Naked Ambition. Dan Roberts

of touch when it came to the topic that would inevitably come up. In fact, he found it to be impressive to some Americans when he was the one to broach the subject, like, “I see that your Yankees won last night.” It made him seem more approachable, even trusting, with some, which allowed him to go to a deeper level of interaction with them. Trust was one of the qualities that Chen tried his best to demonstrate and, eventually, elicit in others.

      Chen was just about to review the Lifestyle section when the telephone rang. He placed the paper down onto the serving cart, reached out to the nearby phone and answered it.

      “Hello.”

      There was a brief pause and then a male voice spoke. The only thing the man said, in Chinese, was, “Call me.” With that said, the phone went dead. Chen knew who it was. And he knew what the man wanted.

      After hanging up, Chen reached for his cell phone, one that had a sophisticated encryption function. Not wanting to leave anything culpable on the phone, in case it was lost, stolen or, worse, confiscated, Chen had memorized all the necessary telephone numbers so as not to rely on the phone’s directory. Just after pressing the last number on the dial, Chen heard one ring and then a voice. It was the same voice that had called him moments earlier.

      Knowing the reason for the call, Chen was quick to speak. In Chinese, he said, “I’m in the process of taking care of the problem that we discussed last time. It’ll be done by tomorrow night. After that there should be no further delay. The package should be delivered on schedule.” He then added, “Anything new on your end?”

      The reply from the voice on the other end was, “Nothing at this time. I just wanted to make sure you made it to your hotel and that things are on track.”

      In less than a minute the phone conversation came to an end.

      After putting down the cell phone, Chen reached for his coffee cup, took a sip of the now cooler contents and sighed as he looked at his watch. The time was 9:12. The day was still early. Although he had planned an afternoon filled with lots of hand shaking and smiles, he was not looking forward to the hours in between. For him, there wasn’t much more to do until lunchtime. My god, he thought, how dull is my life at times. How utterly dull.

      “I UNDERSTAND.” THAT WAS THE RESPONSE from Herb Clarkson when George Baker called him to tell him that Zach had been asked by his boss to fill in for a café manager that had a sudden family emergency. “It’s at one of their locations in Philly. He’ll be starting over there on Wednesday but has to get some additional training this week here at the store in Reading. So he just can’t continue with the coaching right now.”

      “I’m really sorry to see Zach go, George,” was Clarkson’s follow up. “He was a valuable asset to the camp.”

      It was then that Mr. Baker said, “The good news is that one of Zach’s volleyball buddies is willing to fill in for him.”

      “Oh,” said Clarkson, “that’s great. We can definitely use him.”

      “His name is Nick. I think you’ll find him very helpful. He’s a really good kid and a very talented volleyball player. I’ll bring him by this afternoon so he can get started right away.”

      It was no surprise that Clarkson enthusiastically thrust out his hand when Baker introduced Nick to the coach on Monday afternoon just before the camp class was to start.

      “Good to meet you, Nick,” Clarkson said in welcome.

      As Nick shook Clarkson’s hand he responded with, “Same here.”

      Baker had already given Clarkson some background information. “Nick is a high school junior this year. He lives with his mother down near Ephrata. His mom is away for the next week. She’s getting some treatments for a reoccurring cancer and asked if Nick could stay with us for a short while.” This was partially true. Barb Blick had intermittently received treatments for a rare form of cancer at a medical center near Pittsburgh. However, she was now in remission and hadn’t had a treatment for months. She was, in fact, in Colorado visiting her other son, Brandon, for the next week.

      Baker continued. “Even though he’s sixteen, he’s been wanting to do some coaching for some time. So when Zach told me he couldn’t help out any more, I thought Nick could step in to help you.”

      “Good choice,” said Clarkson.

      In front of Nick, Baker said to Clarkson, “I think you’ll find Nick a good teacher and a great inspiration to the guys here.”

      Nick felt like blushing but tried hard not to. Compliments like that were not something he welcomed. As Baker continued talking with Clarkson, Nick looked out onto the field where he saw several groups of boys. Some of them were at the nets, playing. Others were going through some practice routines. Still others, like the group that was normally coached by Zach, were nearby, standing under some trees, shading themselves from the intense rays of the evening sun.

      Seeing this himself, Coach Clarkson turned to Nick and said, “Guess we should get your team started with some laps to warm ‘em up.” He laughed as he said, “As if they aren’t hot enough.” Then Clarkson, looking at Nick, said, “How about you going with them. Two laps should do. Don’t want to push ‘em too much.” As an afterthought he said, “Once you’ve done the laps then lead them through some stretches.”

      “Yes, sir,” Nick replied politely and walked onto the field with the coach.

      The next thing Nick heard was Clarkson blowing his whistle while motioning with his hand in a way that brought everyone together. As he looked at the group gathering, Nick saw what his dad, an experienced volleyball coach, would have called a rag-tag bunch of boys. All sizes and shapes. Some skinny ones. A few fat ones. And, yes, there were a few that looked like they could actually play the game. Especially, the tall boy. The thin, blond one. The one that looked very much like a skinny version of Nick Blick.

      “Listen up, guys!” Clarkson said in a loud, artificially gruff voice, one that many coaches use to exhibit their authority. After placing his hand on Nick’s shoulder, the coach continued. “This here’s Nick. He’s taking Zach’s place. Treat him with the same respect you gave Zach.” All eyes were now on Nick as Clarkson continued. “Okay, boys. He’s going to get you warmed up. Follow him.”

      After Clarkson nodded, Nick clapped his hands together and said, “Okay, guys, follow me.” With that Nick took off running with the gaggle of players following close behind. Some running. Some jogging. A couple of the stragglers were loping along, not even trying to keep up with the others.

      Once the boys were on their way, Baker turned to Clarkson. “Well, I’ve got to get going. Believe it or not, I’ve got some work at the office to finish up before Wednesday’s meeting.”

      “Which meeting is that, George?” Clarkson asked inquisitively.

      Baker lowered his voice as he said, “There’s a meeting I’ve set up with the Department of the Navy. It’s in D.C. We’re finalizing the ArrowStar project.”

      “I thought that wasn’t until next week.”

      “We’re still having the general meeting next Tuesday. But there are some questions that have to be answered before then. And some suggested changes that have been made that we need to get clearance on. So, I made arrangements with Admiral Lewis to meet this week. It’s to make sure we have everything ready. That way, if there are any questions or problems, we can iron out the wrinkles at that time. I don’t want anything that could slow us up or delay the Navy’s approval for the next stage of the project.”

      Clarkson’s head nodded in agreement. “Understood. We don’t want any hitches. As you know, we’ve got a lot riding on this project. Honestly, the future of our company is dependent on this one.”

      “I might be down there for a day or two, depending on how things go.”

      “Okay. Just keep me informed on what’s going on.”

      “Will