Disclosure

15 SECONDS TO DIRECT VIDEO LINKUP: DC/M-DC/S

He sat down in front of the monitor and twisted his desk lamp so that the light shone on his face. The numbers on the computer were counting backward. Sanders looked at his watch. It was five o’clock-eight o’clock in Malaysia. Arthur would probably be calling from the plant.

A small rectangle appeared in the center of the screen and grew outward in progressive jumps. He saw Arthur’s face, and behind him,

the brightly lit assembly line. Brand-new, it was the epitome of modern manufacturing: clean and quiet, the workers in street clothes, arranged on both sides of the green conveyor belt. At each workstation there was a bank of fluorescent lights, which flared a little in the camera.

Kahn coughed and rubbed his chin. "Hello, Tom. How are you?" When he spoke, his image blurred slightly. And his voice was out of sync, since the bounce to the satellite caused a slight delay in the video, but the voice was transmitted immediately. This unsynchronized quality was very distracting for the first few seconds; it gave the linkup a dreamy quality. It was a little like talking to someone under water. Then you got used to it.

"I’m fine, Arthur," he said.

"Well, good. I’m sorry about the new organization. You know how I feel personally."

"Thank you, Arthur." He wondered vaguely how Kahn in Malaysia would have heard already. But in any company, gossip traveled fast.

"Yeah. Well. Anyway, Tom, I’m standing here on the floor," Kahn said, gesturing behind him. "And as you can see, we’re still running very slow. And the spot checks are unimproved. What do the designers say? Have they gotten the units yet?"

"They came today. I don’t have any news yet. They’re still working on it."

"Uh-huh. Okay. And have the units gone to Diagnostics?" Kahn asked.

"I think so. Just went."

"Yeah. Okay. Because we got a request from Diagnostics for ten more drive units to be sent in heat-sealed plastic bags. And they specified that they wanted them sealed inside the factory. Right as they came off the line. You know anything about that?"

"No, this is the first I heard of it. Let me find out, and I’ll get back to you."

"Okay, because I have to tell you, it seemed strange to me. I mean, ten units is a lot. Customs is going to query it if we send them all together. And I don’t know what this sealing is about. We send them wrapped in plastic anyway. But not sealed. Why do they want them sealed, Tom?" Kahn sounded worried.

"I don’t know," Sanders said. "I’ll get into it. All I can think is that it’s a full-court press around here. People really want to know why the hell those drives don’t work."

"Hey, us too," Kahn said. "Believe me. It’s making us crazy."

"When will you send the drives?"

"Well, I’ve got to get a heat-sealer first. I hope I can ship Wednesday, you can have them Thursday."

"Not good enough," Sanders said. "You should ship today, or tomorrow at the latest. You want me to run down a sealer for you? I can probably get one from Apple." Apple had a factory in Kuala Lumpur.

"No. That’s a good idea. I’ll call over there and see if Ron can loan me one.

"Fine. Now what about Jafar?"

"Hell of a thing," Kahn said. "I just talked to the hospital, and apparently he’s got cramps and vomiting. Won’t eat anything. The abo doctors say they can’t figure out anything except, you know, a spell."

"They believe in spells?"

"Damn right," Kahn said. "They’ve got laws against sorcery here. You can take people to court."

"So you don’t know when he’ll be back?"

"Nobody’s saying. Apparently he’s really sick."

"Okay, Arthur. Anything else?"

"No. I’ll get the sealer. And let me know what you find out."

"I will," Sanders said, and the transmission ended. Kahn gave a final wave, and the screen went blank.

SAVE THIS TRANSMISSION TO DISK OR DAT?

He clicked DAT, and it was saved to digital tape. He got up from the desk. Whatever all this was about, he’d better be informed before he had his meeting with Johnson at six. He went to the outer area, to Cindy’s desk.

Cindy was turned away, laughing on the phone. She looked back and saw Sanders, and stopped laughing. "Listen, I got to go."

Sanders said, "Would you mind pulling the production reports on Twinkle for the last two months? Better yet, just pull everything since they opened the line."

"Sure."

"And call Don Cherry for me. I need to know what his Diagnostics group is doing with the drives."

He went back into his office. He noticed his e-mail cursor was blinking, and pushed the key to read them. While he waited, he looked at the three faxes on his desk. Two were from Ireland, routine weekly production reports. The third was a requisition for a roof repair at the Austin plant; it had been held up in Operations in Cupertino, and Eddie had forwarded it to Sanders to try and get action.

The screen blinked. He looked up at the first of his e-mail messages.

OUT OF NOWHERE WE GOT A BEAN COUNTER FROM OPERATIONS DOWN HERE IN AUSTIN. HE’S GOING OVER ALL THE BOOKS, DRIVING PEOPLE MAD. AND THE WORD IS WE GOT MORE COMING DOWN TOMORROW. WHAT GIVES? THE RUMORS ARE FLYING, AND SLOWING HELL OUT OF THE LINE. TELL ME WHAT TO SAY. IS THIS COMPANY FOR SALE OR NOT?

EDDIE

Sanders did not hesitate. He couldn’t tell Eddie what was going on. Quickly, he typed his reply:

THE BEAN COUNTERS WERE IN IRELAND LAST WEEK, TOO.

GARVIN’S ORDERED A COMPANY-WIDE REVIEW, AND THEY’RE LOOKING AT EVERYTHING. TELL EVERYBODY DOWN THERE TO FORGET IT AND GO BACK TO WORK.