Flash

about to tell me that I'm depressed…"
    "You're not depressed, you're having a midlife crisis."
    Jasper stared at him. "Are you crazy? I am not having any such thing."
    "You know what one looks like, do you?"
    "Everyone knows what a midlife crisis looks like. Affairs with very young women. Flashy red sports cars. A divorce."
    "So?"
    "In case you've forgotten, my divorce took place nearly eight years ago. I am not interested in buying a Ferrari that would probably get stolen and sent to a chop shop the first week I owned it. And I haven't had an affair in—"Jasper broke off suddenly. "In a while."
    "A
long
while." Al aimed his fork at Jasper. "You don't get out enough. That's one of your problems. You lack a normal social life."
    "So I'm not a party animal. So sue me."
    Al sighed. "I've known you for over five years. I can tell you that you never do anything the usual way. Stands to reason that you wouldn't have a typical, run-of-the-mill midlife crisis. Instead of an explosion, you're going through a controlled meltdown."
    "For which you recommend a tropical island vacation?"
    "Why not? It's worth a try. Pick one of those incredibly expensive luxury resorts located on some undiscovered island. The kind of place that specializes in unstressing seriously overworked executives."
    "How do they manage the unstressing part?" Jasper asked.
    Al forked up another bite of pasta. "They give you a room with no phone, no fax, no television, no air conditioner, and no clocks."
    "We used to call that kind of hotel a flophouse."
    "It's the latest thing in upscale, high-end vacations," Al assured him around a mouthful of spaghetti. "Costs a fortune. What have you got to lose?"
    "I dunno. A fortune maybe?"
    "You can afford it. Look, Paul and Kirby and I have already picked out an ideal spot. An island called Pelapili. It's at the far end of the Hawaiian chain. We made the reservations for you."
    "You did
what
?"
    "You're going to stay there for a full month."
    "The hell I am, I've got a business to run."
    "I'm the vice president, second largest shareholder, and the chief associate in Sloan & Associates, remember? You say you want to sell out to me. If you can't trust me to hold the company together for a mere month, who can you trust?"
    In the end, Jasper had run out of excuses. A week later he had found himself on a plane to Pelapili Island.
    For the past three and a half weeks he had dutifully followed the agenda that Al, Kirby, and Paul had outlined for him.
    Every morning he swam in the pristine, clear waters of the bay that was only a few steps from his high-priced, low-tech cottage. He spent a lot of time reading boring thrillers in the shade of a palm tree, and he drank a few salt-rimmed margaritas in the evenings.
    On days when he could not stand the enforced tranquillity for another minute, he used the rented Jeep to sneak into the village to buy a copy of the
Wall Street Journal
.
    The newspapers were always at least three days old by the time they reached Pelapili, but he treasured each one. Like some demented alchemist, he examined every inch of print for occult secrets related to the world of business.
    Jasper thrived on information. As far as he was concerned, it was not just power, it was magic. It was the lifeblood of his work as a venture capitalist. He collected information, organized it, and filed it.
    He sometimes thought that in a former life he had probably been a librarian. He occasionally had fleeting images of himself poring over papyruses in an ancient library in Alexandria or Athens.
    Cutting himself off from the flow of daily business information in the name of relaxation had been a serious mistake. He knew that now.
    He still did not know if he was in the midst of a midlife crisis, but he had come to one definite conclusion: He was bored. He was a goal-oriented person, and the only goal he'd had until now on Pelapili was to get off the island.
    Things had changed in the last sixty seconds, however. He had a new goal. A very clear one. He wanted to avoid going over the edge of the cliff into the jeweled sea.
    The car was almost on top of him. On the off-chance that the driver was simply incredibly impatient, Jasper tried easing cautiously toward the shoulder. The Ford now had room to pass, if that was the objective.
    For a few seconds Jasper thought that was what would happen. The nose of the Ford pulled out into the other lane. But instead of accelerating on past, it nipped at the fender of Jasper's