Read Paradime for Free Online Page B

Phil Coover: he doesn’t take no for an answer, and he has the force of personality to back it up.
    As we’re crossing Third, I picture myself just taking off at a run and heading for the nearest subway station. But, appealing as that might be, it’s not a serious option, because at some level I’m being played here – that’s what it feels like – and I really need to find out what’s going on. Besides, I suspect it’d take more than a few stops on a 6 train to escape the orbit of Coover’s attention.
    We go into a bar – a cocktail lounge, the Bradbury – and sit in a booth near the back. So far, Coover has done most of the talking, and about nothing really – how busy he is, his travel schedule, even the weather. We could be two guys who just happened to leave work at the same time and decided to grab a drink together.
    But we’re not.
    So I lean forward now and look him in the eye. ‘Mr Coover, I don’t . . . I don’t get this. I don’t even know who you are . I mean, I recognise you from Sharista, but . . . this ?’ I indicate where we are. ‘A drink? With some fancy fucking olive in it? Is this supposed to make up for my last pay cheque or something?’
    Coover shakes his head. ‘No, Danny, it isn’t. And you have every right to ask, but . . . give me a second, will you?’
    When I realise he’s reaching for his phone, I roll my eyes. He takes it out, and, as he’s scanning whatever message is on the screen, he says, half in a whisper, ‘Call me Phil, by the way.’
    Our waitress arrives before I can respond.
    ‘Hi there, gentlemen. I’m Cecily. How are you fellas doing today?’
    Coover finishes with his phone, puts it on the table and turns his attention to Cecily. Effusing courtly charm, he orders two . . . something Martinis, I don’t catch what he calls them, but I’m assuming they contain olives. The whole time, he doesn’t consult or even look at me, so when he’s done, I turn to Cecily and say, ‘And I’ll have a club soda.’
    Coover laughs.
    When Cecily leaves, he looks at me. ‘Okay, Danny, okay.’ He pauses. ‘I’m a consultant, yeah? These days mainly for Gideon, but I’ve worked with some of the other PMCs, and on both sides of the fence: direct combat, security details, all of that, but also management, and people.’
    Where is this going?
    ‘ People? ’
    ‘Yeah, not human resources exactly, more conflict resolution. In the workplace, and elsewhere. It’s funny, but most of these disputes could either be avoided altogether or resolved by the simple application of a bit of basic goddamned common sense.’ He taps the side of his head. ‘Psychology. Because it never ceases to amaze me how flat out stupid people can be. For instance, I get called in on some thing that has already spun out of control, okay? I look at what they’re proposing to do about it, and ninety-five per cent of the time you know what my initial response is? I’ll tell you. It’s me going, holy shit, excuse me, this is your plan, this is what you want to do, you’re kidding me, right?’ He throws his hands up in despair. ‘It’s unbelievable, because what the “this” invariably is is fuel they’re adding to an already raging fire.’
    ‘So . . .’
    ‘So what’s my solution? I look people in the eye, I hold their attention, and get them to focus for five minutes on the least damaging options they have in front of them. Figuratively speaking, I talk them down from the ledge.’
    He waves a hand in the air, as if to say It’s that simple , then sits back and smiles.
    All of a sudden my heart is thumping.
    ‘You think I’m on a ledge?’
    ‘No, Danny, I don’t, not at all. But I think our mutual employer might be. That’s the point.’
    I stare at him for a moment. What am I supposed to make of this? I hate it when people talk to me in riddles. I end up just wanting to punch them in the face.
    ‘I’m sorry, Phil, but you’re going to have to explain that to