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When the doors of the lift opened for him, Rob saw Andy Wu, ashen but strikingly handsome. He really did look like a movie actor from something arty, urban Japanese. But Rob couldn't suspect that Andy was already untouchable to those who knew about the coup.
Decommissioned, the consultants had decamped. Andy had gone to say goodbye to them and to hear one last time their 'Thank god, it's Friday – just two working days to Monday' banter, but the ideas incubator was empty. The rolled up systems diagrams stuck out from bins. Ralph Gisborne and his cronies were on show once more. Only Cynthia hadn't avoided Andy. She'd hugged him tearfully. "You were too good for this place."
Rob searched for an excuse to let the lift go, but Andy reached across to the control panel and held the doors open. Rob stepped in. Andy greeted him with a nod and said, "Is everything sorted out with Huntly?"
"Pretty much so. He's toast. I'll prepare a report for you on Monday." Rob fixed his gaze on the floor numbers that lit up and extinguished as the lift descended and counted down with them to his escape.
Andy drew him back. "You'll find out soon enough, so you might as well hear it from me – there's been a coup, and I'm out."
Rob looked at Andy. What could he say? He felt a pang of something like sympathy, but it wasn't that. It was more like the feeling of relief when, at the after match interview, the captain of the winning team is gracious and doesn't bring up the gouging at the bottom of the maul. You may recognise the feelings of the opposition: the exhausted players, fallen on their knees in despair, especially the one who fumbled the ball on the try line in the last move of the game. You understand the factors that might lead to sympathy, but a primal urge triumphs. No, Rob felt nothing for Andy. He had everything going for him, and this set back would be nothing more than a bullet point to be fudged on his glittering CV. Yet Rob's prolonged and all knowing 'OK' was open enough to imply sympathy.
They reached the parking basement and Andy held the door open for Rob. They stepped out although rob had no car. Should he ask Andy why he’d been axed? No, Miss Gore's version would be far more entertaining than Andy's self-serving exculpation. Oh well, Rob didn't claim to understand the ways of the boardroom. Everything he'd ever read about Sir Gerald Leet told him the man was a cold-blooded, money-grubbing bastard. So Andy had miscalculated somehow. Who could care? It was only the surprise of his sacking that could be interesting. And it would be heartless to ask who would be taking over. Besides, he'd never heard of Andy Wu before his appointment, so why should he know his replacement? Perhaps, this time, they'll head hunt, not just outside the country, but outside the bloody solar system. Vulcans are probably hot on downsizing.
Andy seemed to be struggling for words but Rob couldn't stand the silence any longer and said, "So, what are you going to do now?"
Rob thought for him, Get absolutely pissed, but Andy said, "My wife is pregnant. I want to take time out to be with her and the baby. We've decided on Victoria for a girl, and Robin if it’s a boy." And, with this revelation, Rob thought he could have liked Andy Wu after all. But, if he was going to weigh up what might have been and what had actually happened, he would concentrate on why Toni had gone home to her family, and, late tonight, he'll get back to his apartment alone and more than a little drunk.
"Oh, good on you," Rob said and he reached out and gently patted Andy’s shoulder. Andy laughed, boyish and vulnerable, human to the other at last. A long moment followed when neither man could muster anything to say and so they settled on another awkward laugh.
"Well, good luck, whatever you do," Rob said and they shook hands.
"Yes, you too – mate."
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