Delirious. Daniel James Palmer

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СКАЧАТЬ he just doesn’t get it. I’m sure that his PowerPoint attacking InVision is riddled with flaws. He’s just playing the fear factor, capitalizing on all the unknowns to keep InVision stuck in R & D and to continue marketing and selling Ultima. That’s his bread and butter. It’s how he’s made his millions.”

      Charlie grimaced. “What are you suggesting?” he asked.

      “I’m not technical enough to understand all the data in his presentation. I’m sure he doesn’t understand it, either, but if I were to give it to you without anybody’s knowledge—and if I were to forward you an invite to the meeting where Jerry is presenting his plan to Yardley—would you be interested?”

      Charlie bit his lower lip. Going against Jerry meant risking everything the two-year-old acquisition had bought him. If he won, he’d advance the cause of InVision and the patents that SoluCent had paid a princely sum to acquire. If he lost, it would tarnish his credibility and potentially doom him to middle management.

      “I want out of Jerry’s group,” Anne said. “The only way I see that happening is through InVision. I need your help and you need mine. We both know what’s at stake.”

      “You want me to crash the meeting,” Charlie said. Anne nodded as he continued. “And you want me to bring data that counters the arguments Jerry’s concocted in his PowerPoint.”

      Again Anne nodded.

      “And you want me to risk my neck and career that what you’re telling me is true.”

      At this Anne stayed motionless. “We all come to crossroads, Charlie.” She slid her hand across the table and lifted it to reveal a USB storage key.

      Charlie assumed Jerry’s presentation was on it.

      “You let me know what you want to do. The meeting with Yardley is this Tuesday,” Anne told him.

      “Not much time to prepare for battle,” Charlie said.

      “This isn’t a battle, Charlie,” Anne said. “This is a war.”

      Chapter 5

      Charlie wore a blue pin-stripe Brooks Brothers suit with a solid red tie and carried his black leather Tumi briefcase in his right hand. His eyes were sunken and hollow from a stint of sleepless nights, but they showed no fear.

      He moved confidently down the long carpeted hallway, passing the offices of several colleagues he knew without so much as a wave hello. Focus was everything. If it wasn’t related to the meeting—if it wasn’t reflecting on how he would enter, what he would say, every detail of his presentation—it wasn’t worth consideration. He needed complete and total control if he was to deliver what he believed would be a professional dismantling of Jerry Schmidt. It would be piece by piece. And it would be merciless.

      The days leading up to the meeting had been a blur. They’d been a dim passage of what Charlie called blackout time, hours spent working so hard, he didn’t remember living them. He’d kept Monte at home and hired a service to come four times each day and into the night to take him for his walks. He had briefly thought about a kennel, but the idea of his dog being in lockdown had proved too unnerving.

      During the exhausting days spent staring into the soft glow of his LCD monitor, sifting through mountains of raw data, Charlie had sunk his teeth deep into the problem, tearing it apart and rebuilding each argument until he was certain it was bulletproof, only to reassess every assertion at microscopic levels again. His appointments had been canceled, and he’d spoken to the Magellan Team only when absolutely critical.

      Steady as a dull headache, persistent but not overpowering, Anne Pedersen had been the only distraction that seeped into his thoughts. The urge to seek her out and thank her for risking so much on his behalf had been compelling, but he’d managed to resist. E-mail and voice mail were risky, and he had good reason to be cautious about leaving an electronic paper trail. If everything played out the way he expected, Jerry Schmidt would be caught in a shit storm. Under no circumstances would Charlie supply ammunition that Jerry might use to take Anne Pedersen down with him. When InVision grew to greater prominence at SoluCent, Charlie would find a way to repay her kindness.

      He arrived at the closed double doors, made from heavy, dark wood. He read the marble plaque on the adjacent wall: THE FALCON ROOM. He paused, let out a deep breath, reached forward, and grabbed the brass handle, pulling the door open and stepping inside.

      Leon Yardley sat at the long conference table. He was hunched over, scanning through a shuffled mass of papers. He looked up and gave Charlie a queer, confused stare.

      “Hi, Leon,” Charlie said. “Having a good day, I hope?”

      Leon Yardley was a pale, thin man near seventy with a horseshoe head of silver hair. His forehead was sun-spotted from too many winters golfing in Boca. His neck was wiry with age and seemed physically incapable of holding up his head. Although Yardley lacked the physique to fill out his tailored suits, Charlie felt intimidated. He prickled at the notion of participating in one of Yardley’s meetings.

      A shadow of the man whose pictures lined the hallways and conference rooms of SoluCent, Leon Yardley still spoke in a booming voice that belied his withering frame.

      “Charlie,” Yardley said. “I didn’t realize you were attending.” His voice was husky and warm. Charlie observed Yardley fiddle with his Harvard class ring. He would twist the thick gold band back and forth around his spiny finger intermittently. Either it was an unconscious nervous habit, or the man wanted to reinforce his belief that Harvard outshined all other universities.

      “I’ve had this meeting on my calendar for a week now,” Charlie said.

      He had practiced the lie in his apartment several times that morning, even using Monte as a test audience. He had no margin for error. He had to be accepted and welcomed into the meeting as if he had belonged there all along. To do that required confidence and attitude, qualities Charlie possessed in abundance. If it played out the way he expected, Yardley and the others would assume that Charlie was supposed to be there and that someone had simply forgotten to update the agenda. In a company of twenty thousand employees, those mistakes happened.

      Jerry Schmidt was in the room as well. He looked up at Charlie and then over to Yardley but didn’t say anything. He didn’t even acknowledge that Charlie was there.

      “Well, it’s always good to have you,” Yardley said with polite sincerity. “Todd, you compiled the agenda. What is Mr. Giles here to discuss?”

      Todd Cumberland, a junior vice president in marketing, stared at Charlie.

      “InVision,” Charlie said. “I’m here to discuss InVision. What else?”

      Jerry Schmidt perked up. Jerry had a round, expressive face, bushy brown hair, and squinting oval eyes that shifted and blinked constantly, as though he had just awoken and was adjusting his sight. Stuffed into a brown suit that had been in vogue years ago and wearing tan shoes in desperate need of a good polish, Jerry was at least fifteen pounds overweight. From what Charlie could tell, that didn’t bother him in the least. Charlie knew his type well—not an appearance guy, but an old-fashioned workhorse, who had built a sizable fortune through marketing savvy and diligent follow-through, not engineering brilliance, qualities that greatly contributed to the company’s bottom line and Yardley’s steadfast loyalty. Convincing Yardley to turn on Jerry was going to be an uphill climb.

      “Don’t СКАЧАТЬ