Alpha Incorporated

III - iii FALSEHOOD FALSE EXTRACTING

The driver gives a quick glance up to the review mirror, and Angelo meets his eyes.  Ashamed, the driver looks to the road again. Angelo doesn't like him. That look, there is something shady about it. He makes a mental note to have Rosalind find him a different driver. He doesn't trust this one.

Angelo looks back down at the computer on his lap and scrolls through the documents. He doesn't need to read this stuff anymore, and begins to sort, dropping each into a separate folder: this to legal, this to—wait. He begins to skim the language of the terms of an agreement. He is a lawyer, after all, and he is the CEO, so why wouldn't he comment on the document. He opens the edit window and begins to redline the agreement. He doesn't get to the second paragraph before he sees the steady stream of mail messages flood into his inbox. There is no way he can do all this. Delegate, just like Escalus keeps telling him, he must learn to delegate. He needs to learn to trust these people, to let them handle things. They pay enough in legal fees that he doesn't need to control everything. What he really needs to do is to get home and hit his gym.

The meeting with the Board went well enough, as good as he expected. Probably better that Charles wasn't there. Angelo still feels like Escalus is a little too tied to the old regime, to the way Vincent did things. It was Charles, after all, who mentored Angelo to be the leader he is. He always saw in him the talent and drive that, in his opinion, Alpha needed in its leader. But Angelo also sees the high regard with which Escalus still holds Vincent and wishes that, for once, he would see Angelo for who he is, not compared to his predecessor Vincent Duke.

As the limo slows, turns and pulls into the stone drive, there are already a few reporters waiting next to the compound gate, hoping to get a sound bite from him. They all want to know what he is thinking, what he is planning, what his next move will be. A lot of people have money at stake and he has the power to make people money. These reporters dote on every word he has to say, the cameras capturing the slightest facial expression.

Angelo lowers the rear window of the limousine as the car comes to a stop, waiting for the wrought iron gates to his home to open. Immediately the onslaught of reporters and photographers approach, microphones pointed to the car, cameras clicking. "Mr. Lord, Mr. Lord. How did it go today? Will the transition be smooth?"

Angelo smiles. He is warmed by all the attention. He likes the feeling of knowing that these people need him. Not just the reporters, but the people whose investments and life savings depend on the moves that he makes. This is power, and he is getting used to it.

"The meeting went well. I think the investors will be pleased with the long-term vision of the company." What else is he supposed to say? That Alpha is betting heavily on cornering the remaining US defence systems? That they now control, or are about to own, the vast majority of intelligence and communication systems? That their private equity partners stand to make billions? He gives a slight smile, and presses the button to raise the window. He likes to tease them like this, and that is why they like him.

This is one way that he is different from Vincent Duke. Vincent would never allow reporters access to his private life. Angelo thinks that Vincent was overly elusive when he was at the helm. The media never got a chance for an unscripted comment or a quick interview. He kept his travel plans private, never allowing media access to his life, never departed from the planned statements. Almost like he was paranoid, although he was likely never clinically diagnosed as such, but face it, the guy uses a stand-in, an actor, to play his part at public events. What kind of complex is it that makes you have a man to act as the public face of Vincent Duke?

He is one of the few who knows the secret. Angelo knows that for the full term of his time as CEO of Alpha, the real Vincent Duke remained a mystery while his actor doppleganger played his character to the public. Duke avoided attending business meetings in person, rarely travelled, instead, chose to do everything virtually, through conference calls, video conferencing and email. Other than a handful of people, those who worked closely with Vincent in the CEO's office, no one knew what the real Vincent Duke looked like or sounded like. They only saw the actor portraying Vincent, creating the public persona that the company wanted to portray. Even that event on Friday at the Geary Theatre—all staged. The real Vincent Duke was already long gone, probably building a school in Africa or hugging a tree in the rain forest.

Angelo figures that it has to do with Vincent being brought up as the son and heir to a massive corporate empire. He had the luxury of hiding behind his walls of insecurity. Not Angelo—he had to fight his way up the ladder. Vincent didn't really give a shit about relating to his workers or showing himself as a strong leader, or how to use the media to influence the markets. He was most concerned with his privacy, and that is not how Angelo, or Escalus, believes you should be a modern entrepreneur. This is the age of the celebrity ruler. It doesn't matter if they are your admirers or your enemies, it is a sign of weakness to cower. Their meeting today was about just that: how things are going to change at Alpha.

His home is a little over the top, he admits, as he walks from the car. The neo-classical stone mansion, built by an oilman in the 1920's, is not typical for a high-tech tycoon, but there is something about the tradition of the compound that he likes. He breathes in deeply, inhaling the fresh scents of a spring evening, as he approaches the doorway, his gait is in step with the click-hiss of the automatic water sprinklers. The reporters, locked on the outside of his fence, have got what they wanted and are off to the next big story. He finally will get a few minutes of downtime tonight.

Angelo thumps his briefcase on his office desk. He loosens his tie, undoes the top button of his dress shirt. His jacket comes off and he hangs it over the back of his office chair. He knows that someone will look after that. Next time he comes into his den, it will be gone, taken care of. He doesn't have a problem with delegating the mundane tasks like picking up his clothes. It actually makes him feel good, knowing that he has people to pick up his shit. So, why can't he give up control of other aspects of his business life? He doesn't need to get too introspective right now, he needs a workout.

But first, he will check his email. He presses the button on his phone and the screen flashes to life with a list of notifications from his Alpha accounts. Then, his heart jumps as he sees that there is a new message on his private Gmail account. It is from Isabella Measures. It is telling him that she has changed her mind. She wants to meet.