Massacre
In 1992, Midland in western Texas.
The sun was settling over the endless tan plain.
This place was less a city than a vast industrial complex, with pipelines and storage tanks stretching in every direction to take the place of a horizon.
It felt as though I were looking at some enormous steampunk world.
Far off, the scattered pumpjacks kept bobbing their heads like tireless woodpeckers, and between them stood low commercial buildings, motels, and truck repair shops in sparse clusters.
By nightfall, a few neon signs had begun to blink on, but most of the buildings had already gone dark and gone to sleep.
Only one corner window on the third floor of the old brick building called King Baboon Pipeline Services was still spilling out a red, blurred glow like a bloodshot eye.
The office inside stank of mold and burnt cigarettes mixed together.
Ancient fluorescent lights flickered at intervals, rubbing raw the nerves of anyone still working overtime.
···Tap! ···Tap-tap!
All that broke the silence was the clatter of an old mechanical keyboard.
Under the monitor’s bluish light, the crown of one man’s head stood out with a noticeable dusting of white hair.
On one corner of the desk, I could see a nameplate buried beneath a thick layer of dust.
<Operations Manager / Riddell Hiddleston>
Riddell’s desk looked like a battlefield.
Beside a dried-out, rock-hard piece of donut sat a cold cup of black coffee with oil floating on top, and beyond that lay invoices slashed through with a red pen in complete disorder.
Receipts and memo slips were spread under the coffee cup, most of them bearing traces of material costs and labor calculations.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.
The wall clock had already long passed 11 p.m.
Riddell took off his glasses and pressed hard at the bridge of his nose.
The deep lines around his mouth and the heavy folds beneath his eyes held a tar-thick exhaustion that no amount of wiping could remove.
A white envelope resting beside the keyboard drew his gaze.
The sender was Texas Children’s Hospital.
Riddell’s eyes settled on the amount written on the envelope.
Amount Due: $8,750.00 / Due Date: November 15, 1992 / No treatment schedule changes possible if unpaid
It was for his only daughter Emily’s cancer treatment and hospitalization.
Insurance covered part of it, yes, but the deductibles and non-covered items were devouring his entire monthly salary and still demanding more on top of that.
The American medical system was merciless.
One trip to the emergency room cost $3,000. One MRI was $2,500.
Even with insurance, you paid everything out of pocket until the deductible was met, and even after that, a 20 percent coinsurance remained.
And that 20 percent usually meant tens of thousands of dollars for cancer treatment.
One vial of chemotherapy cost about as much as a middle-class family’s entire monthly living expenses, and once hospital fees, test fees, and specialist consultations were added, the bill swelled like a flood tide.
The insurer refused to cover the latest anticancer drug under the excuse that it was an “experimental treatment,” and every time that happened, Riddell had to stay up all night drafting an appeal.
Last year, the insurance company had denied payment for a $1,500 CT scan, calling it “an examination without prior authorization.”
Even though the doctor had ordered it as an emergency.
In the United States, falling seriously ill meant putting not only your life but your family’s entire financial future up as collateral.
The most common reason middle-class families went bankrupt overnight was medical bills.
There’s nothing I can do. I just need to work overtime and scrape together the extra pay.
Overtime pay, those paltry few dollars, was the only reason Riddell kept his ass planted in this hellish office.
Then his pager vibrated at his waist.
Riddell froze for a moment, then picked up the corded phone on his desk and checked the voice mailbox.
[Daddy?]
It was a familiar voice.
The voice of Emily, his little daughter, whispering as softly as she could.
[Mom said not to call because I’d bother you while you’re working... so I’m recording this secretly.]
He could hear Emily sniffing on the other end.
[Daddy, the shot didn’t hurt today. The nurse praised me. But... I was a little sad because you couldn’t read me a story today...]
Riddell tightened his grip on the receiver.
[Daddy, when are you coming? I miss you... Don’t tell Mom, okay? I didn’t say anything because I thought you might be having a hard time... I just... wanted to hear your voice...]
My own child, so precious that it hurts to look at her, was sick.
And yet I can’t even go to her now.
Emily’s message cut off.
Her voice kept echoing in his ears like an auditory hallucination.
Riddell set the receiver down and closed his eyes for a moment.
It was not time to cry.
Even the luxury of sentimentality was beyond his reach.
If only his daughter could grow healthy again and run through the bright world, he was prepared to grind his bones to dust to make it happen.
Riddell dragged both hands down his face and sat back up before the monitor.
“······Damn it.”
After staring at a ledger that made no possible sense, Riddell yanked at his tie in frustration.
No matter how carefully he chased the numbers in the material-cost statement, they were completely at odds with the amount actually used in the field.
He knew perfectly well where the gap was leaking away, but there was nothing he could do about it.
Riddell left the office and climbed the emergency stairs leading to the roof.
Every step of his shoes on the concrete rang like metal through the empty stairwell.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
As if echoing his own feelings, the sound seemed like iron pipe being struck against the railing.
The moment he opened the steel door, the cold night wind slapped violently at the hem of his shirt.
Beneath the railing, Midland’s nightscape spread out before him.
Far away, the lights of the truck stop were scattered in clusters, and the gas flares from the refining facilities licked orange tongues into the darkness.
Riddell took a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket.
“Pouring water into a bottomless jar...”
King Baboon Pipeline Services.
Once, it had been a solid company that managed pipelines across Texas.
During the oil boom of the 1970s, it had employed hundreds and practically monopolized pipeline maintenance contracts from Houston to Midland.
But now it had been reduced to a nuisance attached to the young parent company, Lee Energy.
What good were the vast support funds, when the field was still littered with rusted pipes and rebuilt valves?
Where had the budget for brand-new equipment from headquarters gone? The field mechanics were still tearing apart 1980s-era parts and making do with them.
The greasy face of the CEO, Vernon Gruber, rose in Riddell’s mind.
That bastard, burying his huge body in a leather chair and always walking around with a cigar in his mouth.
It had already been ten years since he climbed to the top of the company pyramid.
Vernon Gruber’s crimes were beyond counting.
First came the materials kickback scheme.
Through a shell company run by his brother-in-law, Gruber had secured exclusive deliveries of scrap valves and defective pipes at prices 300 percent above market.
On paper, it all showed up as the latest materials, but what actually arrived in the field were nothing but rusted leftovers.
The field crews had to repair pipelines with those defective parts, which was why there had been two gas-leak accidents just last week.
Then there was the phantom employee problem.
The personnel records showed more than fifty field workers on the books, but in reality fewer than half of them actually worked there.
The rest were Gruber’s relatives and members of his golf club.
They collected salaries and never once set foot in the field.
And then there were the wrongful dismissals and threats.
Gruber cut down anyone who objected to him, without mercy.
Over the past three years, twenty-three employees had been fired, and fifteen of them had been people who questioned Gruber’s corruption.
Severance pay was shaved down under every excuse imaginable, and the company actively sabotaged unemployment claims.
Finally, Gruber lived a lavish life on company expenses.
He charged thousands of dollars a month in fine dining and golf rounds to the corporate card, and last year he spent ten days vacationing in Cancún on company money.
At the same time, field workers were risking their lives to stop gas leaks with inadequate safety gear.
Two mechanics were sent to the hospital with hydrogen sulfide poisoning because there weren’t enough gas masks, and one of them still had not fully recovered lung function.
For ten years, Riddell had run himself ragged trying to patch those cracks.
He came in at 4 a.m. and filled out the equipment inspection sheets himself.
He replaced the defective valves sent down from headquarters at his own expense, and the receipts were still piled in his drawer.
Every weekend, he drove eighty miles of pipeline in a truck to check for leaks, and in the dead of winter he tightened valves until his hands split open in subzero dawn air.
When a subordinate collapsed from gas exposure, he drove the man to the hospital himself and paid part of the treatment bill out of his own pocket.
That was how he had managed, barely, to keep the accident rate below the industry average, and what did he get in return? A personnel evaluation that branded him “organizationally incompatible.”
The executives didn’t even look at Riddell’s reports.
“Just do the minimum. A new owner’s coming in anyway. Some young Oriental with money, right? We can just skim from his pocket. Why work so hard trying to do things properly?”
“You should do the same, live a little. I’ve already gotten my son, daughter, and three nephews jobs here and been skimming quietly all along. Anyone who can’t skim is an idiot in this company.”
The words of finance chief Kevin Bradley and HR director Randy Morrison kept echoing in his ears as they laughed.
Riddell clenched his teeth.
When he heard that a new owner was coming, he had allowed himself a flicker of hope.
But seeing the executives’ reaction, he understood.
They didn’t see the new owner as a savior.
They saw a new source of meat.
Young, inexperienced, Asian. A sucker.
Riddell gripped the railing with both hands and looked up at the empty sky.
“······What the hell am I even doing here?”
Ten years on the job and not a single real reform to show for it, just a shell of a team leader burning through a paycheck.
Of course, he had tried to shoulder the burden and fight back hard before.
He still remembered three years ago, when he gathered evidence of the materials kickback scheme and filed an anonymous whistleblower report with the Texas Attorney General’s Office.
Riddell had been careful.
He used a public phone so his name wouldn’t be exposed, sent only photocopies of documents, and never once used a company computer.
But there had been a trap.
Tony Marquez from the same department.
They had worked together for more than ten years, close as brothers.
Riddell had told him only about his plan.
Tony acted as if he was genuinely supporting him.
“Good call, Riddell. Somebody has to do it. Tell me if there’s anything I can help with.”
But Tony had already been bought off by Vernon Gruber.
The year before, Tony’s son had entered college, and Gruber had paid the tuition for him.
“If I find out who the whistleblower is, I’ll keep paying your son’s tuition. And I’ll make sure your position is safe too.”
Tony couldn’t refuse that offer.
One week after Riddell’s report was submitted, Gruber knew everything.
For some reason, there was no direct retaliation.
That was still one of the things Riddell couldn’t make sense of.
“Team Leader Hiddleston, I know what you did last summer. You know the medical-aid program for your daughter’s treatment, don’t you? The one where the company helps cover part of employees’ family medical bills. If you want to keep receiving that, think carefully about your next move.”
That was what Vernon Gruber had said, cigar smoke rolling from his mouth.
In that instant, all of Riddell’s courage had evaporated.
So for the past three years, he had chosen to keep his mouth shut.
He wanted nothing more than to hand in his resignation right this second and expose all of this corruption to the press, but... the reality of the American medical system, holding his daughter hostage, was far too cruel.
Without the company’s group health insurance, Emily’s treatment would stop that very day.
If he switched to individual insurance, the insurer would almost certainly reject her because of her preexisting condition, or demand an astronomical premium.
So he was forced to cling to this rotten company.
Riddell sighed, put a cigarette to his lips, and flicked the lighter.
Click. Click. Click.
No flame rose from the lighter. The gas was gone.
Just like King Baboon Pipeline Services, which seemed to have no strength left to rise any higher.
“······Nothing ever goes right.”
Riddell shoved the lighter into his pocket and laughed emptily.
And then it happened.
A hand emerged from the darkness and lit a Zippo for him.
Hiss!
The yellow flame illuminated Riddell’s startled face.
Beyond the light stood a young Asian man, no, a boy, dressed neatly in a shirt.
Plain shirt, slacks. The sort of face you could find anywhere, like a college student.
Riddell looked at him with a puzzled expression.
...I’ve never seen that face before. Is he a new employee? When did they hire him?
Then the Asian youth spoke in a gentle voice.
“Here you go.”
“Ah.”
Riddell lit his cigarette in reflex.
The tip glowed red, and smoke began to rise.
Only then did he collect himself and ask the young man, “Thanks. But who are you? You can’t get in here without an employee pass.”
“Ah, I’m a new hire this time. I came out for some fresh air.”
The young man answered with a friendly smile.
Riddell nodded.
“Is that so? I guess they’re hiring young people like you these days. Taking a breather while working overtime, huh?”
“Yeah, something like that. I’m just looking around to figure out how the company works.”
“Hardworking. Good attitude.”
Riddell gave a bitter laugh.
Leaning on the railing, he went on, “Since you seem like a good kid, I’ll give you some advice. Don’t plan on working here too long. Put one line on your résumé and move on as fast as you can. Otherwise you’ll end up like me.”
“Why? Is the company in bad shape?”
“······Well. Not sure an old man like me should be saying this to a new hire.”
Riddell flicked ash from his cigarette and continued, “The ship’s listing. That’s all.”
“If it’s listing... which way is it leaning?”
“The higher-ups are the problem. You wouldn’t understand if I told you. Stay long enough and you’ll find out, but leave before you learn it the hard way.”
“Thanks for the advice, Team Leader. I’ll keep it in mind.”
At the youth’s words, Riddell tilted his head.
“Hmm? How did you know I was a team leader?”
“I saw the nameplate in the office earlier. That was the only place with the lights on.”
“I see. Good eye.”
Riddell waved a hand as if he couldn’t be bothered.
“Anyway, don’t stay out too late. No young person needs to wreck their health working themselves to the bone. Especially not for a company with no future like this.”
“I see. But I’d like to save this company if possible.”
The young man’s eyes gleamed.
Riddell let out a snort.
“I used to think that too. You’ve got spirit. Which department are you in? Your team leader must be happy.”
“I wouldn’t say I belong to any one department.”
“Oh, are you still an intern? Then it’d be nice to see you in the same department later. Huh? No, wait. Don’t come to our department. It’s a trash heap.”
“I’m already in the same department as you, Team Leader. In a broader sense, anyway.”
“······?”
Riddell seemed not to understand what the young man meant.
Then the young man took a business card from his pocket and held it out.
Lee Energy Holdings / Chairman & CEO / San-ha Lee
The Asian youth said in a bright voice, “My apologies for the late introduction. I’m the CEO of Lee Energy, and the new owner of King Baboon Pipeline Services.”
“······! ······! ······!”
Riddell’s mouth fell open and stayed open.
He had heard the head office representative was young, but he never imagined he would be this young.
I figured he’d be at least in his mid-forties... he’s practically a kid!
Riddell’s mind went blank, then came roaring back.
More than that, why was the chairman here, at this hour, in a place like this?
Every word he had just said flashed through his mind like a strip of film.
Since you seem like a good kid, I’ll give you some advice. Don’t plan on working here too long. Put one line on your résumé and move on as fast as you can. Otherwise you’ll end up like me.
The ship’s listing. That’s all.
The higher-ups are the problem. You wouldn’t understand if I told you. Stay long enough and you’ll find out, but leave before you learn it the hard way.
Anyway, don’t stay out too late. No young person needs to wreck their health working themselves to the bone. Especially not for a company with no future like this.
Oh, are you still an intern? Then it’d be nice to see you in the same department later. Huh? No, wait. Don’t come to our department. It’s a trash heap.
Every last one of them had been a fatal slip of the tongue.
Riddell stammered in panic. “C-Chairman, why are you...”
“Team Leader Hiddleston. As your new owner, I’m giving you your first work order.”
At those words, Riddell nearly lost the strength in his legs and sat down where he stood.
He hurriedly straightened himself and answered, “Y-Yes, sir! Uh, what is the order?”
“Please post the notice in this envelope on the most visible part of the bulletin board in the first-floor lobby right now. And send it to all employees by email as well.”
The chairman took a thin document envelope from inside his coat and handed it to Riddell.
Riddell accepted it with a dazed look.
“Right now? At this hour?”
“Yes. So every employee arriving tomorrow morning will see it first thing.”
Riddell’s hand trembled.
It’s not a termination notice, is it? Am I on this list too?
He drew a deep breath and opened the envelope.
Inside were three sheets of A4 paper.
///////
King Baboon Pipeline Services - Special Audit Results and Disciplinary Notice
- Effective Date: February X, 1992 (immediate)
- Issued by: Lee Energy Holdings, Office of the Chairman
///////
Disciplinary Target 1 Finance Director Kevin Bradley (CFO Kevin Bradley)
- Violations: Accounting Fraud, Embezzlement of Company Funds
- Specific Charges:
1) Fraudulent registration of 47 nonexistent field workers, embezzling $1,850,000 in wages
2) Improper billing of $320,000 through forged receipts for material purchases
3) Concealment of external audit materials and dual bookkeeping
- Discipline: Termination Effective Immediately, civil and criminal action to be filed
///////
Disciplinary Target 2 HR Director Randy Morrison (HR Director Randy Morrison)
- Violations: Unfair Labor Practice, Coercion, Destruction of Evidence
- Specific Charges:
1) A total of 15 retaliatory personnel actions against whistleblowers (unfair transfers, missed promotions, cuts to bonuses)
2) Coercion into resignation and obstruction of unemployment claims
3) Unauthorized deletion of employee grievance records
4) Fraudulent payroll receipt through false hiring of 2 children and 3 nephews into nonexistent positions (total $89,000)
- Discipline: Termination Effective Immediately, civil and criminal action to be filed
///////
Disciplinary Target 3 CEO Vernon Gruber (CEO Vernon Gruber)
- Violations: Embezzlement in the course of duty, Breach of Fiduciary Duty, Forgery of Private Documents, Bribery, Employee Intimidation, Safety Regulation Violations...
- Specific Charges:
1) Materials kickback scheme through a shell company: 300 percent overbilling versus market rate, embezzling the $4,500,000 difference
2) Private use of corporate funds: personal vacations, golf memberships, luxury dining expenses, and other improper spending totaling $780,000
3) Falsification of reports for safety accidents caused by defective materials: manipulation of reports for 2 gas leaks and 4 employee injuries
4) Threats to cut off family medical-aid support after identifying a whistleblower
5) Receipt of kickbacks in the subcontractor selection process (estimated at over $200,000)
6) Instructions to withhold overtime pay from employees (23 employees, total unpaid amount $45,000)
7) Submission of false documents during OSHA inspection
8) Improper deduction of a total of $127,000 in severance pay from 23 dismissed employees
9) False reporting of 3 workplace injuries as personal negligence to obstruct workers’ compensation claims
10) Unauthorized burial of 12,000 gallons of crude oil leaked from aging pipelines (EPA regulation violation)
11) Unauthorized installation of wiretapping devices in employee offices and break rooms
12) Tax evasion of $340,000 through fraudulent expense processing
.
.
- Discipline: Termination Effective Immediately, civil and criminal action to be filed, asset freeze...
///////
This notice takes effect immediately, and from this point on the above individuals are barred from entering the company premises.
Any violation will be treated as trespassing and legal action will be taken.
- Chairman, Lee Energy Holdings / San-ha Lee -
///////