Wally Mason's

Patrick O'Neill met me as I exited, briefcase in hand, from the plane to the concourse. His macho grin would have delighted my secretary, Ms. Lee.

"Patrick, me bhoy-o," I said, attempting to show that I was conversant with the humor Patrick culture of Electronics Division. "'Tis a great favor you do me, comin' this long way on this dark day, to fetch me."

"We live to serve, Wally," he said, disdaining Irishisms. "Is that all your luggage?"

"Yes."

Patrick insisted on carrying my briefcase to his car. As we went, he fired statistics at me, showing what a good job his Marketing Department was doing. That is the way of Divisional officers, when important Corporate people visit.

Presently he threw in subtle questions concerning current Corporate politics. Divisional folk do that, too. I answered as best I could. Ms. Lee would have done better.

Patrick's car was a black Maserati with bucket seats, and scarcely enough room for my briefcase and me. It was quite a challenge for a corpulent Patent Attorney.

On our journey to the motel Patrick had selected, he outlined what he needed from me, my presence at his dog-and-pony in London, where he would unveil the Chung inventions for all the world to see. I would be doing a pretty important job. This would be his first step towards enriching GBI stockholders by a billion dollars!

A billion, not a million! Since Noonan, I had convinced myself that I had mis-heard, that he had said million. Now there was no way I could have mis-heard.

O'Neill, I thought, would have one hell of a task to build a billion dollars of business out of the Chung patents. But I held my peace. The grapevine reckoned that Patrick – Noonan, too – had satisfied his MBA advisers with a thesis on business applications of Machiavellian principles. The grapevine reckoned he was a dangerous character to confront.

I did dare, however, to ask what strategy he planned to use to haul in the cash.

Patrick was slow to answer. There was considerable traffic on the freeway, and there was, of course, the rain. He had to negotiate past a couple of fender-benders.

Eventually he said: "I'll use the good old Goebbels strategy."

"How's that?"

"You remember Dr. Goebbels? Hitler's Minister of Propaganda?"

"Sure do. An evil, evil character."

"But also a genius. Man of the century, in a way. Everybody uses his method nowadays. Advertisers. Politicians. Even school-kids working on their parents. You remember the technique?"

"Vaguely. But remind me."

"You tell your story over and over and over. Whether you aim at becoming President, or selling a product, or finally resolving the Jewish question, some people will believe you. Keep it up for long enough, and most people will believe you. Then you've got it made."