Tutor, Nanny, Spit-up, Spy

by Perry Kirkpatrick

  No way can I stay on the same floor as that guy. He gives me the creeps!

  But the woman opened a door next to the one leading to the second stairwell. “Right in here,” she said, turning on the light. “It’s close enough to the children to make your job easier, but far enough away you’ll hopefully feel you have some privacy.”

  Emily looked around the room curiously. It was painted a soft, powdery blue and furnished with a black iron double-bed, a small desk and chair, two cream-colored armchairs, and a colorful oriental rug. A piece of wrought-iron art hung on the wall opposite the bed: the silhouette of an antique bicycle with the giant wheel in front and the tiny wheel in the back. A mirror was mounted lengthwise near the closet. On another wall, a large flat-screen TV hung.

  “It’s perfect. And so beautiful.” She didn’t trust herself to say much more without betraying the fact that her own bedroom was the size of this house’s laundry room and she was, in fact, living in an ugly apartment building that could be afforded on a coffee barista’s wage.

  “Yes, the owners of this house display good taste. I wish I knew who their designer was.” Mrs. Gonzalez chuckled. “I see Morales left your bag there on the bed.”

  That’s the young guard’s name! Morales!

  “I’ll let you settle. Tomorrow, we wake at seven, then the half-day of school, then we get them ready for visiting the children’s choir. Sofia told me she wants you to style her hair.”

  Emily smiled. “That’s sweet of her. I look forward to it.”

  After the words left her mouth, it occurred to her she hadn’t styled another girl’s hair since middle-school.

  Hopefully I remember how. Hopefully I do it right.

  As Mrs. Gonzalez left and shut the door, Emily felt a tiredness come crashing down over her.

  I made it through the first day! I semi-successfully took care of four children—well except for the times the older two were with Brent. Then I only had two.

  Mateo, though—he ought to count for extra himself. He’s a handful.

  At the thought of Brent, a sense of aloneness in the big house engulfed her. She eyed her reflection in the tall mirror.

  I really need to talk to him. I really need to tell him about Diaz.

  And Moreno.

  She slowly got ready for bed, even though it was earlier than her normal bedtime. She felt bone-tired from keeping up with the little ones all day, and she couldn’t wait to sink into the big bed. She was sure it was going to be amazing compared to her low-quality twin mattress.

  She memorized the layout of the decorative pillows and then removed them, one by one, to a stack in one of the armchairs. Then she pulled back the covers and moved the pillow she planned to use for sleeping from its propped-up position.

  Something rustled.

  “What on earth?” she whispered, yanking the pillow away.

  A folded slip of paper stared back, her name written in Brent’s scrawling handwriting.

  Chapter 8

  Hey, Nanny,

  If you find this note, it means you’ve survived your first day—congratulations! I’m keeping an eye on things via the Dots, and I’m just a call away if you need me.

  I am using a prepaid cell phone, and I’ll have the same number for the next 3 days. After that, I’ll be switching to a new one. Security and all, you know?

  Brent

  He had scrawled an unfamiliar phone number beneath his name, and Emily sighed in relief.

  “Best news all day,” she whispered, retrieving her phone and punching in Brent’s number. He answered after the first ring.

  “Early bedtime?” he said, and she could picture the teasing expression he probably wore.

  “Well, the kids wore me out pretty good, and besides, this bed looks really comfy.”

  Brent chuckled.

  “Hey, Brent—”

  “Huh? You looked stressed earlier, Emily. Is something up?”

  Emily sank down onto the bed—it was every bit as soft and comfortable as she’d suspected. “Yes,” she glanced toward her bedroom door and lowered her voice slightly. “I overheard Diaz on the phone after he returned with the Gonzalez parents.”

  “Okay.”

  “His tone sounded angry and a little sneaky or something. He was speaking in Spanish, so I can’t tell you the whole conversation, but I managed to translate a few words with my phone.”

  Brent grunted in a way that said, “Good thinking!”

  In spite of her worry, Emily smiled a little as she continued. “He said the words, two days, I plan, worry, and—assassin.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “Brent? I’m not just being paranoid, am I?”

  “No, I don’t think so. That’s definitely suspicious and you followed your gut. You’re turning into quite a good little spy, you know that?”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “Short jokes again, huh?”

  He laughed. After a moment, he sobered.

  “Listen, I want you to be really careful,” he said quietly. “ICS is working on checking out each of the guards, but I’ll get in touch and advise them to prioritize Diaz based on what you overheard.”

  “While they’re at it,” Emily added, “I feel like they should look closely at Moreno.” She swallowed. “I don’t have anything to go on besides the fact that he kinda gives me the creeps.”

  Brent grew stern. “He gives you the creeps in what way? If you think you’re not safe around him—”

  “Not that kind of creep, I just get the feeling he’s capable of being very, very lethal. Like, if it were a movie audition, he’d pierce them with those eyes and they’d immediately give him the role of cold-hearted assassin.”

  Brent was quiet for a moment, and Emily was worried now she was being paranoid.

  “I’ve met men like that,” he finally said.

  “Other spies?” she whispered.

  “Some, yes.”

  “Don’t ever become that kind of spy, okay, Brent?”

  “I’ll do my best, but if you see signs of me becoming a hardened psychopath, say something, will ya?”

  Emily laughed. “Of course. I don’t really see you ever giving off the same vibe as this guy.”

  “I’ll have ICS look at him more closely too. See if he has any ties to rebel groups or anything.”

  “Thanks, Brent. I’m sorry if it turns out to be a wild goose chase.”

  “I had the same kind of feeling about that Duarte-fellow,” he admitted. “He just stands around glowering all the time. He definitely has the face of a killer.”

  “Sheesh, Brent! Didn’t you see him with the kids, though?”

  “Well, yeah…”

  “I hardly think a guy who enjoys the kids as much as he seems to would be the one to assassinate their father.”

  “I’ve seen stranger things,” Brent muttered. “I still don’t like the guy.”

  “I think you’re in danger of becoming a grumpy old man before your time,” Emily teased.

  Brent snorted.

  “Any word on how long ICS’ digital blackout will continue?” she asked after a moment. “Thanks for leaving your new phone number, by the way.”

  “No,” he said, “Santa isn’t sure how long it will take to determine if we have a mole or a hacker trying to distribute our pictures to enemy agents. And then once we know that for sure, there will be the matter of catching him or her.”

  “So until then, Sunrise Coffee remains a drop for orders and intel? And you’re using—oh! I know this one!—you’re using burner phones! And you’re switching burner phones and numbers every few days so you can’t be tracked!” Emily squeaked, trying to keep her excitement to a volume that wouldn’t penetrate the walls of her room.

  Brent chuckled. “That’s movie stuff, Emily.”

  “Yeah, so what if it is… you’re still doing it!”

  “You got me,” he sighed dramatically in defeat.

  Emily yawned. “Brent, those kids really did wear me out. I
probably should get some sleep if I’m going to keep up with them again tomorrow.” She glanced at the clock.

  Wow! How did it get so late so fast? It doesn’t feel like we’ve been talking that long at all!

  “All right,” she heard Brent saying, “I’ll let you get your beauty sleep. Although—”

  “I feel like you’re about to tease me,” she said, cutting him off.

  “I can neither confirm nor deny,” he said softly.

  She laughed and scooted herself down flat onto her bed, drawing the covers up to her chin. “Goodnight, Brent.”

  “‘Night, Emily.”

  Chapter 9

  The children were all in a mood the next morning. Their mother stayed home, not having somewhere to be as she had the day before. Juan was bossy, Daniel weepy, and Mateo managed to get Sofia’s dress dirty yet again, despite Emily’s best efforts to keep him far, far away.

  How was I to anticipate such a young baby would be able to throw jam so far?

  Mrs. Gonzalez frowned. “I’ve been working on teaching him not to throw food since he first began eating it!” she protested. “It isn’t as if I let him do this!”

  Emily felt badly that the woman seemed to feel the need to apologize. “I can tell you have been teaching him not to—he only does it when neither one of us is looking. I’m guessing that means he does know better.” She hoped what she said would help set the woman’s mind at ease and still sound professional. She was undercover, after all.

  Mrs. Gonzalez thought over her words for a moment before saying, “I do believe you’re right. But devious at 10 months?” She shook her head.

  “Perhaps it just means he’s very smart.”

  After comforting the traumatized Sofia and taking her upstairs to change, Emily had Daniel help her pick up the books and toys scattered around his room. Being by himself, doing something productive seemed to help him get out of his weepy mood.

  “Ready for lessons, Sofia?” she asked.

  “Yes,” the little girl said, drawing out the word.

  She’s kind of weepy, too. This is going to make today’s outing interesting.

  Emily led the two children downstairs to the school room where Brent and Juan were waiting. Brent met her at the door.

  “Hey, listen,” he said, glancing down the hall at Daniel who was amusing himself by spinning in circles a short distance away. “I’ll be at the concert later. The kids told me about it yesterday. I’ll probably be a little late, though, because I have some stuff to do here once everyone is gone.”

  “More Dots?”

  “No,” he glanced over his shoulder at the two older children to make sure they were still busy looking at the worksheets he’d laid out for them. “Got word back on Moreno,” he said, speaking in a rapid whisper. “He served in the Colombian military as a highly-decorated sniper.”

  Emily sucked in her breath.

  “You were right about him being lethal. And when I checked the floor plan of this house, I realized his bedroom is the perfect overwatch position.”

  “You think he’s going to snipe Mr. Gonzalez on his way in or out of the house?”

  Brent shrugged and shook his head. “Can’t confirm anything yet, but I’ll feel a lot better when I know he’s as close to the ground as possible.”

  “How will you get him to change rooms?” Emily asked, wrinkling her forehead.

  “Thanks for the heads up that everyone seems a little off today. I’ll take it easy on them,” Brent said at a normal volume.

  For a split second, Emily was confused as to why he’d answered her question by changing the subject. Then she realized Mrs. Gonzalez and the baby were approaching and he’d given a good reason for them to be standing in the doorway talking.

  “End lessons by 11, if you would,” Mrs. Gonzalez said.

  “Absolutely!” Brent answered brightly before turning and heading into the school room.

  “I need to make some phone calls,” the woman said to Emily. “Would you take Mateo?”

  “Yes. Come here, little buddy!” Emily reached for the baby, but he grabbed hold of his mother and began whimpering.

  Mrs. Gonzalez sighed. “It’s as if nobody slept last night.”

  “Would it be all right if I took the two little ones outside to play?” Emily asked. “Perhaps they need to run around a bit.” She noted that Daniel perked up at the suggestion.

  Their mother contemplated for a moment, checked her watch, and then nodded. “Yes, we will have time for fresh baths before we have to leave, so go ahead.”

  Emily turned back to Mateo and asked in an excited voice, “Do you want to go play outside?”

  She wasn’t sure if he understood what ‘outside’ was, but he at least understood her tone. Releasing his grip on his mother, he leaned toward her, arms outstretched.

  “All right!” Emily held out her hand for Daniel and used her best Mary Poppins enthusiasm. “Let’s go play!”

  As she passed the school room door, she caught Brent’s grin.

  * * *

  Mateo fell asleep a couple minutes after being buckled into one of the two shiny, black SUVs taking them to the concert. Emily leaned back in the leather seat beside the baby’s infant seat and soaked up the ice cold air conditioning. The windows were darkly tinted and she was glad—nothing like showing up to a fancy event with a bunch of cranky, sweaty kids.

  The family was split between the two SUVs, each carrying two guards. Hincha remained at the house, keeping an eye on things from the surveillance room. Emily was a little disappointed, because he was the one guard she hadn’t had much time to observe. She hoped he wouldn’t be too vigilant while they were gone. Brent still needed to slip back to the house and enact whatever plan he had come up with to make the sniper change from the third-floor room to one on a lower level.

  He had never elaborated, and she amused herself on the drive by imagining what kind of odd plan he might have.

  Perhaps he’s going to put tacks under the guy’s sheets. No, that’s more like a sleep-over prank than anything.

  Maybe he’ll release mice in the room.

  She shuddered.

  Ugh. I hope not. I’m pretty sure that room is kind of directly above mine.

  Before she settled on a theory, they arrived at the Scottsdale Center for the Performing Arts. The guards took a few moments to meet with the head of security for the large, fancy building. Diaz spoke earnestly with the man for a moment, and then they appeared to do a radio check to make sure they could all hear each other.

  When the guards gave them the all-clear and opened the doors, Emily managed to unbuckle the baby without waking him. She carried him into the cool atrium. Colored lights shone up the walls and soft music came from some unknown source. The area was almost completely deserted. They were quite early, and the rest of the concert attendees had not yet arrived.

  The Gonzalez family and their guards followed a man in a tuxedo who showed them into a beautiful theater and to the seats reserved for them.

  “We’re so close to the stage!” Juan whispered, his voice sounding loud in the big, nearly-empty room.

  “I thought you might enjoy this more than a box seat,” Mr. Gonzalez said, smiling at his son.

  Diaz gave quiet orders to the other three guards. He and Morales, the young guard, positioned themselves at the ends of the row in which the family sat, and Duarte and Moreno headed toward the back. She assumed they were going to find good places to watch the whole room for trouble.

  The children grew fidgety waiting for the concert to begin, so Emily spun a crazy tale of two mice who happened to be secret agents bent on stopping the Great Cat War. Aside from stopping her several times to ask the meaning of a word or phrase, the children stayed spellbound and Mateo stayed asleep.

  A bit of his drool sopped a round wet spot on the shoulder of the black dress she wore, but she didn’t mind. She had a feeling that was infinitely better than what they’d be dealing with if he woke up.

 
; The other seats filled with attendees, and she managed to wrap up the mouse adventure just as the lights dimmed and the children’s choir filed out onto the stage.

  Emily glanced around the room, wondering if Brent had arrived yet. She didn’t see him, but movement in the left-hand box caught her eye. Moreno leaned against the railing, watching the crowd below with a grim, hawk-like eye.

  Of course he found a high position. I wish Brent were here.

  She glanced from side to side, noting the exits and forming a plan for how to quickly gather the children.

  Just in case.

  Chapter 10

  The concert held the children’s attention quite well. They seemed spell-bound by the fact that kids—some of them their own ages—were on a stage singing beautifully together. They particularly enjoyed participating in the applause following each song.

  Emily covered Mateo’s ears, still doing her best to keep him asleep.

  Amazing how a person can sleep through basically anything at this age. These days I wake up at the slightest noise.

  At the end of the concert, the audience gave the young singers a standing ovation—which the Gonzalez children again partook in vigorously, indulging in the rare jumping-up-and-down-ovation.

  Emily glanced up toward the left box again. Moreno was still there. Mr. Gonzalez herded his family out of their row.

  “Come along,” he said, “it’s picture time.”

  Mrs. Gonzalez took Mateo from Emily. She grimaced as the baby raised his head and looked around with bleary eyes.

  Hope he’s not bawling in all the pictures!

  She watched from her seat as Mr. Gonzalez bounded up on the stage and shook hands with several of the choir members, thanking them for their performance. Most of the other concert-goers were gathering their things and exiting the theater. A photographer with a large camera snapped pictures of the scene on the stage.

  “Can we get the family to stand all together here, please?” the photographer called. Mrs. Gonzalez positioned the children in front of her and her husband.

  “Smile nicely at the man with the camera!” she told them.

  Daniel stared down at his shoes, looking like he might burst into tears.