options the secret life of steve jobs phần 9 pdf

“Do what?”

“Kill Zack.”

“We’re not going to kill Zack.”

“Who are we going to kill then? Sonya?”

“We’re not going to kill anyone.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, it’s against the law.”

“I’m not saying we admit to doing it.”

“We’re not doing it, period.”

“But it’s a good idea. It’s the most obvious solution. I mean,

okay, it sucks for Zack. But for everyone else I think it’s the best

solution. Not just for me. But for the shareholders, the board of

directors, the customers. Everyone.”

“Steve, we’re not going to kill anyone.”

“But you said ‘drastic measures.’”

“Look,” he says. “Be quiet for a minute. Okay? Don’t talk.

Just listen.” He takes a big drink of his Glenlivet, then pauses and

takes another gulp, draining his glass. “There’s this program,” he

says. “Sort of like the witness protection program. You can get

out of the country. You can get a new identity, change your

appearance. There are people I know who can help you do this.

I’m telling you this as your friend.”

“I’d rather just kill Zack. Seriously. You sure we can’t do

that?”

“I know it’s a lot to digest,” he says. “Think about it. Just

don’t think too long.” He hands me a piece of paper with a name

and phone number on it. “That’s someone you should see. He’s a

plastic surgeon in Scottsdale. He’s the one that did Princess

Diana.”

“But she’s . . .”

“No. Not dead.” He shakes his head. “Living with Dodi Al￾Fayed in Qatar. This guy did Ken Lay too. Same thing. He’s in

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the South Pacific someplace, banging Polynesian girls. Living the

good life. The heart attack was staged.”

“No way.”

“Why do you think they cremated the body? You remember

who went to his funeral? Bush Forty-One and James Baker.”

“You’re messing with my head.”

“It’ll cost you a fortune. But it will keep you from going to

jail. And if everything blows over, who knows? Maybe you can

come back.”

“I thought you told me the company was going to protect

me. You said you had no choice. They couldn’t survive without

me.”

“I did say that. It’s true. They can’t survive without you. But

I don’t see any way around it. Either you go to jail, or you fake

your death and flee the country. Either way the stock gets killed.

In which case you might as well save your own ass, don’t you

think? Right now my biggest concern is taking care of you.”

“I still can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”

“We’re not,” he says. “Remember? By the way, this guy in

Scottsdale also did Sam Palmisano from IBM.”

“Sam’s not dead. He visited Apple six months ago. He

thought the iMacs were flat-panel TVs.”

“That didn’t tip you off?”

“I figured, Hey, he’s from IBM. What does he know about

computers?”

“The real Sam died a year ago. Heart attack, at home, in bed.

They didn’t have a successor. So they created a Fake Sam. Gives

them time to do a search for the next CEO. Soon as they find

someone, Fake Sam gets the boot.”

He opens the car door. Nearby, on the front lawn, Bobby D.

is talking to an incredibly attractive bag lady who I would guess

is some kind of PR flack. Something about the vacant look in her

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