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Hawkins has been groomed for the presidency since childhood. I just took our platform and tweaked it to complement his platform, and voilà: we trade foundation endorsement for a cabinet post if he’s elected.”
    “You sonofabitch,” Skip laughed. “How long have you been planning this?”
    “About three years. But this is falling into place more quickly and effectively than I could have ever hoped.” “But what about the foundation?”
    “That’s the kicker, man. I take the job as energy secretary or secretary of the interior, and you take over the foundation. It’s perfect.”
    A slow grin creased Skip’s face. “Do you think he can win?”
    “The planets are aligning, Skip. President Hughes is on the ropes. The economy is slipping. Ecological issues are again important to the American people. Sure, it’ll be close. But with the Hawkins pocketbook behind him and the endorsement of the foundation, he’s got a helluva chance. And that chance bodes well for you and me.”
    “You are the man!” Skip said, pumping his fist.
    “Well, then, buy the man a beer.”

seven
    A t 7:00 a.m. in Dallas, the sun was just creeping up over the skyline as Jack McCarthy finished his second cup of coffee. The view from Jack’s corner office at WPC was spectacular. He was continually amazed at the success he had achieved at WPC and never failed to savor the well-appointed environment of Dallas’s largest advertising agency. Jack was proud of his success, and as he surveyed his office, he was also proud of how he had brought a personal touch to his office decoration. The pinewood furniture and distressed leather couch and chair were far from standard company issue, but they made him feel closer to his Colorado roots.
    Jack smiled, remembering the first time Allen Hamilton had walked into Jack’s newly decorated office.
    “Jesus, who helped you decorate? Slim Pickens?”
    Jack had replied, “It’s a helluva lot better than your ’80s Andy Warhol motif.”
    Jack moved over to his desk and turned his focus toward the GenSquare pitch, by now just days away. His crash course in GenSquare’s business and strategy had forced him to accumulate a load of software knowledge in just a few short weeks.
    The GenSquare concept was truly revolutionary. Many analysts believed that GenSquare would supplant Microsoft as the United States’s largest software provider. GenSquare’s relatively inexpensive cost of entry for small businesses and consumers, coupled with its pay-as-you-use billing structure, had caught the attention of everyone—even Jack, a technically challenged advertising executive.
    GenSquare was the brass ring; if WPC landed this account, Jack’s status as one of the top agency executives in the country would be secure. The key was to ensure that WPC had the tiebreaker that swayed GenSquare decision makers in WPC’s favor.
    Jack contemplated the angles. Texas heritage wouldn’t work, since both agency finalists were Dallas-based. That was too simple, anyway. What was it that the Hawkins family thrived on? Money, power, and politics. If Jack could figure out how to use any or all three of these to his advantage, he felt certain WPC could win the business.
    As Jack continued to ponder this dilemma, Allen Hamilton strode into his office.
    “What the fuck are you doing, Jack? We’ve all been in the war room for fifteen minutes, waiting on your ass.”
    “Shit, Allen, I’m sorry. I lost track of time. I’ve been here since 5:30 trying to identify the differentiator that will tip the scale in our favor. GenSquare has one; so should we.” Jack grabbed his notebook, ready to hustle to WPC’s main conference room.
    “Sit down,” Allen said. “That’s an intriguing thought.”
    For the next forty-five minutes, Jack and Allen brainstormed about the Hawkins family hot buttons of money and politics. How could WPC exploit what the Hawkins family coveted? The answer was not a simple one, but as their ideas continued to