01 He had just walked into John F. Kennedy Airport, and when he was checking in with a ticket to Chicago, the service staff at the airline counter handed him an urgent telegram: "Call the office back and let me know something important." He had a premonition that it might be the worst news, and his heart pounded, so he hurried to the nearest phone booth and called his office in Manhattan. The operator responded: "Steve Randall, Inc.—Public Relations." "This is Randall," he said impatiently, "Wanda please answer the phone." After a while, the switchboard connected the line and got on the phone with the secretary.

"What's the matter, Wanda? Could it be my father—" "No--no--oh, sorry, I should have made myself clear, excuse me. This has nothing to do with your family, it's about something else--a business matter, and I think you should I know. You just left here for the airport when I got a call. It sounded important." Randall's hanging heart immediately fell, but he still said without worry: "Wanda, what's the big deal that I have to do today? I don't want to talk about business right now!" "Boss, don't get angry at me, I'm just..."

"Uh, excuse me. But hurry up, or I'll miss this flight. Now, tell me, what's so important?" "A possible new account. It was the call from the customer himself. When I told him you were out of town on urgent business, he said he understood, but insisted that once you were free, you had to pay within 40 hours. See you." "So you feel important. Who is he?" "Have you ever heard of a man named George L. Wheeler who was the chairman of a religious book publishing company?" He immediately remembered the name. "It's the religious publisher."

"That's right," Wanda said, "the biggest one in the family. It's a millionaire. Seriously, I shouldn't bother you at a time like this, unless it sounds so unusual, so mysterious—as I just said However, he insisted that the matter was of the utmost importance. He urged me to get in touch with you. I told him that I had no guarantee of success, but that I would try and try to pass on his message to you. .” "What message? What does Wheeler want?" "Believe me, boss, I wanted to come up with a precise statement, but I couldn't. He kept it secret. He said it was top secret with international significance. Finally he said it, and said that you should act as an agent. Going to do a big business about publishing a brand new edition of the Bible."

"A new kind of Bible?" Randall yelled. "That's the big deal, the big deal? We've got hundreds of millions of Bibles. What's the point of making a new one. I've never heard Said such nonsense, what kind of bible should I partner with? Don't mention it again." "I will, sir. But I can't, because Mr. Wheeler's message—that is, the message he wants me to convey to you—sounds queer and queer. He once said to me, 'In case Mr. Randall has any doubts about our secret plan, tell him to turn the New Testament to Matthew 28, verse seven. This will give him a clue as to our secret plan. What exactly does this plan mean.'”

He couldn't hold back anymore, so he said: "Wanda, now, or at any time, I will never have any interest in reading this section. So, you can tell him clearly." "Boss, I checked," interjected Wanda, "this verse in Matthew says 'Go and tell his disciples that he is risen from the dead. And, before you go to Galilee, where you shall See him, behold, I have told you'. This is the account of the Resurrection of Christ. This part intrigued me, and made me determined to get in touch with you. Before he hung up, I felt the most What's doubly weird is this line that Wheeler said. He said, 'After Mr. Randall reads this verse, tell him we want him to deal with this Second Resurrection.' That's it."

On today's occasion, it sounds almost inexplicable and grotesque.But considering what had come up and what he had to deal with right away, his irritation subsided a bit and he became clearer about Wheeler's true intentions. "He wants me to deal with the 'Second Resurrection' thing? What the hell is it about? Is he one of those religious freaks?" "His voice is very sober and serious," Wanda said. "He described the plan as...as if a major event that shocked the world is going on." Randall's mind flashed back.How familiar it was to him!The tomb is empty, the Lord rises, He appears, Risen.In memory, those were the most meaningful and comforting words in his life.However, the wasted years he had spent earlier had long since cast off the faith of the believers.

The public address system was amplifying, reaching his ears through his half-open phone booth. "Wanda," he said, "they broadcast and urged us to get on the plane one last time, and I have to run to catch it." "How do I call Wheeler back?" "Tell him—you haven't been able to find me." "do you have anything else?" "No more. I'll talk about it after I figure out what's going on in Chicago and Oak City." "I hope all is well, boss." "Just wait and see, I will call you tomorrow." He hung up the phone, still puzzled by Wanda's call.He hurried to his flight.

He had been in the air for almost two hours, and had forgotten about Mr. Wheeler, his new Bible, and the Second Resurrection. "We're about to land," the stewardess reminded him. "Please fasten your seat belts, Rand, Mr. Randall." She hesitated to say his name, as if remembering whether she had heard the name before, or if it was someone famous, the stewardess, a girl with unusually large breasts.Beautiful chick from Texas with the same smile on her face.He guesses she might be funny without the uniform she's wearing, unless she's one of those girls who tells you after two drinks that she's really serious and doesn't want to go out with married men and do that sort of thing, but Perhaps, a second Darina.Darina was not like the stewardess who read Dostoyevsky's novels. When he first met her a year and a half ago, she read no one else but Gibran.

He was going to tell the flight attendant that he was a big shot, but he was sure he wasn't the big shot she thought he was.Besides, it doesn't matter, not tonight, especially not tonight. He nodded to her and began to fasten his seat belt according to the rules. No, he wasn't much of a big shot, he thought he was only seen by people who wanted to be famous or wanted to stay famous, and product makers and powerful people.His name, Steve R. Randall, is not read in the papers, not seen on television, and his pictures have never appeared in the public media, all the outside world sees are the ones he made them famous people, and he himself made wedding clothes, unknown.He didn't care about that - not even for the stewardess - because he was only important so far as he could be, and only those who happened to know his importance felt that way.

For example, this morning, he also met, met face-to-face with an insider named Ogden Torrell, who knew the importance of Steve Randall and considered him a very important figure.They negotiated all the conditions together, and Toril International Group and Cosmus Enterprises will take over the public relations department of Randall Co., Ltd.Overall, their deals are equal -- with one exception, though. This little compromise--Randall called it a compromise in his efforts to soften his surrender--still unnerved him, even made him feel ashamed.In any case, the morning session had begun the worst day of his life.And it was bad because, big as he might be, he felt he was completely alone, and this flight, and what awaited him, was hard to say. He tried to end his introspection by turning his attention to the activities on the plane.The stewardess, with a wasp waist and fat hips, appeared at the front of the cabin again, sincerely reminding other passengers to fasten their seat belts.He wanted to see how other people were doing.They all looked cheerful, and he wondered if they sensed his displeasure.Soon, he was glad that he was unknown, because at this time he was really not in the mood to talk to anyone.In fact, he wasn't in the mood to be reunited with Claire, his sister, who was waiting for him at O'Hare Airport, because she would have been teary-eyed before driving out of Chicago for Wisconsin territory. Oak City. At this time, he felt the plane began to tilt and sink, and he knew that the passenger plane was about to land. Almost home, to be exact.He will be returning home after a while, not just stopping by, but going home after staying away. How long has he been away from home?Two years, two or three years since the last time I came home.The short flight from New York is coming to an end, and everything that has ended in the past is about to start again.It's such a hard time coming home.He hopes to live quietly at home for a while. The stewardess stopped again in the aisle next to him. "We're about to land," she said, and there was a smile on her face, very human, not so stiff, no longer professional. "Excuse me, I want to ask, your name sounds familiar, did I see it in the newspaper?" He thought that she was originally a person who was dedicated to chasing fame and fortune. "Sorry to disappoint you," he said. "The last time my name appeared in a newspaper was in the 'Birth Gazette'." She gave an embarrassed smile. "Oh, I hope you have a good trip, Mr. Randall." "Great," Steve Randall said. that is really good. The father, 50 miles away, was in a coma.And for the first time since his success, Randall realized that money can neither get rid of any worries and solve any problems, nor can it make up for his failed marriage and cure his insomnia that wakes up at three o'clock. When his father used his money, he would say: "My child, money is not omnipotent." His father also said: "God is omnipotent." And he placed his hope in God and contributed his love to God. .His father, Reverend Nathan Randall, was engaged in a religious career, and everything obeyed God's arrangement. Not fair, absolutely not fair. Randall stared at the view through the rain-spattered plane window, the buildings looking eerie under the light of the airport lights. Well, Dad, he thought, money won't buy you and Mom back from God this time.Therefore, it is entirely between you and God now.In all fairness, Dad, if you talk to him, do you think he's listening? However, he also knew it was unfair.There was a long and haunting painful childhood memory of how often he used to contend with God for his father's love, which he never won. He was greatly surprised by the grudge he now had with this strange pseudo-countryman, which still haunted him.He remembered the words on a tombstone—this is an act of blasphemy on a night of crisis. And it was wrong, and he was wrong.Because he himself had had good times with his father.Immediately, he clearly thought of his old and frail father—so persistent, unrealistic, yet so full of passion and different; so stubborn, yet so noble, amiable, and so lovely old father.At this moment he suddenly realized that he had never loved his old father so deeply as now. At this time, he wanted to cry aloud.He felt it was impossible.Now he's a big shot in the modern city, well-dressed, Italian shoes, well-manicured nails, great prestige, frequent parties, "beautiful women," lots of money, obedient servants, luxury car.A mild-mannered, philosophic gentleman now wants to burst into tears, like a little boy in Oak City. "We've reached Chicago," said the stewardess' voice. "Everyone, please take stock of your belongings, and then get off the plane through the front door one by one." Randall snorted, picked up his briefcase, staggered to his feet, and joined the slow-moving line toward the exit.Walking out of this exit, you will go to your own homeland and face the coming reality. It wasn't until three quarters of an hour after leaving O'Hare that the signs on the bright highway indicated they had entered Wisconsin territory, when Claire, exhausted from all the crying, talking, and praying, sank behind the wheel. . At the exit of the airport, Claire cried and moaned and fell into his arms and passed out.Her father-daughter relationship is probably unmatched.Randall comforted her for a long time, and in the end she almost ordered her to stop crying and told him about her father's condition.He might not be able to just know his father, and even Dr. Oppenheimer dared not predict the outcome.Yes, an oxygen mask has been used, and Dad has passed out.Oh god, daddy doesn't look like he used to, his face is so ugly. They finally got into the car and started on their way home.Claire continued her interminable sobbing, sobbing.How much she loves her father and how pitiful her mother is.And mother, what was going to happen to herself and Uncle Hermann and the others?They have been guarding the ward all day since this morning.Everyone's still there, and they're all waiting for Steve.Mom was there, and Uncle Herman, and Dad's best friends, Johnson and the Reverend Tom Carey, were all there, waiting for Steve. It's all waiting for him, Randall thought, because he's the most promising guy in the family, because he always works wonders in New York with money, checks, or connections.He wanted to ask Claire if what everyone was waiting for was the most important thing to his father.Is my father also waiting for me to dedicate my whole life to my dependence and belief, the God in heaven, the Creator Jehovah.Randall wanted to know this question, but he didn't ask. "I think I've told you all I know," Claire said, staring at the rain-washed freeway ahead, her pale hands on the steering wheel, and what she said he knew. Already know. "It's not far, it's almost here." After she finished speaking, she fell into silence. Just let her think about it for a while, Steve Randall leaned into the soft car seat, closed his eyes, and enjoyed this moment of peace alone. He felt that trouble and excitement had been with him all day, but now was the time to clear up the mess of emotions.His eccentric sentiments were only insignificantly due to his father's illness.He was struggling to find a suitable excuse for this feeling, probably because heartbreak is one of the strongest emotions, it comes and goes quickly, and of course it doesn't last long.Prolonged sadness will make the body overwhelmed, and will cause a kind of self-defense instinct, driving this sadness to the depths of the heart and hiding it.He's freed from his father's grief now, so don't get stuck in it anymore.Now he was thinking about his own affairs—it would be inconceivable for his sister Clare to know what he was thinking—and about his recent troubles. How long he lost interest in the public relations career he loved and made him famous, he can't tell.However, that happened last year or the year before.After his wife, Barbara, had a showdown with him, and she took their daughter, Judy, to her friends in San Francisco, he got bored of his career. He tried to concentrate on one point.Judy was just 13 at the time, she's 15 now, so that was two years ago.Barbara insisted on a divorce, but didn't act on it, so they separated.Randall doesn't care about the separation, but he doesn't want to accept the divorce, not because he is afraid of losing his wife, their marriage has already broken down, but just a kind of egoism, because divorce shows that he is a failure .It's also important to note, of course, that once they're officially divorced, Judy will likely cut ties with him entirely.Although he and Judy spend very few days together and their relationship is weak, his daughter is his close relative after all, and he has a father-daughter relationship after all. His career and business, which had cost him so much time and energy, prospered and bored him in the end, as did his marital status.Every day's life is a simple repetition of yesterday, without any freshness.As soon as I walked into the luxurious reception room, I saw the young and sexy receptionist with heavy makeup always sipping coffee with several other girls and talking about jewelry.As for those young and promising salesmen, they all carried briefcases and raincoats, and then sat down in the big chairs behind the desks.When you go to talk to them in their luxurious modern office, you will find that there are many pictures of their wives and children on the table, which are all deceiving and utter hypocrites. Even if there are new customers and new income, there will not be much stimulation.At work, I have seen all kinds of people and things - popular black singers, new rock bands, crazy female stars, miraculous cleaning agents, super fast sports cars and the proposed development of tourism emerging African countries and so on.None of this is exciting anymore, because these things are no longer new challenges, no longer creative, have been touched before, just mechanical repetition.No matter how much money you earn, you can only increase your wealth, but you can't satisfy your desires. These are all too far, far away from this hopeless middle-class segment. Randall really felt that life was boring, empty inside, without the slightest human touch, like a criminal waiting in prison for the indefinite release date.Every day is the same life, hate this monotonous life.Inevitably, this hopeless, loveless life not only exists, continues, but gets worse day by day.Every day in the future, I have to flirt with more women without love, drink more alcohol to anesthetize myself, take more stimulants in exchange for more sleepless nights, waste more bread, and go to more clubs , nightclubs, hotels.But wherever you go, you see and hear the same thing, the men have the same faces, the women have the same bodies. Lately, he's been daydreaming more and more to escape all of this, which he's been fighting for.He was looking for a paradise where the trees were shady, the only thing he wanted to drink was water, there were no shops, he worked at sunrise and rested at sunset, and the New York Times arrived two weeks later.The phone and the girl were in a mountain village far away, and there was no means of transportation between them, so they could only walk.Where you can ignore the ostentatious propaganda and write real histories on an old-fashioned typewriter, never thinking about money, and discovering the true meaning of life. However, he did not find a bridge between dream and reality.He then told himself that the reason why he couldn't change this real life was because he didn't want to save any more money.So, he tried to use other methods instead.For several weeks in a row, I forced myself to keep busy, not allowing myself a moment to breathe, and gave up smoking, drinking, taking medicine, staying up late and other bad habits. In addition, I often went out to play handball. Randall is 38 years old, 5 feet 11 inches tall, with brown eyes that are often bloodshot and sometimes have bags under them, a straight nose, red cheeks, and chiseled lips. Chin, but there are already traces of a double chin, a broad frame.When he was in good health, he would feel 10 years younger. In his brown eyes, he could not see bloodshot eyes, let alone eye bags, his face became sharp-edged, his abdomen was flat, and his muscles were strong.It's just that it is difficult to maintain this state for a long time. Once the physical condition reaches the peak, he will start the process of degeneration again. This change happens twice a year.In recent months, he has not been what he used to be, that is, trying to maintain a regular life.He no longer indulged his desires, and only maintained an intimate relationship with Darina Nicholson.At the same time, he remembered, Khalil Gibran had entered his duplex in Manhattan with Darina. Work took up most of his time, and this way of life no longer worked.Wanda Smith, his private secretary, a tall, fat-breasted black girl who worried about him, and Joe Hawkins, a long-browed colleague and friend, and the gray-haired, effeminate-talking attorney Ke Lawford is worried about him.So he had to promise them that he would not do anything ridiculous again.In order to prove his promise, he works every day besides work, even though the work is meaningless and boring. Of course, sometimes, but rarely, he would have a burst of interest.A month earlier, through Crawford, Randall had met a brilliant and insightful fresh law graduate.Instead of practicing law, however, he was engaged in a brand-new industry that would have a major impact on the competitive business world, which was actually a social science called "candor."This young man, named Jim? McLaughlin, not yet 30 years old, with a distinctive beard and bright eyes, really looks like General Joneslus.He established an organization named "Rekel Association", with branches in New York, Washington, Chicago, and Los Angeles.The not-for-profit organization's members include young and promising lawyers, business school bachelors and eminent professors, journalists, fact-finders, and brilliant, family-broken rich kids.McLoughlin's association has been toiling away on research for several years.Their first plan is to investigate some specific facts, that is, the fact that the major industrial and commercial enterprises in the United States are harmful to the public interest.Then research and expose this, and the public's reaction to this is very good. "There's a lot of that," McLoughlin said when he first met Randall. "For more than ten years, the big bosses of private companies are essentially monopolies. They suppress these new ideas, new technologies and new products from meeting the public, because these can have a huge impact on the lives of the public and greatly reduce people's income. Consumption. These new things are often strangled in the cradle by those big companies. Because if these new things can realize their value, the monopoly will no longer be a monopoly, and its safe and reliable huge monopoly profits will also disappear. The facts are unbelievable as we have done a lot of research in the last few months. Have you ever heard of a pill that could replace the highest grade of gasoline?" Randall said that he seemed to have heard similar good news before, but he always thought that these were pure fantasies, just an ideal of people. Jim McLaughlin went on with concentration: "As you say, it's pure fantasy. It's the work of those monopolies in itself. But you can take my word for it, these dubious things not only used to exist, There are still. The best evidence is gasoline pills. An unknown and talented chemist has worked hard to develop a method of synthesizing gasoline and compressing it into a small pill. People only need to put a pill of this Put a pill in the gas tank, fill it up with regular water and maybe get 18 to 20 liters of gas for two cents and not pollute the air. Do you think those giant oil conglomerates will let it out? Not only them The lives of these guys and their hugely profitable oil industry will be over. This is just one example. What about a match that is called permanent? There is one that can be reused 15,000 times Is there a match for it? There must have been, and it must have been quickly killed by those big companies. However, we also found many such examples, very many." Randall was fascinated. "What else?" he asked eagerly. "We know that there is a fabric that will never wear out," McLoughlin said. "There is also a razor blade that will never wear out and never needs to be sharpened. There are many things like running 250,000 kilometers that will not wear out." tires, light bulbs that don’t need to be replaced for 10 years, etc. These products can save those low-income families from struggling on the line of life, do you realize? But those big companies will not agree. Historically, those Inventors are bought, blackmailed, and murdered, and we've got two cases where inventors disappeared, and we suspect they were assassinated. Well, Mr. Randall, we've got it all sorted out, And we're going to publish a white paper, a black paper, if you like, titled The Plot Against You." Randall repeated the title, savoring it carefully. "Great," he murmured. "Once our white paper is in the market," McLoughlin continued, "those big corporations will inevitably resort to various means to suppress and stifle it and make it inaccessible to the public. If the first step is ineffective, the next step is to slander, To discredit it, that's why I've come to see you. I want you to chair our 'Raker Society' and make our discoveries known - through interested MPs. News on TV and radio Workers, various newspapers and pamphlets, and various advertising posters, etc., eliminate all the difficulties that suppress our freedom of speech and slander us, until our cause is known to everyone, like everyone knows the Star-Spangled Banner. Of course, you won't get any huge profits doing this for us. But when you understand what we do, you will feel that our work is full of hope, and you will go down in history for being able to be this Proud to be part of a meaningful organization. I want you to do this." Randall now found himself contemplating the project with a surge of energy in his body.do this?He's going to do it anyway!Once Jim McLaughlin and the other participants were ready, he would immediately put into action, arrange the entire program and hold various meetings.McLoughlin said they'll have everything ready by the end of the year.He will be away for a few months with an experienced investigative team to investigate the facts of a prototype car. The prototype of this car came out more than 20 years ago. It is durable, safe and confidential, clean air and cheap.So far, it has not met with the public, mainly due to the ghosts of Detroit auto dealers.In addition, his future plans will involve many rich people, including large companies from all walks of life. "Don't contact me or my staff in the short term," said the young McLoughlin. "We must operate in secret, otherwise, those big corporations and the government departments they manipulate will use their hired thugs to stalk us, plot and even murder us." Us. I used to think that this was impossible in our extreme democracy and legal system. I wanted to talk about these things as teenage fantasies, exaggerated nonsense. But it is not the case. When profit taking is synonymous with patriotism , many means serve these profits, and the public interest is sent to hell. So in order to protect the public interest and expose these lies and frauds, we have to start a guerrilla war with them, at least for now. Once our work is done by you Spread the word and the people will rise up and join our ranks and strengthen us, and our jobs will be more secure then. I will keep in touch with you, Mr. Randall. I will try to get in touch with you. But no matter what , with your help, we have to do some preparatory work for us. After six or seven months, around November or December, our plan can be put into practice." "Very good." Randall couldn't help being excited and said in agreement. "After six or seven months, you come to me. I will wait for you to act together at any time." "Then please, Mr. Randall," McLoughlin said at the door. While Randall was waiting for the "Rekel Association" to be put into action from the plan, something happened suddenly that gave him a blow.Cosmos Enterprises, Ogden Torrey's multi-billion-dollar international conglomerate, had entered Randall's life.Like a giant magnet, Cosmos Enterprises has been annexing and absorbing some small and sophisticated companies in various countries in the world every year, promoting his monopoly plan, and now occupies a pivotal position in many fields.Now he has taken a fancy to the status of Randall Co., Ltd. in terms of publicity, and vigorously promoted its acceptance plan. The speed of it made Randall feel a little caught off guard.Everything is ready, just waiting for Torrey and Randall to sign and take effect after face-to-face negotiations. Just this morning, Torrey appeared in Randall Co., Ltd., first took people on a field trip, and then locked himself with Randall alone in Randall's office with eighteenth-century furniture. Negotiate one-on-one. This Torrey, who is thousands of miles away from others, is a legendary economic giant.He was tall, lean and muscular, like a big, happy farmer.As soon as he entered the door, he sat in the leather swivel chair like a master, took off his hat and put it on the table, and spoke in a tone he was used to giving orders. Randall listened to him, for he saw the visitor as an angel of freedom.Randall thought with all his heart that this real tycoon could bring him the kind of paradise happiness, the kind of greenery, in the paradise of living on the phone and typewriter, let him get rid of this dirty world, in the near future. For a short time it seemed within reach. The only thing that frightened him—the only thing that frightened him—was brought up at the end of Torrey's rambunctious conversation. Torrey reminded Randall that although Cosmos Enterprises has taken over Randall Co., Ltd., Randall is solely responsible for everything in the company during the five-year operating contract period.As for where to go after the contract expires, it all depends on Randall's personal wishes.At that time, Randall will be rich, still have an unmatched shareholding in the company, and become a freelance tycoon. "While you are working with us, the company remains yours, Mr. Randall," said Torrey, "so you carry on your work as before. As always with me, I will not interfere with my of any receiving company." At this moment, Randall couldn't listen anymore, and doubts arose in his heart, so he decided to give this Angel of Freedom a try. "I am very pleased with your generosity, Mr. Torrey," he said. "You mean that I will be in charge of the business of the company, without the slightest supervision or interference from Cosmos Enterprises?" "Exactly. We've looked at your contract and your customer list. If we weren't satisfied, I wouldn't be sitting here." "However, in the list you saw, not all customers are included, Mr. Torrey. There are also some customers who have no formal relationship. I just want to make sure that no matter what kind of customers, you will let us go Going to make friends?" "Of course it is, why not?" Torrey frowned slowly after finishing speaking. "Why can't you imagine what this is doing to us?" "Sometimes, we get a new customer, we open a new account, and there's something controversial about it, I don't know..." "What kind of thing?" Torrey was impatient, and quickly interrupted Randall. "What kind of thing?" "About two weeks ago, I verbally agreed to McLoughlin to promote the first report of the 'Recker Society'." Torrey sat up straight suddenly, straightened his back, and suddenly looked much taller.His face suddenly became extremely ugly, and he kicked the chair next to him down. "Jim McLoughlin?" he said, as if eating a fly. "And his Raker Society." Torrey stood up. “一伙共产主义信徒，”他严厉地说，“这个麦克洛克林，你知道他是从莫斯科来的奸细，或许你还不知道。” “我觉得他并不是那种人。” “听我说，兰德尔，我清楚他的底细。这群激进党的成员，我根本不理他们。他们这样并不能拯救国家。一旦他们开始闹事，我们将会把他们驱逐出境，我敢向你保证。”他斜着眼瞧着兰德尔，脸上露出了一丝冷笑。“你还不知道我们掌握的这些情况，兰德尔，因此我知道你被他们的花言巧语蒙骗了。现在我已经把一切告诉了你。不必再去侍奉那些卑贱的人，来玷污自己的名誉。” 托尔里发现兰德尔很苦恼，便暂停了威吓。因此，他又换了一种和解的口气。“不用担心。我刚才对你的承诺还是有用的。我们绝不会干涉你公司的事务，除非我们发现有人想方设法要毁掉你，想法毁掉卡斯莫斯企业。我希望以后不要再发生这样的事了。”托尔里说着伸出他的那双大手。“忘记刚才那件事吧，兰德尔先生。我们的事就这么定了，咱们就是一家人了。我们的律师会办理以后的一切。两个月后我们就签署文件，然后我希望与你共进晚餐。”他眨巴了一下眼睛。“你将会成为一个大富豪，兰德尔先生，富足而且独立。我一向的宗旨是有福同享。祝贺你。” 谈判就这样结束了，此时史蒂夫?兰德尔独自坐在办公室里的高靠背转椅里，他知道自己已别无选择。再见了，吉姆?麦克洛克林以及他的雷克尔协会。好吧，奥格登?托尔里和卡斯莫斯企业。确实别无选择。38岁的人感觉到自己业已年逾古稀时，便能失去大好时机去冒别的风险。这个大好时机便是：有钱并且自由。 那个可怕的时刻过去后，他感到无比的恶心。他走进盥洗室，吐了出来，不过并没有什么效果，他回到办公室似乎更难受了。这时，万达小姐匆匆忙忙地走过来告诉他：克莱尔从奥克城打来长途电话找他。 就在这个时候，他得知他父亲因中风已危在旦夕，正在送往医院，而且没有人能够确定他父亲是否能活下去。 接下的时间，便晕头转向机械地忙着：交代公司的事，安排个人私事，订机票，告之达丽娜、乔?霍金斯等朋友，打电话给奥克城，最后奔向肯尼迪机场。