In the end, Fastbinder Machine Werks settled with the former owners of the paintings. The sum was nine times their value—Fastbinder knew this since he had the paintings expertly appraised before deciding to sacrifice them to the cause.
The sacrifice was worthwhile, he decided, when the financial toll on Fastbinder Machine Werks became apparent. The company leaned in the direction of bankruptcy. Amazingly, the U.S. division was suddenly profitable as Jacob Fastbinder III’s patents began selling hugely. It was the only thing keeping the firm alive and yet every dollar was a slap in the face. The company sent squadrons of lawyers to New Mexico to plead with Fastbinder to temporarily rescind his rights to half the patent profits. The U.S. division was now propping up the rest of the firm but was not quite enough to keep it from looming bankruptcy. Even the executive director of the board of directors appeared one afternoon on his doorstep. Fastbinder laughed in his face and shut the door, letting the man stand out there in the ninety-five-degree heat. The executive director lost his cool and started pounding on the door.
“We will make you director again!”
Fastbinder opened his front door on a security chain, laughing. “Did you get that, Mr. Hippolwythe?” he called.
The executive director was shocked to see a man come from around the corner, holding a miniature cassette tape recorder. He also had a camera and took a photo of the sweating, pitiful mess of a man.
“This man is a reporter for my favorite newspaper in zee United Kingdom,” Fastbinder explained to the executive director.
The story was perfect fodder for the U.K. tabloids. The paper the next morning had a narrow front-page photo, so tall it went from the top of the page to the bottom, showing the sweat-stained, rumpled executive director of Fastbinder Machine Werks with his mouth gaping open. It was an ugly image. The headline next to it screamed. PATHETIC HEAD OF MACHINE WERKS COMES CRAWLING BACK TO FASTBINDER HEIR BEGGING HIM TO RESUME CONTROL OF CRUMBLING COMPANY!
Oh, if only the executive director would have blown his brains out or jumped off a building. Instead he put on a fresh shirt and suit, tidied his hotel room in Albuquerque, and took 112 assorted prescription tablets. He was still sitting there, hand neatly on his lap, when the maid came in to clean up. She gave the tabloid a quote, but “He left the room so spotless, I didn’t even need to sanitize!” was not quite inflammatory enough for their tastes.
Oh well, the rest of it made fine reading. Fastbinder had the articles laminated and hung in his bathroom.
Chapter 29
The gods rewarded Jacob Fastbinder III for his skillful deeds. They presented him with the gift of a son.
“Weren’t you an intern last summer at zee headquarters in Tucumcari?” Fastbinder asked the teenager who showed up on his doorstep.
“Yep. Wanted to check you out. You’re an impressive dude. Pops.”
“I seriously doubt I am your sire,” Fastbinder said, and began to close the door in the boy’s face.
“Remember when you were scouting New Mexico for the new U.S. division? Like about sixteen years ago?” the kid blurted. “Remember the blond real-estate agent with the huge hooters? That’s my mom. I turned fifteen last Thursday. You do the math.”
Fastbinder did the math. Yes, that was about right. “Hey,” the kid grinned “I know it’s gotta be a real humdinger of a development. You probably wanna do a DNA test.”
“Yes.” Fastbinder was quite thoughtful. “That would be best.”
“What would you like? Blood? Urine? Sem—?”
“This will be sufficient.” Fastbinder snatched out a small handfull of the boy’s shaggy blond hair.
“Jeez Louise, Pops!” The kid grabbed his head. “That smarts!”
The kid showed up again three days later. “Heard you rushed it through the system,” the kid announced. “I’m legit, huh, Pops?”
Fastbinder was still feeling thoughtful. “Yes, zee tests confirm you are my progeny. How do you know I rushed it through zee system?”
“Pops, your email is totally unsecure. I’ve been eavesdropping on you for months! Nice to meet you. Dad, by the way.”
Fastbinder abruptly found himself in a wiry, unbreakable bear hug.
After that, Fastbinder played nice, inviting the kid inside.
“So, then, how is your mother?” He struggled to recall her name. He could not even remember her face, although the image of her lace-clad bosom was forever burned into his memory.
“Carla. She’s fine.”
“Er, and your name?”
“Jack. Jack Fast. Like it?”
“I am not certain.”
“My mom’s last name is Ashland, but she made my last name Fast. After you.”
“All right, Jack Fast, let us be frank with each other. What is it you want from me?”
Jack Fast looked disappointed. “Aw, Pops, I don’t want nothing from you, I mean, not like money or anything. I just wanted to get to know my old man. After all, you impress the heck out of me.”
Fastbinder became even more suspicious.
“Besides, if I was after cash or something, well, I wouldn’t go yanking your chain with all this family reunion stuff. I’d just head straight into extortion.”
Fastbinder glared.
“You know, the Culbreadth Control.” The kid laughed. “Whatsamatter, Pops, I throw you for a loop?”
Fastbinder was thrown for a loop. Maybe several loops. “How do you know about it?”
“Listen, Pops, you’ve done some really swift stuff, but you know diddly about internet security. You know that there’s all these electronic trails out there linking you to Culbreadth? It’s gonna get your ass into a serious sling if anybody ever starts looking. See, this guy Culbreadth comes to you with the control, right? That’s twenty-one months ago. You see the potential and make an offer, but Culbreadth wants way too much. So you hit-and-run him.”
‘It was not me who ran down Mr. Culbreadth,” Fastbinder retorted defensively.
“Whatever. The good news is, he’s met his maker, and you’ve still got his hard-copy files, so all you have to do is make sure the files in his computers are erased. Right? Which you did, fine, and you overwrote them really good and the hard drive was all shot and everything. But here’s what you forgot, Pops—there’s an electronic record of you getting into his system over the Net.”
“Where is this record!”
“Where ain’t it, Pops? Your ISP. His ISP. Every damn place between here and Albuquerque, and over the internet that can be like a hundred places.”
With that, the kid showed Fastbinder how to hack into the records of his internet service provider. To his astonishment, there was a complete record of every keystroke his computer made while he was tied into the remote PC belonging to Mr. Culbreadth. “Here’s where you overwrote all his CAD files. Here’s where you overwrote all his email. Here’s where you visited Tits of the Week. Don’t worry, though. I’m Jack the Hacker. I make it go away.”
With that, the teenager opened up a high-level Telnet connection into the servers and began tapping out commands that Fastbinder didn’t know. He watched the lines of his activity records evaporate. “Watch the record of the CAD file go away,” the kid said. They disappeared. “Now watch the email files erase command.” They vanished.
Fastbinder looked at the kid, who was looking cagey all of a sudden. “What about zee last one. You know, zee Tits of zee Week?”
“Oh, I’ll erase it, Pops,” the kid said seriously. “But that one is gonna cost ya.”