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finances. His partners, particularly Rob, had been concerned about putting him in such an important role, and Dylan thought it would be a stretch, but Rich had proven himself. Sure, he was a bit quirky. But when he cut the operating costs of MobiCelus in his first year by 20 percent, even Rob had to admit he was wrong.
    As MobiCelus’s controller, Rich did not hold a chair at the conference table unless invited, but Dylan valued Rich’s opinion on the financial health of the company. He graduated tenth in his class at Wharton, and Dylan had snapped him up after their first interview. An introvert, Rich dedicated his time at the office to the business of MobiCelus, and Dylan was convinced Rich was one of the lynchpins that kept the others on the straight and narrow. There were never any questions about fuzzy financial reports—every piece of information presented by Rich Linderman could be counted on for its accuracy and reliability.
    Dylan coughed in order to get Rich’s attention but not startle him. Rich raised his hand, but did not turn around for another fifteen seconds. When he did, he shoved his glasses—which had slid down to the end of his nose—back up toward his forehead, where they perched precariously, ready to slide back down with one errant move.
    Rich smiled. “Oh, hi, Dylan. Sorry, I didn’t realize it was you. I was working on a touchy problem. What can I do for you?”
    Dylan walked over to the desk and sat across from Rich. He noticed Rich had on the very same shirt he had worn the last time he’d seen him. “Just wanted to alert you to something big that’s going to be happening in the next few weeks.”
    â€œWould that be the Mantric offer?” Rich asked.
    Dylan sat up, startled. “How in the world did you know that? I haven’t even accepted the offer yet.”
    â€œOh, their financial person, Christine something or other, called late Friday and said she was going to want to access our financials. She was pretty vague, but mentioned the offer. Of course, I refused to give her access to anything because I don’t know her from Adam—or Eve.” He smiled at his weak attempt at humor.
    Dylan stared at the wall behind Rich, wondering why in the world anyone from Mantric would go around him, especially before the offer was even accepted.
    â€œEr, that’s what I was working on when you came in.” Rich stumbled over his words. “It was late Friday, and I tried to contact you, but you weren’t around. I guess I should have e-mailed you or something. I just figured since I wasn’t giving her any information it could wait until today, and then I got tied up this morning in reviewing the financials to make sure everything was okay. I hope I was right in not giving any information out.”
    â€œOh, yes, absolutely, you were right. Um, did she say she would be calling again?” Dylan asked.
    â€œYeah, she said she’d get back to me, but didn’t say when.”
    â€œOkay, Rich. Do me a favor—if she calls back, direct her to me. Okay?”
    â€œSure. Hey, this looks like it could really be good for the company and all of us—right?”
    Dylan heard some trepidation in Rich’s question. “Yeah, it could be just that. Thanks for letting me know about Christine’s call.”
    He rose to leave, not sure whether to call Art or Christine or just wait. He considered his options as he wandered down the hall to see Matt Smith. Matt was one of MobiCelus’s senior consultants, well respected by his peers and clients alike. Matt graduated near the top of his class at Stanford before moving east, and when it came to dealing with problems and sorting out answers, Dylan was comfortable bringing pithy issues to Matt’s attention. But this information about Mantric’s CFO left him baffled, and he decided not to pursue it with Matt at this time.
    Matt’s office sparkled with