He rationalized that Wallaby was presumably up to something big;
Peter Jones, Wallaby's eminent founder, had been too quiet as far
as the press was concerned. Normally the capricious spokesman of
the portable computer industry, Jones had not granted a public
interview in more than a year, and that concerned William. Jones
had something up his sleeve. Something really big. The only thing
that kept William's fear of Jones and Wallaby from growing beyond
a mild concern to an actual loss of sleep was the fact that Jones
was a poor chief; though he was capable of creating innovative
miniature computers, he was incapable of running the company.
Without proper guidance and leadership, Wallaby would sooner or
later fold.
As they headed from the court to the showers, William wiped his
face with a towel and asked, "All right, Rolland, fess up. Why
all the interest in Wallaby?"
"This is off the record, my friend. They called one of my best
guys, Matthew Locke. They're flying him to California to
interview for a job as president."
William felt the color drain from his face.
"Locke, as you know, is who I'm thinking about advancing into my
slot when I retire in a few years," Worthy said.
"Anyway, he stopped by my house last night and told me that he
had gotten a call from a headhunter and was a candidate to take
the lead at Wallaby, working with some kid named Peter Jones.
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