[Brackets] (19 page)

When the door to the board room opened and several individuals in expensive business attire entered, Neeson approached to give courteous and confident handshakes all around. The last to enter was Lance Reynolds, owner and CEO of the Corazon Resort, who was wide in the gut and the grin. He wore a string tie with the state flag of Texas on the collar piece. He shook Neeson’s hand as if auditioning for an arm-wrestling match.

“Good to finally meet you in person, Dr. Faulkner,” said Lance. “I look forward to your presentation. And who are you over there?”

Neeson turned to the younger man who had been standing quietly near the table’s edge, looking uncomfortable in a tie but otherwise taciturn. “This is Dr. Jason Spade, WindSkin’s chief engineer
and the mastermind behind our proprietary software
.”

“How’re doin’?” Lance asked, leaning over the table to shake.

“Just fine, sir.” Spade responded
.

“Where you from, Dr. Spade?”

“Star Valley, Wyoming.”

“I thought I heard a kindred tongue. Not as strong as a good Texas accent, but still nice to hear. Good grip, too. That’s a good sign.” Lance made his way to his chair at the other end of the table. “OK then,” he said as he sat down with a grunt. “Let’s hear it!” Neeson took his preferred place to the right of the screen, gripped the laser pointer, and began.

“Energy independence,” Neeson
began
, pacing himself with well-rehearsed poise, “has been the most sought-after commodity for big businesses for the past decade. Getting off the grid has a number of perks, not the least of which is financial. Most never get there because they don’t know how, or they believe it to be impossible for any single business or hotel. But affordable, practical energy independence is attainable. It’s here, at WindSkin.” The red laser slid under the company name like a caress.

Neeson advanced to a slide showing a slick rendering of the massive Corazon Resort against the backdrop of the city and ocean. It was altered so that dark bands were interspersed vertically over the entire façade, like stripes.

“This,” Neeson said with pride, “is your hotel with the most cutting-edge energy-generating structural overlay ever designed. Attractive and manageable, the overlay will also provide you with 95% energy independence forever. During the normal, sunny days in Miami, WindSkin is merely the most effective solar panel system on the market. But our product gets its name for what it does when the sun don’t shine.”

The slide switched to the recognizable space-eye-view of a hurricane swirling over the Florida peninsula.

“Hurricane season is usually a time to shut down, board everything up, and gas the back-up generators, just in case. But with WindSkin, every hurricane becomes your personal generator.” The room was captivated. The hurricane picture always got them.

“You see, hurricanes are the most powerful storms on the planet. A single storm produces enough energy to power most of the country. Unfortunately, all of that energy is wasted on destroying palm trees and billboards. WindSkin will allow you to harness just a small part of that power. While most places are bracing, your hotel will be breathing.”

The hurricane disappeared; in its place, a video of a
single
WindSkin panel installed in a wind tunnel. As the panel opened, two digital meters in the corner showed wind speed and total amperage produced. A thin stream of white mist billowed up to show the trajectory of the powerful wind over the panel as the speed meter reached 152 mph. While everyone was focused on the video, Jason opened a briefcase and removed a small cross-section of the panel, the layer of photovoltaics on top and the array of cylindrical microturbines underneath. He handed it to Neeson, who stopped the video and
called
everyone’s attention.

“This is WindSkin in the flesh, so to speak.” He smiled with the group at the pun, as he always did.

A board member on the side muttered, “It looks so delicate.”

Neeson heard. “I assure you, ma’am, these are tough machines.
Each panel is individually capable of generating a current during wind speeds
up to and including those
produced by a Category 5 hurricane. The output of the panels in a hurricane is three times that of the panels in the sun. We will fit your resort with hundreds of these panels, all networked to
our custom management software
known as OPUS, which will analyze wind speed and solar output to identify t
he optimum state for each panel and
m
aximize
the electricity produced. One hour of sunny day with a typical ocean breeze will yield enough energy to operate your entire resort for the day. A half-hour of hurricane-force winds, you could store enough energy to operate for at least a week.”

Neeson put down the cross-section and spoke as if making a personal plea. “What we are offering you is a technology that will eliminate your electric bill
forever
. You can do the math on how much money you’ll be saving, but I guarantee you that whatever the number is, you can use 100% of it for the development of your hotel, or, even better, for the fund supplying your annual bonuses.”

The board members laughed.
Hurricanes plus real money equals sales
.

“OK, very impressive,” said Lance. “But seriously now, let’s talk about aesthetics. Is this stuff going to block my windows? My clients aren’t comin’ down to Florida to look at the inside of a bunch of solar panels.”

Neeson shook his head and returned to the picture of the hotel. “As you can see from our rendering, WindSkin doesn’t cover
the entire building. We can work with your engineers to design an ideal network that suits you and the tenants. We can even adjust the color within limits. Don’t worry; your guests will still have that romantic sunrise.”

Come on, I dare you to give me
a
hard question
, Neeson gloated inside. He had them, he could tell. He wondered how he could have wasted so much time in business school when selling was so easy.

“Now,” Lance said, leaning back in his chair, “my understanding is that this technology you’re selling isn’t totally up to code yet. What is your exact status?”

Neeson glanced
inadvertently
at Jason before answering. “Make no mistake, we have the technology. But to meet state and national regulatory requirements, we are actively measuring the performance of our panel networks at hurricane velocities back at our headquarters. It’s more a formality than anything.”

“Huh.” Lance narrowed his eyes, unimpressed. “Pretty big gamble to come in selling a product that isn’t market ready, ain’t it?”

Neeson shook his head. “It’s only a gamble if you don’t know the outcome. I have full confidence that we can do what I say we can do. I’ll be honest, it’s a royal pain
that
the only thing standing between us and full-scale production of our product is a bureaucratic obstacle course. I’m sure you know what that’s like.”

“I do,” Lance said, unconsciously rubbing over his ulcers. “So we have some time to consider things. We’ll talk about it internally and get back to you should we decide to move forward.” He stood, and most of the board stood with him. “I would like our architect to sit down with you and ask you the more technical q
uestions. Y’all know Haj Hitok?”

“We know of him,” Neeson said. “We would consider it a pleasure to work with someone of his reputation.”

“Good. I’ll set you up. In the mean time, you get all those hurdles jumped. If we decide to go forward, I want you guys up and running without worrying about tripping on red tape.”

“I completely understand. I can personally guarantee our full compliance.” Neeson beamed confidence as Lance nodded his appreciation, grinned his Texas grin, and left the room. His entourage of board members followed in
a
line, some pausing to
shake hands. Neeson watched all of them carefully, trying to read their thoughts. In a minute, the two WindSkin executives were left alone.

“Whad’ya think?” Jason asked as he packed up the panel display.

“I think we’ve got a sale, if we can just convince Hitok.”

“Yup,” Jason said. He packed in silence for a while. “You know, I still don’t know why you bring me to these things if you won’t let me talk.”

“If I had known that he’d consider your drawl a good omen, I would have given you the whole script to read. I told you before, having you here makes them comfortable, gives us that extra boost of technical credibility. That really is important.”

“You have told me that,” Jason sighed. “Now what?”

“Now,” Neeson said, “we deliver.”

*
             
*
             
*
             
*

A giant fan began to rotate with a low, throbbing hum. Slow at first, it picked up speed gradually until the individual blades merged in a blur of glinting grey. The wind barreled down the cement tunnel
toward
an angular tower of metal and glass as tall and wide as a van standing on its end. Bright pieces of yarn tied strategically around the top and sides of the tower lifted and vibrated erratically in the air, dancing with the deafening roar of strong wind and whirring machinery. Full-strength simulation #16 had begun.

From the opposite end of a thick viewing window, Neeson was watching. He stood straight and calm, refusing to give any attention to the technicians and the computer models. He had eyes for the tower alone.

“50,” called one of the technicians. The tower was covered with WindSkin panels on every side, each one absorbing the powerful UV lamps shining down on them. As the wind began to pick up, individual panels to the left and right of the windward side began to crack open at acute angles. They were sampling the power of the air, tasting it, swallowing it down, sending the data back to the computers in the observation room.

“75,” came the call again. The entire windward wall and two of the side walls now had panels open. It looked jagged, like a steel
bird with ruffled feathers. Neeson didn’t move. They weren’t even close yet. This was barely a Category 1 hurricane.

A single green light turned on over the window. Energy generation was maximized and everything was working beautifully. He had once volunteered to stand in the wind tunnel at speeds approaching 90 miles per hour. It had knocked him flat onto his back on a safety mattress. The tower, though, was still standing strong.

“100.” He could hear a faint creaking noise. Neeson widened his eyes a little but didn’t look around to see if anyone
else
was worried. Someone would let him know if they were outside acceptable limits. This was where the test really began.

“125.” The creaking became louder. All of the flaps on three sides, and some on the fourth
,
were open now. He began to mentally shout messages to the tower.
Hold on or close up!
The mechanical roar of the fans and the dull vibration of the tunnel itself became so loud that it was hard to hear anything else. The technicians were all yelling at each other just to be heard.
A little bit more
…

There was a sharp crack. One of the panels on the left wall blew straight back. It was broken on part of the hinge, and the thin hydraulic pistons were now rattling against the sides. The panel twisted and warped in the wind
until the hinge broke off and the panel flew back and away.

“Where is the safety?” Neeson yelled, his gaze still unmoved. Only the shouted word “failure” was distinguishable above the din.

In a matter of seconds, it seemed that every panel on the windward side snapped back like cheap umbrellas. There was a sickening, squealing groan as the panels peeled away. The electrical guts of the tower were exposed and punished as its protective skin was torn apart by the impossible fury of the wind. A red light came on by the window, blinking in rhythm over the haphazard yelling of the technicians.

“Turn it off! Turn it off!” Neeson shouted without needing to. Too late, the brakes for the fan took hold and the wind subsided. In a few minutes, the hurricane was reduced to a mild breeze.

Neeson looked at his tower, now a twisted and mangled mess surrounded by a come
t’s tail of debris on the floor. H
e swallowed down his frustration with deep breaths.

“How far did we get?” he
yelled
.

“130 miles per hour,” came the answer. Just twenty away from the target. Coming so close to victory was painful, much more than when they were completely failing during the prototype phases.

Neeson heard the clomp of boots on tile coming up behind him. Eyes still on the tower, he asked without turning, “What happened?”

“Workin’ on it,” said Jason. “Looks like the failsafe never did kick in.” Neeson finally turned to throw a contemptuous look at the youngish, gangly engineer in the tucked-in plaid shirt. Among the engineer’s many
idiosyncrasies
was his ingenious eloquence in stating obvious things.

“Why?” Neeson asked.