King suddenly whirled around, and the air between them seemed to shift in a way that emulated but did not quite replicate wind. Bill instinctively moved back.
"You were about to ask me about Store policy," the CEO said. "You wanted to know why we do what we do."
"Why do you?"
King smiled, not answering.
He faced the CEO. "Why did you bring The Store to Juniper?"
"It was an open market."
"But what's your goal? What do you hope to accomplish? You're not just in it for the money. You had that from the beginning. You didn't have to . . ." He shook his head. "You get people dependent on your store, then you switch products on them, force them to buy . . . bizarre items. Why? What's the point?"
King smiled. "I don't force people to buy anything. It's a free country.
They can buy what they want."
"Bullshit." Bill stared at him. "What are you after?"
"We've just about conquered all the hick, hillbilly, Podunk, redneck, backwater, dipshit towns in America. It's time to move onward and upward, to expand our base, to drive Kmart and Wal-Mart and Target and all of the rest of those losers into the fucking ground." He pointed to a map of the United States on the wall next to him that was dotted with blinking red and yellow lights.
"That's what you're after?"
"Partially."
"And what else?"
King shook his head. "You wouldn't understand."
"What do you mean, I wouldn't understand?"
"You're not capable."
"Try me."
For a brief fraction of a second, there was a look on King's face that he could not interpret, an unfamiliar, unreadable expression that made him appear even more alien than he already did. Then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone. "Believe me," King said. "My motives are not even in your vocabulary."
Bill suddenly felt cold. King was right, he realized. He probably _wouldn't_ understand.
And that knowledge frightened him.
"Why did you invite me here?" Bill asked.
"To talk."
"About what?"
"The future."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
King chuckled. "You're a good man, a smart man, a fine chess player, a worthy adversary. I admire that."
"So?"
"So I asked you what you wanted --"
"And I said I wanted you to get The Store out of Juniper."
"And what I tried to tell you was that progress can't be undone. The world can't go backward. It can _not_ go forward, it can stay where it is, but it cannot go backward. The Store is in Juniper. That's a done deal. But I'm offering you the next best thing."
"What's that?"
"As I said, you're a good man. I admire you." He paused. "I'd like you on my team."
Bill started to respond, then shut his mouth as what King was saying sunk in.
The man was . . . offering him a job?
"Your own store." The voice was soft and seductive, the deep-set eyes piercing and hypnotizing in the pale-skinned face. "You pick the town. You run things the way you want. Juniper's available if you'd like it."
"I --"
The CEO held up a hand. "Don't say anything. Not yet. Don't make up your mind, don't say yes or no." His voice was smooth, mesmerizing. "This is a once in-a-lifetime opportunity. And I'm only going to offer it to you this one time.
You turn it down, and you're out of this building and on your way back to Arizona within the hour."
"Why?" Bill said.
King smiled. "I've always found that my worst enemies, my most bitter critics, those who put up the greatest fight against me, invariably turn out to be the best managers. They're thinkers, they're doers. They're not sheep. They can handle power and they know how to use it when it's given to them. You'd make a great manager."
"Why would I want to?"
King's voice dropped, and he closed his long fingers into a fist. "You can _own_ that town. You can decide what people eat, what they wear, what they listen to, what they watch. You can control everything from their brand of underwear to their type of toothpaste. You can experiment. You can mix and match." He leaned forward. "That's what The Store can give you. Power." He held up the papers. "What I read here in these faxes and messages is that you're not happy with the way things are; you want to change them. Well, I'm giving you the chance to do exactly that. You can rebuild that town in your own image, and it'll be exactly the community you always wanted."
"What I don't like is The Store. That's what I want to change."
"And here's your chance. You can do it from the inside." King dropped the papers on the table. "The dirty deeds are done. That's all over with. You don't have to be a part of that. What we have now is a level playing field. And what I'm offering you is one of the pieces." He grinned. "Now give me your response.
Now tell me if you'll accept the challenge."
"Okay."
He surprised even himself with the answer. He'd been planning to ask more questions before eventually saying no, but the word was out of his mouth before he had time to think about it, and he found that he did not want to take it back.
King was laughing and shaking his hand, clapping him on the back, congratulating him, and the board members around the table were smiling and nodding their support. He wasn't sure why he'd agreed, and wasn't being allowed to think about it, wasn't being given the time to examine his motives. He hated The Store and wanted it destroyed, and he saw the opportunity here to infiltrate the enemy, to do damage from within.
But . . .
But there was something to what King had said, and he was not entirely immune to it. The Store offered power. And power was neither good nor bad. It was a tool, only as good or bad as the person using it. He could do a lot of good as manager of the Juniper Store. He would be in a position to call the shots, he could force the town council to roll back the ordinances it had passed, use it to pass better, more beneficial laws.
"One thing," Bill said. "I want my daughters out of The Store. Now. Today.
Fire them, release them from their contracts, do whatever you have to do, but get them away."
King nodded. "Done."
"They're out? No strings?"
"If they want to be."
"What if they don't?"
The CEO shrugged. "I can't live their lives for them."
Shannon wanted out, he thought. She'd quit. Sam wouldn't, but Shannon would.
It was a start.
And when he was manager, he could fire Samantha.
"So what do I do? Where do I sign? What happens next?"
"Call your wife. Tell her good-bye. You have two weeks of training ahead of you. You won't be seeing her until you're done."
"Is there a phone I can use?"
"On the wall behind you."
He didn't want to talk in front of all these people, but he called Ginny anyway. She'd just arrived home, and he explained briefly what was happening, told her not to worry, told her he'd be back in two weeks.
"They kidnapped you!" she screamed. "They're forcing you to say this!"
"No," he said.
"Then what's happening? Why -- ?"
"I can't explain right now. I'll tell you all about it when I get back."
"They'll kill you!"
"It's nothing like that," he promised. "It's a good thing. But I can't talk now."
They went through this for several more minutes before he finally got her calmed down and convinced that it was on the level. They hung up, exchanging _I love you's_.
If he were her, he wouldn't believe it either, he thought. He had come to Dallas this morning ready to rip Newman King a new asshole, and now he was going to work for The Store? It didn't make any sense.