“Yes, Mr. Prentice?”
“Wake Dr. Kriegel at 7:30 A.M.”
Silence.
“Wake Dr. Kriegel at 7:30 A.M., please.”
“Certainly, Mr. Prentice.”
Daniel dimmed the lights, then left the professor sleeping in the soft glow of the monitors.
Daniel left the office just after midnight and nosed his ’57 Jag out of the parking garage and onto the road. Traffic was light at this hour, and the red sports car devoured the miles, roaring along the Cross Bronx Expressway as if eager to get home. Daniel switched on the radio and sang along with Three Dog Night on the classic rock station, joyfully ripping the words from his throat.
“Jeremiah was a bullfrog! Was a good friend of mine!”
His left leg thumped heavily on the floorboards, his hand patted the steering wheel in rhythm. He slanted from one lane to the next, dodging slower, stodgier cars.
Let the experts wonder if he’d lost his sanity by accepting the challenge of First Manhattan’s code. He’d believed in his team, and his team had delivered. The computer program they had concocted would not only solve First Manhattan’s Y2K problem, but could be the definitive answer for every bank, corporation, and government in the world.
“Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea. Joy to you and me.”
He took the exit for the Henry Hudson Parkway and curved into the on-ramp, setting the Jaguar free as soon as he reached the straightaway. The Jag rode the left lane and blew past the tired drivers. Soon Daniel exited the freeway and crept down Park Avenue, where the high and mighty slept in multimillion-dollar high-rise apartments.
He pulled into his reserved space at the garage, saluted the on-duty attendant with a careless wave, and called a cheery greeting to the doorman.
“Good evening, Mr. Prentice.” The fellow didn’t sound nearly as welcoming as Roberta, but he hadn’t been programmed to personify the woman of Daniel’s dreams, either.
“Evening, Randall. All quiet tonight?”
“Yes, sir. Very quiet.” The doorman flashed a diplomatic smile. “Saw your picture on the cover of Newsweek. People magazine, too.”
“People?” Daniel felt a curious, tingling shock. Newsweek was one thing, People was quite another. Businessmen and politicians read Newsweek; businessmen, politicians, and customers in hair salons and auto repair shops read People. Furthermore, he couldn’t remember giving an interview to People, so the article would undoubtedly feature the opinions and recollections of so-called friends and associates he barely knew—
Daniel had a sudden vision of his mother’s bridge club snickering behind the magazine’s glossy pages as they read what his latest ex-girlfriend had to say about him.
“People, huh?” He gave the doorman a forced smile. “I didn’t know about that one. I’ll have to pick up a copy tomorrow.”
“I could go out and get one for you, Mr. Prentice.” An always helpful breed, doormen, if the tip promised to be generous.
“No, thanks, it’ll wait.” Daniel waved the doorman away and moved toward the elevator, his thoughts churning. He really ought to have invested more time in his personal life. Society looked far more favorably on a married man with a wife and a couple of kids than a thirty-something bachelor who dated only when a social occasion required an escort. It wasn’t that he didn’t care for the company of women; he found intelligent, beautiful women as interesting as a well-conceived paradox. But relationships took time, and there were never enough hours in the day as it was.
Daniel stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for his floor, remembering his mother’s e-mail message. Even now he didn’t have time for family responsibilities, but he couldn’t let her birthday slip by without doing something special. He wouldn’t be able to go down to Florida, not with all that was happening at the office, but he could send her the biggest bouquet St. Pete had ever seen.
The elevator opened to his front hall. Daniel stepped out onto the marble floors and shifted his briefcase from one hand to the other, wondering for the hundredth time why he had ever bought such an extravagant apartment. After the Business Week profile that revealed how he made his first million before the age of thirty, financial planners and real estate agents had besieged him. It seemed only logical that he would move to a nicer place in Manhattan, but this Park Avenue apartment seemed to mock his hard-earned success even as it proved it. This vast, marble space, filled with expensive furnishings and cold statuary, was completely his, but it was not him. Sometimes he felt more at home in old Henry’s lakeside shack.
An elegant, curving staircase rose from the center of the marble foyer. To the left lay a wing designed for a nonexistent staff of household servants; to the right lay the library and various rooms deemed fit for entertaining.
His real living space lay upstairs. Daniel sprinted up the staircase to his sprawling bedroom, then tossed his briefcase on a chair and tugged at the collar of his shirt. He picked up the television remote and scanned the scores on ESPN, then switched to CNN and studied the stock ticker racing across the bottom of the screen. His personal computer sat on a wooden table in the dressing room, and after a moment he moved toward it and lightly pressed his finger to the touchpad.
The screen brightened instantly. He had not, unfortunately, installed Roberta’s program into this system; it operated with Windows 98. Aside from a couple of computer games Daniel was testing for one of the young guys at the office, the hard drive contained only basic communications software and Pretty Good Privacy, or PGP, an encryption program that enabled Daniel to communicate securely with the office over an ordinary modem and telephone line.
Internet Explorer indicated that he had e-mail waiting—two messages from Hipgrani, one marked “urgent.”
Sighing, Daniel sank into a leather chair near his wide window, picked up the phone, and punched in his mother’s number. She knew he kept late hours, so she wouldn’t be surprised that he was calling at midnight.
“Hello?”
“Mom, did I wake you?”
“Daniel? Goodness Son, are you all right?”
“I’m fine. But you sent me an urgent message—what’s up?”
“Well, dear, it’s about Linda. Do you remember? I wrote you about her.”
“Who?”
“Mrs. Davis’s daughter. I met her tonight, and honestly, Daniel, I don’t think she’s your type at all. So don’t come down here. Consider yourself uninvited. Forgive me for playing matchmaker, and don’t put yourself out on my account.”
Daniel blinked in surprised silence. Since his thirtieth birthday, his mother had never met an unmarried woman she didn’t think could improve Daniel’s life immeasurably. This change of heart was certainly unexpected.
A cloud of suspicion rose in his mind. “Mom?” He propped his elbow on the arm of the chair. “Did this lady—Linda—happen to inquire about my net worth?”
He heard her quick breath of astonishment. “Why, whatever makes you ask such—”
“It’s all right, Mom. I know the gold-digging type. And I generally steer clear of them.”
“I know, Son, but I’ve been reading so many things, I can’t help but worry about you.”
Daniel blew out his breath. “Relax, Mom. I know the Newsweek article made me look like a fool, and I can only imagine what People had to say. But it’s okay. Let people think I’m crazy. I knew I was taking a risk when I signed the contract with First Manhattan.”
“But—.” He could practically see her, pink-faced and nervous, her chin quivering. “Daniel, you will make it work, won’t you? They say you’ll be ruined forever in the computer business if you don’t find a way to fix those computers.”
“We’ve already found a way.” He lowered his voice, suddenly convinced that he’d break the sweet spell of success if he bragged about it. “Don’t you worry, Mom, it’s all taken care of. We’ll have the project done with time to spare. Shoot, we could fix the entire world’s computers if they’d come to us—”
> He broke off, afraid of saying too much. You had to be careful in this business, especially when big bucks and big deals were at stake. “It’s okay, Mom,” he finally finished. “You have nothing to worry about. In fact,” he lightened his tone, “I just may go down in history as the man who saved the twenty-first century.”
“Thank the Lord, Daniel.” Her voice was like a warm embrace in the chilly apartment. “I have been praying that you’d think of something. And when Mrs. Davis said that you were completely nuts, I told her you’d be all right because the Lord has his hand on you.”
Daniel shifted uncomfortably. “Well, somebody had his hand on Dr. Kriegel and his team because they came up with the answer. But thanks for sticking up for me.”
“Of course, Son.” Maternal pride filled her voice and rolled over the telephone lines. “Now it’s late, so you get some sleep. And don’t worry about coming down here; just keep in touch however you can. And know that I’m praying for you.”
“I know that, Mom. Thanks. Good-night.”
Daniel waited until he heard the click of the phone line, then he held the receiver to his chest and wondered how his mother could believe prayer had the power to change anything.
Amelia Prentice hung up her bedside phone, then lifted the covers of her narrow bed and lowered herself to the carpeted floor. On her knees, she pressed her elbows into the mattress and clasped her hands, closing her eyes to the moonlit shadows that danced on the walls.
“Heavenly Father, I gave him to you once,” she prayed, her heart brimming with love as powerful as the day she gave birth to the son she adored. “And now I ask you to keep your hand upon him. He has so much, Lord, that he doesn’t realize how much he needs. And what he needs most is you.”
She paused, listening to the rattle of the palmettos in the wind. A warm sea-scented breeze came in through the open window and blew the fringe of hair upon her neck.
“He’s a tough kid, and he won’t admit his fears . . . or his needs. It hurts me to see him so successful and yet so lonely. He’s rich in worldly goods, but so poor in spiritual treasures. He’s so bright, but so unwise about the things that really matter.”
Her heart squeezed so tight she could barely draw breath to speak, but she forced the words out. “Heavenly Father, I gave him to you when he was born, but I’ve always begged you to protect him. You have—you’ve given him so much, and yet he still resists you. With every success, my Daniel thinks he needs you less.”
She clenched her jaw to kill the sob in her throat. “Now I’m asking, Lord, that you would do whatever it takes to open his eyes. Break his strong will . . . break his proud heart, if you must. But protect his life, and bring him to the place where he can choose. I love him so much, Lord.”
When she lifted her eyes, the palm tree shadows still flickered on the walls, but the darkness that had shadowed her heart was gone. Amelia slowly climbed back into her bed and pulled the covers to her chin, content to lie in the warm breeze and wait for sleep.
THREE
8:00 A.M., Friday, November 6, 1998
DANIEL DELIBERATELY SLEPT UNTIL EIGHT, THEN ROSE AND ENJOYED A LONG, HOT shower. Driven to come up with a solution for the Year 2000 Crisis, the other employees of Prentice Technologies would have arrived at the office at seven-thirty, if not earlier.
Daniel smiled as the hot water streamed over his back and shoulders. Y2K no longer had the power to intimidate him. He and his people would quietly solve First Manhattan’s problems, and when the rest of the world panicked in the spring, he’d market the X 2000 software—with a less alien-sounding name, of course—at some obscene price and make a killing. He’d be able to establish generous pension plans for all fifty of his programmers, and Dr. Kriegel could retire—if he wanted to. Daniel had the sneaking suspicion that Professor Kriegel would happily grow old in his computer lab, with Quark for company and a host of unsolvable problems whirling in his brain.
And everyone who had mocked Daniel’s intuition and faith would have to purchase the Prentice Technologies package before the year-2000 deadline in order to save their systems.
Shutting off the water, he glanced into the steamy bathroom mirror and grinned back at his own reflection. Revenge—even one as subtle as this—would taste sweet.
Daniel pulled a towel from the heated rack and made a mental note to call Ernest Schocken’s office at First Manhattan. The CEO might still be on his European vacation, but Daniel would pry his phone number out of Schocken’s secretary. Despite all the naysaying, the man had placed his trust in Prentice Technologies. He deserved to know that he would not be disappointed.
Daniel dressed in khaki pants, a light blue long-sleeved shirt, and a blazer of navy wool. Glancing in the mirror, he zipped a comb through his brown hair, then picked up his briefcase and strode through the hall. He glanced at his watch as he waited for the elevator. With any luck, he’d be in the office by nine, ready to receive relieved congratulations from the others.
The air was sharp and cold as he pulled out onto the expressway, and Daniel shivered inside his jacket, wishing that his favorite car were more airtight. As the heater blew a torrent of tepid air at his face, Daniel revved the engine, then eased into the snaking traffic.
Throngs of pedestrians clogged the sidewalks by the time he reached Mount Vernon. Daniel parked in the garage, nodded to the parking attendant, then pressed his thumbprint to the sensor pad outside the locked doors.
“Good morning, Mr. Prentice,” Roberta purred. “My infrared sensors indicate that you are not alone.”
Daniel glanced behind him. Susan McGuire, a young programmer he had hired three months earlier, was hurrying toward him, one pale hand holding her coat closed against the wind.
“You’re right, Roberta. Susan McGuire is here, too.”
Breathless, Susan stopped a few feet behind Daniel and gave him an embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry I’m late, Mr. Prentice. My little boy was sick, and I had to find a sitter. I couldn’t take him to preschool with a fever.”
“I understand, Susan.” Daniel stepped back and moved toward the door, waiting for Susan to press her thumb to the sensor. Once she had, the pad flashed green, and Roberta’s sultry voice called out, “Thank you, Ms. McGuire. You and Mr. Prentice are cleared for entry.”
Daniel opened the door for Susan. “A bit cold today, isn’t it?”
“Very.” Susan hurried past him into the foyer, and Daniel followed, glancing up in surprise as he looked through the second set of glass doors. He couldn’t know for sure, but it certainly looked as though every employee of Prentice Technology had crowded into the reception area. As he approached, they burst into applause.
Daniel grinned back as he passed through the second set of doors. Poor Susan, doubly embarrassed by her late arrival and this unexpected greeting, flushed crimson and tried her best to fade into the crowd.
Daniel smiled around the circle, feeling his own face burn at the attention, then held up his hands for silence. Feigning ignorance, he lifted a brow. “I know I’m absent-minded, but did I forget my birthday?”
His employees rocked with laughter, then Bill Royce, director of development, stepped forward. “Your little discovery greeted us this morning. Every computer on the network was running the program.” Bill’s eyes creased in a flattering expression of admiration. “We knew you could do it, boss. We just didn’t expect you to do it so soon.”
Daniel stiffened as a flicker of apprehension coursed through him. He hadn’t plugged the program into the network. Someone on Kriegel’s team might have done it this morning, but the professor wouldn’t have approved. This kind of showmanship wasn’t like him.
Daniel’s eyes swept over the group. “First of all, I didn’t do it. Dr. Kriegel’s team put the program together, and the professor demonstrated it for me last night. But it is our answer. After the beta version is debugged, we can run multiple computers and have First Manhattan’s code tested in a matter of weeks.”
The group erupte
d again in cheers and applause, and after a moment Daniel lifted his hand for silence. “By the way,” he said, smiling to mask his uneasiness, “where is the professor? I know he spent the night here.”
The group stirred but did not produce Dr. Kriegel. Daniel’s sense of unease gelled. “Roberta,” he called, lifting his voice to reach the security console near the elevator, “locate Dr. Kriegel, please.”
Silence fell upon the group, then Roberta’s dusky voice answered. “Dr. Howard Kriegel is in his lab, Mr. Prentice.”
Daniel closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. Kriegel hadn’t been abducted. He had every confidence in his people and his security system, but the X 2000 program would be worth billions to any thief clever enough to steal it—or its inventor.
“Thanks, people.” He turned toward the crowd and gave them a wavering smile. “Dr. Kriegel and I are going to begin testing the program today, and soon we’ll assign you to code sections. Some of you will check code, others will test. But none of you,” he verbally underlined the word, “will breathe a word of this to anyone. This—” he pointed to the program on the monitor—“is top secret. Is that understood?”
Heads bobbed in silence; excited faces immediately grew somber. Daniel glanced around the circle one more time, then moved into the elevator and pressed his thumb to the sensor pad. “My office, Roberta,” he said. “Please.”
FOUR
9:23 A.M., Friday, November 6, 1998
IN HIS WASHINGTON OFFICE, BRAD HUNTER TURNED AS HIS COMPUTER CHIMED to signal an incoming message. Words flashed across his screen, then the messaging program automatically fed the e-mail to the printer, which whirred and hummed until a sheet of paper shot out of the tray. The message, from an agent in New York, was short and sweet: “Prentice Technologies perfects Y2K fix.”
Brad felt a slow grin spread over his face as he dropped the page to his desk. “So you did it, Danny boy,” he breathed, lifting his coffee mug to his lips. He’d never doubted that Daniel would find a fix, but like most of America, he had wondered if Prentice Technologies could solve the problem in time.
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