Delicate Chaos Read Online Free Page A

almost with out color. Veins
     were visible under the paper-thin skin. He spent time staring at the back of his hands, likening them to road maps of some
     county he’d never visited. It struck him as odd that he didn’t know the back of his hand anymore.
    A second man entered the room and Reginald Morgan looked up from the papers on his desk. It was Derek Swanson, president of
     the Morgan empire of companies. Swanson was midfifties but didn’t look a day over forty-five. His daily regimen included a
     six-mile jog and weight training. And he ate properly. Vegetables, fruit, no fat and no sugar. His face was rugged and tanned,
     the result of the many hours he spent outdoors, and he carried a hundred and ninety pounds on a six-two frame. His deep brown
     eyes were focused and penetrating. If eyes were truly the window to the soul, Swanson’s inner persona was all business.
    “You wanted to see me, Reggie.” He slipped into the soft leather chair facing the company’s Chief Executive Officer.
    “Yes, thanks for coming,” Morgan said, his voice still surprisingly strong for the frail body. “And on short notice. I know
     you’re busy.”
    “Making us money,” Swanson said.
    “Yes, of course. Money.” Morgan steepled his fingers and cocked his head slightly. “I’m not sure about the conversion, Derek.
     I don’t think I’m going to back it.”
    Derek Swanson’s face didn’t change. His breathing didn’t alter from its even cadence and he didn’t tap a finger or wiggle
     a toe. Nothing spoke of the internal turmoil those few words had set off. “What’s your reasoning for that?” he asked, his
     voice normal.
    Morgan waved a hand as he spoke. “This company was built on solid business practices. Slow, steady growth with an eye to the
     future. Income trusts are dangerous, Derek. They deplete companies of surplus cash, and right now we need that cash. Lombard
     II needs work. It was state of the art when we built it, but not anymore. On your recommendation, we’ve been holding off installing
     scrubbers and moving to new technology since we hired you. That’s eight years, Derek. It’s time to move ahead. It’s time to
     clean up our act and stop polluting.”
    “Why the sudden surge of conscience?” Swanson asked. Morgan shook his head. “Nothing sudden about it. I’ve been pushing for
     new technology for years now. You were against it. And your opinion was what the shareholders listened to. Higher share prices,
     larger dividends—all money driven. It’s time for that to stop. My family never knowingly destroyed the environment. Not while
     we ran the company.”
    “Are you saying that since you hired me as president, your company’s ethical position has changed?” Swanson asked, a slight
     edge to his voice.
    Morgan measured his response for a minute, then said, “You put profits ahead of people, financial gain ahead of the environment.
     When we brought you on, we were ready for change. You’re the reason that change has never happened. We’re still burning our
     coal dirty and cheap. And it’s having an effect on our community.” He wet his thin, pale lips with a quivering tongue. “You
     can label it ethics if you wish, Derek. But this company has not moved in the right direction since you took over.”
    “We have plans to clean up our emissions,” Swanson said. “But it’s expensive. The conversion to an income trust will generate
     a lot of money. Money that can be used to upgrade our facility.”
    Morgan laughed, a full-bodied chortle that took a full thirty seconds to completely die out. “Now who’s having an attack of
     conscience? You could have implemented those changes anytime over the past eight years. Phased in over time, the effect on
     our bottom line would have been almost negligible. But you didn’t.” He leaned forward on his desk. “And now, when you have
     fifty million dollars riding on this conversion, you tell me the real reason you want it to