Harker dropped the sheet contemptuously to Raymond's desk. "Bad grammar, bad writing, bad thinking—not even a good mimeograph job. Mart, how the dickens could a thing like this have happened?"
"Klaus and Mitchison must have cooked it up last night or early this morning. They handed copies of it to the local press-service stringers in town, and phoned it in to all the New York area newspapers."
"We didn't even have time to fire him," Harker muttered. "Well? Where is he now?"
Raymond shrugged. "He and Klaus are gone. I sent men looking for them as soon as I found out about the newsbreak, but no sign of them."
"Operation Barn Door," Harker snapped. "Most likely they're in Manhattan getting themselves interviewed on video. I see Mitchison didn't bother to mention anyone's name but Klaus' in this alleged handout."
"What would you expect?"
Harker whirled on Barchet, who looked very small and meek suddenly, with none of his earlier blustery self-assurance. "You! You're the one who brought Mitchison into this outfit!"
In a tiny voice Barchet said, "Recriminations are useless now, Mr. Harker."
"The hell with that. Did you tell Mitchison I was going to have him sacked?"
"Mr. Harker, I—"