A Foolish Consistency (4 page)

A pavilion of entertainment covered his desk:  a magic wand, two top hats, a crystal ball, numerous decks of cards, several toy rabbits, a magic eight ball, and other colorful objects I couldn't identify.  Posters of him as a younger man, topped with the banner
The Magic Man,
decorated the walls.  In the wall-size window behind him, the length of Firth Avenue stretched out like a five-star meal.

He clapped as I entered.

"Good show," he said.  "You've got Harvard brains after all."

I saw on his laptop screen behind him the unmistakable blue border of a personnel file.  I cleared my throat and looked at the envelope in my hand.  My fingers had left sweat stains on the paper. 

"Sir," I said, "this is not something I take pride in doing —"

"Oh, it sounds
important
," he said, and motioned to the chair across from him.

Of course I should have expected it: when I sat, the cushioned chair emitted a grating fart.

He laughed until his eyes watered.  "Oh, god, I know it's crude," he said, "but it still gives me such immense joy."

"They're going to let you go, sir," I said.

Just like that, the words were out.  No lengthy preamble, just the truth, plain and simple, right out in the open. 

He was inhaling to laugh again, but this time it came out stillborn.  Shock registered for two heartbeats, then his face underwent a swift change that under other circumstances I would have found fascinating.  His complexion reddened, his eyelids twitched, and a vein along his neck pulsed like a tapping finger.

"They're
what?
" he said.

His voice had dropped to a whisper, and it seethed with rage.

"Well, sir . . ." I began, feeling as if someone had opened a door in my throat and stuffed in a bag of ball bearings.  "It's . . .  the Board.  They've . . . asked me . . ."

"They've asked
you?
" he said.

"Yes, they've asked me . . .  to let you know . . . "

"So instead of doing their own dirty work, they asked a wet behind the ears pipsqueak to do it for them?"  When I didn't answer, he went on:  "Did they hand out straws, or did you have the stupidity to stand still when everyone else stepped backward?"  His voice rose, and now, finally, I was hearing a man accustomed to projecting to a crowd.  "Just who the hell do they think I am?  I built this company and now they're trying to give
me
the pink slip?"  He stood, and though he was rail-thin, he was still an imposing figure.  "Let me tell you something, just let me tell you—"and he came around behind the desk, glowering, pointing his finger in my face while all I could do was stare and wonder if the glass behind him was shatterproof.  "Let me tell you what I
really
think . . ."

And then he doubled over, hooted, chortled, chuckled, and guffawed.

I thought he'd flipped.

"Sir?" I said.

"Oh, the look on your face," he said between breaths.  "Oh, it's priceless.  I really had you going, didn't I?"

I glanced at the door, wondering if he would try to grab me if I ran for it.  He leaned against the desk, hand on his chest as if he had never laughed so hard in his life.

"Who sent you?" he said.

"Well, it's not really one person, it's just . . . just . . ."

"Be so kind as to give a man on the gallows the privilege of knowing who played him this last joke."

"Joke, sir?"

He frowned.

"They really didn't tell you, did they?  I'm sorry someone put you up to this, son, but the Board told me three hours ago in a conference call."

The first image that popped into my mind were my fingers wrapped around Gordal's neck.  He'd sent me into the lion's den for no other reason than to humiliate me.  Murder seemed proper retribution.  If it wasn't premeditated, I could probably get out in ten. 

I must have muttered his name, because Biggs nodded sagely.

"Should have known," he said.  "That flabby fool has hated me since that Christmas party when I painted the seat of his chair a matching color of red.  His wide butt was like a moving stop sign that night, halting people in their tracks whenever he passed."

 I let out a sharp laugh.

"Ah, so you do have a sense of humor," Biggs said.  "Good.  The Ivy League can't take everything from you, can they, Harvey?"

"I prefer William, sir."

I regretted it as soon as the words were out of my mouth.  But he smiled as if I had opened up the vault to all my secrets. 

"Of course you do," he said.  "Of course you do."

...continued...

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