THE BRIDGE TO CARACAS (Volume 1 of The King Trilogy)

CHAPTER 12

June 5, 1965.

Mike's formal graduation ceremony was held on a warm, cloudless day on the lawn outside Convocation Hall. He received his degree in Chemical Engineering with honors, ranking seventh in his class. Barbara watched with pride as her husband mounted the podium to shake the hand of the Dean of Engineering and receive his diploma.

The following day, dressed in the slightly threadbare gray flannel garment that was his one and only suit, Mike marched to the front doors of the imposing Canam Oil Building in Toronto at 4:45 p.m. The trappings of wealth and power oozed from every pore of the building, even more so than in the Vancouver office where Mike had visited Doug McAllister. When the elevator doors opened, he was on the top floor of the head office of one of the largest oil companies in the world.

Mike scanned the expansive reception area and saw numerous expensive oil paintings adorning the walnut and mahogany walls. The pink marble floor was dotted with rich Persian rugs. He approached the receptionist to announce his arrival, but stopped when he heard a familiar voice to his left.

"Welcome to Canam, Mike," a smiling Doug McAllister greeted.

McAllister had aged. He had lost almost all of the hair on top of his head, and the surviving strands were almost pure white. Signs of a stressful life were carved into his face. McAllister extended his hand. "I want to congratulate you on your academic achievement...I was so proud of you when I heard."

"I'm happy to be here, Doug," Mike said, extending his hand. "How did you know?"

"I telephoned your father when I heard you were coming to see me. He couldn't wait to tell me."

"I should also congratulate you. Dad told me you're now the executive vice-president of the company."

McAllister grinned. "Thank you. It's been a long, hard climb...but let's go into my office and talk. It's this way." He gestured Mike into his large corner office.

Mike was mesmerized by the incredible view to the south. Beyond the tall buildings of the city, he could see the vast blue expanse of Lake Ontario. The sailboats in the harbor were no more than white dots in the distance. He tore himself from the window and turned to face McAllister. "It was very kind of you to see me, Doug. You must be very busy."

"Don't mention it. I'm delighted you're here. I'm even happier that you followed my advice."

"It was good counsel. I never forgot it."

McAllister sat in his dark brown leather chair and admired Mike's athletic frame and captivating smile. "This might be presumptuous, but I assumed you came to collect on my promise. Was I wrong?" he asked.

Mike was overwhelmed. He was certain he would have to remind McAllister of the promise he'd made in Vancouver in 1963. "You were not wrong. I very much want to work in the oil industry. I acquired a growing fascination for the business while I was at school. I would be honored to be part of it."

McAllister beamed. "One of the quickest ways to learn about the oil industry is in industrial sales. That's where I would like you to start, if you are interested?

"When can I get started?"

"Would tomorrow be too soon?"