by Don Bruns
Just then we heard the knock on the door. This time James was the one who cast a furtive glance at our apartment entrance before he realized the sound came from the video. Our original spy movie.
I checked my watch. We had ten minutes to get to Ester’s.
“James we can pick this up when we get back.”
“Amigo, no.”
“Sarah, is that you?” Conroy looked up from his computer.
“Dude, Em’s going to be pissed off enough as it is. No reason to start her off by being late. Okay?”
He gave me a mournful look. “Been waiting all day for this, pally. Would it hurt you to—”
“James, a couple more hours won’t kill you.”
“Hold on. It’s locked.” Conroy punched several keys and pushed himself back from the desk.
“Skip? Amigo—”
“Really, dude, we’ve got to take off.”
“Pick it up where we left off?”
“Promise.” Conroy was walking to the door and as he unlocked it I shut the computer down.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Ester’s has Southern cooking down pat. Grits and gravy to corn-bread and hash, these folks have it. But this wasn’t a grits and gravy meeting. Coffee and a clear head were all that we needed. And you fill your own coffee cup at Ester’s. We did.
Em stared at me with her blue eyes, and I glanced out of the window, noticing how much her new blue BMW matched those eyes. Was it intentional?
“You boys are in trouble. Up to your eyeballs. I can see it, and I can smell it.”
James frowned. “I wouldn’t say we were in trouble. It’s just that your boyfriend may have overextended our abilities.”
I nodded. There was a lot of truth in that statement.
“And you called me because?”
I’d promised James I wouldn’t tell her that he’d made the suggestion. “I think you bring a clear head to the table.”
Em smiled, self-consciously pulling her hair back behind her ears. “A clear head?”
“Yeah.” I took a long swallow of coffee, trying to clear my head.
She shifted her gaze to my roommate. “And you, James? Do you think I have a clear head?”
I swear, I know that they have a real problem with each other, but there are times when it’s almost like they’re flirting.
“It’s clear enough, Emily.”
“So explain the problems.”
I did. As embarrassing as it was, I told her how I’d finally got myself trapped. I wanted to leave out major parts of the story, but I told her everything. Except the story about Sarah being a hooker. I know, I know, it’s an important part of the story, but it just didn’t seem important at the time. And I’m sure that Em would have really had a problem with that issue.
She sat back and closed her eyes.
“Em.” Sitting next to her, I put my hand on her arm. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She breathed deeply. “Look, I knew most of this, but it seems to have escalated quite a bit. I mean, there’s a lot to digest here.”
She had at least grasped that.
“I mean, first of all, going to Carol Conroy tomorrow with that card—I mean she’ll know right away that you’re not having an affair with Sarah. Her husband is.”
That’s one reason I love her. She gets to the point.
“But there’s so much more to this. Carol Conroy thinks she’s marked for murder. She thinks that Ralph Walters, Tony Quatman, and his secretary may have been killed, and you’re being followed by this gray Honda. I mean, guys—”
“So you’re just as confused as we are.” James had half a smile on his face.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?” I wanted her to elaborate.
“This company, Synco Systems, has one big project. Right?”
I stared out the window, seeing the empty parking lot. “It’s all we know about.”
“It’s a federal government project, right?” She took a sip of her coffee. Two creams and a packet of Splenda.
“It is.” James sounded cynical. He was wondering about his decision to include Em.
“Let’s back it up to that project, okay?”
I wasn’t on the same page. I must have looked like I didn’t understand.
“Tell me again about the government project.”
I figured if I was in charge of the security installation, I should be the one to tell her about the Department of Defense project. “Synco Systems is banking on a project for the Department of Defense. This system is supposed to protect the Department of Defense from any outside intrusion.”
“There was this big retail chain that had all their customers’ credit information on their computers.” James had jumped in, leaning over the table. “Two guys in an old Pontiac used a laptop in one of this company’s parking lots, and they stole all this personal information. All from a wireless laptop. It’s crazy. The FBI got lucky and found them before they could sell the information.”
“So this system is supposed to stop that from happening?”
I chimed in. “It is.”
“Guaranteed to stop anyone from stealing information from the Department of Defense.”
“That’s the general idea, Em.” I’d gone over it twice now.
“That’s where it starts, guys. If Ralph Walters was killed, it goes back to this project.”
“You think?” James looked puzzled.
“If you’re being followed, it goes back to this project. The GPS unit on your truck? Same thing. The disappearance of Tony Quatman, his secretary, and her husband? Department of Defense project.”
“You know this?” James appeared to be amazed.
She tilted her head and stared at him. “Of course not. What do you think I am, a psychic?”
“But you just said—”
“Problem solving one-o-one, James. When faced with a problem, you have to go back and start at a certain point. As far back as you can go. In this case, that starts when Skip sold the job. The reason for the sale? A contract with the Department of Defense. So we’ll start there.”
“You sound so confident.”
“I have no clue. But you two—you don’t even have a starting point. Now I’ve given it to you.”
“So your theory could be all wrong.”
“Could be.”
The gray Honda drove slowly past the restaurant. It took me by surprise, but I could swear that the driver slowed down, and even though I couldn’t see him, or her, it appeared they were checking out the parking lot. Probably looking for our truck or my car. It was time to check for another GPS unit. This spy versus spy thing was getting old.
“James—” I motioned to the window and he looked.
“I checked the truck before we left Synco, amigo. No GPS.”
“So what are you going to do about the card and Carol Conroy?” Em went right back to the problem at hand.
“If I give it to her, she’ll know I’m a phony. She’ll be totally aware that Sarah is not dating me. And, she’ll have evidence that her husband is having an affair.”
“That’s what she’s paying you for, Skip.” Now she sounded like a mother.
“Yeah, but when I give it to her I’ve effectively lost that part of the job. She may fire me from the security job for leading her on, and she may cancel the contract we’ve got with Synco Systems.”
Across the table, James looked glum. I wasn’t feeling so good about it myself. We needed the job.
“I lose the bonus from Sarah, my commission on the sale, the bonus from Carol Conroy, and I’ll probably be fired from my job. Other than that—”
“So don’t give it to her.” Em sipped at her sweet, creamy beverage. “That’s the answer, right?”
“Like you said, I’m being paid to—”
“You’re being paid to listen and report. Smart move, Skip. Tell her about the conversation on the phone. The one about codes, about Ralph Walters and Tony Quatman. Give her a written report. If you have
to, transcribe the conversation. Tell her that you can’t release the recording due to technical reasons. The machine had a short in it and you can’t get it to play back again. But you have the basic information.”
I was formally put in my place. I couldn’t believe my girlfriend had figured it out over coffee.
“You know President Richard Nixon used to tape conversations in the Oval Office at the White House. And when he was called on by Congress to produce the tape of a conversation he had that was somewhat incriminating, they found that seventeen crucial minutes had accidentally been erased. We read about it in history class. Remember? But I’m sure you guys already figured that out. You’ve got a way to get rid of the phone call from Sarah. It’s the only solution, right?”
“Yeah.” James nodded his head up and down, up and down, up and down. There was such a thing as overdoing it.
“Sure. We just wanted to know what you thought.”
“Same thing you guys thought.” Em sipped her coffee and stared out the window. “Find a way to spoon-feed her everything else, but don’t play the Sarah card. Not yet at least.”
“Sure.” It all sounded so easy.
“There’s that gray Honda again.” Sarah pointed out the window as an Accord slowly cruised by.
“Are you sure it’s the same one?”
“The license plate matches, and the dent in the passenger’s door appears to be identical. I’d guess it’s the same car.
James had been the one who wanted her opinion. It could have been the best idea he’d ever had. Em had already identified the problem, identified the starting point, solved the immediate problem, and recognized the enemy. Was it any wonder I loved this girl?
She went home in the BMW, and James and I drove home in the truck. There was no GPS under the truck. I slid under and checked the undercarriage myself. James was strangely silent as he drove, and I kept thinking about Em’s insight.
We’d driven for about five minutes, the brakes grinding and the engine sounding rough when he said, “I’d thought of that, you know. Just tell Carol Conroy what she needs to know. Nothing more. It was pretty much where I was going with it.”
“Yeah. I’d thought of it too. But it’s always nice to hear someone confirm your thoughts, right?”
“My thoughts exactly, compadre. Just because we’ve got a high-tech surveillance system in place, doesn’t mean we have to share everything with her. We can control what she knows.”
“True.” But then I was taking Carol Conroy’s money under false pretenses. And it was a lot of money. But if I leveled with her, then I’d probably lose the entire gig. And was it legal to bug Sandy Conroy’s office in the first place? I wanted to go somewhere and just scream for about five minutes.
When we walked in the door, James pointed at the computer. “Turn it on, amigo. We need to see how the day ended.”
I hit the power key, awakening the computer from hibernation mode, and the warm glow on the screen showed me the password box. James and I used Beercity on our ancient PC. The company code on the laptop was Password. It was my boss Michael’s brilliant idea. I always figured that Beercity was a lot harder to crack than Password, but Michael was the boss. I punched in Password, and in a moment the screen glowed.
Conroy pulled the door open and Sarah walked in. She stood still for a moment and he stalked back to his desk, sitting down and staring at her. Slowly she walked to the sole chair in front of his massive wooden desk. She sat down, pulling her dress down to her knees.
“What?”
“You scare me.”
“Sandy, I scare you?”
“You start with your insecurities, your ‘do you love me, I love you’ little whines, then it moves on to demands. ‘When is this going to be over? When are you leaving her?’ I can’t have this, Sarah. It’s got to stop.”
“And all I’d like is some reassurance.” She sounded shaky.
“You’ve got it. I tell you that every time. You’ve got all the assurance you need. Every minute. But it’s all I can say at this moment. There are things going on you’re not aware of, and if you’ll just let me work through them, it will be all right in the end. Do you understand?”
She stood, walked to the desk, and put both hands on the oak, gripping it tightly. “Obviously no. I don’t understand. You just told me that I wasn’t aware of certain things. If you can’t share with me, then—”
Conroy jumped up, almost knocking his chair over. “Stop it. Stop. You’re driving me crazy. Maybe this was a bad idea.”
She was close to tears, I could hear it in her voice. Wavering, higher pitched, choked, she said, “I have turned everything over and—”
“What? What did you turn over? The fact that you were a call girl, and you’ve put that on hold for a while? You’ve quit turning tricks because of me? Is that what you turned over?”
She screamed, picked up a ceramic coffee cup, and threw it at the wall behind him. The cup smashed to pieces.
Conroy was out from behind the desk in a second, holding her by the shoulders. “I’m sorry. Sarah, I’m truly sorry. I know, I know how tough this has been on you. Ralph’s suicide, Carol, and everything else. Please, baby, be patient. Understand I’m going through a lot right now.”
She sobbed softly, pressing her body against him.
Conroy brushed at her hair with his hand. He stroked her back, pulling her closer and I felt like a shit. How could I watch this?
“Tonight. You and me baby—”The screen went blank.
“What?” James’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “Power go out? What?”
“The card ran out of time.”
“Damn!”
“James. She doesn’t have a clue what’s going on. I was hoping we could get some information from her, but—”
“Wasn’t quite what I was hoping for either, but one heck of a show, eh, Kemo Sabe? One heck of a show.”
I had to agree with him. The movie ended with a bang.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The package arrived at Synco Systems at seven a.m. the next morning. Addressed to Skip Moore and stamped CONFIDENTIAL. I could only hope that it was a box of smoke detectors or motion detectors, but that wasn’t meant to be.
“Skip.” Andy Wireman walked up and put his hand on my shoulder. “Your runner seems to be a little bit upset with how things went yesterday.”
I hated confrontation, but “Andy, where did you get the authority to put him in charge?”
“Skip, Michael called the shot. I had nothing to do with it.”
Michael. What an idiot. Putting someone like J.J. in charge. And I knew the only reason it got under my skin was that I almost wasn’t able to get my smoke detector installed. That, and the fact that I was supposed to be in charge. Not some handyman.
“So Jim tells me that you put a smoke detector in the president’s office?”
“He wanted temporary protection, Andy. Conroy even thanked me last night. He said if that office burned up, this company would be in a lot of trouble. This is my project. Title being—well, person in charge, and I’ve got the authority to—”
“Hey, man, I’m with you. We’re on the same exact page, okay? It was a very smart move. And if it makes you feel any better, this morning your neighbor, Mr. Jobs, is back at being a runner and there’s no problem. Just wanted you to know.”
“Thanks, Andy.”
I carried my confidential package to a quiet corner of the computer room, and I used a packing knife to cut through the tape and paper on the large box. Feng was busy instructing two of our installers, and the doors to Sarah’s and Sandy Conroy’s offices were closed. My guess was that they had not come in yet. Still making amends for the lover’s spat they had yesterday.
“Dude,” James walked up, “the office isn’t open. I can’t get the card in place if the office is locked. We need to get this thing back up there.”
I’d forgotten to tell him. And it was a great moment, the kind a supervisor likes to spring on his em
ployee. “No problem, James. You go up to Feng, tell him that you want to work some more on the smoke detector, and he’ll let you in. He’ll watch you reinstall the card and won’t say a word. He also won’t have a clue as to what you’re doing.”
James studied me for a moment. “I’m serious, Skip. I’d like to get this put back in, but I can’t get into Sandy’s office.”
“I’m serious too, James. See Feng.”
“You’re messing with me, amigo. I don’t appreciate it.”
I rolled my eyes, picked up the package, and approached Feng. “Excuse me. James needs to get into Mr. Conroy’s office to do more work on the smoke detector. Can you please let him in?”
Feng frowned. He looked back and forth at the two of us, and I saw James giving me the ‘I told you so’ look.
“How long will this take?”
“Not more than five minutes. This time.” I knew we’d have to take it back out in three or four hours.
“Okay. Follow me.” He headed down to Conroy’s office as James closed his wide-open mouth.
“You’ve got to know how to handle these people, James.”
James grabbed a ladder from an installation team and double-timed it down to office number one.
My large package was half open and I couldn’t wait to see what was in it. There was no return address and no clues on the outside. I went back to my corner and glanced up at the entrance as Sarah came waltzing in. Conroy’s mistress was wearing a gray suit, a simple white blouse, and sensible black shoes. Her dress told me she was in no mood for frivolity. She gave me a grim smile and walked directly to her office, unlocking the door, opening it, and slamming it shut. Apparently the night had not gone well.
“Excuse me.” The soft voice surprised me and I spun around, almost cutting my index finger with the box cutter.
“Yes, Eden. What can I do for you?”
“Mr. Wireman would like to see you up front.”
I sighed. Just a couple more minutes and I’d solve the mystery of the big brown box.
“And, have you seen James today?”
“Um, yeah. He’s working on a smoke detector.” I nodded toward Conroy’s office.
