Chapter Three
As Paul Pontiac sat, bored, and half-listening to his fourth period Office
Skills instructor’s lecture on How to Develop Good Computer Skills … little did
he suspect that three hundred and seventy miles away in a remote mountain town
called Hidden Valley, the video game the Gibsonville's Computer Club was
developing for Titan Industries’ Software Contest was the primary topic of an
ultra-secretive, executive-level meeting.
*****
“Is everyone present?” George Witherspoon, the V.P. of Marketing at Krypton Software asked, cautiously eyeing both Ray Sizemore – who was in charge of Corporate Security, and Mike Furrow – the Software Development chief as he sat his cup of coffee in front of himself.
“Almost.” A stern expression flashed across Mike's face, and he turned to gaze toward the partially opened doorway. “We’re still waiting for Tom. He should be here shortly. … Allen might be holding him up.”
George looked toward Mike and frowned. “Has the CEO found out about what we’re planning?”
“Are you kidding?” Mike chuckled. “We’re about to discuss what some might consider corporate espionage. There’s no way we can let Allen find out. He’d fire us all.”
He then took a sip of his mint-delight, primo latte.
“No matter what we are going to need to do, it’s imperative we keep our ‘beloved’ CEO in the dark until we’re successful. By then, not only will he be thanking us for the millions Krypton is suddenly raking in, we’ll be set for life.”
“Yeah. Smelling like roses,” Ray added, displaying a wide ear-to-ear grin like a proverbial Cheshire cat.
George gazed at his fellow coworkers and shook his head. He obviously wasn’t happy about where the conversation was going.
“I just don’t know,” he said, before pausing. “Is stealing a PC game from a bunch of teenagers actually going to be worth it? After all, if anyone ever found out, we could end up in one of Tennessee’s state prisons.”
“That’s true,” Mike replied, unconsciously tapping his forefinger. “But if we take the time to methodically plan each step that needs to be taken, the odds of it occurring are next to nothing.”
“Thus, there’s nothing for you to worry about, George.” Ray added, clicking the icon that would fire up his PowerPoint presentation. “God’s Judgment Day will occur long before Titan Industries ever finds out how this happened.”
Mike nodded in agreement.
“And let's not forget why we’re doing this. … Thanks to the game Paul and Tim recently created for Titan Industries – their fourth-quarter earnings shot higher than what Krypton Software's has ever been, even if you combine our last five years total earnings.”
“Which, my friends, is the exact reason I initiated this project,” Tom Steel (the company’s president) stated as he stoutly stepped inside the company’s ultra-secure conference room. “There’s no way we cannot afford to take an additional financial beating. If we do, it could drive us out of business.”
Tom then briefly paused to let his words slowly sink in.
“So, let’s now get started. …With Titan Industries requiring all high school contest entries to be submitted by May 1st, I believe it would be more than reasonable to assume Gibsonville’s computer club (whose president is none other than Paul Pontiac, himself) should have the final beta of their game ready for testing by the end of March — or sometime close to it. Therefore, the only thing we need to do before then is make a copy of it.”
“But isn’t Paul going to need Tim Hegler’s help in order to finish the beta?” George asked, raising his hand. “After all, “Clash of the BattleStars” was a joint effort.”
“Unfortunately, we’re not sure,” Mike replied, giving George a serious look. “But most likely it’s not going to be a problem.”
“According to The IT Business Journal, Titan Industries is supposed to officially announce this afternoon where it plans to re-locate its Game Division,” Ray quickly pointed out. “And it’s a fact, Greensboro was one of the sites they were seriously considering. … And since Joe Hegler is Titan’s Industries gaming division president, I would tend to believe there’s a high probability his son’s already in North Carolina.”
“Interesting,” Mike replied with a nod. “But I would like to also point out that even if the company’s gaming division didn’t move to Greensboro, all would not be lost. Sources tell me Paul has made friends with an eleven-year-old computer whiz at Gibsonville, named Daniel E. Whitehouse the Third.”
“Daniel E. Whitehouse the Third?” Tom repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Hmm. He sounds young enough to be easily manipulated.”
“He might be,” Ray confirmed. “But most likely, we’re not going to need to use him. Word has it that a Mr. Carl Thompson, who happens to be Gibsonville’s Office Skills instructor and the school’s computer club faculty adviser, is in a monetary bind. … No doubt, with a little financial, let’s say ‘encouragement’ … I’m sure he’d be willing to help us.”
“I see,” Tom said, setting his half-empty, mocha latte on the table. “So how much ‘encouragement’ do you think it might take to convince Mr. Thompson to hand us a copy of the kid’s game?
Ray stopped to examine a bit of data on his recently acquired MS Surface Pro tablet. “Considering his wife’s recent medical expenses, I would guess about 100K. … Unless, the guy turns greedy – then the payoff could easily double.”
“That’s still not a problem,” Tom replied, before turning to face Mr. Furrow. “This new game should easily bring in at least five hundred times that amount. Right, Mike?”
“Yes, sir,” Mike readily confirmed.
“OK then, gentleman,” Tom said, rising up from his leatherback seat. “I believe we’re done here. Let’s get Operation Chicken Hawk started first thing tomorrow morning. And don’t forget, we're trying to keep the total cost of this operation under five million.”