Watch the Borders, Short Story by Herbert Holeman in Web Mystery Magazine, Fall 2005

Watch the Borders

Gerry picked up the phone on the first ring and spoke into the mouthpiece. “Agent Brodie here.” He liked the way that sounded.

“The Chief wants the case report on those container smugglers.” It was the voice of his supervisor, Dan Foster. “It’s ready. Come get it. They want it upstairs.”

“I’m on my way,” Gerry managed to get in just before the phone clicked off. He grabbed his suit coat from the rack and straightened his tie while he looked around the squad room, surveying the older agents shuffling papers at their desks. He smiled inwardly as he hurried down the hall, reminding himself of the good fortune as a trainee to begin his career in the agency’s national headquarters. He had only seen the agency’s chief once. That was at the new agent orientation. Now, he had been personally selected to report to the chief’s office.

When he arrived at his supervisor’s cubicle, no one was seated at the desk.

“Dan’s on coffee break,” an unseen voice called from the next cubicle. “The folder with the report is on his desk. Take it upstairs to Miriam.”

“Miriam, Chief Steele’s private secretary?”

“Y-e-a-h,” the unseen voice dragged out. “Take it to old hatchet face.”

Gerry didn’t wait for the elevator, but took the stairs two at a time up to the executive floor, hustled into the chief’s outer office, and approached the stern faced woman seated at a desk. He stared at the name plate on her desk and held out the folder.

“He’s waiting for you,” she said, jerking her head to the closed doors behind her. “Go right in.”

The name, Chief John Steele, was embossed on a shiny brass plate at eye level on the door. Gerry took a deep breath and entered the office. He came to a stop just inside the door.

The large, heavy-set man sat behind the massive oak desk, his shirt sleeves rolled up, and his necktie loosened. With an impatient gesture, he bellowed, “C’mon, let’s have it.”

Gerry hurriedly slid the folder across the desk surface, which was devoid of anything except an executive double pen set.

“From Supervising Agent Foster, Sir.”

The chief nodded with a grunt, flipped open the folder and slowly thumbed through each page, shaking his head. Finally, he looked at Gerry and scowled. “This whole thing doesn’t look good, does it?”

Gerry stared at the chief, searching his face for some clue. He had no idea what the case was about and realized, rush job or not, he should have taken the time to at least scan the report. The chief had actually asked for his opinion, and he should have been prepared. Now, he just stood there, fidgeting apprehensively.

“Watch the borders,” the chief said, and shoved the report toward Gerry.

“Sir?” he said, alarmed by the sharp edge in the chief’s voice.

The chief punched his finger on the page. “Take care of it.”

Gerry glanced down at the page the chief had been reading. It was the action taken against container smugglers. “Yes sir, the borders.” He wheeled around, and scurried out of the office.”

Back at his supervisor’s cubicle, Foster glanced up. “What did he say?”

Gerry slammed the report down on his supervisor’s desk. “The old man wants the borders covered.”

Foster picked up the folder, skimmed through the pages of the report, and shrugged his shoulders. “Okay, if that’s what he wants.” He handed the folder back to Gerry. “I’ll call the field offices. You expedite copies out to them.”

“Expedite?”

“Yeah, and stick with it till it’s done.”

Gerry dashed to the computer center and slammed the report on the Betty’s desk. “This has got to go out like yesterday.”

The system administrator grinned and raised an eyebrow. “Like yesterday?”

Gerry repeated what his supervisor had told him. “It’s an expedite!”

Her grin widened and she rolled her eyes upward as she reached for her keyboard. “Right, like yesterday.”

Back at his desk, the passing hours seemed like days to Gerry as he waited. Finally, he was summoned by Foster and ordered to take the revised report upstairs.

This time he waited for the elevator and studied the report. Miriam, stern faced as usual, nodded toward the chief’s office.

When he entered, the chief was, as before, with his shirtsleeves rolled up, tie loosened, and wearing a scowl.

“The container smugglers case sir, the borders are taken care of,” Gerry said with confidence.

A perplexed look on his face, the chief studied him. “What? Oh. Good, let’s see it.”

Gerry slid the folder on the desk, and opened it to show his supervisor’s cover memo clipped in front of the original report. The lengthy memo listed the actions taken by each of the field offices in carrying out the assignment for border coverage.

“What’s all this?” the chief asked, removing the cover memo. He stared at the report; a slow rising purple hue crossed his face. A vein began to throb.

Gerry wilted under his chief’s glare.

The chief slammed the report on the desk, “This is the same report I gave you to fix. Look at the damn margins on this page. For God’s sake man, can’t you see the borders are all off?”

The backstory behind "Watch the Borders" is based on an incident that was told one afternoon at a tavern in San Francisco. Investigators from different agencies had gotten together after work for drinks. Discussion centered on some of the mix-ups that had occurred in their current cases, and eventually the conversation reached the point where humorous stories of mix-ups in each other's agency were told. One such tale was told by an FBI agent about an incident involving J. Edgar Hoover, the feared Director of the FBI. After reviewing an agent's report, he shouted to the underling to watch the borders. Terrified at raising the Director's wrath, the underling mistook it as just that, an order to watch the borders when all that Director Hoover was referring to was the appearance of the report document.