by Brian Finney
“I so sorry, Mr. Todd,” Felicia sobs.
“I have just one condition, Felicia. An important one. You must never tell anyone that you worked for me. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Mr. Todd. I tell no one.”
“Not even a friend.”
“No, Mr. Todd.”
“Good. I’ll write you a check while you collect your things.” Todd leaves the room.
“Poor Mr. Todd,” Felicia says.
Poor Felicia, I think.
Todd has been generous enough, I reflect, unlike his brother’s treatment of Gomez. And yet there was something too coldly efficient about his response. All his years with Felicia were erased in an instant. In his mind the money made it okay. How does he think she’s going to get another job when she can’t use him as a reference? She’ll be forced to take on an afterhours cleaning job at some soulless office building—if she’s lucky enough to find one. This is a side of Todd that I always assumed he must have. I’d just never seen it before. Yet I’m still shocked.
✽✽✽
After I have helped a tearful Felicia gather her things together, load them in her trunk, and drive off, I go back into Todd’s house and start watering the plants on the upper two floors. My eyes are filled with tears, whether from anger or sorrow I cannot determine.
On my way to the kitchen I bump into Todd coming out of the den. He avoids my eyes. He seems furtive somehow.
I hear the front door slam shut and Todd’s car starting. I go to the den and make straight for the digital clock sitting on his desk. I rewind the hidden recording device five minutes’ worth and press PLAY. Todd is talking to Jorge, telling him what has just transpired between him and Felicia.
“You can see how potentially damaging this news could be to Dan’s campaign. Who knows how Felicia will feel once she’s absorbed what’s happened to her.”
“Women change with the wind,” Jorge says.
“Dan says he can’t risk trusting Felicia not to tell someone that she worked for me as an illegal. If that leaks, all hell will break loose.”
“Yes?” Jorge prods him.
“I need you to smuggle her out of the country—today.”
“I see,” Jorge stalls.
“I will pay you generously for your trouble.”
“Define ‘generously.’”
“Would ten grand do it?”
“How about twenty?” Jorge is no pushover.
“Let’s not quibble. Split the difference. Fifteen.”
“Sounds good. So where do I find her?”
Todd gives Jorge her address in East LA.
“So, you’ll do it this afternoon?”
“Don’t you worry. Better you know as little about the logistics as possible.”
“Yes. You’re right—”
I hear the front door slam. Damn it! Todd’s back already. What to do? With no time to think I snatch the SD card from the device, close it, and slip silently out of the den as he is still moving around the entrance hall. I leave by the kitchen door.
As soon as I start my car, I regret my hasty action. Unless I can get the card back into the recording device, it will be missed. Especially if it is being accessed remotely via Wi-Fi.
More importantly, I have to warn Felicia that she’s going to be kidnapped at any minute. I call her cell.
“Hola!”
“Felicia. It’s me, Jenny.”
“Sí, Jenny. Que pasa?”
She doesn’t sound like her normal self.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“Horrible, por supuesto.”
She bursts out crying.
“Where are you now?”
“Home,” she manages between sobs.
“You have to leave. Now.”
“What?”
“Todd asked Jorge to have you kidnapped and taken to Mexico. He asked Jorge to do it now.”
“Now?” Felicia sounds panicky.
“He could be on his way to your house as I speak.”
“Where do I go?”
“I’ll call Eduardo right after this call and ask him to hide you while we sort this out.”
“But I need time for my things.”
“There’s no time for that, Felicia. This is serious. You have to get out of your house now. Just grab whatever you can.”
“Sí. Rápidamente.” But Felicia doesn’t sound in a hurry. She’s too confused.
“You’ve got ten minutes,” I say, pulling the figure out of the air.
“Ten minutes.”
“Then drive away and keep driving until I call you.”
“Okay, okay. Gracias, Jenny. You are very good.”
“And don’t answer the phone to anyone except me. They can trace you that way. Okay?”
“Sí, sí. No worry. I won’t.”
“In fact, shut your phone down completely.”
“I do it now.”
“I promise I’ll be in touch with you very soon. Now get yourself out of there.”
I end the call and find myself shaking violently. Poor Felicia. If only she hadn’t confessed to Todd. If only—
Time to stop these useless regrets.
✽✽✽
Still sitting in my car parked in Todd’s driveway I call Eduardo and tell him what’s going on.
“Poor Felicia,” he says.
“Can you help me find somewhere that I can send Felicia to? Somewhere where she’ll be safe for the moment?”
“That I certainly can do. We frequently have to help immigrants disappear before starting their life again.”
“Where do you have in mind?”
“A room in an apartment in Boyle Heights.”
“Thank you, Eduardo. You are a jewel . . . Who lives in this apartment?” I ask after a pause.
“My great-aunt, as a matter of fact. Her name’s Gloria. She’s lived there since the seventies. I pay half her rent, and in return she takes in any of my clients as needed.”
“Felicia should be in less danger after the polls close tomorrow.”
“No hurry. We’ll take it day by day.”
“It’s just that I know she won’t want to impose longer than she has to. She’s fiercely independent.”
“I’ll phone Aunt Gloria and let her know Felicia is coming.” He gives me Gloria’s address and phone number.
“What are you up to now?” he asks.
“I have to put in some hours today at Total Surveillance.”
“Maybe we can do something together this evening?” Eduardo suggests.
My heart races. “That would be nice,” I say.
“I’ll call you later. Hasta luego,” and he hangs up.
I call Felicia back and give her Eduardo’s aunt’s address. Reaching the obvious conclusion that I cannot return the SD card anytime soon to its place in Todd’s den, I start my car and set out for Century City.
✽✽✽
Back at my viewing station at Total Surveillance I’m tracking a young woman from the Westside suspected of having an affair, when Grant calls and asks me to come up to his office at once. He doesn’t sound his usual urbane self.
I enter his capacious office. He is sitting in his upholstered executive office chair behind an enormous leather-topped desk with only a laptop, cell phone, and desk lamp on it. He doesn’t ask me to sit down.
“What can I do for you?” I ask with a catch in my throat.
“Roberto, who regularly replaces SD cards for us, just phoned me to say that the video from Todd’s den has gone missing. As you know about the devices in his house I wondered whether you could throw any light on this development.”
I curse myself for panicking and not taking the time to replace the recording in the clock and wind it to its latest endpoint. I quickly come up with a lie.
“As a matter of fact, I can,” I say. “Felicia, the housekeeper who discovered the cam in the kitchen, confronted Todd and asked him why he was spying on her. When Todd asked her what she was talking about she s
howed him the device concealed in the photo frame. He was stunned. And concerned. He went on a hunt throughout the house, and when I left this morning he was watching all the videos. He might have taken the recording from the clock in his den to watch at his office when Roberto slipped in to replace it. At least that’s my best guess.”
“This is not good news,” Grant says. “Broken confidentiality. Possible end of contract. A real shit-storm in the making.”
“I could be wrong. I’m just guessing what might have caused its disappearance.”
“I know. I know,” Grant says irritably. “But you’re the only one who knew where the devices were.”
Is this an accusation? I choose to take it as a statement of fact.
“And Felicia. And now also Todd.”
Grant’s cell phone rings, and he answers it.
After a moment he puts his phone on speaker while placing his finger over his lips to caution me to stay silent. Todd’s voice fills the room.
“I need you to find out the whereabouts of my housekeeper Felicia. Turns out she has no working papers. She’s an illegal immigrant. I was forced to let her go this morning. As you know, my brother is running for the governor’s office. We can’t afford a scandal because a family member employed undocumented aliens.”
Aliens! That is how he refers to Felicia, a trusted employee of all those years. Interesting, too, that Todd doesn’t trust Jorge to find Felicia, instead attempting to double up his chance of success.
“I’ve tried calling her three times in the past hour, but I’m getting no answer,” Todd adds.
“I see,” Grant says. “So . . . what’s her home address? We can start there.”
Todd gives him Felicia’s address, cell phone number, and email address.
“One more thing,” Grant says. “If she was afraid that you were taping her, she might not pick up on your calls.”
“Taping her?” Todd repeats. “What do you mean?”
Uh-oh! I think.
“Jenny told me that Felicia had accused you today of secretly recording her conversations” Grant says. “That might have made her think you were planning to have her deported.”
“Felicia did no such thing,” Todd says hotly. “I’m confused. What recordings are you talking about?”
Grant looks daggers at me.
“The fact is that Total Surveillance was engaged by a client who was concerned with Susan’s disappearance,” he tells Todd. “We installed concealed cameras in your house to see if any light might be shed on her whereabouts.”
“This is quite outrageous,” Todd says. “Who’s the client?”
“You know that’s confidential,” Grant says. “But I can assure you the investigation had nothing to do with you. Our client was solely focused on finding out where Susan might be hiding out.”
Todd says, “You realize that I could sue you, Grant?”
After a moment, Grant says, “To make it up to you I’ll take on the search for Felicia at no charge. What do you say?”
“That is the least you can do. And make sure you have those devices removed from my home today.”
“Of course I will,” Grant says. “I really do apologize.”
There’s silence on the line. Then Todd says, “What was Jenny talking about, anyway? Felicia never mentioned any recording to me.”
Looking at me, Grant says, “I have no idea. You’ll have to ask Jenny that. She’ll be here working for another hour.”
In an icy voice, Todd says, “Tell Jenny to come to my house when she’s done working. I need to talk to her this evening.”
“I’ll make sure she gets the message,” Grant says, glaring at me. “Meantime, I’ll immediately put someone on the trail of Felicia.”
“And remember to send someone else to recover the recordings.”
“I sure will. As soon as I have any news I’ll be in touch with you.”
“Make sure you do that,” Todd responds curtly and hangs up.
Grant turns to me, his face contorted with rage.
“What the hell is going on? Why are you lying to me?”
I’m feeling doubly guilty now, for lying and for landing Grant in trouble with an important client.
“I’m truly sorry, Grant. You see I’ve been trying to locate the whereabouts of Susan for days. And it was Felicia who told me about the recording devices in Todd’s house—”
“You’re not explaining why you lied to me,” Grant interrupts me.
I can’t let him know that I’d seen the recording of the meeting between Todd and Jorge. Jorge is his client, and Grant would more than likely tell him that I had overheard that conversation, which would make me a target of the cartel. It could well put me in physical danger. Even threaten my life.
“I’m sorry. I can’t,” I mumble, looking down at my lap.
“You can’t! Why on earth not?”
“Because it would break my client’s confidentiality.”
“So you’ve now got your own client?”
“I promise you, this is the last thing I wanted to happen.”
“But it has happened.”
I stay silent, as I cannot deny this.
“Hasn’t it?”
“Yes, it has. I’m really sorry, Grant.”
“Sorry doesn’t do it, I’m afraid.”
He phones a number and asks whoever it is to come up to his office. We sit in awkward silence until the door opens and Alexandro, the duty security officer, appears.
“Alexandro, please accompany Ms. Carter to her position in the viewing room and see that she leaves with only her personal belongings. She is not to be allowed back in the building after that.”
“You’re firing me?” I stammer.
“You’ve left me no choice. You will receive your termination check in the mail. Now leave.”
As I walk through the door that Alexandro is holding open for me, Grant is dialing a number. I have already become an annoying memory to him, just as Felicia was wiped clean from Todd’s consciousness this morning. Everyone is expendable, I remind myself. And not just as an employee (part-time at that). I’m physically expendable too.
Suddenly I feel terrified. Powerful forces are swirling around me, and they could sweep me up, as the wind does a fallen leaf. Who was Grant phoning? Jorge? That would be really bad news for me.
Alexandro doesn’t say a word. I’m sure he’s been through this process many times. I pick up the few personal items I’ve got in my kiosk, put them in my shoulder bag, and go to the garage. Under Alexandro’s sad watchful gaze, I leave Total Surveillance, another redundant employee to be dismissed and forgotten.
✽✽✽
When I’m a few blocks from Total Surveillance I pull my car over to the curb. I’m shaken, and I need to think. Now, how am I going to pay my rent? But that’s not my primary concern. What worries me most is that I feel directly under threat.
Thanks to the recording I took from Todd’s den, there’s no doubt about Dan and his brother’s connection to the drug cartel. If that became public it would threaten Todd, Dan, and Jorge. Jorge! He’s a leading member of a gang that regularly murders people to protect its turf and its profits.
I’m in big trouble. I’m trembling, and sweat is running down my face.
The card is the key. If I surrender it to them I’ll lose the only leverage I have. I need to leave the card somewhere safe. Of course! Eduardo.
I call him at work and tell him what’s happened.
“You’re not thinking of doing what Todd has asked and going back to his place, are you?” he asks.
“Yes. But only after I’ve left the cards with you to guarantee my safe return.”
“How do you mean?” He sounds guarded.
“If you don’t hear from me by eight this evening I want you to take the cards to the Los Angeles Times.”
“Why are you putting yourself in danger?” He sounds genuinely worried.
“Because if I don’t meet up with them, I will be seen as
a danger to the cartel. I can’t hide from the cartel for the rest of my life. I have to negotiate an exchange that will remove me from their sights for good.”
“What if Jorge and his men try forcing you to hand over the recording?”
“That’s why I want you to leave for the Times at eight promptly.” I’m terrified, but I try to keep my fear out of my voice.
“You’ve really thought this thing through.”
“Only as I’m talking to you.”
“I’m impressed.”
There is a brief silence. I continue:
“I want to leave the card with you, plus the copies I made of the earlier ones from Todd’s rooms downstairs. I need to recover them from home first.”
“By then I’ll be at Aunt Gloria’s place.”
“Okay. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
“See you then. Be careful.”
“I’m trying to be. Thank you.”
✽✽✽
As I let myself into the apartment I momentarily lose my new feeling of acute anxiety as I hear Tricia’s voice on the phone to someone. It must be a client; she’s using her professional voice—wanting to please without sounding obsequious. I wish she’d sometimes use it with me. I’m not holding my breath.
“Oh—That sounds perfect,” Tricia is saying. “Apart from other considerations it saves you fifty thousand dollars. I truly believe this is the best offer we will get.” I admiringly note her use of “we.” “I’ll see you then in my office tomorrow at 10. We’ll have the papers ready for you to sign. I’m very happy for you. . . Goodbye.”
Happy for herself, I think. But why should I begrudge her a sale? The last thing I want to become is bitchy like her. I get into my room, take out the SD card and copy it on my duplicator. I should have left it in place, dammit.
“So what’s going on?” Tricia asks from my bedroom doorway.
“I just got fired by Total Surveillance,” I say nonchalantly, as I remove the card from the SD card duplicator.
“I don’t know whether to commiserate with you or congratulate you.”
“Neither do I,” I say, while searching for the earlier copies I made of the cards from Todd’s house.
