"Yes," William said. "That's what I figured." He paused thoughtfully. When he spoke, his voice was casual and revealing, the way a man's voice becomes when he is dead certain of the object of his desire.
"I've always envied Peter Jones and his company. But of course I've got my own company to worry about. For my own entertainment, I've been looking for some time at Wallaby as a case study. I've toyed with the idea of spinning out a rebellious group of engineers and forming a new subsidiary with the charter to build radical new portable computers. However, members of the board to whom I've casually mentioned this have not responded positively. They're focused on bigger systems and desktops, which, along with service, account for most of our business. I must concede that I understand their lack of enthusiasm. We are an East Coast company. We're buttoned-down numbers people. Out west, they do things differently. Profits follow passions."
Matthew's eyes narrowed. "I think I'm beginning to catch your drift."
"I'll get to the point, then. Wallaby's products are not compatible with our systems. Ours take a lot of time to learn how to use. Granted, Wallaby's Mate isn't a whole lot better, but there's something about it that makes it friendlier, and it's certainly easier to lug around."
"You ain't seen nothing yet," Matthew quipped.
"Right. So I'm not going to beat around the bush. I've got nothing to lose by sharing my fantasy with you." He took another gulp of water, then went for it. "Matthew, I really like Wallaby. I think it has created, and will keep creating, exciting technologies. Peter Jones has an absolute vision of what small computers should be. We at ICP can't do that. We are a big company, with big computers." William's hands unfolded before him. It was a gesture of offering. "So what if Peter Jones and Wallaby became a part of ICP, but were left alone in California to do their thing?"
Matthew was speechless.
"Say you, Matthew, were to go into Wallaby, the strong leader that you are, and begin bending Jones and the company toward becoming compatible with ICP's systems? Then, when the company is oriented in a compatible direction, so that Wallaby's computers can work with our big systems, ICP and Wallaby merge, but let Wallaby maintain its freedom as an independently operated subsidiary."
Matthew's mind raced at the prospect of this outrageous coup. If it were successful, it could be bigger than anything he ever dreamed could happen at International Foods. He had a million questions to ask, and his eagerness was written all over his face. But before he could utter a word, William raised his hands.
"Wait. Just one more thing to think about. For you it would eventually mean the opportunity to move into the highest ranks of ICP." In earnest, he said, "My expiration date isn't too far off into the future." There, William thought, he'd said his piece. He felt himself relax a little. There was nothing more he could say. While respecting Matthew's silent deliberation, he stole a woeful glance at a portrait of his beloved Martha, smiling from where she sat framed in silver on the antique china closet. I need this, my dear, he said to her silently, I need to have this.