Dark Dawn - Part 1

Presenting our Christmas millennium thriller, Dark Dawn. The first of six parts by PAUL HEWLETT.

Renegade. The name leapt from the chief executive's computer screen like a silent, accusatory ghost of years past.

To: robert.cox@systemax.com From: shirley.sands@systemaxy2k.com Date: 29/12/99 20:20

Re: Renegade Robert, hi! Second batch of EPIC chips designated Project Renegade are unaccounted for. None of our guys up here in Silicon Valley know anything about them. Please advise, bye, Shirley.

Robert's stomach churned. His eyes darted around his palatial office at Systemax Technologies perched high above Auckland's CBD.

Outside lay the golden expanse of the Waitemata Harbour and the graceful sweep of Rangitoto, its tip lit by the setting sun.

Near the window, a muted TV pumped out yet another documentary retrospective. Already the century felt like old news. Like the centuries that had enthralled him as a child - a newsreel of wars, natural disasters, heroes and villains. Only this time it had been packaged, shrink-wrapped and dispatched even before it had ended. The 20th Century: real time and unreal.

On his desk sat a photo taken at Piha beach of him and Anita with Laura, when she was just seven. Everything in his life seemed out of date. They had been happy. He thought about calling them. He felt as though this New Year ought to provide some gravity, some cohesion, a time to be with people that were important. But Laura was down in Nelson, and Anita would be with Greenback.

"You got the company, but I got the girl" was Greenback's parting shot 12 years ago, when Robert had pulled off the deal that made the company but lost him his wife.

Me or the deal, Anita demanded. And he had chosen wrong. Doubly so when Greenback and Anita walked away from the company they had built together. Renegade, EPIC chips, Anita. He had tried not to think about them since.

Renegade. An orderly transition to the new millennium? Not now, Robert knew deep in his heart.

William "Greenback" Jones had been right about the millennium bug even way back then, as he and his design team toiled away designing EPICs, the electronically programmable interface chips that turned Systemax into a coveted technology stock, stunning the Kiwi business community.

Around the world EPIC chips were embedded in systems and machinery, making Systemax and its founders' fortunes.

But before all that, before Y2K the phenomena, Greenback's explanation of the coming hysteria remained clear in Robert's mind: "All numbers are portals. We think we're organic, but we're actually numeric. We're waiting to see whether our species is Y2K compliant."

All numbers are portals. We were all now slaves to the numbers. Like most of his friends he would be working come midnight the day after tomorrow, helping companies journey through the portal into a new millennium.

Greenback's Y2K obsession had been the driver of the EPIC chips. "We're the first to rollover, we'll need it. We won't need to worry about the clocks." Only they had also put some special EPIC chips to another, more lucrative use once certain powerful interests became aware of its potential.

Robert hit reply: "Thanks, Shirley. Nothing to worry about. Leave it with me. Carry on with the rest of the final checks." Despite the lateness of the hour, he knew this could not wait. He telephoned Sir Henry.

Sir Henry Coombes, the Systemax chairman, was in the final stages of a revitalising massage administered by a Thai masseuse called Brenda at the Hauraki Country Club where Sir Henry was a member. He preferred the Hauraki Club these days over his alma mater, the Northern Club. It was usually deserted. It took him out of the city. The golf was spectacular. And the "warm down" facilities, which included a few laps in the heated pool, as well as a good half-hour with Brenda herself, were unparalleled.

This particular afternoon he had concluded a regular, end-of-year lunch with some old mates who worked in finance but who, as Sir Henry continually reminded them, had never taken a risk in their lives, and therefore knew little about business. He had adjourned to Westhaven where his boat captain had met him with his new 60-foot luxury cruiser. The Winebox, as he had christened her, had been Sir Henry's consolation present to himself when his wife Melissa had died just six months ago.

With a level of co-ordination that surpassed most All Blacks, Brenda continued massaging with her left hand, picked up Sir Henry's mobile phone with her right, flipped it open, pressed "talk" and held it gently to his ear, while she continued to work his left shoulder.

"It's Robert, Sir Henry, sorry to ..."

"Look it's not a good time, mate, can't we ..."

"It's Renegade - the second batch of chips is missing."

"Says who?"

"Shirley. Head of our US Y2K team."

"What the hell are they doing poking around back then?"

"I just thought you should know."

"Yes, yes, sorry, just in the middle of something."

There was a pause, which Sir Henry knew was Robert waiting for instructions, a trait that, despite his many talents, marked out his limitations beyond being a useful executive.

"I've told her to leave it with me, and not to worry about it." said Robert.

"I should hope so." Sir Henry waved Brenda away and swung himself to a sitting position on the table. "You know the sensitivities."

"What if those chips have accidentally been distributed?"

Sir Henry was taken aback by Robert's earnestness - too damned conscientious for his own good, another failing.

"No. Bound to be an administrative glitch."

Sir Henry switched off the telephone He felt Brenda's warm, oily hands gently urging his shoulders back towards the table.

"What is 'glitch'?" she asked.

"It's an itch you can't scratch," Sir Henry replied tersely.

He tried to push away the thoughts that were now undermining Brenda's good work. He was so close to the final prize. He wondered whether he should bring Robert into the loop. In a fortnight he would close a deal to sell Systemax lock, stock and intellectual property to one of Silicon Valley's leading firms. The money was spectacular. He hadn't told Robert, but his minority stake would see him well looked after.

Sir Henry's patience would have paid off. He had paid Anita and William over the odds for their shares when they left the company. He'd got 75 per cent but as it had grown into a sizable technology leader he'd "graciously" vested 15 per cent of the stock in options for the staff.

Sir Henry's advisers - the sort he had lunched with today - had considered the investment ill-advised, and the price too high. But he had needed to make it too rich for Robert who had desperately wanted to build up his stake.

Ill-advised indeed. Soon he would be the first New Zealander on the board of one of Silicon Valley's giants - a condition of the deal he still marvelled at, considering he had only just learned to use e-mail.

There had been many deals over many years, but this would be his crowning glory. Something to go with the fresh knighthood that gleamed at the front of his name. A house in Palm Springs, a night at the Oscars. Then he would visit the Northern Club, to pass around a few snaps of himself with Bill Gates, or even Madonna!

"Ugh," he grunted in pain and surprise as Brenda's fingers worked down to the bone.

"I found your glitch," said the masseuse, beaming.


December 30, 08:10, Northland


Anita watched the pukekos picking their way delicately around the edge of the pond. She tipped a bucket of slops into the pig trough to delighted squeals. It was a warm summer evening. In the paddock next door Greenback was at work in his greenhouse complex. She could hear the radio playing in the barn he had renovated as an office annex to the huge glass structure. It was from here that Greenback tended his roots. If tending was the right word. He was sitting at his computer, which was Greenback's way of gardening. He had mechanised and automated every last millimetre of his growing operation. With a click of the mouse in his office in the barn, he could adjust temperature, water flow, nutrient intake, light levels. Now he was working on artificial intelligence so he could leave the greenhouse to its own devices.

Greenback's wasabi had been as successful as his computer chips. He had a long list of orders waiting to be filled. He sold it all on the internet to select Japanese buyers. His obsession with networking and electronic intelligence bordered on infuriating. That same computer controlled everything in the house - its heating systems, gas and electricity flow, water, lights, even music. Greenback hated having to change a CD during a party so would load a night's worth of music, programming changing moods into his computer, which then pumped the results through the house's sound system.

He loved programming the heating to come on an hour before they were expected home. He believed it was technology's role to anticipate human needs.

Anita's neighbours marvelled at her "intelligent house," but she found it slightly disturbing. Lights coming on at sunset. She would often turn them off again because she liked letting the dusk descended until she was in the dark.

But despite Greenback's foibles, they had been happy, she supposed. Walking back towards the house, she was confronted again by Greenback's anniversary card. He had made two giant interlinking garlands of flowers and strung them up in blooming pohutakawa trees.

Anita had met Greenback while she was tutoring business studies at Auckland University in the mid-1980s. He had been lecturing in electronics and doing research. Greenback had fled the corporatisation of Silicon Valley, which he felt was denying the opportunity to follow his hunches in favour of slaving to a corporate design programme. She and Robert had offered him a stake in their fledgling computer business. After things fell apart with Robert over the Renegade deal, she had been startled to discover his intentions towards her, and to realise that they were reciprocated.

They had retreated here, her with the orchard, farmyard and occasional educational projects and Greenback with his wasabi, his charitable forays and his continued dabbling in electronic engineering.

Anita had even heard it whispered around the town that Greenback had acquired his nickname because he only accepted US money for his valuable wasabi. She smiled at the thought. US currency did account for his nickname, but not in the way their neighbours presumed.

William had been caught coking up in the toilet at Systemax one evening. One of his young designers had walked into the toilet and had been struck by a particular detail of his boss' activity, when he finished his line, and unrolled a $US100 bill, which he tucked inside his jacket. William had been Greenback ever since.

Anita crossed the deck and came in through the French doors. She saw the red light blinking on her answer machine. There were two messages.

"Mum, it's me! Just calling to let you know I'm great, Nelson's great ... and we can't wait for The Gathering down here big M night. Hey, you and Greenback have a really cool time, eh?"

"Hi, Anita! ... Shirley. Chucking down snow here in Chicago so I had to call to let you gloat ... and to see how you and Greenback are doing. Try me on my mobile. Love to you both."

She didn't see Shirley as often as she once had. But she had remained a good friend, one of the few at Systemax who had stayed in touch. Anita called back.

"Shirley, wonderful you called. Indeed, I am standing here in little more than sunblock ..."

Shirley described the dismal northern winter and the long hours that her Y2K team had been putting in.

"By the way. Do you know anything about Project Renegade?"

Anita's blood ran ice cold. As cold as a corpse in a morgue.


Part Two tomorrow.