Black Apple
by Leonard Treman
“I understand Mr. Booths,” Malcolm bantered into his phone. He was half nervous as his heart pounded. He would be the one to kill Mr. Work. Everything was in order. The day of reckoning had finally come.
Mr. Stave Work was a long time business partner of Mr. Will Booths. When they were in their twenties the two of them decided to make an advanced calculator business called Pear Calculators. Needless to say with two strong minds like these calculating their odds of success was an easy task. They easily became the kingpins of the advanced calculator world. Mathematicians everywhere would recognize their product as the best in the country.
The country, they’re just two simple words that make the difference between life and death. Mr. Booths wanted to expand to the international markets right away. Mr. Work wanted to wait a little longer and plan out the expansion. This led to quite the argument.
Malcolm looked at the former pair mansion at which he sat behind. It was right at the patio that he gazed at that the whole separation ordeal took place. It was quick, professional and efficient. They split the company down the middle and were free to do with them as they pleased. They also agreed on new names.
Mr. Booth renamed his calculator company, Thought Soft Calculators, for their ease of use. Mr. Work named his company, Black Apple, after his favorite breed of apple that was both wide in availability and delicious as he’d hoped his company to be.
The two think engines of Pear Calculators decided to go into two different tracks. One think engine on the track of patience and the other think engine on the track of rapid growth and economic blitzkrieg. It was only a matter of time before the two great trains collided.
Malcolm aimed his high caliber sniper out of the back of his van. It was silenced, he would fire one quick shot and the gas inside the modified sniper rifle would disperse into the house of the corporate giant. A lethal dose of CO2 would flood the house and be gone leaving investigators baffling as to what caused Mr. Work’s untimely demise.
A thought stuck Malcolm. After the first year following the separation of Pear Calculators, Thought Soft took off and became a house hold product around the world. A year after those Black Apple calculators took off and surpassed, Thought Soft within the same year. Mr. Work always seemed to come out on top no matter the cause.
Just then the light flared on by the back of the facility. Spot lights focused on Malcolm’s car from the top of the building. He jumped up and scrambled to get into the front of the car. Malcolm could still get away before it could be proven who he was or who sent him.
As Malcolm hopped into the front seat the private armed security force at Black Apple Calculators showed themselves to have surrounded his car with a good thirty rifles pointed at him. This was the contingency he’d hoped to avoid.
As the officers escorted Malcolm inside for questioning he reminisced of how the former calculator company involved itself in government funded weaponry research.
Following the surge in Black Apple calculators popularity, Thought Soft decided to move into government funded weaponry. This non-nuclear weaponry development was and still is a rapidly growing field. After Black Apple maximized their profits in the calculator industry, they followed suit into the weapons industry.
Malcolm was led not into the cell that he expected, but instead he was led into the offices then up a few elevators into what he recognized as the Black Apple lounge. It was where Mr. Stave Work was known to reside in his free time.
As the doors came open a familiar figure stood smiling in front of his desk in a white tuxedo. The walls and ceiling of the room were as white as his tuxedo with a kind of white lighting filling the room. Everything was clean and shiny, truly the work of the perfectionist that stood before him, Stave Work.
“Malcolm right?” Stave said to Malcolm who stood cuffed and held by two guards in front of him.
“Come now, I already know who you are, I’m just trying to be polite to you. I think you may already know what I want,” Stave continued.
“Yes, the contract,” Malcolm said.
“Leave us,” Stave said and the security guards let Malcolm free on their way out the door.
“No, I want Mr. Booths’ death. His lack of careful planning was his undoing in each of our clashes in business ventures and will be the same in my failed assassination,” Mr. Work said a slight smiled formed on his small pursed lips.
“What makes you think that I’d betray my mentor on the eve of the only and biggest contract you couldn’t weasel out from under us,” Malcolm inquired.
“I’m offering you a billion dollars to stick this into his spine, right below the brain,” Stave said holding a microchip attached to the end of what looked to be a dart.
“It’s a poison dart that will recognize his DNA. When it does it’ll deposit that money into this account,” Stave said. He handed Malcolm a folder containing what Malcolm presumed to be the bank accounts files.
“So it’s fully automated?” Malcolm asked.
“Check the easy access code, although it will be impossible for you to hack it beyond the point I want you to,” Mr. Work said proudly.
Malcolm didn’t doubt that the code was unbreakable. Instead he had another idea. He said, “I accept your offer Mr. Work.”
“It has to be done tonight,” Mr. Work replied.
“Oh I’ll see to it,” Malcolm said with the quick sleight of hand to drop a neurotoxin canister unnoticed onto the floor of the office. Its white color matched completely. The two companies would once again merge under new leadership. Ceo Malcolm sounds excellent.