Page 101 - Just Deserts

Stiff Competition

* * * * *

A long black limousine nosed into the usually vacant parking spot
reserved for it next to the entrance to LibrAries Press’s printing plant
outside Jersey City. The chauffeur, in trim maroon livery, leapt
nimbly from the vehicle and opened the passenger’s door. Andrew
Cockleberry, sole owner of the publishing firm, extruded his bulk
into the polluted atmosphere of the industrial district. He nodded
curtly to the driver and went directly into the building.
The receptionist, recognizing his portly silhouette as soon as it
appeared against the outer doorway of the lobby, jumped to her feet.
“Good morning, Mr. Cockleberry,” she chirped nervously. “Please
go right in. Mr. Fetz is expecting you.”
Cockleberry lost no momentum exchanging pleasantries with the
woman, giving her an almost imperceptible acknowledgement. He
barreled into the office marked ‘Egon Fetz, Plant Manager.’ Its
occupant, a tall cadaverous man in late middle age, stood by a
window, staring at proof sheets through a magnifying glass.
He put these down on a table and said, bowing slightly, “At your
service, Andreas.”
His visitor frowned. “You must not call me by that name
anymore, Egon. We are in America now.” He turned and made
certain of the office door’s closure.
“Forgive me,” replied the printer, whose obsequiousness was
indelibly tinged with irony. “Are you not a citizen of Australia?”
“Bah! You try me with trivialities, Egon. Is this office of yours
secure? We must not be overheard.” Cockleberry grasped the back of
the large armchair provided for his use and yanked it next to Fetz’s
small desk.
“Yes, of course. But let us continue to speak English in case we
are interrupted.” He sat down in his own chair, and the two men put
their hands on the desk. Both wore rings with an engraved signet, the
crest of a European monarchy deposed earlier in the century and
replaced by a constitutional form of government.

100