Lawrence hopped his way out of trouble and unbound his ankles. He had shaken off security by diving into the fountain outside Janitorial Services and hiding in the U-bend. Having been a janitor for all his professional life, Lawrence was an expert at holding his breath for prolonged periods of time. He hid there for twenty minutes, coming up for air every 70 seconds. As he breached the awful water one last time, something metal and painful struck him between the eyes. He cried out and crashed back into the water.
Once he cleared the slime from his eyes, he noticed the startled guard. The guard identified himself. Suddenly it all clicked. His quarry was staring him in the face. Overcome by serendipity, he cried out his name again and again like an epiphany and lurched gaily forward, shedding muck with every step till he reached the rim of the fountain. Lawrence vaulted over the rim and ran.
“Stay back! Put your hands where I can see them!” Joe shook his baton defensively. But it was too late. Lawrence dove for him, arms outstretched, catching him off balance. As Joe countered his weight, he delivered a brilliant uppercut that sent Lawrence doing back flips till he crumpled to the ground. Joe cursed, adrenaline pumping the rest of the hangover out of his system. He ran over to his assailant, gripped him by the shoulders and held him to the ground.
Lawrence moaned. “Idiot. Stupid idiot!”
“You’re the idiot to come running at me like that!”
“I know,” he gulped, blinking back the pain, “I was talking to myself!” The world around him swam. His stomach leaped to shake hands with his throat.
“How do you know my name?” Joe shook him violently. “Who are you?”
Lawrence turned his head and unleashed his lunch onto the pavement. Joe let go and took a step back, giving him some air. “Let it go. Relax. Deep breath.” Joe knelt down and studied the man. Lawrence eyed the ox-like Joe with suspicion, in between dry heaves.
Lawrence squirmed on the pavement, rubbing his sore face. He nodded, trying to reassemble the universe and his position in it. Joe questioned him again.
“Joe, I know you but you don’t know me.” He laughed, completely delirious. Joe paced back and forth. “I’m a…I’m a janitor, yeah. My name is Lawrence. Simon Lawrence. Would you please adjust the tracking on the VCR? You look all wobbly.”
“How do you know my name, mop-jockey?” Joe stepped forward, bristling. Lawrence laughed resignedly through the growing shiner under his eye.
“Forgive me—if I lose my breakfast too. I don’t feel so good.” Lawrence turned over and rocked back and forth on his knees until the heaves left him alone. He crawled over to the rim of the fountain and leaned against it for support. “Like I said, my name is Simon Lawrence. What you don’t know is that you’re a victim of a covert plan. Two weeks ago, while scrubbing one of the men’s rooms, I was approached by a German, Doctor Klaus from your sector and asked to study your habits. When you came in, when you left, whether you fell asleep on the job, etc. Two nights ago, I was asked to bring you in.”
“Bring me in?”
“To see a doctor. He said he wanted to perform some newly required tests on you. That you were unwilling so long as you were conscious and that why don’t I just go and bring you in so the company could confirm a few things. He promised me a lot: desk, pay raise and everything. It was too good an opportunity for me to pass up. My mother’s getting on in years and having seen what I’ve seen on this job, I just couldn’t keep doing it.”
“You sold me? I’m not a damn commodity here, Simon Lawrence.” Joe paced around, gesturing violently. “A fellow human being, but what’s that for a few more dollars, eh?” He nearly struck him in anger, but seeing the poor man’s condition, withheld his hand. “Well, to hell with you.” Joe lit another cigarette, exhaling bitterly.
Angrily he pointed his cigarette at Lawrence and grumbled a moment to compose his thoughts. “First thing we’re going to do, you and I, is go to Human Resources and sort this thing out. Don’t think you’re getting away with what you’ve done to me.”
Lawrence gazed at him through hazy eyes; he was fading fast. “Joe,” he reached out and grabbed his boot. The words came slowly. “We’re both victims here. I’m sorry for what I did to you. There’s more to it than just you. They tried to kill me after I brought you in. Something more is going on. I went back to settle the score, and you security boys beat me up and threw me in jail. I just broke out, to find you. To tell you. No doubt they’ll now be looking for both of us. God, I’m sorry.” Nodding his head, he passed out.
Joe crouched and watched Lawrence. Tears streamed down the unconscious man’s face. He was still breathing at least. Angry as he felt, Joe couldn’t help but pity him. He looked pathetic in every sense of the word. This limp, crazy rag doll of a man had sold him out, but had felt enough guilt to try to make up for it. He had acted with (now, what was the word that had been deleted from the employee handbook?) honor. Al would have been proud. He was a missing piece of the puzzle that Joe needed and had come clean. And Joe had nearly killed him before he had found all of this out.
Things were far more complicated. He felt violated. I’ve been probe-u-lated, shuddered Joe. It was more than a hangover; they had done things to his body. The sudden urge to jump into the fountain was curbed only by its smell. What was worse was that the company was now involved.
Joe growled. Standing up, frustration boiling inside, he roared in angst. He paced back and forth, clenching and unclenching his fists, trying to calm down. A drink would do the trick, yes. But, no. Not now. Not now.
What to do with this Lawrence character? He needed him as proof, and he certainly wasn’t just going to sit back and let the wolves get him. Maybe together they could blow the whistle and set things right.
“It looks like the night is still young and we’ve got people to see. Come along then.” He scooped up the dead weight and slung the unconscious Lawrence over his shoulder. It was another five city blocks to the district.
