Delirious
By DANIEL PALMER
PINNACLE BOOKS
Copyright © 2011
Daniel Palmer
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-7860-2267-0
Chapter One
Monte eased himself out of his cozy bed, stretched while
yawning, then crawled from underneath the expansive
oak desk and lazily made his way over to Charlie. Charlie,
leash in hand, looked down at his tricolored beagle and
couldn't resist a smile.
"Who heard me getting his leash, huh?" Charlie asked,
scratching Monte in his favorite place behind his ears.
With his tail wagging full speed, Monte looked longingly
up at Charlie, his inky eyes pleading for a quick start to their
morning walk. Charlie, who didn't even own a plant before
he brought Monte home from the breeder, now couldn't
imagine life without his faithful friend. Named after jazz
guitar great Wes Montgomery, and in honor of his lifelong
passion for the art form, Monte wouldn't have come to be
had Charlie not been such a lousy boyfriend. It was Gwen,
his last in a string of short-lived relationships, who suggested
that Charlie's rigid routines and dislike of, as she put
it, "messy emotions" made him a better candidate for a dog
than a girlfriend. She packed up what few things she kept at
his loft apartment, and on one rainy Saturday morning she
was gone.
Charlie, who had left as many girlfriends as had left him,
wasn't one to dwell on the past or wallow in self-pity. Instead,
intrigued by her suggestion, Charlie spent the next
several hours researching dog breeds on the Web, until he finally
settled on the beagle. It was a good-size dog for an
apartment, he reasoned. Short hair meant less shedding, tipping
the scale away from the Labrador breed. He briefly contemplated
a poodle, with its hair coat and cunning intellect,
but couldn't get the image of the groomed poodle pouf out
of his mind. He found a breeder only a few miles down the
road, made a quick call, and minutes later was surrounded
by a litter of feisty beagle puppies, each yipping for his attention.
Monte was an older dog and seemed to be above the
attention-getting tactics of the young pups. He sat quietly in
a corner of the breeder's living room while Charlie picked up
and put down puppy after puppy.
"What about that one?" Charlie asked, pointing to the
quiet dog in the corner.
"Him?" the breeder replied, somewhat incredulous. "I
rescued that little one from the pound. They warned me he
liked to chew on things, but I never figured he'd gnaw
enough of my shoes to fill up a Dumpster. Still, he's been a
good dog. You can tell by the eyes sometimes. The good
ones, that is. We always hoped somebody would want to give
him a home, but most of our clients are interested in the
pups. Then again ..." Her voice trailed off.
"What?" Charlie asked.
"Well, I'm guessing that you're single, or you'd be here
with somebody making this decision. And if you're single,
you're probably working, maybe a lot. And I can see that you
keep in shape, so I'm guessing you take good care of yourself
and that takes time. Perhaps you're not really a puppy
guy, after all. I mean, they are loads of extra work."
Charlie nodded as he took it all in. He wore his sandy
brown hair in nearly a military crop, and his ice blue eyes
were framed by oval, matte silver wire-rimmed glasses.
Nothing about Charlie's appearance suggested he had the
easygoing personality of a puppy man.
"Perhaps," was all he said.
"And if you're single and busy," the breeder continued,
"an older dog might actually be best. He's only three, but
that's a good age for a beagle, long past pup. Look, if you
want that dog, he's yours. In fact, you'd be doing me a favor.
He's a good boy, just a bit unruly is all."
Charlie glanced over at Monte, who, as if knowing their
destinies were somehow linked, rose, walked over to him,
and lay quietly at Charlie's feet. Charlie bent down to pet his
new dog.
"Seems gentle enough to me," Charlie offered. Fifteen
minutes, a modest fee, and a few signed papers later, Charlie
and the soon-to-be-named Monte went outside for their first
walk as guy and dog. Gwen would have been proud, impressed
even, at Charlie's capacity to love and care for something
other than Charlie. Monte's shedding turned out to be
more endearing than it was annoying. It was a gentle reminder
that he was sharing his life with another living being.
If anything, Monte taught Charlie that his capacity to love
was far deeper than he had known, and if Gwen were at all
interested in trying again, she might find a very different and
a far more fulfilling relationship. But she had moved on, and
Charlie had yet to find another woman who compared.
In the three years since adopting him, the only consistent
part of Charlie's life had been Monte. His start-up electronics
company had continued to grow at a frenetic pace until,
after much courting, it was finally acquired by electronics
giant SoluCent. As part of the acquisition deal, Charlie became
a senior director at SoluCent and was then forced to
shutter his office and move all operations east.
Both Charlie and Monte had grown accustomed to spending
the workday together. As a result, Charlie was the only
employee at SoluCent allowed to bring a dog to the office.
As pets, per company policy, were prohibited on campus,
those who had been vocal to HR about Charlie's special
treatment had been told only that it was part of the acquisition
deal and that a special provision had been worked into
Charlie's employment contract, approved by SoluCent CEO
Leon Yardley himself.
Since it was a widely held belief that Charlie's product
and new department would be a significant boon to SoluCent's
bottom line, and would fatten an already healthy
stock price, that explanation proved satisfactory for most.
Charlie, who stood six foot two, and Monte, who was all of
fourteen inches high, were now as much a part of SoluCent
as the carpeting upon which they walked. But as familiar a
pair as they were, Monte was also a symbol to others that
Charlie was not really one of them. He was special. And he
was treated that way.
Eager for his morning walk, Monte let out a quiet, but excited
yip a mere ten seconds before Charlie's Tag Heuer
watch alarm and meeting reminder sounded. Apparently
Monte's internal clock, Charlie marveled, had the same precision
as a high-end timepiece. Charlie fixed the leash to
Monte's collar and made his way along the carpeted corridors
through a maze of quiet cubicles, on his way to the
front entrance of the SoluCent Omni 2 building. His team
would be waiting for him there, on time as always—just as
he insisted.
Charlie had once prided himself on the anxiety and dread
his Monday morning meetings inspired, mistaking fear for
efficiency. Now there was not a member of his team who
would deny that bringing Monte into the picture had lessened
the intensity and anxiety of the Monday meetings.
Lessened, though not eliminated. Not in the least. "What's
good for the heart is good for the mind and that means good
for business," Charlie had often explained to those curious
about his team's ritual Monday morning group walk. But
today business wasn't so good. No, it wasn't good at all.
Chapter Two
The morning sun was high and bright in the cloudless sky.
Monte made his trademark lunge for the bushes lining
the front entrance walkway the moment they stepped outside.
Charlie said a quick hello to his five senior managers
waiting for him there. Before they were acquired, they were
all VPs. But that was a smaller company. In the bloated corporate
structure of SoluCent, Charlie was a director and they
were senior managers. Sal, Barbara, and Tom were checking
e-mail on their mobiles; Harry Wessner and Steve Campbell
were stretching in the front parking lot. Everybody wore
sneakers; they had grown accustomed to Charlie's athletic
pace. Charlie's executive assistant, Nancy Lord, was there,
too, giving Monte some much appreciated petting.
There had been doubt at first, at least from some, that
combining the Monday executive team meeting with Monte's
walk would be an effective use of time. To that Charlie had
replied that a clear head from a brisk walk improved not only
morale but decision making, too. Soon as Monte's business
in the bushes was done, the five members of Charlie's Magellan
Team set off at what Charlie believed to be about a fifteen-minute-mile
pace. He'd keep accelerating that along the way.
By the end of the walk they'd be closer to twelve-minute
miles and they wouldn't even know it.
As was routine, Charlie waited until they were on the
bike path, which bordered the campus, before starting the
agenda. Here they were far enough from the main road to
speak at a normal volume without being drowned out by the
incessant traffic flow.
"Good morning, team," Charlie said. "I trust you all had a
restful weekend and are ready for the week ahead."
Nancy Lord was the only one to nod. The rest were
bleary-eyed and sweating out their stress. Working for Charlie
meant that weekends were nothing more than days of the
week. To keep pace with Charlie's demands and lofty expectations
required sacrifices many would not be able to
make—time being the most precious of all. The reward for
those sacrifices, however, in bonuses alone, not counting
stock, put all on the Magellan Team within an eyelash distance
of what most would consider to be obscenely rich.
Monte kept the pace and walked a few yards ahead of the
"pack."
"So," Charlie began. "Why don't you tell me about the
Arthur Bean situation, Harry?"
Harry quickened his stride until he was walking alongside
Charlie. The others fell behind but remained within
earshot. They knew what was coming and that it wasn't
going to be good for Harry. After all, Arthur Bean was his
guy. He was a senior quality assurance engineer who posted
source code on his blog as an invitation to his hacker friends
to try and hack the InVision operating system, or OS—the
"code" that made everything work. Bean remained convinced
that several generations of the InVision product line
had serious security loopholes that made the product susceptible
to hackers. He had raised the issue to Harry, and Harry
had brought it to Charlie's attention.
Charlie felt confident that the code was up to standard.
Bean wasn't as convinced. When his pleas for greater attention
had gone unanswered, he'd taken matters into his own
hands. Charlie wasn't against Bean's commitment to quality.
It was his methods he questioned. Authority on major
rewrites of the OS was Charlie's alone. The InVision source
code was as precious to Charlie as the eleven secret herbs
and spices recipe was to KFC. You just didn't mess with it,
no matter how good your intentions. Bean had done just that
and, what was worse, had undermined Charlie's chain of
command in the process. Not acceptable at all.
"Charlie, I know you're upset about what Bean did,"
Harry began.
"Upset doesn't really begin to cover it, Harry," Charlie
said.
Harry nodded. "I understand," he said. "I'm just pointing
out that Arthur Bean's friends ..."
"You mean his hacker buddies," Charlie corrected.
The pace of their walk left Harry struggling for breath.
The escalating tension only made it worse. "You could say
that," he managed to say.
Monte stopped to relieve himself. Charlie's team stopped
as well, forming a ragged semicircle behind Harry. Charlie's
face, they could now see, was red, and they knew it was from
anger, not exertion.
"That's what they are. They're nothing more than a bunch
of renegade hackers given access by our employee to parts
of our source code by your man," replied Charlie.
Monte started to trot along the bike path again; Charlie
followed and the others fell into step behind him.
"Only after Arthur felt he had exhausted all available
channels," Harry offered, again having to quicken his step to
keep pace.
"And what did Bean's collective uncover?" Charlie asked,
though he knew the answer.
"A major flaw that we've corrected in rev six-point-one."
"Major flaw? As I understand it, that flaw at most could
be used to change InVision's outside temperature reading,"
said Charlie. "Not really what I'd consider a serious shortcoming.
Wouldn't you agree?"
Harry nodded. "I realize that," he said. "We made a change
to the application code on account of Bean's report. And I
did talk with Arthur about his approach."
"Perhaps talking isn't enough," Charlie said.
Harry fell behind Charlie at that one. The blog in itself
had done little damage, and in fact a couple PR reports had
highlighted the blog as an innovative user-community approach
to coding. Charlie could have let it stand. But it
meant allowing the Magellan Team's authority to be undermined.
That was something he couldn't stand for. Process
and authority had to be respected. If they weren't, future digressions
were almost certain. It set an unacceptable precedent.
"I'm taking appropriate action," Harry said.
"Okay. Action, I like action. What kind of action are we
talking about here?" Charlie asked.
"I've asked HR to reprimand him, and we've put him on
program. That's how we're handling it."
"Doesn't feel like we're really `handling it,' Harry," Charlie
replied. "I agreed to sell our company to SoluCent so we
could be better. A start-up company might let that incident
go. We're the real deal now. And I'm sure Leon Yardley
would back up that statement."
"Yes, I understand," Harry said. "But HR agreed it was
negligent on Arthur's part to use his blog and connections in
such a way. They're the ones who suggested I issue Mr. Bean
a formal reprimand and put him on program."
"A formal reprimand and program doesn't send much of
a message, does it? Every division of SoluCent needs to
know how important our product is to the bottom line,"
Charlie said. "If that means we take swift and immediate action
to correct a problem, then that's what it means."
"It's not that simple. There are some extenuating circumstances."
Charlie gritted his teeth.
Harry continued, "He and his wife have been, how do I
say it ..."
"With words, Harry. Use words."
"They've been having marital troubles. Financial stress,
mostly, from some bad investments. At least that's how he
explained it to me."
"And that's my problem how?"
Charlie felt his stomach churn. How many times had people
used family and personal issues as an excuse to overlook
ineptitude and poor judgment? If he had used his schizophrenic
brother and father and his absentee mother as
crutches to justify his mistakes, he never would have graduated
from high school, let alone earned an academic scholarship
to MIT.
"Harry, I don't care if the bank is ready to take his house
tomorrow. He crossed the line, and once is more than
enough. His job is to manage software quality. Period. If he
felt the only way to do that job effectively was to use our
software as a playground for his devious crew of computer
hacks, so be it. He can do that for another company. Does
that make sense?"
"Yes, Charlie, but I'm sure he thought—"
"I don't care what he thought. I care what he did. He
screwed up. As far as SoluCent is concerned, our product is
basically out in the market, even though we're still in the
pilot phase. Does that register with anyone? Pilot means test.
They're testing production, testing distribution, testing select
retail channels, testing consumer response. If this fails,
if our resellers believe the product is severely deficient—which
it isn't—SoluCent may lose some enthusiasm to bring
InVision to market. Do you know what that means?"
Most now had drifted well behind Charlie and Harry and
had to scamper to catch up. Charlie knew that his team respected
him and hated to disappoint. Not to mention, they
feared his wrath. But fear, Charlie had learned, also meant
focus. Fear could be good. A tool even. And if Charlie sometimes
had to use fear to inspire action, and that action
brought them results, then so be it.
"It means InVision will be shelved. It means most of you
will probably be let go. It means that if you want to go back
to Silicon Valley, you'll have to pay your own way to relocate,"
he warned. "I was the one who convinced SoluCent
that you were the key members of the Magellan Team, and if
I was being relocated here, you'd have to come with me. If
I'm gone, you're gone. Who do you care more about, Harry?
You and your family, or Mr. Bean and his bad debt?"
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Delirious
by DANIEL PALMER
Copyright © 2011 by Daniel Palmer.
Excerpted by permission of PINNACLE BOOKS. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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