Page 21 of Takeover
The rest of the members of the board shifted in their seats. Sam held himself still, but relaxed. This was not going well. Something else was afoot.
“Mike Sebastian’s estimates have always been conservative. He’s done the same amount of testing in less time. A week after code freeze should be enough.”
“Michael knows his job.” Far better than William did. Sam flattened his palm against the hard surface of the table. “A week isn’t enough time to find and fix bugs and perform regression testing.”
“Mike is known for his volatility. He inflates issues. Always complains about deadlines.” William smiled. “He’s a drama queen.” There was just a hint of emphasis on the last word. “Are you becoming like him, Randell?”
Sam’s blood ran cold. Those were loaded words—a hint William didn’t approve of Michael’s sexuality—and maybe more. Sam ignored the klaxon in the back of his mind. “A week isn’t enough, not for the complexity of the new features.”
“I’ll agree that it’s aggressive,” William said.
“It’s idiotic.” Dead silence in the room.
Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but what was done was done. And anger felt good—and was just as usable as calm. He rose from his chair. “If you want this release rock solid, then you need to give us the time. Maybe we can shave off a week, but four?” He shook his head.
“Two weeks,” William said. “No more.”
Still not enough time. “When you brought me in, you agreed to trust my judgment.”
William smiled and leaned back in his chair, as if he’d already won. “Or buy you out.”
Ice seeped deeper into Sam’s veins. They could. It was the ultimate threat. Pay him a hunk of cash and he’d be on to “spend more time with his family” or “pursue other opportunities.”
Where would Michael be then? Out of a job, along with the rest of the company, because it was obvious that William didn’t want a merger, he wanted to ditch the IP, take the cash, and run. But why? That made no business sense. No time to dwell on that mystery, though.
“I suppose you could get rid of me.” Sam slipped out from behind his chair and walked toward the front of the room. “Are you a betting man, William?” He knew the answer to that question. They’d been in Vegas together.
Sam’s movement forced William and the other board members to twist in their chairs to stay focused on him. It was an edge, a sliver of control.
“What are we wagering?” A mix of caution and excitement.
Hooked.
“Money. What else is there?” Sam stopped at the front of the room, behind William’s chair. “You—you all want to cash out of Four Rivers. Move on to new projects.” He gripped the back of William’s chair and rocked it slightly. “You can either cash out with a failed project—William’s preferred method—and get very little on your return, or trust me to deliver to you a product that will have Sundra Networks writing you a blank check.”
He pushed off of William’s chair and walked toward the back of the room. “So, which bet will you take?”
“What if I told you Sundra wants the release in two and a half months’ time?” William’s voice betrayed his anger.
An ache flickered against the back of Sam’s skull, and he swallowed his fury. He reached the opposite end of the conference table, then leaned over, pressing his fingertips against the surface. “If that’s true,” he said, his voice low and strong, “then you should have told me that from the beginning, rather than wasting my fucking time playing games.”
The board members squirmed in their seats. William’s face turned red.
What the hell was William’s plan?
Brigitta Holderolff, the sole woman on the board, cleared her throat. “Sundra wants it in two and a half, in time for Routing Forum.”
Sam straightened. “Then what are you willing to give up?”
No one spoke for a moment, and then they all did, to him, to each other. Sam reached his chair and took a seat. Now it was just up to negotiations. Ice gripped Sam’s spine. He’d have to give something as well, if this were to work.
Michael would not be pleased at all, and that confrontation he dreaded more than a year’s worth of board meetings.
Worse, though, was the mix of fury and calm in William’s steady gaze. Sam schooled his expression, despite the dread eating up his spine.
* * *
Sam foundthe server room cold and deserted—which was perfect. No one came in here, giving him the privacy he needed to decompress after the board meeting. The whirring of the ventilation system and the fans on the rack-mounted equipment created a shield of white noise, blocking out conversations in the hall and soothing his nerves. No dinging of e-mail or ringing of phone in here. He wasn’t sure he even got cell reception huddled among all the electronics. Blessed silence lurked in a blanket of humming.
