Part 17 (2/2)

”Matthew's in control. They want me to sit in an office. Be a thinker.” He became outraged by his own account. ”A f.u.c.king thinker.”

”Then you're not fired, right, Peter. Then you're not fired?”

”Good as. Nothin' left for me to do there.”

”Baby, I'm in LA at the studio. I'm leaving right now. I'll be there as fast as I can. No more than a couple hours.”

”Okay,” he said softly.

”I love you.”

”You too.” Chest pains. He hung up the phone and picked up the bottle.

”It was the Scotch,” he said to the empty room, then uttered a painful chuckle that bordered on hysteria and threatened to overtake him if he didn't get a grip. He busied himself looking for the bottle's cap, but saw that he wouldn't need it. The bottle was empty.

And so was he.

Wallaby. Kate. These things came to a man only once in his lifetime. Had become his lifetime. Once you've lost them, he reckoned as he began to drift off to sleep, you never again get, or deserve, anything as good.

Teetering on the edge of consciousness, he struggled to remember the lyrics of an old song he used to listen to, something about you can't always get what you want, but if you cry sometimes, you get what you need.

Not quite, but close enough.

And so he cried.

Chapter 6

William Harrell's meeting with his advisers had been taxing. Both had recommended that ICP begin the accelerated development of the prototype BPX ultra-portable computer - a product, were William to give its development the go-ahead, that they felt could compete directly with the advanced features of Wallaby's Joey.

And, his technology adviser stressed, the BPX wouldn't suffer from the problem that currently plagued the Joey, of too few available third-party software applications. ICP's magnitude could garner pre-announcement commitment from software developers, said the adviser, to begin creating BPX programs for the computer immediately.

If he hadn't had his secret plan in place, William would have been mad not to heed his advisers' advice and implement exactly what they had presented. But he'd had it all figured out for a long time. What he wanted now, more than anything, was for them to leave his office so that he could go home and check his e-mail.

When he uttered his response, ”We'll continue evolving the current BP design,” he could see in their expressions that they thought he was crazy. Both stared at him with incredulity. His business adviser flapped pages of figures and charts that projected the market penetration Wallaby could achieve if it were successful in getting the rumored Joey Plus computer to market within three months. According to one chart, Wallaby could begin by tapping some of ICP's largest customer accounts, which could lead to sizable market penetration over the next three years.

Within five years, another chart predicted, the Joey Plus's superior design could earn half of ICP's portable computer market share for Wallaby.

William held firmly to his decision. What they were telling him was precisely what he and his secret partner, Matthew Locke, already knew. What his advisers didn't know was that their fears of Wallaby gaining monumental market share would hardly be a worry to ICP in the not-too-distant future. On the contrary, it would be cause for celebration.

Returning to his palatial home, he proceeded straight to his impressive office. He exhaled an appreciative sigh as he powered on his Wallaby Joey and sat before it, quite literally on the edge of his seat. Matthew had sent William the computer when it was introduced last year. They had made arrangements before Matthew had moved to California as to how they would communicate the progress of their secret merger plan, which the men had originally formulated here in William's home. It would stun the business world, William reflected for the hundredth time. He'd experienced so many moments of pleasant antic.i.p.ation since the course had been set two years ago.

After the jolting squash match with Rolland Worthy, William had returned to his office and had his secretary cancel his remaining meetings. He asked his driver to take him to Central Park. He intended to force himself to relax and think through the possible effects that Worthy's news could have on ICP's future portable computer strategy. During the short trip, William watched the miniature television in the pa.s.senger compartment, hopeful that the commercials and nonsense soap opera dialogue would lighten his frame of mind. Just before getting out of the car, he caught a commercial that froze him in his seat for its duration. A notion flashed in his mind. An instant later, the breadth of it nearly bowled him over in its force and irony, and he was thankful to be sitting down. The spark that ignited the idea was the infamous Remington electric shaver commercial, in which Victor Kiam says, ”I liked the product so much, I bought the company.” William's heart doubled its cadence, and wave after wave of adrenaline coursed through his system like gasoline spurting onto an open flame. His brain was a bonfire. Of course!

That was it! He would buy Wallaby, for the very same reason Kiam had wanted Remington, because he really did like Wallaby's product so much. From his car phone he placed a call to Matthew Locke's office at International Foods. Matthew's secretary informed him that Matthew was out of the office for two days, but said that she would have him call when he returned.

In his excitement he had forgotten what Rolland Worthy told him, that Matthew was in California right now, visiting Wallaby.

William spent the next two days devising a plan. Rarely was there an occasion in which he had the pleasure of acting on impulse.

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