Gracing the cover was a jocular photo of the two, an insightful, undisguised shot whose overall effect was similar to that of a Hollywood buddy film promotion poster. On the left stood Peter, wearing jeans and a white Oxford shirt. His shirtsleeves were rolled to the elbow and his arms were folded nimbly across his chest. Of slight build and tenuous stance, his physical composure was that of a lanky high school student, yet his eyes had the depth of a twenty-coat lacquer finish. They were the eyes of a man older than his years, whose mind performed at a cycles-per-second rate equal to that of three men combined. He was thirty-one.

Beside Peter stood Matthew, one arm hung loosely over the younger man's shoulder. He wore khaki pants and a chambray work shirt whose sleeves, like Peter's, were rolled to the elbows. The sparse, light-brown hair, high, time-worn forehead, and the creases of his face, especially around the eyes, did not belie his age. His eyes, more gray than blue, burned with the determination of a college graduate who, with diploma fresh in hand, sprints eagerly toward The Challenge. He was forty-two.

Tensions began to surface just six months after that cover shot appeared on newsstands, when after its introduction, the Joey personal interactive assistant met with only mild commercial success. Though the device won accolades from the industry for Peter and his team of engineers for its breakthrough technology, buyers were skeptical. The dream that Peter shared with Matthew in their first meeting was to make the Joey the hottest-selling portable computer device in the world, displacing market share completely dominated by Wallaby's biggest competitor, International Computer Products.

The dream was never realized. Though users of ICP's own best-selling portable computer admitted that the Joey was technically more innovative and expertly designed, there were few key software applications available for it at the time of its introduction. At the root of the delay was a frustrating paradox: While the Joey was by far the easiest to use portable interactive assistant, it was also the most difficult computer to develop software programs for. The Joey employed a radical new method of operation and many of the software developers had trouble learning the new system. As sales of the Joey dropped off, the pressure on Peter's team grew more intense. Enhancements that would make the Joey easier to develop programs for were behind schedule, and Matthew held Peter responsible for the delays.

During this precarious period, Peter ran for cover. Embarrassed by his own shortsightedness, he left Matthew to contend with Wallaby's share-sensitive executives and board members. It wasn't unnatural for the president of a company to contend with its board of directors, but it was radically different from the way things had worked at Wallaby in the past. Peter Jones held a dual role as chairman of the board and vice president of the Joey division. Until the development dilemma, Peter had always been the primary voice in front of the board. So while Peter recovered from his temporary loss of balance, Matthew soothed board members' nerves by committing all of his energies to building a strategy that would move Wallaby back into a secure, high-sales position. He assured them that Peter was on track and would come through with the necessary improvements. He produced impressive development trend studies that described how it often took two years for a new product to gain market acceptance. His methodical East Coast style had an interesting effect on the anxious principals: They believed him. In the past, Peter has wowed them with his enthusiasm and technological prowess. There had never been cause to question the young man's business acumen; the company was less than ten years old and had been profitable for just as long. But suddenly, Peter's passionate efforts seemed empty; the numbers were declining. Those numbers needed turning around, and Matthew was the board's man. Now that he had their confidence, it was time to give them an ultimatum.

It was really quite simple. Matthew would propose that Peter be removed as the leader of both Wallaby and the Joey group. Matthew would personally oversee the accelerated development of the new Joey Plus, enforcing a strict schedule to complete its design and production in just three months. Matthew knew Peter that would be utterly shocked by his proposal at tomorrow's meeting. Though Peter would be stripped of all his power, Matthew hoped that after his feelings healed, the executive staff and board of directors would be able to persuade him to concentrate his visionary skills in a research capacity, which Matthew could draw upon when the core Joey technology began showing signs of obsolescence.

To fulfill his promise to fix the company's stalled position, Matthew intended to unify the engineering groups, ending the elitist conditions Peter had created when he began developing the Joey more than three years ago. Peter had chosen only the brightest, most proven people and moved his new team to a private building, which he had surrounded with tight security. Only the Joey team had been allowed to enter the building, a first in Wallaby history. Before the Joey project, employees had been free to enter every building. Most employees had no reason to enter buildings other than those in which they worked, but the freedom of being allowed to do so represented the company's trust in its people. Matthew, of course, was free to roam wherever he pleased, and he instantly understood the reason for Peter's rule the first time he entered the off-limits building. Peter had created a project-team paradise. The Joey engineers were supplied with exotic and luxurious amenities that Peter felt nurtured their creativity and rewarded them for their intense work.

Matthew intended to put an end to the Joey team's Club Med work environment by integrating it with the company's other engineering divisions. A newly consolidated engineering division would focus its energies on expediting completion of the Joey Plus.

In the quiet of his own car, the plan seemed logical and simple. But as he thought about tomorrow's meeting and about the confrontation that would ensue, he became aware of the dampness under his arms and his flush face.

He changed lanes as he passed the Woodside exit. High golden hills, peppered every ten or so acres with colossal mansions, passed on either side as sidled to the right lane. Passing the auto repair shop, he thought of Laurence Maupin. She had been hired into the newly created position as his personal public relations assistant one month ago. The timing was perfect for positioning her loyalties in his favor. He had revealed to her his plan for tomorrow's meeting, and asked her to secretly prepare his press statement under the assumption that everything would go perfectly. There was no guarantee that tomorrow's board decision would favor him over Peter, yet he was betting his career on his plan. He reminded himself of his discussion with Laurence a few minutes earlier, about the over-and-done-with tone of her voice as she read Matthew his statement on the other end of the line, speaking in a nearly conspiratorial tone as she sat in his office, holding his telephone in her hand. He felt his spirits lift.

He felt something else lift, too. His mind's eye fixed on an image of the young and beautiful Laurence sitting at his desk, her hand clasped around his handset, her lips close to the mouthpiece, her words forging a new alliance between them. He focused on his memory of her hands. Was there enough time? He pressed his palm to his groin and considered opening his trousers and taking care of himself, as he sometimes did on his way home from work. Usually the act required about as much time as it took to reach the Palo Alto exit, but he had passed that turnoff miles ago and was nearly home. No, he would have to let his