Cryptonomicon

"Anyway," John says, "my point is that since the Dentist is wiring the Philippines on spec, he is highly exposed. Anything that delays the completion of that system is going to cause him enormous problems. It behooves us to honor our obligations."

John is saying to the hypothetical jury in Dentist v. Epiphyte Corp.: we carefully observed the terms of our contract with AVCLA.

But this is not necessarily going to look so good to the hypothetical jury in the otherhypothetical minority shareholder lawsuit, Springboard Group v. Epiphyte Corp. So Avi hastens to add, "As I think we've established, through a careful discussion of the issues, honoring our obligations to the Dentist is part and parcel of our obligation to our own shareholders. These two goals dovetail."

Beryl rolls her eyes and heaves a deep sigh of relief.

"Let us therefore go forth and wire the Philippines," Randy says.

Avi addresses him in formal tones, as if his hand were resting, even now, on a Gideon Bible. "Randy, do you feel that the resources allotted to you are sufficient for you to meet our contractual obligations to the Dentist?"

"We need to have a meeting about that," Randy says.

"Can it wait until after tomorrow?" Avi says.

"Of course. Why shouldn't it?"

"I have to use the bathroom," Avi says.

This is a signal that Avi and Randy have used many times in the past. Avi gets up and goes into the bathroom. A moment later, Randy says, "Come to think of it . . ." and follows him in there.

He is startled to find that Avi is actually pissing. On the spur of the moment, Randy unzips and starts pissing right along with him. It doesn't occur to him how remarkable this is until he's well into it.

"What's up?" Randy asks.

"I went down to the lobby to change money this morning," Avi says, "and guess who came stalking into the hotel, fresh from the airport?"

"Oh, shit," Randy says.

"The Dentist himself."

"No yacht?"

"The yacht's following him."

"Did he have anyone with him?"

"No, but he might later."

"Why is he here?"

"He must have heard."

"God. He's the last guy I want to run into tomorrow."

"Why? Is there a problem?"

"Nothing I can put my finger on," Randy says. "Nothing dramatic."

"Nothing that, if it came to light later, would make you look negligent?"

"I don't think so," Randy says. "It's just that this Philippines thing is complicated and we need to talk about it."

"Well, for God's sake," Avi says, "if you run into the Dentist tomorrow, don't say anything about your work. Keep it social."

"Got it," Randy says, and zips up. But what he's really thinking is: why did I waste all those years in academia when I could have been doing great shit like this?

Which then reminds him of something: "Oh, yeah. Got a weird e-mail."

Avi immediately says "From Andy?"

"How'd you guess?"

"You said it was weird.Did you really get e-mail from him?"

"I don't really know who it was from. Probably not Andy. It wasn't weird in thatway."

"Did you respond to it?"

"No. But dwarf@siblings.net did."

"Who's that? Siblings.net is the system you used to administer, right?"

"Yeah. I still have some privileges there. I created a new account there, name of dwarf, which can't be traced to me. Sent anonymous e-mail back to this guy telling him that until he proves otherwise, I'm assuming he is an old enemy of mine."

"Or a new one."

Chapter 32 SPEARHEAD

The young Lawrence Pritchard Waterhouse, visiting his grandparents in Dakota, follows a plow across a field. The diving blades of the plow heave the black soil up out of the furrows and pile it into ridges, rough and jumbled when seen up close but mathematically clean and straight, like the grooves of a phonograph record, when viewed from a distance. A tiny surfboard-shaped object projects from the crest of one of those earthen waves. Young Waterhouse bends down and plucks it out. It is an Indian spearhead neatly chipped out of flint.

U-553 is a black steel spear point thrusting into the air about ten miles north of Qwghlm. The grey rollers pick it up and slam it down, but other than that, it does not move; it is grounded on a submerged out cropping known to the locals as Caesar's Reef, or Viking's Grief, or the Dutch-Hammer.