The Heaven Trilogy by Ted Dekker Page B

almost replied. Instead he said, “Yes,” and plopped down in one of Borst’s tweed guest chairs. “I called you on Friday, remember. So who’s the new employee?”
    â€œCliff ? Yes, he’s a transfer from Dallas. An excellent programmer, from what I hear.” The middle-aged man flicked his tongue across thick lips and ran a hand through what hair he had. “So. How’s the missis?”
    The room lapsed into silence. The missis? Gloria? Borst must have realized his blunder, because a stupid grin crossed his face, and he went red.
    Kent spoke before the man could cover his error, hot with anger. “The missis is dead, remember, Markus? It’s why I’ve been gone for three weeks. You see, there’s an office across the hall that has my name on it. And for five years now, I’ve been working there. Or had you forgotten that as well?”
    Borst turned beet red now, and not from embarrassment, Kent guessed. He continued before the man could recover. “So how did the AFPS presentation go, Markus?” He forced a smile. “Are we on top?” He meant, am I on top, but he was sure that Borst would catch the drift.
    The phone rang shrilly on the desk. Borst glared at Kent for a moment and then snatched it up, listening.
    â€œYes . . . yes put him through.”
    Kent sat back and crossed his legs, aware that his heart was pounding. The other man straightened his tie and sat upright, attentive for whoever was about to address him on the phone. He turned from Kent and spoke. “Yes, Mr. Wong . . . Yes, thank you, sir.”
    Mr. Wong? Borst was thanking the Mr. Wong?
    â€œI’d be delighted.” He turned and faced Kent purposefully. “Yes, I’m tied up with a luncheon on the East Coast Wednesday, but I could fly to Tokyo on Thursday.” Kent knew that something very awful was happening here. He was now sweating badly, despite the air conditioning.
    â€œI’d be delighted,” Borst said. “Yes, it did take a lot, but I had a good crew on it as well . . . Yes, thank you. Good-bye.”
    He dropped the phone in its cradle and stared at Kent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, it came out rehearsed. “Come on, Kent. Surely you didn’t expect all of the glory on this, did you? It’s my department.”
    Kent swallowed, suddenly fearing the worst. But that would be virtually impossible.
    â€œWhat did you do?” His voice sounded scratchy.
    â€œNothing. I’m just implementing the program. That’s all. It is my program.”
    Kent began to tremble slightly. “Okay, let’s back up here. In Miami I was set to introduce AFPS to the convention. You remember that, right?” He was sounding condescending, but he could not help himself.
    Borst nodded once and frowned.
    â€œBut I got called away, right? My wife was dying. You with me here?”
    This time Borst did not acknowledge.
    â€œSo I asked you to wing it for me. And I’m assuming you did. Now, surely somewhere in there you mentioned my name, right? Gave credit where credit was due?”
    Borst had frozen like ice.
    Kent scooted forward on his seat, steaming. “Don’t tell me you stole all the credit for AFPS, Markus. Just tell me you didn’t!”
    The division supervisor sat with an ashen face. “This is my division, Kent. That means that the work out of here is my responsibility. You work for me.” He went red as he spoke. “Or did you forget that simple fact?”
    â€œYou put the paperwork through! This has always been my bonus! We’ve discussed it a thousand times! You left me out?!”
    â€œNo. You’re in there. So is Todd, and so is Mary.”
    â€œTodd and Mary?” Kent blurted incredulously. “You put my name in small print along with Todd’s and Mary’s?” And he knew Borst had done exactly that.
    He shoved an arm toward the door. “They’re junior