Undo | Page 9

It was hopeless. There was no way Matthew would be able to reach
him. "Okay, Peter," Matthew said with a resigned sigh. "You win."
The room was silent. Peter stood there with his eyes closed, waiting for
Matthew to go.

Matthew turned to leave, then paused, his hand on the door latch. He
waited half a minute, until Peter opened his eyes and looked at him.
"What?" Peter asked, wearily.
"That's what I want to know."
"What's what you want to know?"
"What went wrong. Why." Prepared for more flailing, Peter's reaction
surprised him.
Without looking at Matthew, Peter came toward him. He picked up the
pen he had moments before used as a missile. He lowered himself
down onto the sofa and casually crossed one leg over the other. He held
the pen bearing the Wallaby logo by each end between his fingers.
Emphatically, yet softly, he explained. "You don't understand. You just
don't get it. You don't know the truth about inventing products like
Wallaby's. In the long run, it's all that really matters. That the products
are true to the visions that inspire them." He gently placed the pen in
his pocket, shrugged. His glazed eyes drifted across the room to rest on
his docked Joey. "My visions are my products."
He remained there for a few moments with a rapt, slightly smiling
expression lighting his face, gone inside himself to a place where, the
way he saw it, everything was sharp and clear, where he could see
things no one else could see.
The only thing Matthew saw was a man gone. Gone mad, perhaps.
Although they'd had arguments in the past, Peter had never seemed so
unhinged. In a way, Matthew felt relieved. Having witnessed Peter's
distracted state, he was resolved to proceed with his plan.
The young founder blinked. He looked at Matthew with clear eyes. He
was back. He bit his lower lip, and with an expression at once sad and
perplexed, he said, "What is it that you see, Matthew? What is your
vision?"

The car phone jingled, snapping Matthew out of his musing.
Was it Peter? If so, he could turn around at the next exit and be back in
just a few minutes. Though he had every intention of proceeding with
his plan as it now stood, Matthew would nevertheless give Peter until
the very last minute to see things his way.
"Peter?"
"Matthew, it's Eileen." His secretary. "I called Peter's office. Peggy said
you left ten minutes ago. What happened?"
"I've decided to go home for the rest of the day," he said. "If I have any
calls - "
"You already do. Laurence Maupin."
"Is it urgent?"
"The two of you were scheduled to discuss tomorrow's meeting. She's
in your office now, holding on the line."
"Okay. Put her on."
There was a click, then Laurence's voice. "Hi, Matthew. I've prepared a
short press release to send over the business wire after tomorrow's
board meeting." She spoke quickly, considerate of his time. "It reads:
'Wallaby Computer, Incorporated today announced a realignment of
executive responsibilities. In addition to his current position as
president and CEO, Matthew Locke will now assume the
responsibilities of chairman of the board, and vice president of the Joey
division...'"
At this last, his heart suddenly quickened. "'Peter Jones, former
chairman and cofounder of Wallaby, will stay on as the company's
leading visionary, focusing on advanced technologies and future
product designs.'
"Still there?" she asked, giving him an opportunity to comment.

"Go on."
She continued immediately. "'Locke has expressed great confidence in
Jones's ability to drive Wallaby to the position of technology leader in
the desktop computer and personal interactive assistant industry.'"
When she finished reading Matthew's statement, she paused. "Is that
suitable?"
"Yes. That's fine. Thank you."
"If you'd like to conduct any phone interviews with key press
constituents, I'll need to know that now so I can make arrangements."
"No. None. What you've done is fine for all parties."
He waited to be sure she was through, then said, "Thank you,
Laurence." Before taking her call he had been eager to be alone so he
could mentally review his plan, but now he felt oddly unwilling to end
their conversation. Something about her voice, the words about him
spoken so decidedly, was having a softening effect on his anxious
mood.
"Listen," he said, "when this settles down, let's spend some time
together to work on my strategy for the press and Wallaby's new PR
plans."
"Absolutely."
"Great. And thanks again," he said. With nothing left to discuss, he said
good-bye. As he moved the phone from his ear he heard her call his
name. "Yes?"
"I almost forgot," she said, slightly exasperated. "Where do you get
your car serviced?"
"My car?" Matthew said, a little dumbfounded.