Falling Awake(9)
Author: Jayne Ann Krentz

“He was not demented.” The only thing that kept her in her seat was the knowledge that losing her temper completely would provide Randolph with all the ammunition he needed to fire her on the spot.

To her surprise, Randolph smiled. It was not a nice smile, however. It was a thin, mean-spirited little grin of anticipation.

“Let’s return to the subject of your position here at the center,” he said. “Specifically, your lack of professional credentials and degrees.”

“Dr. Belvedere felt that I had other qualities that made me useful.”

“Yes, I know, Ms. Wright. But in case it has escaped your notice, I am now the director of the center, and, frankly, I don’t have any use for you at all.”

She thought about the large outstanding balances on her credit card statements and went ice cold.

“Currently the Belvedere Center for Sleep Research is considered to be a small, backwater lab in the world of sleep studies,” Randolph continued. “Until now it has certainly not been a major player in the field. But I intend to change that. As of today, it will focus entirely on sleep research. There will be no more work done on my father’s absurd dream theories. Do you understand, Ms. Wright?”

She thought about her beautiful new furniture sitting in the rented storage locker.

“You’ve made yourself very clear,” she said quietly.

“We are going to ditch the woo-woo factor, Ms. Wright.” Randolph was looking increasingly cheerful. “The Department of Dream Analysis no longer exists. I am terminating your employment immediately.”

She had nothing left to lose, she decided. “You’re letting me go because closing the Department of Dream Analysis is the only way you can come up with to punish your father. Don’t you think that’s a little childish?”

“How dare you!” He straightened in his chair, righteous indignation blazing in his eyes. “I am p–p–protecting what is left of his reputation.”

“Wonderful.” She spread her hands. “Now you’re rationalizing your actions by telling yourself you’re doing this out of respect for your father. Give me a break. You’re the one with the doctorate in psychology. You know as well as I do that’s not going to work.”

Randolph reddened. “I don’t want to hear another word out of you, do you understand?”

She should stop talking right now, she thought, but she couldn’t help herself. “You really ought to look into getting some counseling to help you deal with your father issues. They’re not going to go away now that he’s dead and you’ve got control of his company, you know. If anything, your obsession with proving yourself may get worse. That can lead to—”

“Shut up, Ms. Wright.” He punched the intercom on his desk. “Mrs. Johnson, send someone from security to escort Ms. Wright out of the building.”

There was a short, appalled silence from Mrs. Johnson’s end.

“Yes, sir,” she finally managed, sounding horrified.

Isabel got to her feet. “I’ll go back to my office to collect my things.”

“You will not move an inch,” Randolph said flatly. “Your office is being cleared out as we speak. Your personal effects will be brought downstairs to the parking lot and handed over to you.”

“What?”

Randolph gave her a triumphant smile. “By the way, I was informed that you intercepted the janitors who were ordered to destroy my father’s research this morning. I have remedied the situation.”

She stopped at the door and whirled around. “What are you talking about?”

“All of the papers and computer files in your office are being destroyed as we speak,”

“You can’t do that.” Another thought struck her as she yanked open the door. “Sphinx.”

“Come back here, Ms. Wright.” Randolph leaped to his feet. “You are not to return to your office. You will be escorted from here directly to your car.”

She ignored him to rush past Mrs. Johnson’s desk. The secretary lowered the phone, her expression distraught.

Randolph thundered after Isabel. “I order you to return to this office and wait for security.”

“You just fired me. I don’t take orders from you anymore.”

She flew along the corridor. Office doors opened as she went past. People came to stand in doorways, faces alight with curiosity and astonishment.

By the time she reached the wing where her office was located, she was breathless. At the end of the hall she saw a small knot of people in the hall outside her door. Ken barred the entrance, both arms extended to grasp the door frame on either side.

“Nobody comes in here until Isabel gets back,” he roared.

Isabel recognized the three people confronting him. One of them, Gavin Hardy, was from the center’s IT department. Gavin was the guy you called when the computers went down or the lab equipment malfunctioned. He was in his mid-thirties, thin, twitchy and very hyper. The only time he was ever still was when he was engrossed in a software problem. He was dressed in a pair of voluminous cargo pants and a tee shirt emblazoned with the logo of one of the mega casino-resorts in Las Vegas. Gavin’s big goal in life was to devise the perfect system for beating the house at blackjack.

The second man at her door was Bruce Hopton, the head of the center’s small security team. He was accompanied by one of his staff. Bruce was nearing retirement. The white shirt he wore was stretched to the breaking point across his ever-expanding belly. Security was not a major problem at the center. Most of the time Bruce and his people devoted themselves to making sure employees parked in their assigned slots, escorting the female nightshift workers out to their cars and performing the perfunctory employee background checks.

None of the three men looked happy to be where he was.

“Sorry about this, Isabel,” Bruce muttered. “Belvedere himself gave us our orders.”

Ken looked at Isabel.

“What the hell’s going on?” he demanded. “These guys say they’ve been told to destroy all the files in your office and on your computer.”

“It’s true. Belvedere just fired me.”

“That sonofabitch.” Ken glared at Gavin and Bruce.

Gavin held up both hands in a defensive gesture. “Hey, don’t blame us.”

“Yeah,” Bruce mumbled. “We feel just as bad about this as you do, Ms. Wright.”

“I doubt it,” she said. “I’m out of a job.”