The room's amenities and furnishings
were simple and high-tech. Bleached wood paneling on one wall
stood in stark contrast with the deep charcoal rug. On the wall
opposite the windows, a series of segmented panels unfolded to
reveal a massive rear-projection movie screen. At the other end,
audiovisual equipment was stacked behind hinged, smoked-glass
doors. Here, encapsulated multimedia performances, new product
videos, employee interviews, research and development sneak
previews, and live TV spots or teleconferences were viewed with
the touch of a finger. Today, however, the equipment would remain
silent and cool, the master of ceremonies unaided by electronic
wizardry.
The room offered a panoramic view of the Santa Cruz Mountains,
which rolled northwestward toward San Francisco. The five board
members and a couple of Wallaby's senior executives faced this
view, while the less senior executives sat with their backs to
the windows. Peter Jones had personally selected every person for
his or her position in this room, most of them more than eight
years ago.
Sitting here, waiting, Matthew Locke's confidence began to
falter. The expressions around the table were grim, as all were
aware of the forthcoming conflict. Had Matthew inspected the
trashcan beside the security desk in the building's lobby, he
would have found several discarded copies of the "Wall Street
Journal," each affixed with a small mailing label addressed to
one of the persons seated around the table.
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