Chapter 17 - Page 251 - Trouble In Chicago

   "We're not going anywhere until your boss gets here," Jim told him.

   The forklift driver-the receiving manager-jumped up, rushed to the door, and jerked it open. "I said, get out."

   About that time, a well-dressed businessman walked through the door. "What's going on here, Clyde?" he asked.

   The manager's voice became deferential. "Nothing, Mr. Randell. This driver is here with a shipment and I was just getting ready to unload his truck." Clyde looked at Jim and said in a friendly voice, "Sir, if you'll back your truck into the dock, I'll get you unloaded."

   Jim shook his head. "How am I supposed to do that, Clyde? You parked a forklift in front of my truck, and another behind it."

   "Oh, I forgot," Clyde said hastily. "I was so busy, I didn't notice you were parked there."

   "Hello, Jim." Randell reached out to shake Jim's hand. "Were you having a problem here?"

   Clyde stared from one to the other, dumbfounded. "Do you two know each other?" he sputtered, worried now.

   "Yes," Randell said, his voice tinged with anger. "We've been doing business together since long before you ever came to work here. What did you do to make Jim so mad?"

   "I didn't know you two knew each other," Clyde almost whined. "I might have been a little rude to him. I get so busy around here that I don't have time to be real friendly with the drivers."

   Jim reached into his pocket and pulled out the tape recorder he'd carried there ever since they'd arrived. He placed it on the desk. Clyde's face went blank as he tried to remember everything he'd said. Jim pushed the stop button and then pressed rewind. He could hear the tape inside the recorder racing backwards. Finally it clicked to a stop and Jim pushed the play button.

   The recording was of low quality, but the voice was legible: "What do you think you're doing, driver?"