie didn’t insist on sticking to the topic and moved along. “He thinks there are enough brains to manage the show and we don’t need another one.”

“I have my doubts. Judging by the way his business has been plummeting, he’s obviously wrong - about the brains, I mean. Sorry, didn’t mean that to be offensive. Didn’t he ask you how you got my contact number?”

“No.” Angie took a sip from the beer can. Schneider
’s gaze moved to her slender neck as she gulped it down gently. Quickly, he looked back up at her face, hoping she had not noticed.

“I think his protectiveness is all a big sham. He knows about my little outings. He has plenty of eyes and ears around the city to keep him updated. But he’s never confronted me with any stupid questions. He knows his personal and business secrets are safe with me. So he doesn’t mind if I have a little fun as well.”

“What secrets?”

“Inquisitive, aren’t we? Does Woody know he’s hired an investigative journalist, and not a business
doctor?”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to -” Schneider pulled back. “But I now know where Mr. Woody’s fascination for the term
business doctors
came from.”

Angie smiled. “You gotta talk the talk he understands, right?” she said in Woody’s style replicating his hand and facial gestures.

“True.” Schneider looked at his watch and tried not to show that he found Angie’s Woody impression entertaining. “I have to leave now Angie. It’s been a pleasure talking to you again,” he said getting up.

“Can’t you stay for a while more? I’ve kept my promise. See? No bites and no marks.”

“You have been very kind and considerate, ma’am. But I have to take care of a few things at the office.”

“Other things? I thought Acme Manufacturing had stopped giving you work and there aren’t too many new assignments to fish for, considering the economic climate.”

“How the hell do you get access to my internal…” an agitated Schneider just stopped short of completing his question. Realizing the futility of the query he added, “Never mind. Speaking of promises, you said you were going to provide information about WFB’s other businesses?”

Schneider realized he was expected to be in office by now and was still exchanging sweet nothings with his client’s fascinating wife. He was there to pick up the recordings and was hanging around longer than he had planned in the hope of getting some insights into Woody’s other areas of interest.

“What do you want to know?” Angie asked. She took another sip and slowly licked her lips seductively with her tongue. “Would stories about the drug business be interesting enough to hold you back?”

“Yes. That would be a good start.”

“A good story always has a start, middle and an end. And consultants love structure, right? So let me tell you about how Woody’s grandfather got started in the drug business.”

“Woody told you all this? Surprising!”

“No. When I married Woody, his grandpa was alive and in me he found a ready audience for his heroic tales.”

“Ok, I’m ready,” Schneider adjusted his posture and made himself a little more comfortable on the couch.

“The story starts in Vietnam in the late sixties when the war was being fought. Coffins were used to smuggle heroin into America. The consignment would arrive by ships to the west coast, mainly San Diego and then transported by land to major cities around the country -”

“Woody’s grandfather fought in the war?” Schneider interrupted her. He was still trying to catch up with the story.

“No. He got into the business of getting the smuggled powder from San Diego and dumping it on the streets of Los Angeles. All for a neat profit. The growth in WFB’s business after that was explosive.”