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Overview
Young idealist Zack Penny usually gets to work early to take in the surroundings and breathe in the crisp, mechanically filtered air, knowing that one day his own company will be very different from Display Technik. As he follows the vision of his highly successful, results-at-all-costs mentor and CEO Allen Henley, Zack quietly nurtures a big dreamto create a new company of high morals and values, one that will revolutionize the world through the creation of wallpaper-thin displays to completely surround a viewer.
That dream is set into motion one morning when he realizes an important paper has been taken from his office. Moments later, Zack learns someone has turned him in. After his boss, who also happens to be the father of his girlfriend, Mary Anne, gives him one last chance to pledge his loyalty, Zack resigns. Determined to realize his vision, he soon steps into his new facility with high hopes and no idea that Henley has already put a plan into action with the intent of systematically destroying Zack, his perfect company, and, most of all, the relationship between Zack and Mary Anne, who is unwittingly caught in the cross-fire.
In this fast-paced thriller, a young entrepreneur faces moral dilemmas in Silicon Valley, a place where the inner working of the legal system favors the aggressor.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781475988543 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | iUniverse, Incorporated |
| Publication date: | 05/20/2013 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 486 |
| File size: | 547 KB |
About the Author
Glenn Ogura is the executive vice president for a New Hampshire-based laser micromachining company. He is a graduate of Electrical Engineering from Queens University in Canada. He lives with his wife in California. This is his first novel.
Read an Excerpt
Startup
By Glenn Ogura
iUniverse, Inc.
Copyright © 2013 Glenn OguraAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4759-8855-0
CHAPTER 1
Upon entering the mirrored-glass and stainless-steel lobby of DisplayTechnik, most people's eyes were immediately drawn to the immense mobile hanging thirty feet overhead. It revolved ever so lazily, its burnished metal dazzling in the California sun. Ultrathin suspension cables concealed by the mosaic pattern on the wall behind the display created the illusion that the massive structure was simply hovering, perhaps by some trick of magnetism.
The mobile reminded Zack of scimitars and guillotine blades. As far as he was concerned, the truly magnificent work of art in the entranceway was the vast floor of highly polished black marble. Walking across it was like stepping into space: looking down at the pinpoints and streaks of glittering white, one strolled through the stars of the heavens, passing by galaxies, and the streamers of some gaseous nebula. Beneath the steel and glass homage to Allen Henley's vanity was the constancy of the universe—immoveable, immutable, and terrible in its beauty. A plush burgundy carpet surrounded the receptionist's area, which stood like an island in the sea of black.
Engineers like Zack weren't supposed to use the main lobby entrance, and he didn't most days, but it was only six thirty and any of the flock of senior vice presidents who might care if he were violating company protocol were probably still in bed. He usually got to work early, though not merely to avoid the crawl over Highway 680. He liked to take in the surroundings, soak them up, and breathe in the crisp, mechanically filtered air, knowing that one day his own company would never, ever look like this.
But he did hope to have someone as cheerful as Jan as his receptionist. She flashed him her beaming smile and waved him over to her island.
"Yes, okay. Hold, please—" she said, and put the caller on hold before he or she could object. "Hiya, Zack, how was your weekend? You look tired—didn't you get in any sleep?"
"Of course," Zack said. "Whenever I wasn't working or awake."
"You know, weekends mean taking time off, not just not going to the office."
"I know, but the work doesn't get done if someone doesn't do it. I am planning on going skiing next weekend ..." His voice trailed off when Jan disappeared behind the desk, and he leaned forward to see if she'd fallen through some sort of trapdoor.
She popped up with a rectangular block of aluminum foil in her hand. "This is for you," she said. "It's a loaf of banana nut bread I made. It was supposed to be for Jimmy, but you're looking thinner and thinner lately. Haven't you been eating?"
Zack knew better than to argue or refuse the gift. He was about to defend his appetite when Jan turned back to the flashing lights on her board. "DisplayTechnik, how may I direct your call? Oh! Have you been holding all this time?"
Zack mouthed a thank-you as he picked up the package. It was heavier than it looked. Jan gave him a wink and wave as he turned for the bank of glass elevators. He walked past them and swiped his access card to the door to the stairs. Walking up to the third floor, he sampled Jan's bread. He hadn't had breakfast, unless two cups of coffee with cream and sugar counted. The bread was worlds above the preservative-loaded cinnamon roll from the vending machine that he usually had around nine.
At the third-floor landing, he swiped his card again and walked down the hallway to his office. He fumbled in his pocket for the key, and when he couldn't extract it while juggling everything else, he set down his briefcase. The heavy case leaned against the door, and it swung slowly open. He was positive he'd locked it. He always locked it before leaving on Fridays.
Zack nudged it wide-open with his knee, reached in, and slid his fingers up the wall until he found the light switch. The overhead fluorescent light flickered and then came to life.
Everything on his desk looked just the way he'd left it, but he immediately noticed that the pine bookcase stood at a slight angle away from the wall. The filing cabinet's key lock appeared untouched. He'd been concerned that someone had been going through his things lately and it bothered him, even if he knew they wouldn't find anything here.
Well, maybe it was the damn careless cleaning staff again, he told himself. It would have been the second time in three weeks that they'd failed to lock his door. The company had, after all, just hired some new staff. And it wouldn't be the first time that they'd gone nuts with their massive industrial vacuums.
He tossed his keys onto the desk and then set his briefcase on the chair. As he opened it, he took another look around. Everything seemed secure. Wait a minute! Panic fluttered in his stomach like he'd reached the crest of a roller coaster's first climb and was about to go over the summit. Had he left the drawing here that Dimitre had scratched out at lunch on Friday, the one with the latest specs for the polymer formulation?
Jesus, if someone found that and realized what it meant, he was screwed. They were all screwed.
Then he remembered sticking it in his briefcase before he left. He was going to work on it over the weekend but never got to it with everything else he'd had to do.
As Zack turned to place the briefcase on his desk, his hand slipped, and the contents spilled onto the floor.
Damn it!
He got down on his hands and knees and started piling it all back in the case, checking each scrap of paper and CD as he went—overdue laundry second notice, trade magazines, candy bar wrappers, the latest bulletin from marketing about how they desperately needed specs and colors. He scooped together the half-dozen file folders containing reports he was supposed to have finished up on Saturday and flipped through them, thinking Dimitre's napkin might have gotten mixed up with them. Boy, wouldn't that have been sweet.
Zack sat in the middle of the floor, reconstructing events. Okay, the last place he remembered seeing it for sure was here when he put it in his briefcase. So, obviously, it still had to be here, right? No, wait a second. Mary Anne had shown up early on Friday night, and he'd slipped it into his desk drawer at home, along with some other papers he'd been working on that he didn't want her to see. He remembered now seeing the edge of it poking out of the stack. He'd wanted to put it all in the safe later that night but didn't get a chance to because she'd distracted him with that new nightie. He smiled, thinking what they'd—
"Hey, stranger."
Zack jumped at the voice behind him. It was Phyllis, the administrative assistant for the engineering staff.
"So is that what you call filing?"
Zack stood up. "Did you come into my office over the weekend?"
"You kidding me?" Phyllis wrinkled her nose. "Come in here on the weekend? That's not my idea of a fun time. I'm not as crazy as you boys from engineering."
"How about this morning?"
"I don't have a key, remember? Why?"
"The door was unlocked."
"Maybe you didn't lock it."
"I always lock the office."
"Uh-huh." Phyllis waved at his cluttered desk. "And you always keep your office tidy as well."
Zack bent down and started to clear the desk.
"Too little, too late," Phyllis chided him. "Anyhow, you don't have time for that. Julie told me to keep an eye open for you. Said to tell you Mr. Henley wants to see you as soon as you came in, but you were to swing into her office first. Think she has the hots for you?"
Phyllis winked at him. There were a lot of rumors about Julie Reynolds's hots. She was a key member of the inner Gestapo of DisplayTechnik, exactly the type of person who would invade his office.
Zack ran a hand through his straight brown hair. It was usually a little ruffled and just long enough to make it difficult to manage. This morning he'd seen a unicorn staring back at him in the mirror, and even after a shower, it had still been sticking up a bit.
He hurriedly ushered Phyllis out into the hall, and he made a show of locking the door after him. Arms folded across her chest, she rolled her eyes as he turned for Julie's office.
Why would the Human Resources manager want to see him? She only called in people when she was firing them, or fishing for reasons to fire someone else, or giving them a lower-than-deserved rating for their latest evaluation. In the latter case, she claimed she wanted to head off any problems with poor performance, but the twinkle in her eye hinted at sadistic pleasure.
And what the hell did their esteemed founder and CEO want? He wasn't exactly the type to have personal chats with his engineering team, even though Zack was the head of the department. Maybe this was about the new line of monitors due out next month? They were still having problems with a residual flicker and didn't seem to be any closer to isolating the problem.
Bill Bennet, the general counsel, came out of nowhere and nearly collided with him. Bill clutched a pile of papers to his chest and held out his coffee mug as it slopped over onto the rug.
"Jesus! Watch where you're—oh, hi, Zack." He clutched the papers a little tighter and then turned them upside down onto a nearby desk, shaking the coffee from his hand. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"
"I could ask the same thing. So, how are the plans coming along to get traffic lights installed on these dangerous intersections?"
"Seen Julie yet?" Bill said.
Zack frowned. "What, are they broadcasting my morning's meetings on the Bay Area Early News?"
"Pardon?"
"You're the second person who's told me that Julie wants to see me."
"Oh, well, you know. We're all supposed to be communicating better."
Sure, Zack thought. Display Technik was such a warm, wonderful place, and management only wanted the best for employees.
"Actually, I was off to see, uh, Mr. Henley first," Zack said. "You know, start at the top. Apparently he wants to meet with me too, in case that didn't make the broadcast this morning."
Bill stared at him blankly and then said, "I just came from the tower, and he's going to be busy for a while. An interview with Silicon Valley Business, I believe. Why don't you go see Julie first?"
Zack nodded.
"Hey, catch that Giants game?" Bill said as he started in the opposite direction.
Attempts at small talk by Bennet always seemed forced. The man was more comfortable talking about patent law than even the simplest of human connections. His eyes were cold and judgmental, constantly weighing just how valuable talking to you really was. And if at some point in the conversation you'd somehow confirmed that you were worth more than the carpet he was standing on, he always tried to end with something that would make him appear a real person, a regular guy. He was a perfect fit for DisplayTechnik.
"Yeah, I did," Zack said, "the last four innings anyway ..." He was instantly sorry he'd opened his mouth. Bill turned the corner and walked out of sight without a word.
Asshole. Asshole.
Zack took the stairs up one floor to the Human Resources department. He knew that a media interview with the CEO could easily take an hour or more, and it might even stretch on to lunch. Typical that Allen had made his stopping by a top priority and then failed to leave the time open for their meeting.
Julie was on the phone when he stepped into her office, which had all the pizzazz of a funeral home. The only bright spot was a calendar of Caribbean beaches. She waved him to a seat at the conference table.
The Human Resources manager could have easily modeled for a calendar herself—the kind usually found in a men's locker room. As Zack sat down, Julie leaned back in her chair, arching her back, which made her ample chest look like it was erupting from her business jacket. He grabbed a nearby magazine. It was ironic that someone who inspired such anxiety in her fellow employees should be so irresistible to look at. She had the most wonderful skin, like Bernadette Peters, which made her blue-green eyes look like jewels in a milk bath. Her long dark hair, pulled back from her face by a clever assortment of clips, cascaded around her shoulders.
Julie shifted in her chair. Zack peered over the top of the magazine and watched her cross and uncross her legs, which were regrettably mostly hidden by the desk. He couldn't help but smile remembering a recent, late-night, development-group engineering session at his apartment. Jimmy had recounted his latest Julie fantasy. He had it bad for her. "So, Mr. Morgan, now that you're no longer an employee," he'd said, imitating her voice in breathless fashion, "why don't we get down to business?" With that, she'd cleared her desk for them in a single swipe. The room had erupted into a mix of laughter and catcalls. Someone threw a half a piece of pizza and hit Jimmy smack in the middle of the forehead, and it had stuck there for a good three seconds—
"Mr. Zack Penny. How are you?"
Zack flinched.
"Hi, Julie." He cleared his throat. "So, what's up?"
She joined him at the conference table. "You know Brett Davis, don't you?"
Brett was the Southwest sales rep. "Of course. What's going on?"
"Is he a friend of yours?"
His eyes narrowed. "Yeah. Why?"
"You stoutly defended him in your report after the HP deal collapsed last year."
"I didn't defend him because he was my friend; I defended him because we weren't treating a valued employee right. Okay?"
"Sure, Zack," she said quickly. "But we lost the account to a competitor with an inferior product, and Brett's coming up for another performance evaluation."
Ah, so this was a fishing expedition. Zack studied those blue-green eyes. "And your point is?"
Julie leaned forward, pressing her left hand against her jacket to keep the top from opening. "Are you familiar with our company's employee handbook? It is, after all, considered an addendum to your contract, just as it is with everyone else's."
The contract he'd signed five years ago? Yeah, sure. Like he'd remember everything in a document the size of the New Testament. The first time he'd even glanced at the handbook was three years ago to look up rules for personal days when he'd managed to get tickets to a Monday night game between the Niners and Cowboys. Since then, he'd only ever taken one other personal day, and that had been just a month ago.
"As I'm sure you'll recall," Julie said, "the handbook clearly details that employees are to conduct themselves in a professional manner at all times and also to report any behavior that might be detrimental to the company. Our competitors come up with all sorts of ingenious methods of winning."
"Are you accusing Brett of something?"
"Why? What do you know?"
"I don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about."
She blinked slowly at him. She had very long lashes. "You should take this seriously."
Zack could feel his cheeks heating up.
"I repeat," she said, "what do you know?"
"You're accusing Brett of what, conspiring with the competition to lose the account on purpose? Do you know how insane that sounds? Sales reps earn big bonuses by bringing in accounts."
"It wouldn't be the first time a competitor has paid someone to not make a sale, especially if they have a directly competing product that they might be trying to rush to market or to gain a foothold with. It's an insane world out there. Our competitors are stealing our employees, and worse, stealing our ideas. My job is to ensure loyalty, to find out where our own employees stand. And if you can be honest and simply tell me what you know about the competition out there, then it would do a lot to reassure DisplayTechnik of your loyalty and commitment."
The lilt in her voice made him decidedly uncomfortable. "My loyalty is to people," he said. "I'm not going to backstab Brett because of some far-fetched suspicion of yours. And that's all it seems you have—suspicion. As for my commitment, I easily work sixty hours in a slow week, so why don't you just back off?"
The faint smile on her face was frozen in place. After a few moments of silence, she arched her eyebrows slightly, looking past him, as if she'd come to some sort of determination.
There was a tiny knock on the door, followed by Julie's administrative assistant popping her head in.
"Sorry to bother you, but—"
"Yes, Tiffany?" Julie said.
"You told me to interrupt the meeting when Mr. Henley was free. Well, he's free. The camera crew is just packing up their gear, and Louise said that—"
"Fine, fine. Thank you."
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Startup by Glenn Ogura. Copyright © 2013 Glenn Ogura. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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What People are Saying About This
"... at the edge of my seat-frantically turning pages throughout. STARTUP is a true page turner ...appeal to fans of television shows such as THE GOOD WIFE."
"...stellar cast of characters ...a highly gifted writer ....he can construct an incredibly imaginative narrative from beginning to end. It is this reviewer's hope that "Startup" will be the first of many Ogura bestsellers."