Page 23 - Like No Business I Know

Hypocritical Oaths
(Fantastic Transactions 2, 1997)

Harold Raven stumped across his office to the buzzing intercom.
“Damn it, Miss Reisenschein, I told you to hold all calls. I’m trying to
do some important work.” He glanced back at the open door to his
private bathroom. Several items purchased at a shop specializing in
cosmetics for mature males were visible on the counter below the
mirror.
“I’m sorry, sir, but it’s Dr. Dreyfus. He insists on seeing you now.”
“Eh? Dreyfus? Who the hell is he?”
“I have his personnel data on my screen, sir. He is a new virologist
in the vaccine labs.”
“Oh. Very well. Give me a minute and send him in.”
Raven grasped the silver handle of his Malacca cane and hobbled
tripedally back to the bathroom door, which he slammed with a
vicious wrist-flick. Then he returned to his desk, seating himself
painfully on a thickly-cushioned high-backed executive chair. His
cane disappeared beneath his legs; few employees of Triskelion
Laboratories ever saw their chief executive officer standing. Raven
composed the already-rectilinearly-arranged right-angled objects on
his desk pad in a slightly altered array. He knew what was coming.
A bespectacled young man in lab coat and a lather burst in.
“Mr. Raven! I must speak with you! I have discovered something
of the utmost importance and urgency!”
“All right, Dreyfus. I can see that you’re upset. Why don’t you just
sit down and tell me all about it?”
The virologist stopped dead in his tracks, momentum checked. Still
wild-eyed, he almost tripped over the chair closest to the desk. Then
he fell into it, emitting a loud exhalation.
“God, I’m glad you could see me, sir—I mean, right away. I was
wrestling with my conscience. Should I take what I learned to
someone high up in the company or go outside, like to the press?
One of my senior colleagues told me to see you first, that you would
know what to do.”
Raven steepled his bony fingers.

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