Back Firing Point
Chapters (50)
  1. Cover
  2. FIRINGPOINT
  3. Dedication
  4. Prologue
  5. Chapter 1
  6. Chapter 2
  7. Chapter 3
  8. Chapter 4
  9. Chapter 5
  10. Chapter 6
  11. Chapter 7
  12. Chapter 8
  13. Chapter 9
  14. Chapter 10
  15. Chapter 11
  16. Chapter 12
  17. Chapter 13
  18. Chapter 14
  19. Chapter 15
  20. Chapter 16
  21. Chapter 17
  22. Chapter 18
  23. Chapter 19
  24. Chapter 20
  25. Chapter 21
  26. Chapter 22
  27. Chapter 23
  28. Chapter 24
  29. Chapter 25
  30. Chapter 26
  31. Chapter 27
  32. Chapter 28
  33. Chapter 29
  34. Chapter 30
  35. Chapter 31
  36. Chapter 32
  37. Chapter 33
  38. Chapter 34
  39. Chapter 35
  40. Chapter 36
  41. Chapter 37
  42. Chapter 38
  43. Chapter 39
  44. Chapter 40
  45. Chapter 41
  46. Chapter 42
  47. Chapter 43
  48. Chapter 44
  49. Chapter 45
  50. 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—”