CHAPTER 36

November 5, 1978.

Dan Campbell, Golden National’s senior vice-president, attributed his success to his consistent record of responding quickly and decisively to challenges. He held his telephone receiver tightly to his ear as he waited for Bill Wirtz, his Buffalo refinery manager, to answer.

“Wirtz, here.”

“Bill, it’s Dan. How serious is the shrink? I need numbers.”

“At least half a percent. It’s driving me crazy. I can’t understand it. It’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Well, I suggest you understand it damn soon. It is costing us millions.”

“Back off, Dan. We’re doing everything we can to stop it. We’re even going to—”

“Clearly what you’re doing isn’t enough. I want the hemorrhaging stopped! I don’t care how you do it, just stop it, dammit!”

“Maybe you can suggest what else we can do.”

“I’m taking the company jet to Buffalo this morning. I expect to arrive by eleven. Have someone pick me up at the airport and set up lunch in the cafeteria.”

“Will do. Anything else?”

“Yes. Have Sam Martin join us. I want his input.”

Wirtz and Martin picked up Campbell at the Greater Buffalo International Airport and drove him directly to Golden National’s executive cafeteria. When the three men were seated, Campbell turned to face Sam Martin. “Sam, I’m curious to know if you have any theories or ideas about what’s causing these gasoline shortages.”

Martin, having anticipated intense interrogation by both Wirtz and Campbell, had a well-rehearsed answer that was designed to deflect suspicion from Servito’s gasoline valves. He was confident their existence and location were so utterly preposterous that no one would even think of looking for them. He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “I’m completely mystified, Dan,” he said. “I had two separate and independent crews run through a critical path analysis of the system. Neither has come up with an answer.”

Wirtz applied more pressure. “I don’t give a shit about critical path, Sam! I want answers! We’re showing big shortages here, and if you can’t stop them, we’ll find someone who can.”

Martin rolled his eyes and smirked. “You guys are beautiful. You’ve both been around this business long enough to know there are thousands of reasons for inventory shortages at a refinery. You also know that finding the right one is like finding the proverbial needle.” He paused, and then locked his eyes on Campbell’s. “I’m the man, Dan. I’m prepared to give you a personal commitment to find the needle within forty-eight hours.”

Surprised by Martin’s boldness, Campbell and Wirtz stared at him in silence. Seconds later, Campbell turned to Wirtz and nodded, signifying his approval. “Okay, Sam. You’ve got forty-eight hours…” He frowned. “But if I don’t get good news from you within that time frame, I’ll assume we’ve sent a boy to do a man’s job.”

When lunch was finished, Martin raced to his 1977 Oldsmobile and drove to a shopping plaza a mile from the refinery. He hurried to the pay telephone he had used in the past to call Servito.

“May I help you?” the operator answered six rings later.

“I want to place a collect call to Jim Servito,” Martin said.

“Your name, please?” the operator asked.

“Auggie Doggy.”

“Who?”

“Auggie Doggy,” Martin repeated.

“Yes sir,” the operator said with a muffled giggle.

“One moment please.”

After only one ring, Servito answered. “Yah.”

“I have a collect call for Jim Servito from Auggie Doggy. Will you accept the charges?”

“Yes.”

“Go ahead, sir.”

“We got big problems down here, Jimbo!” Martin warned. “The big boys are starting to miss the juice. They called me in for a big show and tell session today, and they were shitting their pants about the shrink.”

“So what? Tell ‘em to wear diapers.”

“These guys are serious, Jimbo. They aren’t gonna stop.”

“So what did you tell them?”

“I told them I would find an answer within forty-eight hours.”

“Did they buy it?”

“Yup.”

“Don’t do anything stupid. You can’t—”

“Don’t worry. I can handle it, but I need your help. I’m gonna fix the meters to show they were out of calibration. It’ll appear that the refinery’s been giving away big gallons. They’ll buy that answer if they see immediate results.”

“How do they see immediate results?” Servito asked, although he was already certain of the answer.

“We cool the Golden Valve Program. There’s no other way.”

Servito winced. Slowing the rate at which he was stealing gasoline would delay his retirement program. “How cool and how long?” he asked, deeply disappointed.

Martin knew that Servito hated bad news, but he had no alternative. “Cut it back seventy-five percent for a month.”

“Jesus!” Servito shrieked, wincing again. “Is there any other way? We need the juice,” he pleaded.

“You’re just gonna have to get honest and buy the juice for a while. Sure as hell somebody’s gonna come in here and find those valves if I don’t get these guys off my back. Then we’re all in a world of shit. Even worse, we’re out of business.”

“You’re trying to make an honest man out of me, Auggie!” Servito protested.

“I’m just trying to save our asses.”

“Okay, we’ll cool it for a month. But let me know when the heat’s off. I want to crank the program up again, real soon.”

“Then it’s only a matter of time. You know the bells are gonna ring again if we go back to full speed. Sure as hell they’re gonna find those valves,” Martin warned.

“You let me worry about that.”

“But who worries about me?”

“I’ll look after you, Auggie. Haven’t I always?”