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Chapter 1
Excerpt from
PeaceMaker,
a speculative thriller by Dan Ronco
Atlas and Companion
were the dominant computer operating systems at the turn of the
century. Most independent analysts at the time rated Companion the
superior product technically, yet Atlas maintained a slightly larger
market share year after year. Many historians attribute this to
aggressive marketing and sales techniques by the producers of Atlas,
VantagePoint Software. Others are not so kind.
---- Computer Operating Systems:
An Economic History, Dr. James Schultz, 2018
The bodies of Mr. and Mrs.
Millstein were discovered behind the jewelry counter three days after
the PeaceMaker attack. Each had been shot in the head and chest.
Our initial suspicion was they were murdered in a robbery during the
riots following the global power failure.
---- from Sheriff’s Report D15-47,
Mayfield, Indiana, February 3, 2012
Six years earlier –Tuesday, March 13, 2006
The TV camera
focused on the handsome face of a young reporter. “Good afternoon. This is Roger Simpson of the Digital News
Service reporting from the steps of the Federal Courthouse in Washington, DC. Now
into the ninth week of the VantagePoint anti-trust trial, today’s
session will be critical for both VantagePoint and the Department of
Justice.”
Simpson pointed to the courthouse’s main entrance, which was
guarded by two police officers. “Inside that courtroom today will be the
fifth and final day of testimony from Dianne Morgan, primary founder and
CEO of VantagePoint Software. The DOJ has been unable to shake her
testimony to this point, so today they will be pulling out all the
stops. Michael O’Reilly, the top gun from the Philadelphia law firm
of Baker, O’Reilly & Perkins, has been brought in to conduct the
interrogation.”
He glanced at the entrance again. “The doors are beginning to
close, so let’s go inside and watch the proceedings.” He smiled
confidently. “This is Roger Simpson.”
***
O’Reilly meditated
behind the prosecution’s mahogany table, as he always did before a
cross-examination. Oblivious to the hum of conversation throughout the
courtroom, his mind raced through the planned interrogation of his
adversary.
Dianne Morgan was an
impressive witness, turning aside the best thrusts of the prosecution
with charm and intelligence. The media was captivated by her fame and
charisma, although she was not really beautiful. He admired the way she
played the role of the virtuous heroine to perfection, but today he
would pierce her facade.
He had studied her
carefully and committed her image to memory. At thirty-eight, small
lines around her eyes and mouth were beginning to challenge her youth.
The high cheekbones were prominent, with tanned skin pulled tightly over
them. Her eyes were large and intelligent but without a defining color.
Sitting comfortably with her long legs crossed, she exuded grace and
power, even in the witness box.
A worthy opponent.
He opened his eyes,
glanced toward the witness box and found her staring at him. Hazy eyes,
proud and insolent, challenged him. Returning her stare, he wondered if
those eyes would remain defiant after he finished with her.
The courtroom buzzed
with a nervous energy, similar to the excitement preceding a heavyweight
championship fight. Once the judge began the day’s proceedings, the
crowd became alert and quiet.
O’Reilly stood
slowly, the wooden legs of his chair scratching along the ancient
courthouse floor. “May I approach?” he asked, indicating the witness
box. His voice, clear and deep, was a tool he used carefully; now
gentle, it would slash at the proper time. The judge nodded his
permission, and O’Reilly, clutching a folder of papers, ambled over to
Dianne.
She shifted position
in her seat as he approached, her skirt riding up her thighs. O’Reilly
stopped in front of the witness box and smiled pleasantly, almost shyly.
“I know you have
been on the stand for many days, Ms. Morgan, so I will keep my questions
to a minimum.”
Dianne nodded.
“Please ask as many questions as you need, Mr. O’Reilly. Don’t we all
want to get to the truth?”
Her voice was
confident, almost to the point of arrogance but stopping just short. It
was a feminine voice, one that demanded respect, laced with a warning to
tread carefully.
O’Reilly cleared his
throat. “Ms. Morgan, I’ll get right to the point. Did or did you not
have dinner with Mr. Alan Goldman at the Randolph Beach Country Club on
the evening of May 6, 2005?”
“I did.”
“Did you discuss
matters pertaining to the computer software business?”
“Yes.”
“Did you discuss an
arrangement to divide the operating system market between your two
corporations?”
Dianne straightened
her blouse, as if only half-listening to her own answer. “Goldman
offered to divide the marketplace. I refused to discuss the matter since
such an arrangement would be illegal.”
O’Reilly looked at
her sharply. “Weren’t you the one making the offer, not Alan
Goldman? Weren’t you trying to protect VPS from Goldman Information
Systems?”
“No, I welcome
competition. It makes us stronger. Competition from GIS motivates us to
make better products.”
“Come on, this isn’t
Business 101. Competition from GIS was cutting deeply into your profits
– strangling the life out of your business, if I may be so bold.”
Before Dianne could
respond, he pulled a news clipping out of his folder. “Ms. Morgan, I
have here an article from the Wall Street Journal, dated March 18,
2005.” He handed it to Dianne. “Please read aloud the underlined
section.”
Dianne held the
paper with two fingers as if it were diseased. She peered at it for a
moment then began to read. “Goldman Information Systems reports customer
response to its new operating system, Companion Version 5, has far
exceeded their expectations. Sales for the second fiscal quarter were
forty-three percent greater than last year. CEO Alan Goldman claimed
Companion sales exceeded those for Atlas, the operating system produced
by archrival VantagePoint Software.”
Dianne looked up
from the article, shrugging her shoulders as she glanced at the judge.
The judge can’t help
you, he
thought.
“Wasn’t that the
truth, Ms. Morgan?” O’Reilly asked. “Didn’t Companion sales top Atlas as
Mr. Goldman was quoted as saying?”
“Yes, Companion was
slightly better that quarter. However, Atlas sales were better for the
entire year.”
“But at the time of
the dinner, you did not know what sales would be for the entire year,
did you?”
“Nobody can peer
into the future, Mr. O’Reilly. Not even you.”
He ignored the jab,
determined to open a wound. “Weren’t you worried that Companion would
outsell Atlas for the entire year? Could Companion have replaced Atlas
as the best selling operating system?”
She sighed, as if
dealing with a slow learner. “Anything is possible, Mr. O’Reilly.”
“But at the time,
weren’t you terrified Companion would surpass Atlas as the dominant
operating system?”
“No. We have been
competing successfully against Companion for years. We provide a better
product, better support and we have better sales people.”
O’Reilly sneered.
“We know all about your, uh, sales techniques, Ms. Morgan.” The audience
tittered, leading the judge to call for order. Dianne fidgeted in her
seat, pushing her skirt across her knees. First blood. Turning
his back on her, he smiled slyly into the cameras. “But we will examine
that later.”
O’Reilly pulled
several papers from his folder and handed one to Dianne. At the same
time, another government lawyer provided copies of several documents to
the judge and defense counsel.
“Contrary to what
you’re saying, these documents show you and your partners were terrified
Companion would outsell Atlas. We found dozens of corporate emails that
expose these concerns. As an example, read aloud the document I just
handed you.” He turned to address the judge. “Your Honor, this is an
email from Ms. Morgan to her partner, Steve Bonini, dated April 11,
2005. Ms. Morgan, please read it so the court will finally hear the
truth.”
Dianne scowled at
O’Reilly and began to read. “Steve, I just read an article in
TechAdvantage.mag about a head-to-head comparison with Companion. They
rate Companion superior, particularly for wallet computers and other
small systems. Atlas crashed twice during the tests. What the hell is
going on with our developers? I want this shit fixed now. Our sales
people are getting an earful from customers about these reliability
problems. This is very serious, and our sales are taking a hit.”
“You still claiming
you weren’t worried?” O’Reilly sneered.
“This is just an
example of the normal, day-to-day communications that go on all the time
at VPS.” She shook her head condescendingly and explained. “I have been
sending out messages like this my whole career. When there’s a problem,
we fix it. That’s how we became such a successful company.”
Ignoring her
comment, O’Reilly handed Dianne another document. He turned to the judge
again. “This is a copy of an email from Ms. Morgan to Mr. Goldman, dated
May 1, 2005, five days prior to their May 6 meeting.”
Turning to Dianne,
he said, “Please read the message aloud, Ms. Morgan.”
Frowning, Dianne
glanced at the message, and held it up, shaking her head. “This is a
fraud. I never sent this message.”
Dianne’s lawyer rose
to his feet. “We object, Your Honor. The government has introduced no
evidence that proves Ms. Morgan prepared this message.”
Anticipating a
response, the judge looked at O’Reilly.
“In the stack of
documents we just provided is an affidavit from the FBI indicating this
email was extracted from the GIS message archives,” O’Reilly said. “In
addition, the FBI certifies the message trail points back to a wallet
computer owned by Ms. Morgan.”
While the judge
examined the affidavit, O’Reilly waited patiently, avoiding Dianne’s
glare. He was confident the judge would rule in his favor, confident he
would drag this woman into his trap. She was leaning back, with her
forearms resting on the sides of the stand, stretching the fabric of her
blouse across her breasts. Too bad, under other circumstances …
Abruptly, the judge
looked up. “Objection overruled. Please read the message, Ms. Morgan.”
Anger flaring in her
voice, Dianne began to read. “Alan, I would like to meet with you within
the next few days to discuss a potential business arrangement between
our two companies. The subject is much too sensitive to discuss here, so
I would like to meet in person. May I suggest dinner on May 6 at your
club?” Dianne glared at O’Reilly again and finished the message. “BTW,
wouldn’t it be better to leave the anger of the past and become friends
again? I would like that.”
“You and Goldman
were not exactly friends, were you?” O’Reilly asked.
“I detest him. He is
a lying, cheating bucket of slime.”
O’Reilly turned to
the judge, “Your Honor.”
“You will not use
that language in my courtroom, Ms. Morgan,” the judge said. “I will not
warn you again.”
O’Reilly couldn’t
suppress a smirk. “Now, Ms. Morgan, you’d be very upset if Mr. Goldman’s
company moved past VPS. In fact, you would hate it, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course.”
“When you set up the
dinner with Mr. Goldman, you were – ”
“I did not set up
the dinner with Goldman.”
O’Reilly looked
helplessly at the judge.
“Ms. Morgan, I
realize you have been on the stand many days, and you must be tired,”
the judge said. “However, you must wait until Mr. O’Reilly completes his
question before you answer, even though you may not agree with the
premise.”
“Thank you, Your
Honor,” O’Reilly said. He turned back to Dianne, in the manner of a cat
playing with his prey. “When you set up the dinner with Mr. Goldman, you
were desperate and ready to do anything to make Atlas succeed, weren’t
you?”
Dianne glared at him
for several seconds, making him uncomfortable for the first time. There
was an edge of violence in her eyes, barely restrained.
Just when it
appeared she would not answer the question, she spoke in a hard,
controlled voice. “I did not set up the dinner, and I was not desperate.
Goldman sent me an email practically begging for a meeting. I agreed to
dinner out of curiosity.”
O’Reilly stared at
her in mock disbelief. “With all due respect, Ms. Morgan, do you expect
the court to believe you would accept a dinner invitation from a man you
despised? Isn’t the truth that GIS was overtaking VPS as the dominant
company, and you were afraid Goldman would have the last laugh?”
“Not at all.”
“If so, Ms. Morgan,
where is the record of this supposedly desperate email from Mr. Goldman?
The FBI found no evidence of it in their search.”
Dianne seethed.
“Someone must have removed it.”
O’Reilly barely
suppressed a laugh. “Seems you have some real security issues to deal
with at VPS, isn’t that so Ms. Morgan?”
Dianne’s lawyer
leapt to his feet. “Objection, Your Honor. The prosecution is taunting
the witness.”
“Agreed,” the judge
said. “Mr. O’Reilly, please restrict your questions to the evidence.
You may continue.”
“I’m sorry, Your
Honor.” O’Reilly handed Dianne another document. “As previously
testified by Linda Tidesco, the primary developer of Companion, this is
an email from Mr. Goldman to Ms. Tidesco, dated May 7, 2005. That was
the day after the dinner between Mr. Goldman and Ms. Morgan. Please read
it aloud, Ms. Morgan.”
Dianne began to
read, her voice a low growl. “Linda, I had dinner with Dianne Morgan
last night. I dislike her, as you know, but she was very humble and
apologetic, so I agreed to meet her. I expected something underhanded,
and I was not disappointed. The witch offered to split the market with
us – even to fix prices. Then guess what? She sticks her hand in my
lap.” Dianne stopped reading for a moment. She glared over at her
defense counsel, who shrugged helplessly. She shook her head and started
reading again. “I practically jumped out of my chair. Not exactly
subtle, but she has always been like that. She knows we are going to
blow her away. I refused the deal. I’m telling you this because she is a
dangerous woman. She’s desperate and might attempt to bribe or threaten
you. I’m increasing security on both of us, and I’m going to the Feds,
too. Be careful. I’ll talk to you when I get back from my trip.”
Now I have the bitch,
O’Reilly thought. The ancient floorboards protested as he stalked
towards Dianne. “Weren’t you so desperate to succeed you would do
anything to keep Goldman from dominating? Didn’t you offer to share the
world market between Companion and Atlas? Didn’t you propose to fix the
price of Atlas and Companion to protect your profits?” Practically
leaning into the witness stand, he said, “Didn’t you offer him sex to
close the deal?”
The veins in
Dianne’s throat stood out as she answered. “I’d rather have sex with a
disgusting mouthpiece like you than a piece of slime like Goldman.”
As the spectators
roared, O’Reilly shouted, “You’re just an expensive whore. You’re not
fooling anyone.”
The judge slammed
his gavel and shouted for order, but Dianne ignored him. She stood up in
the witness box, fists balled. “You’re the prostitute in this room,
O’Reilly, not me.” O’Reilly saw murder in those colorless eyes and
backed away as Dianne said, “I won’t forget this.”
The courtroom was in
an uproar, with reporters surging down the aisles and shouting
questions. When a DOJ lawyer was pushed off her chair, the judge ordered
the bailiffs to clear the room. After order was finally restored, the
judge glared at Dianne.
“Ms. Morgan, I
warned you. You are found in contempt.” He slammed his gavel again.
Dianne didn’t acknowledge him, just stared angrily at O’Reilly.
The judge turned to
O’Reilly. “Mr. O’Reilly, you are an Officer of the Court and should know
better.” His gavel overrode O’Reilly’s attempt to apologize. “You are
also in contempt.”
The judge motioned
to the bailiffs. “Take them away.”
O’Reilly went
peacefully, but Dianne jerked her arm away when a bailiff tried to grab
her. She stood rigidly in the witness stand and stared out at the empty
courtroom. When the bailiff again grabbed her arm, O’Reilly was shocked
to see her turn and slap the man hard across the face. A second bailiff
seized her in a headlock and pulled her over the rail, her long legs
flailing wildly as she tumbled out of the stand. She crashed to the
floor but continued to struggle, pulling his hair and biting his hand.
Finally, the bailiffs were able to pin her face down on the floor and
cuff her hands behind her back. She kept kicking as they cuffed her
ankles. Still cursing and struggling, they dragged her down the aisle
and out the door.
PeaceMaker
A speculative thriller by Dan Ronco
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