CHAPTER ONE

[In Which Lara Puts A Foot On The Ladder.]

 

If feeling good was looking good, Lara Cocker prayed her discomfort wasn't showing on her face. Any shortfall in poise and charm could be her downfall.

That was something she would have done well to remember during that last-minute dash to the visitor's loo, where a stray pubic hair had become snagged in the press-stud crotch fastening of her teddy.

As she accompanied the coolly prim secretary along the plushly carpeted corridor towards the Board Room, each step was an annoyance. The skirt of her severely cut business suit hadn't so much as a pocket by means of which she could finger the ignoble wisp free.

Too late, anyway. They had reached the imposing mahogany door.

 

************

 

When the secretary ushered her in, every eyebrow - male AND female - rose. This was one attractive woman!

Lusciously figured, she stood five-ten in her stockings - which was six feet as they saw her. And there wasn't a hint of an apologetic stoop to her square-shouldered back.

Her shoulder length, auburn hair gleamed red and gold by turns and her makeup was so subtly applied that its presence could only be guessed at.

She was virgin, vamp and vixen, all in one.

As Lara hurried to her place in the interviewee's chair, the unattributable flare in her fathomless brown eyes was dismissed as commendable nervousness. For the rest, the observers' gender alone determined whether their response to her carefully leggy seat taking was warmly admiring or coldly envious.

Lara placed her knees and ankles tidily together and surreptitiously arched her back to relieve the strain on the offending follicle. Feeling her face tensing with concentration, she made an effort to relax while examining each interrogative face in turn and reading the name plate before it.

On the far left of the line sat an ascetically pinch-faced, middle-aged little man by the name of Konrad Becker.

Next to him lounged his antithesis, a young and hedonistically plump worm called Deryk U Dewey. Every inch the pushy American, his artfully exposed, diamond-cut gold watch and matching cufflinks gleamed at every squirm.

In the dominant position sat an Oriental of indeterminate age, but undeniable presence and power. This, she knew before reading the plate, could only be Kenzo Ohtsuka. Son of the Corporation's founder and president, Keiko, 'Ken' was heir-apparent and Vice President of Pan-Global Electronics Inc's European operation. The welcoming smile playing around his lips stopped short of the eyes and gave no hint of the thoughts behind them.

Next in line came Chris Zoccollilo, a big man who looked the sort to use every trick in the book to get his own way. Not someone she'd want to hold her purse in a cat fight, as Director of Personnel (UK) he'd be a bad enemy to make.

Last in line was a young Oriental woman with a hard, ferrety face. Her name, M. Antrobus, had been handwritten on a card. Whether that made her a stand-in or a mystery was .... a mystery.

The sweepers deferred naturally to the striker, who glanced at a file lying open in front of him before speaking. "M/s Cocker."

"Good morning, sir."

"Your CV is quite impressive."

"Thank you."

He regarded her - she couldn't avoid the cliche - inscrutably. "Would you tell us what relevance you think your degree in Medieval History has to a career in public relations?"

Lara swallowed. That was the question she'd dreaded. She stammered something about the immutable lessons of the past, knowing as she did so that compared to, say, a psychology major, her education was irrelevant to her ambition. Finishing with: "... were less sophisticated times, when base motives were more apparent. Intensive examination reveals much about the driving forces behind contemporary social endeavour," she fell blushingly silent, convinced she'd queered her pitch.

"Meaning people haven't changed at all," surmised Zoccollilo.

Becker snorted. "Only historians gain any advantage from history. So what good are they?"

Refusing the bait, Lara put on her most winning smile in the hope it would pass as intellectual tolerance of ill-informed reproach.

M. Antrobus had stayed motionless and silent throughout the exchanges, exhibiting no sign of sympathy for her beleaguered sister.

The Vice President tried an end-around manoeuvre. "What personal qualities do you think you would bring to Pan-Global?"

This was one she had thought about in depth, deciding that modesty would only aid the competition. Diving right in, she described herself as intelligent, resourceful, adaptable, extrovert, etc., etc. In fact, she went on at some length. Concluding with another smile, she struggled to keep it in place at Dewey's acidly drawled:

"Moreover, you have no trouble filling gaps in a conversation!"

Everyone else smiled, too. Barring M. Antrobus.

For fully half an hour they quizzed Lara Cocker. Their questions were never less than pertinent, though seldom profound.

She wondered if she had made a bad first impression after all, perhaps being rejected on sight. Or - faint hope - that she was already 'in' and they were merely going through the motions for the sake of the remaining applicants kicking their heels in the waiting room.

M. Antrobus's expression became decidedly frosty, as if she caught the whiff of despair and considered it one more sign of the feebleness of Occidental women.

An element of farce began to creep in, with both sides swapping parry and thrust like Keystone Kops belabouring each other with rubber truncheons. Just when Lara felt her clumsily juggled responses would shatter around her, 'Ken' Ohtsuka sat back and pondered.

The other men immediately mimicked his posture, while M. Antrobus stared stonily at Lara's breasts.

Closing the file, Ohtsuka looked at each panellist in turn. Konrad Becker raised an eyebrow. Deryk U. Dewey smiled broadly, revealing teeth that were not, to Lara's amazement, glittering with gold. Chris Zoccollilo returned the look with a slow blink of acknowledgement.

M. Antrobus gave an almost imperceptible nod.

The chairman seemed satisfied by the underwhelming effusion, and looked at Lara as if seeing her for the first time. "Before we consider commitments, M/s Cocker, there are one or two things you should understand. Pan-Global Electronics Inc. is a multi-national organisation with subsidiaries on every continent. We offer unparalleled opportunities to the right person. Naturally in such a diverse undertaking, an occasional problem of compatibility arises. It is to eliminate such difficulties that we require an initial period of acclimatization.

"Every new employee, regardless of status, attends one of our training centres." He paused. "This induction is obligatory. In your case especially so, as public relations officers need a more thorough grounding than most in our company philosophy and methods. Discretion can only be firmly rooted in understanding."

Lara concentrated on appearing eager.

The Director of Personnel (UK), took up the reins. "Have you any questions at this juncture?"

Lara shook her head, the waves of hair breaking softly over her shoulders.

"Not every likely candidate fulfils our expectations," he continued. "Those who do become fully established staff on commencement of their assignment. So the training substitutes for a probationary period, with the benefit of allowing you to see how well you are progressing and precisely where any weaknesses lie."

Lara nodded sagely, fighting the urge to shout 'Yippee!'. Instead, she said: "I understand, sir." Which she did. This was a company that didn't faff about saving pennies on medical, vacation and pension contributions. It looked good.

So, it seemed, did she.

Dewey offered his contribution. "The course compensates for shortcomings on either side at these interviews. By the time you graduate we shall know where your particular abilities can be most effectively utilised. We've found this system to be more reliable than the psychological testing so beloved of my compatriots."

The Yanks? Sure. What did they know besides the value of a buck and how to spend it?

Ohtsuka pushed the file across to Zoccollilo, but kept his hand resting on it. "We can offer you the next vacancy. Are you interested?"

Lara nodded again. A little too hard, she thought, but what the heck!

"Good." He removed his hand. "There will be some delay. Unless ..." and he looked to M. Antrobus, "... there is the likelihood of a premature termination?"

M. Antrobus gave a definite shake of her head. Her neck was so stiff Lara wondered why it didn't creak.

They assured Lara she could consider herself accepted as of that moment, and that formal notification would be forwarded in due course. The secretary was magically summoned and escorted her back to reception.

An elated Lara was halfway to her car before she noticed that that damned pubic hair was still giving her gyp.