Chương 19: Project Chess (07/30/1980)

DATE: Thursday, July 30, 1980 LOCATION: Vista, California | The Law Offices of John E. Patterson LOCAL TIME: 02: 00 PM We had waited for weeks. You don't lay a trap and try to drag the prey into it; you build the trap where you know the prey has to walk, and you wait for them to get thirsty. The heavy oak door of Patterson's office clicked shut, and the deadbolt slid into place. It was just the three of us: Bob Yauney, John Patterson, and me. With the door locked, the toddler vanished.

I climbed into the oversized leather armchair opposite Patterson's desk, rested my elbows on the armrests, and looked at the two men who managed my physical empire.

"The gold run gave Archstone more than enough liquidity to make this move without breaking a sweat," I said, my high-pitched voice delivering the cold calculus of a fifty-year-old executive.

"IBM formally launched Project Chess this month. They are actively building the Personal Computer. But the hardware is useless without a brain. Yesterday, IBM executives flew to Seattle to meet with Bill Gates. They wanted an operating system." Bob nodded, pulling out his notepad.

"Did Gates sell them our Q-DOS code?"

"Gates doesn't have our code," I said, leaning forward.

"He didn't have anything to sell them. He tried to point them to Gary Kildall at Digital Research, but that deal blew up on the tarmac yesterday. Kildall went flying, his wife refused IBM's non-disclosure agreement, and the executives walked out." The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Patterson let out a low chuckle, recognizing the exact moment a corporate negotiation implodes.

"So IBM is left standing on the tarmac with a multi-million-dollar machine and no software to run it." I nodded.

"And they are going to go right back to Bill Gates and demand he fix it. Which means Gates is about to be the most desperate man in the technology sector. He needs an operating system by the end of summer, or he loses the IBM contract entirely."

"We have the only viable 16-bit operating system they can use," Bob said, his eyes lighting up as the timing locked into place.

"If we approach him now, he has zero leverage. But if Fractal Systems signs the licensing contract with IBM directly, we expose the holding company. IBM's legal department will audit us. They'll see the Rubidoux concrete patents, the Archstone capital... they'll see the entire board."

"We're too broad," Patterson agreed.

"We need a software-specific front. A dummy corporation. We spin off a shell company, call it Fractal Software, and let it take the heat."

"No," I said flatly. Patterson stopped. He was still getting used to being overruled by a four-year-old.

"Dummy corporations don't have teeth," I explained.

"If IBM smells a shell company, they will crush it in the licensing details. We need an attack dog. We need a frontman who is loud, aggressive, and deeply arrogant. Someone IBM will underestimate as a computer nerd, but who will fight them for every single royalty cent."

"We use Gates," Bob realized, the ruthlessness of the architecture finally dawning on him.

"We don't just use him," I corrected.

"We acquire him. We make Microsoft a wholly owned subsidiary of Fractal Systems. We put Gates at the head of it as CEO. He gets the prestige of dealing with IBM, but the royalties flow up to our holding company through an irrevocable trust."

"Will he sell?" Patterson asked, his eyes narrowing.

"He will if the alternative is losing IBM," Bob answered.

"I'll invite him down here. I'll tell him I have the Seattle code. He'll know exactly what that means."

"Draft the papers, John," I said, sliding out of the heavy leather chair.

"Give him the title, give him the operating budget, but secure the backend. Squeeze the vise."