Chapter 7: The Board

The board met on Thursday at ten, on the top floor, and I was not invited.

I went anyway.

I wore my best grey suit, the one Dylan had once said made me look serious.

I carried a folder in one hand and a portable oxygen tank on my shoulder.

Marco carried the rest of it, in a canvas bag, and walked a half step behind me.

"Don't let them see you're scared," he whispered in the elevator.

"I'm not scared."

"Your hands are shaking."

"That's the caffeine."

"You haven't had any."

"Then it's the principle."

The doors opened onto a long hall of glass.

The security desk had a new guard, a stranger. He took one look at my face and waved me through.

The boardroom doors were already closed.

I pushed them open.

Twelve people sat around the long table. Dylan sat at one end.

At the other sat his father, the chairman, a heavy white-haired man of sixty-six.

A cane hung from the arm of his chair.

Lydia sat three seats down from Dylan, with her notebook.

The finance director stood at the whiteboard with a slideshow clicker in his hand.

He saw me and the clicker stopped.

"Nina," the chairman said. His voice was slow. "You're on leave."

"I was placed on leave by one person," I said. "I'd like the board to hear why."

"This is not the time," Dylan said.

"It's the only time. You're voting on whether to terminate me for cause."

The chairman looked at his son.

"She's right," he said. "That's on the agenda. Let her speak."

I walked to the head of the table and set down the folder.

"Three things," I said. "One."

I put a printed page in front of him.

"This is a letter from my pulmonologist."

I let him read the first line.

"On Saturday I had an acute airway event after smoke exposure. My lung function is eight percent lower than in April."

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