by Jim Beegle
Unlike the day before he drove straight from his office to his home. He followed his usual route, the one that most everyone else in Dallas seemed to be using at that same time to get to where they were going. Amy’s car was already at rest for the night on the right side of the garage when Mark got home. He went through the door to the kitchen with his briefcase in one hand and his suit coat in the other, only to find the room dark. The only light in the room came from a faint glow of yellow light that flickered its way through the doorway to the dining room.
“Amy?” He called standing in the kitchen.
“In here Mark.” Came her voice from the same source as the soft yellow light. He followed both the light and the sound of Amy’s voice into the dining room. The first thing he noticed upon entering was the eight candles burning from the two candelabras sitting on the table, providing all the light in the room. The table was set with fine china and several glasses for each of the two place settings. The whole room was filled with the aroma of all kinds of foods.
“What’s this?” he asked, not able to find a matrix in his mind to sort the information his eyes were feeding him. He sat his coat and briefcase down where he stood.
“It’s an apology.” Amy said coming into the full view of the light. She walked up to him with a wine glass in each hand and gave him one. “I was a real bitch last night. I was mad and didn’t stop to think of why you were doing things the way you were. I acted badly and I am sorry,” she said as he accepted the glass. “I know this can’t make up completely for what I said and did last night but I am hoping it will be a start.”
One of the reasons Mark was good at what he did for a living was encapsulated in one basic fact: Regardless of how unreasonable a computer program was behaving somewhere, somehow, there was a string of computer command code in the software that instructed the computer to do whatever it was doing—right, wrong, or indifferent. All you had to do was find that line of code. Like unraveling a sweater, once you find the right string and pull it, you can unravel the whole garment. Even when misbehaving, computers always acted according to a specific set of directions embedded in the code. Women on the other hand, and in particular his wife, did not react like computers. He knew this from years of experience.
Amy was prone to doing things that totally and completely defied any logic Mark had ever come in contact with. The fact that Amy was offering an apology for her actions was enough to send Mark’s overworked brain and razor-thin emotions into orbit. Add to that the peace offering of dinner and he was ready to call mission control with the now famous, albeit incorrect, statement: “Houston, we have a problem here.” He was utterly and completely taken by surprise.
Amy saw the speed with which Mark “locked up” and smiled to herself. She figured something like this would happen and congratulated herself on predicting it. Not only had she predicted it, but she had also counted on it. Mark stood unmoving for a moment longer before she reached out, took his free hand, and led him to a place at the table set for him. He sat in silence as she served him a salad and poured more wine and water for both of them. Mark finally did recover enough to ask his wife a few questions that had been on his mind as he entered the house.
“Did you talk to Hamilton about our discussion last night?” he asked between bites of salad.
“Oh, Mark, did I! That was all we did for most of the day. We talked about the logistics of the press conference for the announcement. You were right, by the way; Hamilton is going to let me take complete credit for the return of the money. He really is a very warm and caring man.” Mark wasn’t sure what E. Hamilton Hunte was but ‘warm and caring at no point entered his mind when he looked for a way to describe the bank vice president. However, he knew that, for better or worse, Amy thought he hung the moon. Now it appeared that he was well on the way to hanging her star in the bank’s oiled walnut wood halls. “By the way, he wanted me to tell you that he has checked out your account in Panama and it is just like you said it was supposed to be.”
“What’s he going to do with it?” Mark asked, taking a sip of the wine.
“Nothing, I think. He said it was best to just leave it alone right now.”
“Smart.” Mark was relieved. He knew he would have to offer Hamilton something to support his claims, and even though in the whole scheme of the enormous amount of money Cecil had left with him two million dollars was a small amount of the treasure, its sudden movement could raise unneeded and unwanted questions. The eye, Mark remembered a friend of Pat’s who had hunted big game in Africa had once told him, was always drawn to movement. He was sure the same rules applied to drawing attention to money. As long as it is a doormat no one notices it, but move it quickly and it all eyes are on it.
Amy talked throughout all the courses of their meal. Most of her conversation revolved around the greater glory she would gain once Cecil’s money was transferred to IBC. You could almost see her picking out carpet and furniture for her new office. Mark was glad for the fact that she was distracted and not really paying attention to his reactions, or more to the point, his absence of reaction. For some reason, he could not muster any emotion one way or the other. Not just for what Amy was discussing, but for Amy herself. He decided, as he shoveled ice cream and hot apple pie into his mouth, that he must just be tired. But he knew better.
When dinner was finished Mark helped his wife clear the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher. They went off to bed together for the first time in months. Even as they went through the process of being husband and wife again, Mark could not help but wonder why, even if Amy did have at least thirty million reasons to apologize to him, would she be going through this unexpected effort? He became aware that her whole attitude all evening was one of not real remorse for what she had done and said the night before, but instead, it was one of placating him. He was sorry that she felt she had to go through this to earn his forgiveness. He was also equally sorry that the effort she was making had more to do with her interest in the money than in what she felt about him.
He dressed the next morning as if he planned on spending the day in the software lab, which is exactly what he planned on doing: dark blue Dockers, a yellow knit pullover shirt, dress shoes, and dark socks to match his attire. However, unlike the day before, he carried a suit in a plastic garment bag, complete with suspenders, a white shirt, and business tie. He would shower at the office and change before meeting Mr. Ness for dinner. It was hard enough to stay presentable when he stayed in his office all day. He knew better than to try to keep a white shirt clean, and especially so when he was in the lab.
The day went by quickly, but at the end of it, the team was really no farther ahead than when they had started the day before. The frustration was beginning to cause everyone to speak in halting sharp tones to each other or to throw three-inch-ring binders across the room when the computers crashed yet again. Of all of his many functions at Micronix, Mark most enjoyed working in the lab, but not today. This was one day he was glad to see come to a close.
Dinner was still two hours away when he entered the locker room that served the gym located in the basement of the building. It was a typical men’s dressing room complete with eight showers in one common, tiled room. Because of the time of day, Mark had the entire place to himself. He stood in the hot water that pounded his body and turned into steam that filled the room and fogged the mirrors above the sinks in the adjoining room.
The muscles in his back and neck were hard and tense from a whole list of things. The meeting Monday with Amy and Hamilton, the ongoing troubles with the software, Amy’s very puzzling actions of the night before, and the anticipation of the meeting he was now getting ready for caused his body to react by tying up the muscles in his neck and upper back. The warm water helped, but the tension had been driven deep within his body and would take more than a long shower to work out. What he really needed was to take a vacation and go somewhere and do some serious goofing off, but where to he thought?
Not to the ranch, he knew how that would go. He would relocate out there and after a couple of days of sleeping late and watching movies on television, he would begin to feel guilty about all the projects around the place that were waiting for his attention. That would not work at all. It would have to be somewhere that could not offer him any possibility to do any work. For some reason, his mind transported him to the beach in Nassau as the now not-so-hot water continued pounding off his back.
He felt he could smell the water and hear the sounds of the surf rolling up on the beach. Maybe that was the place. Everyone he had met on his brief visit had been very polite and thoughtful. He remembered that they seemed to have such an easygoing attitude about life in general and were laid back about the things going on around them. It would be nice to immerse himself in that kind of environment for a few weeks. Once the money was back where it belonged and the software up and running like it was supposed to, maybe he would go back to Nassau and spend some long days of doing nothing. Maybe he would take Amy and they would just relax.
On the other hand, maybe he would go by himself.
He was not really surprised when his subconscious brought that thought to the front of his conscious mind. Even taking into account Amy’s performance of the night before, his feelings about his wife and their future together had not changed much. In the back of his mind, Mark once more wondered if there were not millions of dollars involved, would Amy have bothered to apologize at all? No. It would only be a matter of time before that cauldron boiled over again. He absentmindedly ran a hand across the place on his cheek where she had slapped him two days before.
He drove the short distance from his office to the Anatole and let the valet take care of his car. Threading his way through the lobby he noticed the other businessmen on a mission of single-handedly keeping the national economy expanding. Riding the glass elevator to the top of the building, he looked out as it rose in the air but not at anything in particular. The elevator stopped at the penthouse dining room known as Nanna’s Grill. He presented himself to the hostess and she immediately led him not to the main dining area, but to one of the private rooms off the long hallway behind the desk. The young lady opened the door and stood aside to let Mark enter the room. He expected to see Mr. Ness sitting by himself looking over the menu or flirting with the waitress. Art Ness was there all right, but not alone. Two other people accompanied him, a man and a woman, both dressed in the unofficial uniform of serious dark suits and white shirts. The woman Mark recognized immediately as Kirstin Nash, the same woman who, a week before, had insisted in Phoenix that the problems with the new software would be worked out in time to ship. The other man was older, maybe Ness’s age, but with less hair. He did not recognize the other man right away, and it didn’t really matter. He had come to grips with part of what was going on. Mark knew right now that this wasn’t just another business meeting.
It was an ambush.
Art Ness saw him standing there checking out the room and rose.
“There he is now,” Art Ness said, walking toward Mark. “We were beginning to wonder about you.” He extended his hand and Mark shook it while still looking at the other two in the room. He did not let go of Mark’s hand right away, but used it to pull him into the room and toward the table.
“Sorry I’m late, things in the software lab got a little involved and I lost track of time.” Mark told the lie with a straight face.
“See.” Ness said turning to the others, “I told you he was still slaving away at the shop.” He released Mark’s hand and returned to his chair, still talking. “Well, we’re glad you finally made it. I believe you already know Miss Nash.” Kirstin looked up at Mark. Mark nodded his head in her direction. “I am not sure if you know Charlie Milton or not?”
“No, I don’t think I do.” Mark said. Charlie rose from his chair and moved toward Mark.
“Charlie is one of our in-house councils. He deals mostly with personnel issues for us.” Mark extended his hand and shook Mr. Milton’s.
“Nice of you to make the trip, sir.” Mark said, not knowing what else to say after the handshake was over. Charlie, for his part, said nothing but just nodded in a manner very similar to the one that Mark had just used to acknowledge Kirstin and returned to his seat. A waitress appeared to take everyone’s drink orders. Mark was now listening to all the alarms going off in his head about the nature of this “little meeting” as he ordered coffee. This was not a time to have any of his wits dulled with drink.
They spent the next few minutes in small talk. When the waitress reappeared with their drinks she brought menus and waited in the background while everyone took time to look over the offerings. They ordered after a time and the young lady vanished again to take their wishes to the kitchen.
Mr. Ness did most of the talking not only during their wait for dinner but also during dinner as well. Kirstin offered timely and sage input to support Mr. Ness throughout the evening. Mark would offer brief and meaningless comments only when the conversation was directly addressed to him. Charlie said nothing but sat and watched them all. When dinner was over and the dishes cleared, everyone ordered an after-dinner drink. Mark requested a fresh cup of coffee and then excused himself to drain away the four cups he had already consumed.
When he returned the drinks had already arrived and the mood in the room had changed with the fare on the table during his absence. Mark took his seat and waited for the main event to start. He didn’t have to wait long.
“Mark,” Ness, said leaning back in his chair. “You have done one hell of a job getting the upgrade this far.”
“Thanks,” Mark said. His mouth felt suddenly dry. He took a drink from his glass of water. “I was just doing my job.”
“Well I know that’s how you feel but I also know, hell we all know,” he said waving his hand around the room, “that you have done an outstanding job.” This time Mark just nodded his acceptance of the accolades.
“Because of that and a lot more, the board and I think that you are just the right guy to handle another little task we would like to have you do.” Ness said, lowering his voice.
“Oh? And what might that be.” Mark said in a flat monotone voice.
For the first time that night Charlie spoke. “We would like for you to consider taking on the job of national spokesperson for the release of the new system.” Ness took up the baton from Charlie as soon as the lawyer stopped talking.
“We want you to act as an evangelist for us to the marketplace. We can’t think of any better person to take our message to the public than one of the original founders of Micronix and one of the original designers of the software. They trust you Mark and, quite frankly, we all do. We know that the users out there will listen to you. The job comes with a vice president title and the perks that go with it.” Mark did not move but stalled from replying right away by taking another sip of water. It actually did not taste that bad. For one crazy moment, he wondered if they had done something different to the water to make it taste that way. He replaced the glass as the thought kept moving around in his head.
“Well, this is kind of a surprise,” he said when the glass was in its resting position again. “I am flattered. What kind of timetable did you have in mind for this?”
Charlie entered the conversation again. “Right away. The first of the year.”
“But,” Mark said still trying to work out in his mind what was really going on here, “the upgrade’s not finished yet. I still have a lot of work to do to get this thing ready to ship.”
“We know that, Mark.” Ness said in a patient tone. “We don’t expect you to do both jobs. We had thought that we would turn over the last little bit left to be done on the software to Kirstin here,” he said nodding down the table to where Kirstin sat. The last “little bit” as Ness so glibly put it, would keep a full team of software engineers busy for seven days a week, twelve hours a day, for the next few months. At least that’s what
he wanted to say, but he thought better of it and tried to clear his mind and figure out what was really being said underlying the words that were actually spoken. All at once all the pieces began to fall into place as he continued to turn the conversations over in his mind.
“I see.” He said, and for the first time that night he did see. They were going to put the upgrade into the market before it was ready. They knew it. He knew it. The poor customers would know it too, but only after they had parted with their money. This new position was a buy-off, a way to shut him up and move him directly out of the way of keeping anything from interfering with their plans.
It was actually not a bad move on DECCO’s part, he had to admit to himself. DECCO killed two birds with one stone. It would effectively remove one of the last internal objections to putting the software boxes on people’s shelves too soon, while at the same time trapping him in a job that would not allow him to say anything negative about the product. How could he be an evangelist for the new software and at the same time say it didn’t work? Someone had spent a lot of time figuring this thing out. It also went a long way to explaining why Charlie Milton was here; he was the officially sanctioned legal witness to the event. He started to say something about how badly out of touch they were with the readiness of the software to ship, but after looking once again at the faces around the table he knew that it would be of no use.
Ness picked up the dialog again. “In fact, if it’s all right with you, Kirstin is going to stay over for a few days to look over your shoulder while you tidy things up over here.”