Carter's War - 19. Chapter 19

Saturday morning was something Will usually sought to avoid, but he awoke early for no particular reason. He stood in the kitchen window overlooking the snow-filled driveway holding a mug of coffee and wondered how he was going to clear it by himself. It had been a particularly cold winter, but spring had seemed set to stay, most of the snow had gone and the weather had been almost like summer. That was, until the blizzard changed everything.

Old man winter content to bury baby spring under several feet of snow out of sheer spite.

He blew out a sigh and rested against the counter and looked up at the grey overcast sky. It was preparing for another round by the looks of it, but at least the Jeep was back, and a four-by-four could handle the snow rather well.

He ran through a mental checklist of what he had to get done that day. He had planned to do some groceries, get his hair cut, and run some other errands. But considering Marc was still upstairs in the guest room, he would have to put it off. Instead he could get some real work done.

He pushed his dark hair out of his eyes as he shuffled his way down into the retro seventies basement and his computer sitting tucked into a corner across from Jared's. It wasn't a new one, not by a long shot. But it was reliable and fast enough to run his office applications. It wouldn't have a hope in hell's chance of running one of the latest games that sucked up computer resources like a kind drinking soda, but it was good enough for him to be able to get everything running he needed to.

He connected to the work servers via the remote terminal and punched in his passwords, settling back to input new data into the spreadsheets. Mundane stuff, but work that he needed to get done.

Craving a bit of background noise he reached out for the remote and flipped on the ancient television that had found its way into the basement. Searching till he found the infamous Saturday morning cartoos, he settled in for a few hours of solid data entry.

He didn't notice that Marc had wandered down the stairs until the guy was sitting down on the exercise bench next to him. He glanced down and nodded back upstairs, "Fresh coffee in the pot if you want some."

Marc beamed, bright-eyed beneath a mess of hair that showed he had just woken up, "Thanks."

Will grinned as he went back to his facts and figures, cross-referencing the names with the interview records that his employees had filed. Cut-and-dry stuff, it was nothing that would win him accolades for his innovation, but if he didn't do it then Alicia would on Monday, and guaranteed she would complain about it.

Marc returned a moment later to the bench carrying his own cup of coffee. "I'm starting to wake up," he murmured groggily.

Will turned his head and passed the remote back to him, "Change the channel if you want, I'm not watching it."

Marc accepted it without protest and began to flip through the channels on the television that looked more like a museum relic than something that actually worked. "We have the same movie we watched last night on TBS, four hours of Trek on Space. A whole bunch of sports shows..." he paused as he clicked again, "and cartoons."

Will shrugged as he plugged in a few more numbers, "I don't mind; whatever, is good by me."

Marc nodded as he wrestled with the archaic remote, slapping it a few times till the channel changed back to Space and the mini trek marathon. A great staple of Canadian Saturdays, it was a magnificent way to pass the time. You could laugh at the cheesiness of the original, ignore the Next Generation that you had seen a hundred times before, revel in Deep Space Nine's high tension drama as the wars raged, and comment about Seven of Nine's capacity for lesbianism with Janeway on Voyager.

Will barely noticed the time pass as he laboured to get done. Only when the final credits were rolling for Voyager did he glance up and realize he had just wiled away half of his Saturday working. He hadn't even noticed Jared come down and join Marc watching the trek; the two were engaged in a lively discussion about the benefits of female captains.

He stretched in his chair as he pushed the save button.

He blinked at the error message that flashed up on his screen, "Connection failure". He mumbled a curse and immediately tried it again. Greeted by the same error he backed his work up to a disk and tried to connect again. After a half-dozen attempts he gave up in obvious frustration.

"Damn," he murmured as he slotted a floppy disk into his drive.

"What's up?" Jared called out.

Will shrugged, "Network's down at work, I am going to have to go into the office and load this," he pulled the disk out of the drive after the light went out, "on to my computer by hand."

"Sucks to be you," Jared said with a grin. "Could you pick up milk while you're out?"

Will rolled his eyes at the total lack of sympathy as he walked to the stairs, "Well, good to know someone gets to rest today," he muttered as he stalked up to the shower and got ready to go into the office.

Marc bounded up the stairs behind him. "Do you mind some company?" he asked.

Will shrugged, "Not at all." He looked Marc up and down, "I can lend you something to wear if you want to change."

Marc nodded, "That would be cool."

Will motioned to his room, a soft place of reds and greens, a large Celtic pattern blanket hung from the wall like a tapestry giving the room an old feel to it. He quickly pulled the comforter down to hide the unmade bed. "My wardrobe's right there, borrow whatever you want. Towels are in the cupboard opposite the bathroom if you want to grab a shower." He yawned as he stumbled towards the door, "I shouldn't be too long."

When he emerged he saw Marc had found himself a shirt, one of Andrew's that had never been returned. It was several sizes too big for the small guy, and he tugged up on the sleeves, eventually rolling them back from his hands. He grinned sheepishly and pointed to the small crest on the pocket.

"I've always wanted to wear a shirt like this. It makes me feel rich." He grinned and tucked it into a pair of Will's khaki Dockers, "This good?"

Will rested a hand on the doorway and smiled. "Yeah, looks good," he admitted truthfully.

* * *

Driving through Toronto streets before they had been salted was a challenge. The Jeep had slid on the loose slush when he tried to brake, and when he applied gas it fishtailed. It was challenging to keep the vehicle going in any one direction, and navigating around the countless number of accidents that plagued the roads made the trip particularly hazardous. But they made it eventually.

The underground parking lot was virtually deserted. The weekend staff members at the head office were there mainly for troubleshooting. And Will doubted anyone who worked for him would be there. It was only a quick drop off of his files so he didn't think anything of letting Marc come with him.

Will paused a moment, listening to the abject absence of sound as they stepped out of the elevator onto his floor It was eerie, walking through the empty cubicles, and not seeing anyone there. The place was normally so full of life that to see it so quiet made him mildly uneasy, as if he sensed he wasn't supposed to be there disturbing that silence.

"This is where you work?" Marc asked in wonder as he looked at the white boards with their goal-tracking figures by the meeting area.

Will smiled, "Yeah, this is my floor."

"And you're the boss?" Marc asked, a note of wonder in his voice.

"Lord and master of all you see," he replied, opening the door to his office and crossing to his desk.

Marc tentatively took a step in after him, looking about him. It was as if the young man felt as though he didn't belong there, obviously uncomfortable in the very professional setting. And to Will it was perfectly natural to be there, it was his office. He spent so much of his time there sweating away the hours over various different projects that he took it all for granted.

He flashed Marc a warm smile, "Few minutes then we can go do breakfast somewhere."

"Cool," Marc said as he walked to the window and played absently with the battered brass telescope, looking through it over Lake Ontario.

Will booted up his computer and slipped his disk into it as the operating system flashed him the Windows logo, moments later he was into the company system and trying to transfer his files into the common directory. He grimaced when the communications error flashed up on his screen.

He reached out and punched the phone, connecting through to the security desk. "Connect me to IT," he requested without thinking about it.

Seconds later the phone was picked up, "Lee here, what can I do for you?"

Will glanced up at Marc and back at the phone, "Hi, I'm having trouble accessing the network drives for employee records."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, "We were told to reformat that drive today, it's about fifty percent done."

"Reformat?" Will stared in confusion. "All the files are backed up, right?"

"Oh yes, I have it all backed up to the computer terminal in records. You should be able to update your files from there, and when I'm done with the main server I'll be transferring everything there back to the network drive."

Will shrugged, "Alright then, thanks." He hung up the phone and stared in perplexion at his computer screen.

"What's up?" Marc asked moving over to sit on the edge of Will's desk to look over his shoulder.

Will shook his head, "I'm not sure. The network computer with all our personnel files is being fixed. It's just a bit odd that's all." He stood up and reclaimed his disk, "We're just going to have to go down there and upload this directly. I'm sorry about this."

Marc rolled his shoulders dismissively, "Hey, no problem; you can buy me a coffee when we get out of here."

"Done," Will agreed as the pair entered the elevator.

* * *

The archives were the same on Saturday as they were during the week, quiet. And it reminded Will that he still had to confront Bruce about the Jennifer Beatty situation. It irked him that he had been left out of the loop on that decision. Bertha was a valuable commodity; no one knew the payroll system like she did.

He rounded a rack of files and drew up short staring at Gavin tapping away on Bertha's computer. Marc glanced around him patiently as Will watched, his brow creasing. He seemed to be reading out of a large ledger and inputting numbers.

He looked up at Will standing between the racks of files and visibly jumped.

"Uh, Bruce, I have to go," he said quickly reaching out to hang up the phone. He turned to Will and looked furtively about him as if contemplating running.

Will stared at him a moment before he crossed to the computer. "Gavin," he greeted as he looked around at the screen and the large pile of orange folders amassed on the floor beside the computer. A quick glance showed that the benefits accounts were active and a wire transfer was just completed.

He stared at it a moment and then looked back at Gavin. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

Gavin swallowed. "I was told to do this," his voice sounded desperate. "We don't have any choice."

"What do you mean no choice?" Will asked, looking back at the smaller man, his eyes hardening. "Who told you to do this?"

"Bruce," Gavin said his eyes darting about again. "If we don't cover the margin the entire company could go under."

Will stared at the empty account and swallowed, it was gone, completely. He looked back at Gavin, "How did you do this? Why did you do this?"

"I..." Gavin shook himself recovering slightly, "You need to talk to Bruce."

Will pointed to the screen. "Put it back," he demanded angrily, whatever they were doing they had gone to some great steps to do it. That was his future they were playing with, his and everyone else's in the firm. If he remembered correctly, Avery-Woods had three pension trustees and Bertha was in charge. Now he finally had an explanation as to why Bertha had been sent on vacation.

"I can't put it back," Gavin replied. "We have a margin call against us, if I put that money back they'll close on us and liquidate the firm's assets..."

Will shook his head, "What are you talking about, what's a margin call?"

"It's," Gavin struggled to explain, "if you buy on margin, you put up some of the cost of stocks you are buying and borrow the rest from your broker. The margin is the deposit we put down."

"Alright," Will said "and...?"

"And to protect themselves, brokers issue a margin call if your margin account falls below the required maintenance level or a specific percentage of its original value." Gavin stared at Will's blank look, "You could get a margin call, for example, if the market price of the stock you bought on margin drops significantly. If you get a call, you must deposit additional money to meet that call, bringing the balance of the account back up to the margin required. Otherwise, your stock may be sold at a loss, and your broker repaid in full."

Will extended his hands, "Meaning what?"

"Meaning we are trying to buy Tri-Tech, and the price of the stock has been falling drastically. It's less than a tenth its original value as of closing yesterday, meaning the value of the stock is worth less than the deposit we put on it. We have to put down more money to cover the difference or they will begin to seize Avery-Woods assets."

"You mean Bruce bought a company that's now going bankrupt and it's going to take Avery-Woods down with it?" Will shook his head in shock, "What does Robert say about this?"

"He doesn't know," Gavin admitted.

"Shit," Will said feeling his shoulders sag. "We have to tell him."

Gavin shook his head, "No, we covered the margin liquidating the pension fund, if we can acquire a majority share in the company and announce the merger Bruce said the share price will skyrocket and we get back everything we lost..."

Will shook his head, "No, Robert needs to know about this, you're playing Russian roulette with his company. What the hell were you two thinking?" He blew out a sigh and walked out of the archives shaking his head.

Marc hurried to catch up to him. "What's going on?" he asked in concern.

"Someone fucked up big time," Will said as he rubbed his jaw. "I need to speak to my boss."

Marc nodded, "Okay."