Chapters (50)
- Cover
- FIRINGPOINT
- Dedication
- Prologue
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Epilogue
Alan Smythe looked up as soon as he heard the tentative knock on his door. Carl Andretti stood there waiting for Smythe’s nod to enter. The tall, overweight chief technical officer for OptiMarx walked in, closed the door behind him, and plopped down hard onto the black leather couch that ran under one of the long windows that looked out over the harbor. His tie was crooked, his jacket wrinkled, and a loose button showed a white chunk of his ample belly.
“You wanted to talk with me, Alan?”
Smythe pushed aside the report he was reviewing and laid the gold Mont Blanc back in its case. He deliberately removed his reading glasses and placed them next to the report, then shifted them around as if their exact position on his desk was of some importance. He looked over at Andretti. “Yes. I had a most disconcerting discussion a bit ago with Mark Stern. I understand you and he have had a conversation or two.”
Andretti answered nonchalantly, but there was just a hint of alarm in his small, deep-set eyes. He licked his lips after every few words. “Yeah, he called me yesterday afternoon. He said he wanted to talk about schedules. I swear that guy thinks he has my job. I told him we were having some problems integrating the quote feed and setting up the communications protocols. Nothing earth-shattering and he seemed okay with it.”
Smythe nodded, then spoke in a quiet, deliberate voice. Andretti had to lean forward on the couch to try to hear him. “Carl, I wish you would let me know when you take these calls. We’ve talked many times about how we want to answer their questions. The board members, and particularly Stern, are not as up to speed on technology as they think they are. Even those PhDs out in Chicago who came up with the OptiMarx idea in the first place are so far behind the technology curve they may as well be using slide rules.”
Andretti seemed relieved as he nodded in agreement. They were on common ground, unified against a common enemy. “You can say that again, Alan. Those bastards in their ivory towers. They’re always talking about market structures and all that other gobbledygook that has no real-world application in—”