by C. L. Stone
“Mr. Blackbourne?”
He spoke without turning around. “That’s a particularly lovely dress you’re wearing. You should wear dresses more often.”
I was floating where I sat. My heart reverberated in my chest like a violin string had been plucked.
Before I could think of a reply, he stepped away, disappearing into the bookshelves.
SUPER SPY
I was ready to leave the library in less than an hour. Mr. Crowley was boring. He had a very monotone way of speaking. I felt sympathetic toward Mr. Hendricks, who had to spend all of lunch and golf listening to him.
Mr. Crowley talked even if no one else was in the room. He spoke to himself as he worked. He talked to his computer. Most of the time he was telling it to hurry up, but there were instances where he thanked it and then proceeded to tell the computer how it could run more efficiently. The most popular suggestion was to threaten to call IT on it and again demand for them to fix it.
It seemed everyone else in the office he worked in knew his tendency for talking, because the one woman who I understood to be his secretary often excused herself because she thought she heard a phone ringing or she was in a hurry to deliver a paper to someone—anyone—else. She asked only succinct questions to get the answer she needed. It even sounded like she sometimes walked out in the middle of whatever he was rattling on about. He dismissed this, called her a bubble brain and went back to talking to his computer. Sometimes he even told the computer what he’d been telling the secretary about so he could finish up whatever he was saying.
From where I was sitting, there was no way to tell the time. I didn’t have my phone. I had no way to talk to the guys and I didn’t think I should get up and wander around because I was afraid to leave behind the box and didn’t want to disobey Mr. Blackbourne when he’d told me not to move. The book Mr. Blackbourne had planted in front of me was a medical journal from 1973. I studied the diagrams mostly, as most of the text was very blocky and difficult to read, but I suffered through it during Mr. Crowley’s rare silences.
I wanted to sleep. I wanted to curl up in the chair and pass out for a few hours. My body was tired and achy. It wasn’t enough that I was still and quiet. Earlier, even though I’d been tired, I was active and excited so I’d managed to stay awake. Now I felt like I was fighting a losing battle. I wasn’t prone to nodding off while sitting up, but I experienced it for the first time now.
If this was what being grounded with Mr. Blackbourne meant, I would eat and sleep forever just to not do this.
The best I could do was to get comfortable. I kicked off the wedge sandals. Since no one else was around, I allowed myself to sit cross-legged in the chair. I was showing off my underwear to the wall, but I figured it wouldn’t mind.
What I thought was about two hours later, Mr. Crowley started calling for his secretary. She didn’t respond. He grumbled, talking to himself in a low tone that I couldn’t hear.
I gazed out the window, looking across the street. The windows were covered in blinds and the sun caused a glare, so it was impossible to look in on the office.
The lure of the sun outside and noise from the street drew my attention. I got up on my knees, leaning over the edge of the window and looked out onto the street. Cars passed. People walked by. I felt that distance between us. I was supposed to be in school. If I needed to go to the library, I should be where everyone normal was, using computers or reading more modern books. Playing spy wasn’t as exciting as I’d imagined from books and movies.
But the view outside was more interesting than the medical journal or the wall of the library so I spent some time watching the street while listening out for whatever it was I was supposed to be listening for.
Time dragged on. My knees started to ache from kneeling in the chair, but I liked watching the palm trees, different from what I was used to. The bright clear sunshine in late October was particularly enchanting to me, who was used to brown and drab fall from Illinois. How long would it stay so blue and vibrant in the south?
After some time, I realized Mr. Crowley had gotten quiet. I waited, wondering if he went to go find his secretary. Or perhaps a bathroom.
It was ten minutes before I caught sight of him. He was at the corner across the street. I studied him hard, unsure if it was the same person, but it was. Same clothes, same hook nose. I held my breath, worried he noticed me, knew I was listening, and was coming over to find me.
Instead, he crossed the road to the corner of the library, but then turned away, crossing again at the intersection to get to the far corner. He disappeared out of view after that.
Was he leaving for the day? It didn’t seem likely. He would have taken his car, and there was parking behind his building, the lot Mr. Blackbourne had parked at. I was sure he would have parked there. Why was he walking?
I sat back. Mr. Blackbourne had told me not to leave, but he didn’t expect Mr. Crowley to walk off. I left the earbud inside my ear, but left the device. If one of them came to look for me, they would have probably suspected I was nearby if I didn’t bother to bring the black box. Hopefully no one came and took it.
I moved quickly, knowing I had little time. I put my shoes back on and walked quickly. I found my way to the stairs, passed the front desk and dashed out the front door.
I rushed down the street. The sandals made it hard to walk faster. The skirt of the dress also limited my leg stride.
Still, when I got to the corner where I last saw Mr. Crowley, I stopped, gazing in the direction he had gone. There were several different buildings here. One was a wedding dress boutique. There were a couple of art galleries, and a building blocked off for renovating.
I wasn’t sure how far I was willing to wander off. I didn’t know my way downtown and I was probably pushing it by pursuing him, anyway.
I was about to turn around when I caught sight of a Starbucks sign on the other side of the street, tucked behind one of the galleries. Out of everything else down this road, that made the most sense to me.
I waited for the light to change to cross the street, and walked as quickly as I dared to the coffee shop.
Inside, I blinked, adjusting to a dimmer light inside. Coffee, sugar and other aromas filled my nose. There was a short line of people lined up along the display case, waiting to order. In the middle of the line was Mr. Crowley.
I avoided eye contact, heading to the back of the line. My heart pounded as I stood, staring at the menu. When I was sure no one was paying attention, I reached into the cup of my bra, pulling out a twenty and quietly thanking Kota for being so smart.
The line moved slowly. Mr. Crowley, for once, didn’t say much of anything. When it was his turn in line, he ordered an iced coffee and a donut. He took his food order to one of the tables near the windows. I guess part of me had expected him to go back to his office.
When it was my turn in line, I tried to remember the name on the bottle that the boys gave me in the morning. “Mocha Frappuccino... and a coffee cake,” I said, pointing to the first thing that looked good in the display case.
The glare from the display case caught my eye as I waited. I had a reflected view of Mr. Crowley here. He had his head up, shoulders back. The hook nose stood out as an undeniable mark of who he was. He studied other people in the coffee shop, not stopping on anyone in particular. His eyes drifted to the door.
My heart flew into a panic. He was waiting for someone! It could be Mr. Hendricks again.
When my order arrived, no one had joined Mr. Crowley at his table yet. I wound around the line toward the far side of the room and found a table next to his where I could keep my back to his. I remained quiet, and kept myself small. If someone joined Mr. Crowley, like Mr. Hendricks, I’d have my back turned, but could still listen in.
I sipped at my coffee, nibbled at the coffee cake and pretended to stare out the window. My nerves were tight. I’d gone this far, could I turn back now? Mr. Hendricks could be here any second.
“Good after
noon, Mr. Crowley,” said a low male voice behind me.
I stiffened and took another sip of the coffee to give my body something to do. The voice wasn’t familiar to me. I shrunk, hoping I was hiding behind Mr. Crowley’s frame.
“You’re a little late,” Mr. Crowley said.
“Traffic is horrible at this time of day.”
Mr. Crowley gave a grunt. “I tell you what, I won’t miss the morning commute this time next year. It can take an hour to get downtown, even from Mount Pleasant. It’s ridiculous.”
My eyes widened. Mr. Hendricks had previously hinted to something along the lines of this being his last year. Was Mr. Crowley retiring or was something else going on?
“Right, right,” the other man said. His voice was dry, guttural. Like he’d been talking for hours and needed to rest it. “And how’s your wife?”
Mr. Crowley muttered something low enough that even I couldn’t hear.
“Ha ha,” the other man said. “I could have told you married life was never a picnic. It’s all a fantasy. The first year it’s all sugar and sex, after that, you’re lucky to get dinner on time.”
“I’d honestly rather not talk about it,” said Mr. Crowley. “What do you have for me?”
“Nothing much today, I’m afraid. Same routine. Just checking in.”
“We shouldn’t have to,” Mr. Crowley said. “If everything is already in place, we’re just waiting.”
“You’re right,” the other man said. “I guess you could say it’s more making sure no one slips up. We had a little bit of a scare when Mr. McCoy disappeared, but that appears to be more of a blessing. He was starting to get suspicious. He was paranoid about everyone, including us.”
I stared hard at my drink. Mr. McCoy wasn’t in on whatever the others were doing. So why was Mr. Hendricks interested in finding him?
Mr. Crowley’s next few words were mumbled, like he was talking while he was chewing his donut. “At any rate, my job’s the easy part. Sign papers. Approvals. It’s all routine.”
“Smart man. Do your work, and everything will be just fine.”
“It becomes more difficult if you pull a last minute stunt like you did today.”
“You call it a stunt,” said the other man, “I call it a quick dollar. And nobody knows.”
“We don’t need it. We have enough.”
“Just think of it as insurance, then. A couple more won’t hurt.”
Mr. Crowley grumbled something low.
“If you have something to say,” the other man said, “say it.”
“Every risk we take is another chance we’ll get caught,” Mr. Crowley said. I sensed movement, like fiddling with his coffee. “Like meeting in public coffee shops.”
“What’s more normal than us having coffee? It’s practically a requirement. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I just wanted to say hello and relieve you of a little anxiety.”
“No more tricks,” Mr. Crowley said. “No more last minute plans.”
“Right,” the other man said. A chair slid against the floor. Not Mr. Crowley’s. “From here on out, it’s just biding our time. That was the last deal.”
There were footsteps. The door to the coffee shop opened. I glanced out the window, but didn’t see anyone pass. Whoever it was went the opposite way of the library and the superintendent’s office.
Mr. Crowley continued to drink his coffee behind me. It was agony waiting for him. I wanted to get back to the library before anyone came to find me. Mr. Crowley mumbled to himself. Whatever it was, it was indecipherable.
It was another twenty minutes before he moved. When I sensed he’d opened the door to leave, I tucked my head away from the window, turning and staring across the coffee shop. Mr. Crowley walked past and was gone.
My heart was in my throat. I waited a few moments until I thought it was safe; I didn’t want to leave and bump into him on the street.
I’d found their third person. I hadn’t been able to check on who it was, but I was so close. I had something to bring to Mr. Blackbourne. Maybe he’d let me off the hook of being grounded.
I got up, collecting my half-eaten coffee cake, and tucked it back into the package it had come in. I picked up my cup, intending to take it with me.
I started to head for the door, but stopped at Mr. Crowley’s table. There was a napkin crumpled on top of the package for his donut, along with his coffee cup. The napkin drew my eye.
There were numbers on the napkin. The numbers looked familiar to me. A line of figures stretched out and then added up at the bottom for a total.
I glanced around, but no one was really paying attention, so I snapped up the napkin. I didn’t have a pocket, so I had to carry it with me.
I hurried down the street, heading back to the library. I may have more questions now, but at least I thought we were on the right track. This had to mean something.
NEAR MISS
Returning to the library wasn’t a problem. But once I was inside, I got completely turned around. I knew it was up the stairs, but finding the same corner was difficult. I first tried to cut through the bookshelves but ended up in a different section. I had to go back to the staircase and follow the windows.
Before I got back to my spot, I stalled, noticing through the rows of bookshelves someone in a blue shirt and jeans standing by the table. From where I was standing, I could only see mid-chest to waist, and that wasn’t telling me much other than it was a male. I stopped, waiting.
The person remained standing by the cushioned armchair. He turned left. Turned right. He put his hands on his hips. Waited. Was it a librarian trying to figure out why there was a black box stuck on the window?
I stooped low to get an angle of his face and spotted blond hair in a clip.
“Luke?” I stepped around the bookshelf now, my heart much lighter.
Luke turned. His eyebrows shot up, his dark eyes widened. “Sang,” he said. “Where were you?”
“I followed Mr. Crowley.”
His lips parted and he paused, like this was an answer he wasn’t expecting. And then his eyes swept over me, from my shoulders to the hem at my thigh and back up again. Was this distracting him? He just realized I changed clothes?
After a moment, he blinked back to life. “What?”
“He left the office. I caught him sneaking out. He went to the coffee shop down the road.”
“You weren’t supposed to leave,” he said. He turned his head. “Is that coffee?”
I nodded, holding it out to him so he could look at it. He took it from me, sipping the last half. He licked his lips, which I took it as a sign he liked it. The ear bud still in my ear started making noise, and I realized I was hearing footsteps. Mr. Crowley started talking to his secretary. “I didn’t mean to leave, but I thought I was supposed to keep an eye on him.”
“We’re not ready to follow him.”
“He didn’t see me,” I said. “And he met up with...” I paused. There was a lot to explain and I didn’t know where to start except at the beginning, but I wasn’t sure I should talk about it here. I was paranoid anyone could listen in.
Luke’s face softened and he took another sip of the coffee. “The office is closing now. He should be heading home.”
I pointed to my ear, silently telling Luke to be quiet for a moment. I listened to the conversation between the secretary and Mr. Crowley. “It sounds like he’s giving her some last minute instructions. He said he’s leaving for the day.”
“Right,” Luke said. “We can’t leave this here. So we’ll follow together.” He leaned over the table, plucking the device from the window. He put it in his pocket. I pulled the ear bud from my ear, relieved to not be hearing voices. Luke took my hand and he led me out of the library.
“So am I not grounded anymore?” I asked when we were on the street. “Is this a reprieve?”
Luke laughed. “No, you’re still grounded.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
Luke motioned to around the
corner where there was a parking meter and a black truck next to it. “Right now, we get to follow Mr. Crowley home just to make sure he doesn’t take detours, and I’ve got to make one more stop for the night. We’ve got babysitting duty.”
“I thought if you were grounded, you couldn’t do Academy work.”
“You can’t do the dangerous stuff,” he said. “You’ve been on surveillance. That’s the worst. Completely boring.”
“It started out boring,” I said. “But I got a lot of information. We need to talk to Mr. Blackbourne.”
“You’ll talk to him tonight. I think you’re going to his house.”
My jaw fell open. He stepped ahead of me, opening the truck door. I remained still, questioning him with my eyes to see if he was serious.
He caught my look and laughed. “Or Dr. Green’s. I don’t know yet. I am going to get a call tonight. Don’t look that way. When they ground us, we normally have to just stay home. Your house isn’t really a safe spot right now, and well... we’re sort of in hot water as it is since we were to blame for a lot of it. You have to stay with them.” He motioned to the passenger seat. “Get in. Tell me what happened with Mr. Crowley.”
Even inside the truck, we were waiting for a half hour before Luke spotted Mr. Crowley pulling out of the office parking lot. Luke followed a few car lengths behind. We hit rush hour traffic on the way to Mount Pleasant. I was able to tell Luke just about everything from when Mr. Blackbourne had me skip school, up to the part where Mr. Crowley met the third person they were working with.
“Huh,” Luke said as he drove. His hands twisted against the steering wheel. “Well, we knew there was an odd money trail. Some of their paperwork doesn’t make sense. I wonder who the third guy is.”
“Is this something the police would be interested in?” I asked. I’d been wondering about this for a while. They seemed to be investigating something that felt like it should have been handled by the police.
