The Eyre Affair_ A Novel - Jasper Fforde [505]
I thumped the table with my fist, and Jack jumped. Without his henchmen around him, he was a coward, and every time he flinched, I grew stronger.
“This is complete and utter sh—” I looked at Friday again. “Rubbish, Jack. Goliath and the ChronoGuard eradicated my husband. You had the power to remove him—you can be the ones that put him back.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Give me back my husband!”
The anger in Jack returned. He also rose and pointed an accusing finger at me. “Have you even the slightest idea how much it costs to bribe the ChronoGuard? More money than we care to spend on the sort of miserable, halfhearted forgiveness you can offer us. And another thing, I—Excuse me.”
The phone had rung, and he picked it up, his eyes flicking instantly to me as he listened.
“Yes, it is. . . . Yes, she is. . . . Yes, we do. . . . Yes, I will.”
His eyes opened wide, and he stood up.
“This is indeed an honor, sir. . . . No, that would not be a problem at all, sir. . . . Yes, I’m sure I can persuade her about that, sir. . . . No, it’s what we all want. . . . And a very good day to you, sir. Thank you.”
He put down the phone and fetched an empty cardboard box from the cupboard with a renewed spring in his step.
“Good news!” he exclaimed, taking some junk out of his desk and placing it in the box. “The CEO of New Goliath has taken a special interest in your case and will personally guarantee the return of your husband.”
“I thought you said that timefoolery had nothing to do with you?”
“Apparently I was misinformed. We would be very happy to reactualize Libner.”
“Landen.”
“Right.”
“What’s the catch?” I asked suspiciously.
“No catch,” replied Jack, picking up his desk nameplate and depositing it in the box along with the calendar. “We just want you to forgive us and like us.”
“Like you?”
“Yes. Or pretend to anyway. Not so very hard, now, is it? Just sign this Standard Forgiveness Release Form at the bottom here, and we’ll reactualize your hubby. Simple, isn’t it?”
I was still suspicious.
“I don’t believe you have any intention of getting Landen back.”
“All right, then,” said Jack, taking some files out of the filing cabinet and dumping them in his cardboard box, “don’t sign and you’ll never know. As you say, Miss Next—we got rid of him, so we can get him back.”
“You stiffed me once before, Jack. How do I know you won’t do it again?”
Jack paused in his packing and looked slightly apprehensive.
“Are you going to sign?”
“No.”
Jack sighed and started to take things back out of the cardboard box and return them to their places.
“Well,” he muttered, “there goes my promotion. But listen, whether you sign or not, you walk out of here a free woman. New Goliath has no argument with you any longer. Besides, what do you have to lose?”
“All I want,” I replied, “is to get my husband back. I’m not signing anything.”
Jack took his nameplate out of the cardboard box and put it back on his desk.
The phone rang again.
“Yes, sir. . . . No, she won’t, sir. . . . I tried that, sir. . . . Very well, sir.”
He put the phone down and picked up his nameplate again and hovered it over his box.
“That was the CEO. He wants to apologize to you personally. Will you go?”
I paused. Seeing the head honcho of Goliath was an almost unprecedented event for a non-Goliath official. If anyone could get Landen back, it was him. “Okay.”
Jack smiled, dropped the nameplate in his box and then hurriedly threw everything else back in.
“Well,” he said, “must dash—I’ve just been promoted up three laddernumbers. Go to the main reception desk, and someone will meet you. Don’t forget your Standard Forgiveness Release Form, and if you could mention my name, I’d be really grateful.”
He handed me my unsigned forms as the door opened and another Goliath