Piotr looks shocked. But what did he think would happen? He must have an exit plan.
His machismo surfaces quickly. “You’ll regret this,” he sneers. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.” He takes a step forward as he says it, and Rob leaps to his feet. He’s a big guy. It’s mostly flab, but he looks imposing. Piotr halts.
I take Rob’s intervention as time to wrap this up. “Rob will escort you to your desk. Your laptop and work phone will remain here, as will all digital media, documents, and any company assets. Please provide Rob with a list of your passcodes. You may only remove your personal effects. Your pay, pension and holiday entitlement cease immediately with no notice period. Pay and benefits accrued to date will be paid as normal at the end of the month.”
“If you think I’m going to give you anything, you can go fuck yourselves!”
Not unexpected. But Rob has IT removing Piotr’s access to our systems as we speak. They don’t need his passcodes to get into his equipment, but it would probably be faster if they had them.
Rob moves to the door and opens it. He gestures to the corridor.
“Fuck you!” Piotr spins on his heel and stalks out, Rob scurrying behind him.
“Well, that went rather well.” Harriet’s crisp upper-crust accent resounds in the sudden silence. “You know where I am if you need me.” The call drops.
“Did it?” I’m alone, slumped in the chair, whispering my words to the emptiness.
I unclasp my hands. They’re shaking. It’s one thing to anticipate his aggression, another thing entirely to experience it. I lean back and take stock.
All that remains is to find actual hard evidence of Piotr’s misconduct, bed in Scarlett as our new head of publishing, and by some miracle, marketThe Obsidian Sigil.
And after that, I just have to tell Anders his marketing plan is scuppered, and I’ve fired his top dog without conclusive proof.
After the Fall
I’m still sitting shell-shocked behind the desk when Rob reappears.
“He’s gone,” he says, hovering in the doorway, his eyes sliding towards the wall. “You were pretty badass.”
“Thank you,” I say. “You were pretty badass too.”
“I felt like Booker inBioshock Infinite.”
The reference is lost on me, but I assume he’s referring to a game. He’s still lurking like he doesn’t know whether to stay or go. I make it easy for him and give him a social cue.
“You did good. I’d love to stay and celebrate, but Effie is waiting.” He ducks his head and is about to leave when he stops.
“You know that in the end, it will all be alright?” he says.
I seriously doubt that. We are in trouble big time. But still, I value Rob’s opinion. “How do you know?” I ask.
“Because I'm a gamer. And this is a game built by gamers for gamers.”
Maybe it’s because I’m tired that I’m slower on the uptake than usual. “Isn't that every game?”
“No.” Rob issues his denial to the floor. “The big studios build games for profit.”
My eyebrows rise. “And we don’t?”
“We build games for gamers and hope to make a profit. There’s a difference.”
And then he’s gone.
Good news travels fast, but bad news travels faster. Rob’s big frame has barely unblocked the doorway when Ramesh appears. Thirty seconds later, Marnie joins him. Luckily Ahmed will already be home with his family, so there’s no risk of him appearing like a third witch.
“Is it true?” she says. “Have you sacked Piotr?”
Her hair is in its usual disarray, and there’s a drawing glove covering part of one hand. She’s obviously abandoned something midway.
