Continental Attack: Murder and Mayhem in Detroit's Auto Industry Page 2

  The couple went through into the bedroom, to change before going out. They had arranged that a clean-up crew would appear, and, neither being truly domestic animals, preferred that the house be cleaned, all crockery washed, and generally tidied in their absence. As the house crew arrived, Joe handed them the spare keys and asked that the locks and windows all be checked before leaving. He handed his wife into the seat of their Continental Stilletto, the top of the range model which had, unaccountably, not made any inroads into the target market; got into the drivers' seat and after the motor responded with its' usual refined purr, left for the club.

  Their destination, the Auto Club, was a little different to the average idea of a business club. Membership was by invitation only, and was heavily restricted to one category only; namely that you had to eat, live, think and even die while thinking about the staple of their existence, automobiles. The founding committee, comprised of three senior executives of what used to be the biggest car company in the world, G.M., saw a niche market, got the subscription money together, and had never looked back. The present team of chefs had been offered so many bribes to even think about leaving to join rival establishments that they had stopped reporting them to the committee. The same committee had only given one set of instructions to the head chef, and his chosen team; 'Give us the best, every day, O.K.!' and had sat back and reaped the rewards ever since. The decor had also been left to a complete outsider, whose only guide had been, 'we want a place to relax, and not remind us of all the goddam cars surrounding us', and the result was a warm ambience throughout the complex which half of Detroit tried to copy. Some wives of auto executives hated it, because their husbands saw and talked to the same people that they talked to during their days, but Alex and a few others saw it for what it really was, the perfect sounding board for ideas, and often shepherded their menfolk towards its' imposing portals.

  The couple walked through the lounge area, Joe waving to a few faces he recognised, were met at the rope by an attentive maitre 'd, and escorted straight to their table. The restaurant was deceptively big, with lots of divided sections, and it was indeed rare that anyone calling for a table was disappointed. Seated, Joe sat back, while Alex scanned the menu, peeked over the top, and asked, "You want me to order, as ever?"

  Joseph, who had confidence in both his wife's selection capability, and the kitchen team to deliver exactly what was required, simply grinned, nodded and ordered drinks from an attentive captain. When his order arrived, a soda for himself, and a martini for Alex, she leant forward, toasted him with the glass, while asking, "Any further forward on the great sales mystery?"

  Shrugging his shoulders, the marketing V.P. had to admit defeat. "We have tried everything, and our unit of high-priced brains has come up with exactly the same as our own team, first time around. We have had a couple of brainstorm sessions already, and a big fat zero has been our reward. I sometimes feel that half the guys in this room know about our problems, and are laughing fit to bust, while softly thanking their God that it ain't happening to them. Truth; Alex, the sales and marketing expertise that we have pushed onto the Stilletto and Sabre range has been tried and tested over a dozen launches. There should have been a big jump in sales about five months ago, after our big advertising push, according to our projections; what we got was a rise, but more along the lines of someone turning over in bed. Whatever we are doing wrong, it should not happen, and no-one can figure out what has gone wrong. Damn it, they are good vehicles, with good engines and safety built in; and what happens, we get overtaken by Chevrolet.."

  Alex, who guessed that the thing which really hurt was in the last sentence, started to speak, but then their starters arrived, and silence reigned for five minutes. Joe had just wiped his lips with his napkin when he saw his opposite number from Engineering angling through the room towards him. Larry Burnett stopped at their side, and simply asked, "Everything go O.K. this morning, Alex, Joe? I tried to make it, but I got hijacked by our illustrious leader, and had to perform the rain-dance to placate the evil spirits." Alex, who liked Larry more than Joe did, asked which dance section had been called for. "Now there is only one dance that Nick Cavalieri likes, it's the one which ends in everyone chanting 'costs are reduced'" replied Larry, "when Nick arrives in hell, if Satan has any sense, he'll send him straight back to heaven, because Cavalieri will have his empire checked for efficiency inside three weeks!" Smiling, the Engineering V.P. said his goodbyes, and strode off towards his own table, which was graced by yet another of Burnett's bimbos.

  "Don't know how he does it," smiled an amused Alex.

  "He got retro-fitted with better equipment, plus he has an inexhaustible supply of grasping young female talent who think that they can sleep their way into the design office. Not one of them has so far worked out that the last thing Larry would do would be to elevate someone who has slept with him. They keep trying, and Larry ain't gonna be the one to tell them that they are wrong, so he leads the life of Riley, gets laid so frequently he has to have week-ends off just to recover!"

  "You are just jealous, he's free and you aren't, that's what it is all about."

  "I would have to give you up, if I were to be free, and that, little lady, would be a very bad deal for me," smiled Joe, while stroking his wife's hand softly with his fingers, "Larry can have his non-stop circus; I prefer the quiet life, with one girl and one only!"

  Alex' eyes softened, and suddenly wished they were back in their own home, instead of a crowded restaurant. "Thank you kindly, Sir," she dimpled. Their food arrived, New York strip for Joseph, and a filet for Alex, and they both started, suddenly hungry as neither had eaten much during the function after the funeral. Dabbing at his mouth after he had finished, Joe smiled at his wife, who was busy mopping up the gravy with a piece of breadroll, "The old man used to do just that, God, I know I'm gonna miss him! He might have been self-opinionated and impossible, but he was first of all your Daddy, and I could go a long way with him for that."

  Alex' eyes suddenly filled, and she had to scrabble for a kerchief, "That's why I married you, because you could stand up to Tad, and not worry when you let him get the better of you. Joseph Kozcinski, you are a nice man, and I love you dearly!" The pair sat gazing across the table at each other, holding each other by the hand, not realising that half the room was watching, all with warm smiles on their faces, for everyone liked young Joe, and his wife. Their coffee arrived, and after Joe had signed the check, they sat on a while, just chatting about inconsequentials, letting themselves slowly relax after the long day, with all it's memories. Gradually, their talk veered around one again to the things which were worrying Joe at work, with the non-existent take-off in sales in the foreground. "Hell, Joe, worst things come up, you can always join me in the office," joked Alex, referring to the real estate operation which Alex ran, as the owner and operator, in the suburban shopping mall four miles from their home.

  "What, and have a slave driver as a boss, I'd rather dig coal in Kentucky," riposted Joe, who was trying to keep things light.

  "Honey, you know Nick Cavalieri as well as I do. His gospel, as Larry said, might be 'cut costs', but he doesn't particularly worry about where the costs are in fact sliced. Why do you think he has given you the task-force idea? Because you are the blue-eyed boy! Possible, but if you don't come up with something solid, the target is being pinned to your broad back while we speak. Nick is not slow when it comes to pointing the finger at someone else, especially when the finger might just as easily be pointed at him! Remember I worked for him for two years, and he didn't get the nickname 'Slicer' just because he could pack bacon. He is as devious as all get out, and I worry about you having to deal with any pack which he has shuffled."

  Joeseph Kozcinski stared across at his wife, and realised that she was in earnest. "Think he has his knife out for me, hon?"

  "I just don't know, Joe; but it's just as well to be armed with the knowledge that he might be looking for a scapegoat." answered Alex.

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nbsp; After finishing their coffee, the tall auto executive walked beside his wife towards the exit, then hesitated as his chief executive, accompanied by two other men, loomed into view in the foyer. . "Damn, it's Nick, and he's waving us over. What the hell is he doing here? He hardly ever comes near the club!", Joe mumbled as they walked towards the chief executive of Continental Motors, who was busy handing his coat to the attentive hatcheck girl.

  "Joe, glad I caught you. I know that today was Tad's funeral, so I'll keep it short. Hope everything went smooth today! Hi, Alex, how's my favourite real estate operative? Got a minute, Joe? I'd like you to meet Vince Lombardi," gesturing to the small man on his right, whose dead eyes swept over first Joe, then his wife, before nodding slowly; "then Harry Mettaliou," a big man, with the same expressionless eyes as his compatriot, who reached out a hand as big as a shovel, gently squeezed Alex' hand and then Joe's with a control which said to Joe that he could quite easily break his arm off at the root, big as Joe may be. "Vince and Harry are doing some consultancy work for me, Joe. Anyhow, the reason I glad I met you was simply to let you upgrade me on the marketing glitch we have. I'm behind on everything, after being away for a week. Anything new, or has there been any progress?" asked the C.E.O. of the young marketing V.P.

  "We have sat down twice with the team, Nick, and we are just getting our strategies together." replied Joe, "there hasn't really been time to unearth any problems, so I gotta say that there isn't a lot to report so far, Nick,; but when you hear gunshots in the grass, that will be me heading for your office to tell you, first thing, Nick."

  "Thats what I like to hear, Joe; confidence. Thanks for your input, Joe; Alex, nice to see you. Take care, and drive safely!"

  As Alex and her husband drove homeward, Joe was silent until Alex simply asked, "Well, do I get to hear your thoughts, or do I have to use truth serum again?"

  "I just don't know, Alex. It's Nick. First with the phoney questions, and second with his so-called consultants. There is just no way he doesn't know what we have done, less than five minutes after we have done it. He has got at least two of the so-called 'taskforce' reporting straight to him, that's the one's that I know of, so that is all bullshit! You just may be right about our revered chief executive getting set up to do me down! And those two that we met; there is only one word which describes them; muscle. What the hell is Nick Cavalieri doing with two guys who are straight out of some neanderthal movie?" The Kozcinski car was strangely silent for the rest of the trip home.

  Chapter 2

  The familiar frontage of the Continental Corporation's head office complex shone in the spring sunshine as Joe hefted his briefcase from the trunk of the black Stiletto, before handing the keys over to a waiting car jockey, who would drive the vehicle away, to be cleaned, serviced, checked and fuelled, before it was readied to be driven away by Joe in the evening. The senior management perk, of having a clean, serviced car, was given on the understanding that various tyre and fuel combinations would be tested by the recipients. Joe wasn't so sure about this story, as he never got to even drive in heavy commuter traffic, as his day started early, and finished late, and only went from home to office or plant, with very little variation. "Still," he mused, "don't rock the boat, Kozcinski, because some of the others like it, so why worry!" He jogged up the steps, pushed through the revolving doors and headed for the lifts, and his office. His secretary, a motherly woman, aged around fifty, who was both super-efficient, and devoted to Joe, smiled as he entered his section office. "Hi, Mrs Grady, if you have the mail pile, lets bring it on in; then contact the team and let them know we have a team meet in two hours time. No excuses, everyone to be here! Conference room three, right?"

  After alerting her junior staff to make all the calls, Mrs. Grady carried in a brimming tray of letters, and memos from other departments. "Did everything go smooth yesterday, Mr. Kozcinski? At the funeral, I meant," she asked.

  Joe smiled as he took the pile of mail from her hands, "Everything went very well, both at the service, and afterwards back at the house, Mrs Grady. There was only one serious drunk, and Alex silenced him before he could wreck a pretty decent, if rather sad, day. The old man would maybe have appreciated a little more uproar, but fortunately nothing too untoward happened. But thank you for your concern, Mrs. G. Any urgent calls, among this lot?"

  "No, sir, nothing that can't be done in due course, there is just one memo I would highlight, it is from Mr. Cavalieri; he was asking for an update on progress!"

  "That's O.K. Mrs. G., I saw the boss yesterday evening, at the club. I just told him the truth, that we were just getting started, and when anything popped, he would be the first to know. Seemed to make him happier, so we left it at that. Right, if you would be so kind as to pour me a coffee, and one for yourself, we can plough straight in to the letters, and get them out of the way. Ah," he said, "can you start with a E-mail memo to Drew Garnett at the Pensions department at Grand Rapids. Seems as though they got all their problems licked these days. A distant cousin of my wife, seems his father died about three months back; after working for Continental at the Rapids plant for about twenty years. Well the pension and insurance people really turned it on, and sorted everything out in double time. He was very impressed. Perhaps you could draft a little message saying how much their hard work and understanding is appreciated." His secretary nodded, while making her notes, and the executive team started shovelling their way through the pile of correspondence, leaving only the occasional one aside for further consideration. About half way through the tray, Joe suddenly had a thought, and made a note to bring up the subject, at the meeting, of the Sabre and Stiletto adverts which may have been signally unsuccessful. The shorthand pages of Mrs. Grady's pad whisked by, as the replies were dictated at speed, with little pause for rest. Finally, the last letter had been answered, with Joe gazing at his watch. "Can you sit in with me at the meeting, Mrs.G? The girls can handle most of the replies, and it would help if you can take the minutes. O.K.?" His secretary nodded, having previously expected the request. She farmed out the pages to the three junior staff girls in her section, picked up a new pad, and new pencils, and followed her boss along the corridor to the conference room where the Marketing meeting participants were already gathered. Joe swung in, took the head seat, with Mrs. Grady beside him; tapped the carafe with a pen, and called the meeting to order.

  "Right, you all were at the last meeting, when we discussed our possible action plans to find out why we are doing so lousy, despite all the money we have spent since the launch." Pointing to the man seated next to him, he simply called, "Ad feed-back, Harry Lassiter. Can you begin, and we shall go round the circle? Keep it to five minutes, and no interruptions, please, boys and girls. We have a problem, and we must find a way through the maze!"

  As the Advertising man started the run down on what paths they had started to explore, Joseph Kozcinski suddenly remembered his mental note about the television adverts, opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it once more, as he remembered his own strictures on interruptions. The words ended, the message being that the launch had been exactly the same as ten others, and the Madison Avenue team who had been chosen, had even been involved in the previous four launches. The run around the table continued, with input from Customer Engineering, reporting on the low amount of problems and return autos, of both groups, which signalled that the assembly plant had got their act together, but the elusive 'feel-good' factor, which helped to sell the cars off the showrooms, had somehow been missed. From voice after voice, Joe Kozcinski received the same message, that the team had seen the same act do so well in the past, and they just could not out a finger on the cause of the slump in sales. The cars had been well received by the people who had bought them, and had been well reviewed by the motoring press. The final section to speak was the one which Joe worried about the most, because it was finance, in the shape of Virginia Horrigan.

  A smart, slim red-head, with a brain like a Cray computer; she held an open fol
der in her hands. She sat forward, and quietly spoke, "We have a problem, which is rising all the time. Our inventory, both on the forecourts of the franchise holders, and our own parking areas, has now reached a total value of 680 million dollars. The sales team, based on the forecasts at present available, has told me that their efforts to reduce this have been a straight line. In other terms, we are just holding our own, but the log-jam is not being reduced, and does not look likely. Our finances are not rocky, but the present interest rates are not doing us any favours. We are hurting, and it is probably gonna get worse, not better. The lay-out, in money terms, is so big that I have to tell you that we, in Finance, are going to be saying that we should maybe cut our losses, and try again; by scrapping both Stilletto and Sabre ranges, write them down and bring forward next years models, so as to give us a fresh start." The silence which greeted her uncompromising words spoke volumes in itself, as what she was proposing was almost heresy.

  Finally, Joe stood up, and addressed the shaken meeting. "I would like to thank all present for being frank in your appraisal of our present difficulties, especially Virginia. This meeting, however, must regard her options with as much gravity as any other, for I do not believe that her appraisal was taken lightly. I would therefore request an urgent update, from all your departments, on possible paths our corporation may take. You shall all receive the minutes by, " he raised an eyebrow at Mrs. Grady, who smiled and held one finger up, "tomorrow afternoon. Please treat this meeting, and the minutes thereof, as confidential. Thank you for your attendance. Harry, " gazing at the Advertising mans' face, "Could you give me the name of the contact on the Advertising agency, the one you normally deal with? I have a few questions which we might explore with him, or her. Virginia, would you do me a favour and walk along with me to my office? We might need to cover a few more details." The other participants left slowly, having attended few meetings as dynamite as this one had been.