Part 18 (1/2)
Everything at ICP was planned several years in advance. The jubilation he felt over the merger idea was no less than a gift from above - the first diversion to come along that was powerful enough to ease his grieving over the loss of his wife Martha, who had pa.s.sed away eight months ago, after a blessedly short battle with pancreatic cancer.
After losing Martha, William had secluded himself, inviting no one into his home. His new idea would change all that. He sank into his idea with pure obsession.
Matthew Locke accepted William's dinner invitation after returning from California. The two businessmen sat with drinks in the library. Perfunctory conversation planted the seeds that they carried to the dinner table. Once the first two courses were completed, William got the real discussion underway.
”As I told you on the phone, Rolland mentioned to me that you were visiting Wallaby in California as a candidate for president.”
Matthew had his own preface: ”Rolland has been my mentor at International Foods for more than ten years. I don't feel any ill will toward him for telling you, as long as you respect the fact that my trip was confidential.”
”Of course,” William said, and took a drink of water. Then he began. ”Matthew, an unusual feeling swept over me when I heard this.” Already his enthusiasm was quickening. ”I realized that Wallaby must be up to something really big if they were calling on someone of your caliber. It's been a long time since Peter Jones has made any brash statements about us, the industry, or anything. Too long.
”I thought it would be interesting to meet you when you returned.
You see, a plan began to unfold in my mind, one that you may find interesting.” A smile lighted William's face, and he leaned forward a little. In a lowered voice he revealed the heart of the matter: ”I've always had a strong admiration for Wallaby. But of course it's the sort of thing one must keep in check at ICP.
”Sure, we currently have a great portable computer. But we're not innovative the way Wallaby is. And I suspect that they're up to something new. Something exciting.”
Matthew saw the purity of William's candor and honesty. His intuition was waking, and he was beginning to understand where this conversation would take them. With this sureness, he offered a teaser.
”I don't think I'm giving away any secrets by saying yes, you're correct. They're up to something. And yes, it is something very exciting.”
William pushed his untouched plate aside. The two men shared a moment of heavy silence, each considering his own tactics.
Maintaining a hint of a smile, William was the first to make a move. ”Matthew, I would like to suggest a possible business arrangement.”
Matthew gave an agreeable nod.
”ICP is gigantic. Everything we do is planned many years into the future. Although our personal computers are outselling Wallaby's Mate system, I suspect that whatever they have coming down the pipeline will be completely unexpected and radical.”
”Correct.”
”Yes,” William said. ”That's what I figured.” He paused thoughtfully. When he spoke, his voice was casual and revealing, the way a man's voice becomes when he is dead certain of the object of his desire.
”I've always envied Peter Jones and his company. But of course I've got my own company to worry about. For my own entertainment, I've been looking for some time at Wallaby as a case study. I've toyed with the idea of spinning out a rebellious group of engineers and forming a new subsidiary with the charter to build radical new portable computers. However, members of the board to whom I've casually mentioned this have not responded positively.
They're focused on bigger systems and desktops, which, along with service, account for most of our business. I must concede that I understand their lack of enthusiasm. We are an East Coast company. We're b.u.t.toned-down numbers people. Out west, they do things differently. Profits follow pa.s.sions.”
Matthew's eyes narrowed. ”I think I'm beginning to catch your drift.”
”I'll get to the point, then. Wallaby's products are not compatible with our systems. Ours take a lot of time to learn how to use. Granted, Wallaby's Mate isn't a whole lot better, but there's something about it that makes it friendlier, and it's certainly easier to lug around.”
”You ain't seen nothing yet,” Matthew quipped.
”Right. So I'm not going to beat around the bush. I've got nothing to lose by sharing my fantasy with you.” He took another gulp of water, then went for it. ”Matthew, I really like Wallaby.
I think it has created, and will keep creating, exciting technologies. Peter Jones has an absolute vision of what small computers should be. We at ICP can't do that. We are a big company, with big computers.” William's hands unfolded before him. It was a gesture of offering. ”So what if Peter Jones and Wallaby became a part of ICP, but were left alone in California to do their thing?”
Matthew was speechless.
”Say you, Matthew, were to go into Wallaby, the strong leader that you are, and begin bending Jones and the company toward becoming compatible with ICP's systems? Then, when the company is oriented in a compatible direction, so that Wallaby's computers can work with our big systems, ICP and Wallaby merge, but let Wallaby maintain its freedom as an independently operated subsidiary.”
Matthew's mind raced at the prospect of this outrageous coup. If it were successful, it could be bigger than anything he ever dreamed could happen at International Foods. He had a million questions to ask, and his eagerness was written all over his face. But before he could utter a word, William raised his hands.