Missing Chemicals

It's a hot day here in Carson City. The blazing sun's burning beams are beating down hard on the city. The sidewalks and roads are scorching hot enough to cook eggs on them. The once-green plants standing outside the buildings are now brown and crispy. There are people outside who are leaving behind trails of sweat as they move around. Luckily for me, however, I am inside, enjoying blasts of cold air from the building's air conditioner.

"Whoo," I say, blowing some air into my hands and rubbing them together. "It's a little cold in here."

I turn my head and look out the breakroom's window.

"Still better than being out there."

Turning my head back, I return to work and start reading the financial report for Newman's Chemicals.

"Okay," I start, taking in a deep breath. "Let's see how the business is doing."

Only a few pages in, I immediately start to feel butterflies in my stomach.

"Oh no. Oh no. Wait, this can't be right. It can't be. Mr. Newman is not going to be happy about this."

According to the latest financial report, the company is losing thousands upon thousands of dollars due to missing chemicals. Over the last few months, chemicals needed for a special project here at Newman's Chemcials have gone missing. Officially, the chemicals are just missing but everyone suspects they were stolen. I don't know if it's true or not, but I do know this. The company won't last much longer if more chemicals go missing.

I don't even bother to read the rest of the report before slamming it shut. I lend back against the chair and sigh as I stare at the breakroom's ceiling.

"I don't want to show this to Mr. Newman," I think, "He doesn't deserve this. What is going on? How are those chemicals disappearing? Where do they even go? I mean, those are some very dangerous chemicals. You would need special equipment in order to properly handle. Or else."

I think it over for a few more minutes but come up with nothing. I realize there's only one thing I can do. Taking in a massive breath, I sigh once more before getting up and straightening my striped, white and green, short-sleeved shirt with tight blue jeans. Taking the financial report with me, I leave the break room and head for Mr. Newman's office.

Preparing for the worst, I swallow a lump in my throat before knocking.

"Come in," a voice says through the door. I nod my head and enter.

Located near the outskirts of Carson City is Newman's Chemicals, a massive pharmaceutical engineering company named after its founder and owner, Mr. Neil Newman. As I enter the office, I see Mr. Newman sitting at his desk. Despite being a very tall man with aging yet neatly combed grey hair in a black business suit, Mr. Newman is a kind and caring person. He treats his employees with respect, pays them what they're worth, and even when mistakes are made, he very rarely gets mad. I cross my fingers that this report wouldn't upset him too much.

Closing one out of two of the doors, I then approach Mr. Newman. As I approach him, I notice Mr. Newman hunching over his desk. There are piles and piles of paper all over it.

"Hello sir," I say, offering the report. "I have the financial reports for this quarter."

Mr. Newman doesn't say anything at first. All he really does is let out a sigh. While he rubs his eyes, I clear my throat and look around for a bit. Mr. Newman's office is quite big, almost three times the size of my bedroom back home. On one of the walls are shelves lined with books. I can make out a few of them from where I'm standing. They're mostly about chemistry and business. On the opposite wall, there are a bunch of short, metal file cabinets. Directly behind Mr. Newman himself is a giant window overlooking the city.

Sighing once more, Mr. Newman points at the corner of his desk.

"Just put it down there," he says. I nod my head and gently place the report on the desk's corner.

"You don't want to look at it," I ask.

"No," he says. "I already know for a fact I'm losing money because of all those stolen chemicals."

"Don't you mean missing chemical, sir?"

"You know just as well as I do they're not missing, Ms. Reader," Mr. Newman says, slamming his fist onto the desk and sending papers everywhere. "They're stolen! They are stolen! Someone is stealing my chemicals! Someone is destroying my company!"

Mr. Newman slams his fist down again and I jump a little. Breathing in and out, Mr. Newman seems to have remembered me.

"Ms. Reader," he says, clearing his throat and putting up his hands. "I am so sorry for that. My deepest apologize. I know it's no excuse, but it's just that, if we continue to lose money at this rate, I'll have to start letting people go."

"What," I say, stepping forward. "Mr. Newman, you can't do that. You can't fire anyone."

I want to say more but Mr. Newman puts up his hand and stops me.

"Please Ms. Reader. Understand that I do not want to fire anyone. I really don't, but I may have to. I have no other choice. Not unless someone can find all those stolen chemicals and bring them back so I don't have to keep paying for them."

"Why don't you call the police," I ask. "I mean, can't they do anything to help?"

"Even if I do call the authority," Mr. Newman says, "It could already be too late."

Mr. Newman starts to breathe heavily like he's panting.

About to suggest something else, Mr. Newman's desk phone rings and stops me. Mr. Newman tells me to leave his office before answering the call.

"Hello. This is Neil Newman. May I ask who is calling? Yes. Hello. Yes. Yes. No. No! No! I don't want the usual shipment of liquid nitrogen. I want only half the usual amount. Yes. Only half of the previous shipment."

Sensing that Mr. Newman would be busy for a while, I decide to do as he told me and leave his office. Quietly walking out, I take the elevator down into the lobby.

"I guess there's nothing more for me to do here," I tell myself as I walk through the lobby. "At least, for now."

"Leaving so soon," Mr. Boxwood, the security guard, says from behind the desk.

"Yeah," I say, waving at him. A rather wide man with dark skin, he smiles and waves back at me. "My, uhh, shift is over so I'm heading home to do some homework. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay. I'll see you then."

Walking through the spinning glass doors, I walk down the street for a while before running even further down. Once I'm certain no one from the company can see me, I pull out my cell phone and call an old friend.

"Hey Sammy," Oliver says. "What's up?"

"Nothing much," I answer. "Hey Oliver, listen. Are you free tonight? I need your help with something."