“In a minute,” Sanders said. He turned to Cindy. “Max and I were in the middle of something.”
“No, no, Thomas,” Dorfman said. “We were just talking about old times. You better go.”
“Max-”
“You want to talk more, you think it’s important, you come visit me. I am at the Four Seasons. You know that hotel. It has a wonderful lobby, such high ceilings. Very grand, especially for an old man. So, you go right along, Thomas.” His eyes narrowed. “And leave the beautiful Cindy with me.”
Sanders hesitated. “Watch out for him,” he said. “He’s a dirty old man.”
“As dirty as possible,” Dorfman cackled.
Sanders headed down the hallway to his office. As he left, he heard Dorfman say, “Now beautiful Cindy, please take me to the lobby where I have a car waiting. And on the way, if you don’t mind indulging an old man, I have a few little questions. So many interesting things are happening in this company. And the secretaries always know everything, don’t they?”
Mr. Sanders.”Jim Daly stood quickly, as Sanders came into the room. “I’m glad they found you.”
They shook hands. Sanders gestured for Daly to sit down, and slid behind his own desk. Sanders was not surprised; he had been expecting a visit from Daly or one of the other investment bankers for several days. Members of the Goldman, Sachs team had been speaking individually with people in various departments, going over aspects of the merger. Most of the time they wanted background information; although high technology was central to the acquisition, none of the bankers understood it very well. Sanders expected Daly to ask about progress on the Twinkle drive, and perhaps the Corridor.
“I appreciate your taking the time,” Daly said, rubbing his bald head. He was a very tall, thin man, and he seemed even taller sitting down, all knees and elbows. “I wanted to ask you some things, ah, off the record.”
“Sure,” Sanders said.
“It’s to do with Meredith Johnson,” Daly said, in an apologetic voice. “If you, ah, don’t mind, I’d prefer we just keep this conversation between us.”
“All right,” Sanders said.
“I understand that you have been closely involved with setting up the plants in Ireland and Malaysia. And that there has been a little controversy inside the company about how that was carried out.”
“Well.” Sanders shrugged. “Phil Blackburn and I haven’t always seen eye to eye.”
“Showing your good sense, in my view,” Daly said dryly. “But I gather that in these disputes you represent technical expertise, and others in the company represent, ah, various other concerns. Would that be fair?”
“Yes, I’d say so.” What was he getting at?
“Well, it’s along those lines that I’d like to hear your thoughts. Bob
Garvin has just appointed Ms. Johnson to a position of considerable authority, a step which many in Conley-White applaud. And certainly it would be unfair to prejudge how she will carry out her new duties within the company. But by the same token, it would be derelict of me not to inquire about her past duties. Do you get my drift?”
“Not exactly,” Sanders said.
“I’m wondering,” Daly said, “what you feel about Ms. Johnson’s past performance with regard to the technical operations of the company. Specifically, her involvement in the foreign operations of DigiCom.”
Sanders frowned, thinking back. “I’m not aware that she’s had much involvement,” he said. “We had a labor dispute two years ago in Cork. She was part of the team that went over to negotiate a settlement. She lobbied in Washington about flatpanel display tariffs. And I know she headed the Ops Review Team in Cupertino, which approved the plans for the new plant at Kuala Lumpur.”
“Yes, exactly.”
“But I don’t know that her involvement goes beyond that.”
“Ali. Well. Perhaps I was given wrong information,” Daly said, shifting in his chair.
“What did you hear?”
“Without going into specifics, let me say a question of judgment was raised.”
“I see,” Sanders said. Who would have said anything to Daly about Meredith? Certainly not Garvin or Blackburn. Kaplan? It was impossible to know for sure. But Daly would be talking only to highly placed officers.
“I was wondering,” Daly said, “if you had any thoughts on her technical judgment. Speaking privately, of course.”
At that moment, Sanders’s computer screen beeped three times. A message flashed:
ONE MINUTE TO DIRECT VIDEO LINKUP: DC/M-DC/S
SEN: A. KAHN
REC: T. SANDERS
Daly said, “Is something wrong?”
“No,” Sanders said. “It looks like I have a video feed coming in from Malaysia.”
“Then I’ll be brief and leave you to it,” Daly said. “Let me put it to you directly. Within your division, is there any concern whether Meredith Johnson is qualified for this post?”
Sanders shrugged. “She’s the new boss. You know how organizations are. There’s always concern with a new boss.”
“You’re very diplomatic. I mean to say, is there concern about her expertise? She’s relatively young, after all. Geographic move, uprooting. New faces, new staffing, new problems. And up here, she won’t be so directly under Bob Garvin’s, ah, wing.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Sanders said. “We’ll all have to wait and see.”
“And I gather that there was trouble in the past when a nontechnical person headed the division . . . a man named, ah, Screamer Freeling?”
“Yes. He didn’t work out.”
“And there are similar concerns about Johnson?”
Sanders said, “I’ve heard them expressed.”
“And her fiscal measures? These cost-containment plans of hers? That’s the crux, isn’t it?”
Sanders thought: what cost-containment plans?
The screen beeped again.
30 SECONDS TO DIRECT VIDEO LINKUP: DC/M-DC/S
“There goes your machine again,” Daly said, unfolding himself from the chair. “I’ll let you go. Thank you for your time, Mr. Sanders.”
“Not at all.”
They shook hands. Daly turned and walked out of the room. Sanders’s computer beeped three times in rapid succession:
15 SECONDS TO DIRECT VIDEO LINKUP: DC/M-DC/S
He sat down in front of the monitor and twisted his desk lamp so that the light shone on his face. The numbers on the computer were counting backward. Sanders looked at his watch. It was five o’clock-eight o’clock in Malaysia. Arthur would probably be calling from the plant.
A small rectangle appeared in the center of the screen and grew outward in progressive jumps. He saw Arthur’s face, and behind him,
the brightly lit assembly line. Brand-new, it was the epitome of modern manufacturing: clean and quiet, the workers in street clothes, arranged on both sides of the green conveyor belt. At each workstation there was a bank of fluorescent lights, which flared a little in the camera.
Kahn coughed and rubbed his chin. “Hello, Tom. How are you?” When he spoke, his image blurred slightly. And his voice was out of sync, since the bounce to the satellite caused a slight delay in the video, but the voice was transmitted immediately. This unsynchronized quality was very distracting for the first few seconds; it gave the linkup a dreamy quality. It was a little like talking to someone under water. Then you got used to it.
“I’m fine, Arthur,” he said.
“Well, good. I’m sorry about the new organization. You know how I feel personally.”
“Thank you, Arthur.” He wondered vaguely how Kahn in Malaysia would have heard already. But in any company, gossip traveled fast.
“Yeah. Well. Anyway, Tom, I’m standing here on the floor,” Kahn said, gesturing behind him. “And as you can see, we’re still running very slow. And the spot checks are unimproved. What do the designers say? Have they gotten the units yet?”
“They came today. I don’t have any news yet. They’re still working on it.”
“Uh-huh. Okay. And have the units gone to Diagnostics?” Kahn asked.
“I think so. Just went.”
“Yeah. Okay. Because we got a request from Diagnostics for ten more drive units to be sent in heat-sealed plastic bags. And they specified that they wanted them sealed inside the factory. Right as they came off the line. You know anything about that?”
“No, this is the first I heard of it. Let me find out, and I’ll get back to you.”
“Okay, because I have to tell you, it seemed strange to me. I mean, ten units is a lot. Customs is going to query it if we send them all together. And I don’t know what this sealing is about. We send them wrapped in plastic anyway. But not sealed. Why do they want them sealed, Tom?” Kahn sounded worried.
“I don’t know,” Sanders said. “I’ll get into it. All I can think is that it’s a full-court press around here. People really want to know why the hell those drives don’t work.”
“Hey, us too,” Kahn said. “Believe me. It’s making us crazy.”
“When will you send the drives?”
“Well, I’ve got to get a heat-sealer first. I hope I can ship Wednesday, you can have them Thursday.”
“Not good enough,” Sanders said. “You should ship today, or tomorrow at the latest. You want me to run down a sealer for you? I can probably get one from Apple.” Apple had a factory in Kuala Lumpur.
“No. That’s a good idea. I’ll call over there and see if Ron can loan me one.
“Fine. Now what about Jafar?”
“Hell of a thing,” Kahn said. “I just talked to the hospital, and apparently he’s got cramps and vomiting. Won’t eat anything. The abo doctors say they can’t figure out anything except, you know, a spell.”
“They believe in spells?”
“Damn right,” Kahn said. “They’ve got laws against sorcery here. You can take people to court.”
“So you don’t know when he’ll be back?”
“Nobody’s saying. Apparently he’s really sick.”
“Okay, Arthur. Anything else?”
“No. I’ll get the sealer. And let me know what you find out.”
“I will,” Sanders said, and the transmission ended. Kahn gave a final wave, and the screen went blank.
SAVE THIS TRANSMISSION TO DISK OR DAT?
He clicked DAT, and it was saved to digital tape. He got up from the desk. Whatever all this was about, he’d better be informed before he had his meeting with Johnson at six. He went to the outer area, to Cindy’s desk.
Cindy was turned away, laughing on the phone. She looked back and saw Sanders, and stopped laughing. “Listen, I got to go.”
Sanders said, “Would you mind pulling the production reports on Twinkle for the last two months? Better yet, just pull everything since they opened the line.”
“Sure.”
“And call Don Cherry for me. I need to know what his Diagnostics group is doing with the drives.”
He went back into his office. He noticed his e-mail cursor was blinking, and pushed the key to read them. While he waited, he looked at the three faxes on his desk. Two were from Ireland, routine weekly production reports. The third was a requisition for a roof repair at the Austin plant; it had been held up in Operations in Cupertino, and Eddie had forwarded it to Sanders to try and get action.
The screen blinked. He looked up at the first of his e-mail messages.
OUT OF NOWHERE WE GOT A BEAN COUNTER FROM OPERATIONS DOWN HERE IN AUSTIN. HE’S GOING OVER ALL THE BOOKS, DRIVING PEOPLE MAD. AND THE WORD IS WE GOT MORE COMING DOWN TOMORROW. WHAT GIVES? THE RUMORS ARE FLYING, AND SLOWING HELL OUT OF THE LINE. TELL ME WHAT TO SAY. IS THIS COMPANY FOR SALE OR NOT?
EDDIE
Sanders did not hesitate. He couldn’t tell Eddie what was going on. Quickly, he typed his reply:
THE BEAN COUNTERS WERE IN IRELAND LAST WEEK, TOO.
GARVIN’S ORDERED A COMPANY-WIDE REVIEW, AND THEY’RE LOOKING AT EVERYTHING. TELL EVERYBODY DOWN THERE TO FORGET IT AND GO BACK TO WORK.
TOM
He pushed the SEND button. The message disappeared.
“You called?” Don Cherry walked into the room without knocking, and dropped into the chair. He put his hands behind his head. `Jesus, what a day. I’ve been putting out fires all afternoon.”
“Tell me.”
“I got some dweebs from Conley down there, asking my guys what the difference is between RAM and ROM. Like they have time for this. Pretty soon, one of the dweebs hears `flash memory’ and he goes, `How often does it flash?’ Like it was a flashlight or something. And my guys have to put up with this. I mean, this is high-priced talent. They shouldn’t be doing remedial classes for lawyers. Can’t you stop it?”
“Nobody can stop it,” Sanders said.
“Maybe Meredith can stop it,” Cherry said, grinning.
Sanders shrugged. “She’s the boss.”
“Yeah. Sowhat’s on your mind?”
“Your Diagnostics group is working on the Twinkle drives.”
“True. That is, we’re working on the bits and pieces that’re left after Lewyn’s nimble-fingered artistes tore the hell out of them. Why did they go to design first? Never, ever, let a designer near an actual piece of electronic equipment, Tom. Designers should only be allowed to draw pictures on pieces of paper. And only give them one piece of paper at a time.”
“What have you found?” Sanders said. “About the drives.”
“Nothing yet,” Cherry said. “But we got a few ideas we’re kicking around.”
“Is that why you asked Arthur Kahn to send you ten drives, heatsealed from the factory?”
“You bet your ass.”
“Kahn was wondering about that.”
“So?” Cherry said. “Let him wonder. It’ll do him good. Keep him from playing with himself.”
“I’d like to know, too.”
“Well look,” Cherry said. “Maybe our ideas won’t amount to anything. At the moment, all we have is one suspicious chip. That’s all Lewyn’s clowns left us. It’s not very much to go on.”
“The chip is bad?”
“No, the chip is fine.”