"That means it's time you switched to an SUV with a higher chassis, Tom," Frank teased him. "Driving that Porsche with a chassis so low it could sweep the floor is pure suffering on Silicon Valley's speed bumps."
"That's a classic model!" Tom shot back. "What do you internet people know about mechanical romance? Staring at code on a screen all day—you can't even understand the roar of a car's exhaust."
Nakayama Takuya listened to the two of them bickering from across the ocean, and his mood was quite good.
One of these two handled the civil side and the other the martial: one managed internet products, the other offline channels and the game business. They worked together with considerable tacit understanding.
Sega's base in North America was being held up entirely by the two of them.
"Enough. Save the mechanical romance for the weekend," Nakayama Takuya cut off their argument. "Frank, remember to coordinate the AOL stock position-building plan you just mentioned with Sega's finance department. Tom, keep an eye on the channel swap for Frank. You know those ISP companies and system builders better than he does."
"Leave it to me," Tom agreed readily. "Half the procurement managers at those PC makers are my golf buddies. It's just a matter of a few glasses of whiskey."
"Then I wish you both a pleasant evening." Nakayama Takuya prepared to hang up. "Get off work early. Don't let those Wall Street people think we're squeezing labor."
"Boss, it's early morning on your side," Frank said with a laugh. "We're going for beer. You keep enjoying Tokyo coffee."
"Goodbye."
"See you."
The line disconnected, and a faint dial tone came through the speaker.
Nakayama Takuya pressed the speakerphone button, and the office fell quiet again.
He tore off the memo paper