Operation Last Ditch Effort

Chapter 6: Blundering for Control

Phones rang non-stop in the CONTROL room. Papers had been taped up to the walls, scattered on the floor and crumbled up balls were overflowing from the tiny trashcan in the corner. Rutherford stood next to the long table gripping a phone next to his ear barking out orders. His face was red with anger and his remaining strands of hair stood up.

"If you don't find them then you better hope He doesn't find you," Rutherford yelled as he slammed the phone down.

The phone cracked under the force letting out a pitiful creak. Rutherford fell back into a chair with a look of desperation, he rubbed his forehead trying to wrap his mind around the situation.

How do I tell Mr. King I can't find them? The Board is going to kill us both.

Sighing, Rutherford rose out of his chair and began walking towards the door to face the music. Approaching the elevator he considered how to tell his boss that there was no sign of the escapees.

He's not going to like this. I'll have to just tell him straight out; he'll respect that more.

Bing. Rutherford began to step onto the elevator only to see his boss standing in front of him. He stood straighter as Mr. King stepped off. The elevator bounced as Mr. King came off, tapping his watch and the taller man looked down at Rutherford.

"Rutherford, just the man I was looking for. Any progress?" asked Mr. King as he began walking down the hallway.

Slouching his shoulders, Rutherford followed and responded quietly, "Sir, I'm sorry, but we've been unable to locate the escapee and there's no sign of his accomplices. They seemed to have disappeared."

Struggling to keep up, Rutherford had to jog to catch up with Mr. King. He almost tripped over an untied shoelace, causing him to pause and correct himself. He re-tucked his coffee stained shirt into his wrinkled pants and adjusted his glasses which had slid off his face due to the moisture forming around his brow. He caught up to Mr. King and ran his hand back over his sweat filled combover. He wiped the sweat away on his pants and straightened up as Mr. King turned to face him.

Shaking his finger, Mr. King responded, "This is ridiculous. I can't believe there's no sign of them. I'm working with the most incompetent group of people. Rutherford, if we don't find them you know what this means. We. Cannot. Let this get out. You understand the consequences of this? If anyone were to find out what we really do there'd be an uprising and the Board wouldn't like that. You and I won't like that."

The pair stood in the empty hallway when a creaking noise broke their silence. Ek. Ek. Ek. The pair turned to locate the source of the interruption. A blue and yellow, cleaning cart made its way down the opposite end of the hall. A man pushed the cart with his eyes closed, shaking his head and dancing with the cart. The man paused in front of a door and stepped in later emerging with a trash bag.

Mr. King walked over to the man's cart and said, "Joe, when you signed your paperwork to work here what were the regulations about lockdowns?"

The man in his blue jumpsuit bit his lip and responded, "No cleaning on this floor. Honestly, it was a mistake. I didn't think about it. I'm sorry sir."

Mr. King pursing his lips thought for a moment before replying, "Ok, be on your way."

As Joe pushed his cart around the corner Mr. King called after him, "And don't let it happen again. Or that's strike three."

Rutherford mumbled under his breath, "More like strike ten."

Mr. King turned on his heels and asked, "What was that?"

Shaking his head Rutherford fumbled with his hands and replied, "Nothing Sir."

Mr. King thought, Humph that's what I thought. Joe's not a bad person. He's just forgetful.