The Copy by Grant Boshoff Page B

pride, so sure was he of her recognition of his cultural sensibilities; that he, a farm boy and son of a humble country veterinarian, was conversant with the fineries of life. She did not disappoint. She'd swooned and cooed and affirmed his majesty. She'd mmm'ed and aah'ed over the food, and proclaimed it the best this side of the Atlantic. And six months later, after a night of lovemaking and her tongue loosened by Merlot, she'd finally relented and told him the truth: she hated French food, save for one item - a delicate fruit tart called Tarte Tatin. They'd laughed until tears flowed freely, then made love again, and had returned to the riverside bistro every year since for their anniversary dinner - always finishing with the Tarte.
    Jeff's phone vibrated harshly, thrusting him out of the warmth of his memories and into the bitter, biting present. He reached for it robotically, looked at the screen, thumbed the side-button and put it back in his pocket.
     
    "Mr. Bartell?" said Jackson with a concerned expression as he held open the security door. "I didn't see you leave."
    Jeff smiled warmly at the old guard. "I nipped out the front for a late lunch."
    Jackson nodded, a frown line lingering on his brow. His eyes flicked to the Maserati parked across from the door, silent and cold in the bleached sodium light.
    Jeff placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "Needed to stretch the old legs," he said, "so I walked the long way around and came in the garage."
    Jackson smiled, a wide toothy grin. "I know how that be, sir," he said. "These old bones need more than a stretch most days."
    Jeff looked into the old man's eyes which were mottled and dry, what used to be the whites now the color of tobacco. He tried to remember what they'd looked like the day he'd hired the man, but the details escaped him. With a thin smile he patted Jackson on the shoulder and headed past the elevators, to a security door set in the far wall.
    He tapped in a combination and stepped through, ensuring the door closed firmly behind him, then walked the breadth of the building down a softly lit corridor until coming at length to his private elevator. He tapped in a combination, and waited. Twenty seconds if the elevator was stopped at his office level, twenty three if at the private lab above. He counted off the seconds in his head. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. The way his dad used to when timing contractions while birthing a new foal.
    The elevator arrived at the twenty count. Hoping that Geoffrey was alone in the office, he took a steadying breath and stepped into the brushed steel cubicle.
     
    "Out!" Geoffrey barked.
    Misty's face registered shock, then confusion. Her glossed magenta lips were open, frozen mid-sentence, and her finger held rigidly in the air above her tablet.
    "Excuse me?" she said.
    Geoffrey watched the elevator display in his peripheral vision. He'd just caught the flash of green as it indicated a return from the garage level. Twenty seconds.
    "Out!" he repeated.
    Misty glared at him, her arms held stiffly at her side. "How dare y-"
    "Out!" he said again, exploding from his chair. He pointed forcefully at the door. "Now!"
    Geoffrey ushered her out and locked the door. He returned to his desk and sat, swiveling the chair to face the elevator directly.
    He breathed and told himself to be calm, but when Jeff stepped into the room the anger welled up in him like a molten flow. He watched Jeff with a look that he hoped conveyed the depth of his contempt.
    "You ungrateful bastard."
    The man said nothing. Just walked towards him, eyes downcast, and gingerly took a seat in front of the desk. After a few beats he looked up at Geoffrey and said quietly, "I'm not going back in the scanner."
    "The hell you're not!"
    "I've been doing a lot of thinking," Jeff said. He spoke softly, carefully, as if he'd rehearsed it, his eyes focused on the edge of the desk in front of him.
    "Really?" Geoffrey snorted. "That's what you've been doing all bloody