Lionel Williams, Senior Administrative Assistant to Chairman Edward Summers,
rapped his knuckles sharply on the door to his employer's office, before entering.

"There's a gentleman on the telephone with a proposal to put our way."

The Chairman huffed derisively, shifting his heavyset frame in the vast leather chair. He

wiped his perspiring forehead and neck with a discoloured white handkerchief and
glared at the electric fan as if threatening it to operate with greater efficiency. "Not
another lamebrain excuse for a human being with a crackpot invention?"

Lionel smiled. "Not this time, Ed. I really think you should speak to him. It could
prove advantageous to the company."

Summers grimaced at the hated abbreviation of his Christian name, but refrained from

making a comment, particularly when he noticed the excitement evident on his
colleague's face. His immaculate suited appearance contrasted greatly with the young
man's mess of mousey brown hair and blotchy skin. However, he wore his enthusiasm
well, especially now, displaying a knowing grin.

"Very well, put the imbecile through. Let's make this brief and painless as possible."

"Have I the distinct pleasure of addressing the chairman of Adept Electronics
Industries?"

"That depends very much on who is asking," Summers barked more gruffly than was
polite.

"Mr Edward Summers of Central Headquarters?" the voice persisted.

"You're severely trying my patience, caller. If you don't elucidate very quickly ... well,
I have more important matters to attend to."

"I'm certain that you do," allowed the slightly amused male voice. "My abject
apologies; however, the reason for my suspicion is not without merit. I'm sure you'll
understand."

"Comprehension is the furthest thing from my mind presently." Summers sighed
heavily to illustrate the point.

"I have a proposal for your consideration; one which I guarantee you will be extremely

interested in ..."

"Let me be the judge of that." But the caller was still talking. Summers gripped a gold-
plated pen and took notes as the explanation commenced.

"My name is Evan Sotherby. 'Chip', if you go in for nicknames. I have single-handedly

financed and developed a revolutionary storage-retrieval unit, and I am prepared to
negotiate a suitable financial arrangement exclusively for the music industry. As Adept
is currently the most prominent, you are the first option."

"Most generous, I'm sure." Summers rubbed his chin thoughtfully with his free hand.
The Chairman was intrigued despite himself, but in a well-practised professional
manner maintained his impression of disinterested neutrality. "Specify the nature of the
device."

The young caller cleared his throat theatrically. "It's a memory retrieval chip featuring
an intricate network of highly-specialised macrocircuitry. It will justifiably revolutionise
the electronics market, rendering the crystal wafer virtually redundant. Imagine the
possibilities; it's sale to every company in the world involved with electrical or battery
generated products."

"And how exactly is it superior to the wafer?"

"In every respect, Mr Summers. Size reduction, capability, specification ..."

"What about details of its operation?"

Ethan Sotherby chuckled good-naturedly. "Shame on you, Sir. That's one topic I'm
not prepared to discuss over the telephone."

Summers grunted under his breath, before commenting, "Understandable, I suppose.
I'm uncertain whether Adept possesses sufficient available monetary resources to
incorporate such a radical alteration in our manufacturing procedures."

"Why implement an immediate expense?" suggested Sotherby. "It would make no
difference to me personally if you decided to hold the invention in reserve. I have to
be completely straight with you from the outset, Mr Summers, I'm in this venture
purely to make my fortune. Believe me, whatever price I ask will be considerably
below its potential currency value. But that's for later discussion."

Summer leaned his bulk back in the leather chair. He selected a cigar, but temporarily

abandoned it in favour of the pen. "Give me your contact address and telephone
number and I'll be in touch either way the moment I've discussed this matter fully with
the board." The chairman scribbled some notes and made a point of being the first to
sever the connection.

Leaning forwards, he pressed the intercom link. The assistant responded immediately,

entering the office without knocking.

"Did you get all that, Williams?"

Summers' personal assistant looked suitably chagrined. Wisely, he decided not to
compound his chastisement, opting instead to remain silent.

But there was no discipline forthcoming.

"Good." The Chairman handed over a piece of notepaper. "Get some men over to this

address," he instructed.

"Yes, Sir. I understand."

The location turned out to be a block of rented apartment buildings. The two burly
men entered and spoke to the concierge. She was grey-haired but relatively smooth-
skinned; prematurely aged.

"Mr Sotherby terminated his lease. He only vacated the property yesterday and before
you enquire, gentlemen, no, he did not leave a forwarding address."

Without another word the men turned away and climbed the stairs to the relevant
apartment. The first was ready to shoulder through the door, but the second man
found it unlocked. They entered, securing the door afterwards.

The woman pounded a fist on the outside. "You'd better leave," she threatened loudly.
"I'm going to call the police."

Ignoring the concierge, the two men systematically searched for anything hidden or

inadvertently left behind. They checked cupboards, pulled apart drawers, and even
pulled up the carpets, testing for loose floorboards which might contain a secret
cache. However, they discovered nothing of interest.

When the police arrived they found only a trashed apartment; the men had made their
escape by exiting through a window and descending the external fire-escape.

It was a further three days before Evan Sotherby re-established contact.

"It's him, Sir!" said an excited Lionel Williams.

Summers nodded symbolically. "Direct it through."

He allowed the telephone to ring a few times before picking it up. "Hello?"

"Hello, Mr Summers. It's Evan Sotherby."

The Chairman of Adept Electronics Industries remained silent.

"The storage-retrieval chip, remember?"

"Ah, Mr Sotherby. I attempted to contact you, but the rather disgruntled concierge on
the telephone informed me you no longer occupy the building. You understand I am
reluctant to do business with anyone giving false residency details?"

"And you must realise there are certain unscrupulous individuals who would rather
steal or force the information than deal fairly like gentlemen. At this critical stage, with
no existing patent, I can't be too careful."

Summers realised what Sotherby was implying, but deemed it sensible not to argue the
point. Did the young inventor know what happened at his prior residence? If aware of
the connection, his voice indicated no evident sign, remaining convivial and calm.

"My apologies, Mr Summers, but I feel obliged to cut this conversation short. I know
you're electronically tracing this call ..."

Summers started to protest.

"I'd be disappointed if you weren't. It's dog eat dog in the ever-changing industry of

electronics. Suffice to say, I have arranged a personal meeting for us tomorrow 14:00
at the Bridgetown Conference Rooms. Sub-room Three has been booked in your
name; the invoice is to be settled upon your arrival. Remember, I know you; I'll be
watching the people entering the building. If you fail to make an appearance, or arrive
with a large entourage, the meeting is automatically cancelled."

"Wait, Mr Sotherby ..."

"Goodbye, Mr Summers."

Lionel Williams materialised in the doorway shaking his head. "Insufficient monitoring

time."

Summers slammed an open palm on the desktop. "You're a complete incompetent,

Williams."

"Yes, Sir," answered his assistant sadly.

The chairman fingered his chin, reflecting thoughtfully on the recent discussion.
"We're going to have to tread carefully with Mr Sotherby, he possesses considerably
more intelligence than he likes to portray. Common sense is another matter entirely; I
can't understand why he hasn't patented the concept. I sincerely hope we can
capitalise on his monumental mistake.

"However, we don't want to frighten the young man away. Williams, you will
accompany me tomorrow to the Conference Rooms. And if you do wish to contribute
to the negotiations, make certain it is relevant and worthwhile."

"Welcome," said the formally attired croupier. "I believe you have reserved Sub-room
Three for the afternoon?"

"Er, yes, I believe so too. Give the man his money, Williams."

"Nonsense," objected the croupier. "We can postpone that arrangement. I'm sure we
can rely on your integrity. This way, Mr Summers."

They were led to a moderate size conference room, dominated by a mahogany table
and chairs. A huge window ensured the room was sufficiently lit. Adjoining access
areas contained a washroom and drink-making facilities.

"Perhaps you'd like to see a business newspaper?"

Williams accepted and offered it on to his employer. Summers shook his head, so the

assistant took a seat at the table and idly began to peruse the pages.

"If you require any services don't hesitate to open the door and holler."

Williams chuckled at the phrase until he was silenced by the chairman's withering glare.

Before he could answer the croupier had disappeared leaving them alone.

Summers sighed and commenced pacing. "He should be the individual kept waiting,
not me."

"I really think you should see this, Ed," said Williams, indicating the newspaper.

"Kindly refrain from calling me Ed, otherwise I'll have yours on a silver platter. Can't it
wait until later?"

"I rather think not," replied the mousy-haired man. "You see, our Mr Sotherby has
made the national dailies."

"What!" Summers stormed across the room and snatched the newspaper away from
his assistant. "Young electronics wizard invents revolutionary processor," he read
aloud. "Blah, blah," he muttered. And then, "Evan Sotherby has already instigated
financial proceedings with Edward Summers of Adept Electronics Industries. Formal
negotiations will be taking place today at an undisclosed location known only to
selective police departments."

He struck the desk sharply with the folded newspaper as if swatting a nuisance fly.
Although he refrained from voicing an opinion, his features clouded as his face
progressively flushed with anger over a matter of minutes.

It was approximately fifteen further minutes before Evan Sotherby announced his
presence with a single knock of the door. "Greetings, Mr Summers," he said
immediately upon entering the room. "Thank you for coming. My apologies; please
excuse my tardiness." He pressed his hand into the considerably fatter grip of
Summers, offering the chairman the opportunity to study him at close quarters.

Sotherby's appearance was unprepossessing; below two metres in height and weighing

approximately one hundred thirty pounds, the young man seemed barely out of his
teens. However, experience had taught Summers that looks were often deceitful. The
genius inventor had short-cropped fair hair and a moustache of adolescent fluff. His
intent grey eyes turned their attention to Williams. "And may I know your credentials,
Sir?"

"Lionel Williams, Senior Administrative Assistant to the Chairman of Adept
Electronics Industries," he declared proudly.

Before the pleasantries could develop further into mindless dribble, Summers threw
the newspaper on the table where Sotherby could plainly see the relevant article.
"What's the meaning of this outrageous behaviour?"

Sotherby smiled disarmingly. "While I am aware of your continued good-intentions,
there is always the existing possibility with problematic outside influences. Informing
the business periodicals and police of selective details means that, should anything
happen to me during these discussions, the appropriate people will have knowledge of
my whereabouts and my contact: your good self. I realise it appears I am treating your
reputation as untrustworthy; it is an unfortunate but necessary precaution." He
suddenly grinned mischievously. "Of course there's the added incentive of
simultaneously bringing other potential interested parties in to the frame. Reserve
customers means should we fail to reach a suitable compromise at the bargaining table
this afternoon, other negotiators representing rival companies will have the opportunity
to step in."

"This keeps operations strictly in the public eye," Williams pointed out, "and ensures
that you receive a substantial and prompt monetary deal to prevent subsequent
outbidding."

Sotherby shrugged and smiled confidently. "I make no excuses for my preparatory
actions. You are quite correct in your estimation. Now my appearance is common
knowledge, it's not too dramatic to say that my life is in imminent danger. I will receive
numerous counter-offers from elsewhere, and a percentage of these sources, if
rejected will seek to kidnap or even maim for the required priceless information.
However, to protect myself it was necessary to make myself more vulnerable.
Newspaper reports cannot achieve one effect without the other."

"You must have a great deal of faith in your product."

"Indeed I have, Mr Williams. Indeed I have."

"Well, let's hear you substantiate you claim, before I decide to change my mind," said

Summers rather unkindly.

Sotherby was unfazed by the attitude of his prospective purchaser. He clapped his
hands together in obvious and childish glee. "Wonderful idea. Let's get started, shall
we?"

Grinning from ear to ear he took a seat at the head of the table. Summers seated
himself adjacently, and Williams, at the opposite end of the table, moved closer.
Sotherby removed a folder held under one arm and opened out a huge plan showing
internal construction and operation.

"Does this chip have a name?" asked Williams.

Sotherby looked momentarily confused. "I don't suppose that matters too much. If
you purchase it outright, I'll leave the Christening to you and your associates at
Adept." He paused, considering. "If it really must have a descriptive title, how about
the Carousel Processor?"

"Why that name in particular?"

Sotherby took a deep preparatory breath. "The chip is approximately the size and bulk
of a lithium cell. A revolutionary storage retrieval processor is surrounded by circuitry
joining additional reserve chips which prevents the stored information corrupting, by
continually circulating it, periodically down-loading and renewing the integrity of the
data, even when in use. Call it a failsafe system; every ... Carousel processor can carry
a lifetime guarantee because it will never even overload, within reason."

The young inventor drew their attention to the starlike configuration on the charts.
"Think of this in terms of a globe. The main processor is situated centrally, with eight
smaller versions interlinked via a network of data processing circuitry. Any type of
information can be programmed directly into the central chip for instant retrieval. In
terms of adapting for the music industry, Adept's fundamental concern, it means
programming complete music catalogues prior to installing the Carousel within an
operating contraption able to access the information. The possibilities are limitless.

Music publishers will clamour for the attention of releasing their recording artists on

Carousel. The complete professional works of one singer or group can easily be
stored with room to spare. Or perhaps a collection of the most popular songs of the
twentieth century."

Sotherby was perspiring with his own excitement.

"What will power the processor?" Summers enquired.

"There is an inherent superficial charge. Otherwise, any conventional form of energy is

suitable, but I would recommend the newly developed portable Microcharge which is

capable of nearly ninety hours continuous playback. Imagine the Carousel
incorporated into a wristwatch, either with its own speakers or a socket for
headphones to receive the noiseless digitally mastered sound." Sotherby stood up,
mopping his brow with a large spotted handkerchief. "Phew! It's so stuffy in here.
Would anybody like a drink?" he asked, before disappearing to the adjoining room.

Just watching Sotherby's unbridled enthusiasm caused Summers to feel hot and
thirsty. "Anything cold," he called. The sheer potential for personal wealth and
worldwide popularity was making Summers rather lightheaded. His name, not
Sotherby's, would live in history as the person who revolutionised the electronics
industry. With the money earned from this enterprise, Summers could launch takeover
bids of all the competition companies and thereby create a monopoly, at least as far as
the music retail industry is concerned.

As he sipped his drink gratefully, he silently contemplated the situation. This certainly

seemed an opportunity not to be missed. However, Summers concealed his keen
interest behind a facade of impartiality to prevent this venture proving considerably
more costly than he originally anticipated.

It occurred to Summers he had not yet personally examined the Carousel chip. "You

understand I need to inspect and have it analysed before mass-production."

Sotherby smiled cheerfully as he answered unhesitatingly, "I'm afraid that won't be
possible until after our financial arrangements have been satisfactorily concluded. I
was hoping we could instigate a simultaneous exchange of goods. At a predetermined
time you could transfer the appropriate funds to my specially prepared Swiss bank
account, and in return receive the processor immediately by courier or directions to a
safe security box."

Summers felt doubtful yet hesitant. "That is a considerable financial gamble you're
asking my company to make, Mr Sotherby."

"Perhaps, but one that many others will be willing to undertake. However, I'm sure you
can sympathise with my cautionary tactics. The moment the subject of my work is in
the hands of even the most trustworthy prospector, I've lost overall control. Once it is
discovered to be genuine, my offer can be rejected by the negotiating party and quite
legally duplicated. So you can see my situation. The purpose of the foreign bank
account is to prevent the monies being redirected, transferred to other areas or simply
cancelled. Of course there's also the incentive of tax evasion, which will otherwise eat
heavily into my percentage profits. This is my sole money-making enterprise, so there
is no room for error."

Summers continued sipping his refreshing drink. It was virtually an involuntary action
as he sat pondering this finely balanced stalemate. Williams took the initiative by
announcing, "We will need to collaborate in private."

Sotherby stood and moved to the door in one fluid movement. "Naturally. I need
some fresh air anyway. "I'll leave you the plans to study at your convenience and
return for your answer in approximately one hour's time."

Summers was initially unaware of Sotherby's departure. He rose and stared through
the window, witnessing none of the world beyond, his mind reeling with conflicting
emotions. The obvious danger signals sounded, but were overruled by a mixture of
logic and imaginative fantasy. Any number of alternative universes were envisaged, the
majority depicting he and his company in uncompromising positions of great wealth
and power. It even crossed his mind to venture into politics in the foreseeable future.

Eventually he emerged from reverie and turned to his assistant, who had respectfully

maintained his silence, allowing his employer to think. "What is your opinion,
Williams?"

"If there is even the slightest chance this can work as indicated, I believe it's an
opportunity we can't afford to reject, Sir."

With a shrug and a wan smile, Summers said, "My sentiments exactly." Decided, he

redirected his thoughts towards payment; it needed to be a significant amount to
appear a substantial one-off settlement, but negligible compared with regular standard
long-term percentage agreements.

When Evan Sotherby returned, Summers wrote down a figure and slid the piece of
paper facedown across the table surface, in the time-honoured tradition.

The young inventor lifted a corner and his eyes bulged with surprise. Momentarily, his
gaze shone maniacally as the edges of his mouth turned up in realisation. Then
Sotherby belatedly regained his senses, enquiring, "Can we haggle, gentlemen?"

"Only downwards," Summers answered resolutely.

Sotherby could not restrain a chuckle in appreciation of the humour. "It is a generous
offer," he admitted. He paused, giving the impression of consideration, when
Summers knew instinctively the decision was already made. "Gentlemen, we have a
deal," he confirmed.

The agreements were finalised and they shook hands. The following morning the
relevant legal documents were drawn up and signed by both parties.

"You realise we've obtained the exclusive rights for next to nothing. What we've done
to Evan Sotherby is scandalous," Williams said as he and his employer exited the
solicitor's office.

Summers managed to shrug as he puffed his way to catch the lift. "It may be
scandalous, but it's also entirely legal. Besides, I didn't hear our Mr Sotherby complain
about being unfairly treated. Conversely, he seemed quite happy at the figure I
presented him with."

"But if this venture blossoms and bears fruit, it could ultimately be worth billions, as
opposed to millions."

"Quite so. Now, I'm going to make the agreed transaction. You can return to our
offices; after all, you are supposed to be an administrative assistant."

Two days later, as planned, a fax was received from Switzerland confirming the
conclusion of the monetary transference. Summers sweated awaiting the arrival of his
prized package. The majority of the day passed with him bad-temperedly biting the
heads off anyone brave enough to approach. He resolutely refused to see or speak
with any outside contacts or business colleagues, barring that of Williams. Security
personal were dispatched to the new contact address left by Sotherby, but as
expected no residents had even heard mention of the name. More urgent enquiries
revealed that the landlord had been paid handsomely specifically to answer any
enquiries by confirming he was indeed staying there.

It was at that point Summers became really concerned. Continually pacing, his features

clouded, his face growing steadily redder, until he became a walking storm of negative

emotions just waiting to release its torrent. Even Williams thought it prudent to begin

avoiding his employer.

In the early hours of the evening, with the majority of the workforce having already
vacated the building, a motorcycle courier arrived with a parcel. Such was the anger of
Summers he nearly dismissed the young woman, before suddenly coming to his
senses. There was an almost instantaneous mood swing which resulted in him
uncharacteristically tipping the courier generously.

Williams appeared, watching excitedly as his employer ripped apart the packaging.
Inside a small but heavily protective metal presentation box was the Carousel chip.
Summers grinned appreciatively, removing the prize and holding it between fat thumb
and forefinger. With difficulty he managed to prise off the miniature cover and
examine the interlinked configuration of macrocircuitry within.

After only a moment he sighed heavily. "It's fake."

Williams was plainly stunned. "Are you certain?"

"I'm convinced. It's not necessary to be an electronics wizard."

Quite unexpectedly Williams collapsed into mirthful hysterics. It was purely
involuntary, and even if Summers had chosen to dismiss the man from employment on
the grounds of insubordination, he would have been unable to stop.

However, contrary to previous form, Summers did not attempt to reprimand his
assistant. It became more unsettling for Williams to witness him being calm and
reasonable.

"I was half expecting this," the chairman admitted. He seemed resigned to the
situation. "Everything was so convincing, particularly Sotherby's paranoia. It was the
introduction of the Swiss bank account into the proceedings that had me wondering."

Summers gestured as if to throw the worthless thing away, but on impulse suddenly
changed his mind. Examining the synthetic Carousel processor more closely, he said,
"What's ironic is the idea's not half bad. Do we still possess the plans?"

Williams nodded.

"Give them to our people in Research and Development as first priority. We may yet
have the last laugh."

END

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