by Mia Ford
“I think I’m fine,” she said. She tapped a fingernail to the stack of file folders that contained bills of lading that needed entering into the system. “I think I have enough to keep me busy for a while.”
“Okay,” I said, rubbing my hands together. “If you need anything, just ask one of The Stooges.”
She blinked at me. “The Stooges?”
I smiled and leaned in to lower my voice. “That’s my nickname for the three lugs who are always camped out in the breakroom. The Three Stooges.”
“Ah, that seems appropriate.”
“You have no idea just how appropriate it is,” I said. “Okay, I’ve gotta get going. Maybe we can grab lunch if I get back in time.”
“I’d like that,” she said, giving me a look that was full of heat and promise. “Now get out of here and let me do my job.”
Chapter 19: Claire
I stood at the window and watched as Sean and Patsy O’Connor climbed into Patsy’s Cadillac and drove away. My heart was racing, knowing that what I was about to do could get Sean put in prison for a very long time.
The bugs and the USB stick were in my purse in the desk drawer. All I had to do was plant a bug in Sean’s office, one in Patsy’s office, and one each in the conference and break rooms. And insert the USB stick into a computer for a minute. It all seemed so easy.
So why was I hesitating?
Because I detested the thought of Sean going to prison just because he felt some twisted loyalty to his dad.
Ed would have argued that Sean crossed the line and the reason why didn’t matter. My heart would tell Ed he was wrong, but my head knew he was right.
Sean was a criminal.
He had broken the law.
And I had a job to do.
I sat back down at the desk and opened the drawer to get my purse. I took out the USB stick first along with my burner phone. I had Robbie on speed dial. He was waiting for my call.
“Okay, I’m going to insert the USB stick,” I said. “Do I have to do it from Sean’s computer or just from the one at my desk.”
“Are they all networked together?” Robbie asked. He sounded completely bored. I said yes, Sean said they were all networked. “Okay, then stick the USB in your computer and tell me when the window pops up.”
I watched the door as I stuck the stick into the USB drive on the side of the computer. A little window popped up on the screen. I said, “Okay, give me the code.”
Robbie gave me a sixteen-digit code that I typed in with one finger. The computer thought about it for a moment, then a message box popped up.
“Okay,” I said. “See if you can connect.”
I heard fingers flying across keys for a second. Robbie said, “That’s it. I’m in. I can see all the computers and servers on the network.”
“Good,” I said, glancing at the doorway. One of the Stooges, I wasn’t sure which one, sauntered by the door with a newspaper in his hand, headed toward the washroom. I lowered my voice. “Is that it?”
“Yes, you can remove the stick now,” Robbie said. “Let me know when you have the bugs in place and I’ll activate them.”
“Okay.” I hung up and blew out the breath I’d been holding. I didn’t realize that my hand was shaking and my lip was sweating until I slid the phone back into my purse.
I knew I was shaking because there was no turning back.
Whatever feelings I had for Sean O’Connor no longer mattered. Robbie would spend the next few hours or days sifting through everything on the network. If there was anything incriminating there, he would find it.
I reached into my purse again and took out the plastic container of bugs. I peeled the backing off one and stuck it to the underside of my desk. I peeled the backing off another and carried it into Sean’s office.
I stood behind his desk for a moment, letting my eyes graze across the top. There were stacks of folders and various papers scattered around. I pushed through them for a moment but didn’t see anything that looked out of the ordinary. I knew Sean was too smart to just leave evidence of criminal activity on his desk. I leaned down with one hand to plant the bug under the desk. When I looked up, someone was standing in the doorway.
“Hey, there’s no toilet paper in the men’s room,” the Stooge that had passed my door a minute earlier said. He still had the newspaper in one hand and was holding onto his belt with the other. He was short and fat, probably in his sixties. He had a face that you probably would not have wanted to meet in an alley thirty years ago. Now he just looked like a dumpy old man who needed to take a shit.
“I’m sorry, is that my job?” I asked. I started straightening the folders on Sean’s desk as if I had every right to be there.
“Is what your job?” he asked, his forehead wrinkling.
“Keeping the washroom stocked with toilet paper?”
He gave me a look of utter confusion. “Fuck, I dunno. Boozie just always took care of it.”
“Do you know where the toilet paper is stored?” I asked.
The look of confusion deepened. “Um, no.”
“Okay,” I said, breezing around the desk with a big smile on my face. The smile made his frown melt like an ice cream cone in the sun. “Let’s see if we can’t find it together.”
He worked up a smile for me and said, “Okay.”
I took his arm and led him toward the storage room. It was like leading a two-hundred-pound three-year-old to the potty.
We found the toilet paper and I handed him three rolls. He grunted thanks and hurried toward the washroom, his butt cheeks clenched.
I waited until I heard the washroom door close, then went to plant the bugs in Patsy’s office and the conference room. I’d plant one in the breakroom later while The Three Stooges were at lunch.
* * *
It was nearly two o’clock by the time Sean and Patsy returned. Too late for lunch, too early for dinner.
I tried to smile and flirt and act as if all was well, even though my stomach was churning like a cement mixer.
By the time Sean and Patsy returned, Robbie was well into their network and had activated all the bugs I’d planted.
Ed and the team were listening now.
I’d plant the bugs in Sean’s penthouse the first chance I got.
It should only be a matter of time before all our hard work paid off.
The O’Connor clan would soon be brought to justice after fifty years of breaking the law.
Sean O’Connor would never speak to me again.
I’m sure Ed was ecstatic, but I was feeling like a real piece of shit.
Chapter 20: Claire
“This is bullshit!” Ed bellowed, slamming a fist on his desk, making pens and pencils jump and causing his coffee cup to slosh. He braced his palms on the desk and leaned over them, stiff-armed, glaring at poor Robbie, who was taking the brunt of Ed’s anger and frustration, at least at that moment.
“Are you telling me that after two weeks, you have not found one single document, not one email or fax on their network that ties them to anything illegal?”
“No, sir,” Robbie said. “Not a thing.”
Ed put held out his hands and swept his eyes around the rest of the team. Joanie, Danzig, and I were lined up in three chairs in front of Ed’s desk. Lou and Lester were sitting on the couch with their heads down. Poor Robbie was standing beside Ed’s desk, with a look of fear on his pale, young face.
“How is that possible?” Ed asked, slumping in the chair like the air had gone out of him. “Are you sure you’ve gone through everything?”
I saw Robbie’s Adam’s apple bob. “Yes, I mean, I wrote a program to search every internal document on the server, as well as emails and digital files, using the keywords you gave me. I haven’t found anything. I mean, I could print it all out and go over it one by one, but that could take months.”
“Or years,” I said with a sigh.
I should have kept my mouth shut. Ed’s eyes landed on me. His eyebrows went up. �
��And you’re telling me that after two weeks of working there and sleeping with Sean O’Connor, you haven’t found a fucking thing either?”
“Wait a minute, you’re actually sleeping with him?” Danzig asked. “Why haven’t I heard those tapes?”
“Because she refused to put a bug in the bedroom, you pervert,” Joanie said. She gave me a sideways grin and poked me with her elbow. “That’s it, girl. If you can’t fuck him up, just fuck him good”
“Fuck you,” I said, glaring at her.
“Anytime,” Joanie said, pouting her lips at me.
“And you,” Ed said, aiming the finger at Joanie, who was in charge of the audio surveillance. “You’re telling me that after listening to these assholes for two solid weeks you haven’t heard a fucking thing we can use? Nothing?”
“If I had you would know it, boss,” Joanie shot back. “These assholes just talk about football and horse racing and…” She poked me with the elbow again. “What a hot piece of ass this one is.”
“Enough,” Ed snapped. He slouched back in the chair and rubbed his eyes. “People, if we don’t come up with something soon, I’m gonna have to pull the plug on this operation.”
“That would be a mistake,” Lester said, chiming in from the couch. “My source tells me there is a big shipment coming in this Friday from China, twenty-thousand fake purses and watches that will be offloaded and stored in O’Connor’s warehouse until they can be distributed to dealers throughout the state.”
“There is no room in the warehouse,” I said, shaking my head. I looked around at them. They were all giving me funny looks.
“I’m there every day from eight till five. I personally take the bills of lading on every container and pallet that comes in. I’m telling you, every item in that warehouse is legit. And the warehouse is stacked floor to ceiling. There is nowhere to put that many pallets or crates.”
“They must have another warehouse,” Lou said with a sigh.
“What did you say?” Ed asked.
Lou leaned forward with his bony elbows on his sharp knees. “They must have another warehouse nearby.”
“They’re storing the shit somewhere,” Danzig said, head bobbing.
“Somewhere close,” Joanie chimed in.
Ed leaned forward and pointed a long finger at my nose. “Have you heard talk of another warehouse?”
I frowned in thought, then slowly shook my head. “No, not a word.”
“That has to be it,” Ed said, lacing his fingers into a fist and propping his chin on it. “They’re using another warehouse, one we haven’t found.”
“We’ve searched every suspicious warehouse on the docks,” Danzig said. “Maybe it’s across the river.”
“Maybe,” Ed said. He took a deep breath and blew it out as he looked at me. “Claire, it’s up to you. If Lester’s source is correct, they have a large shipment coming in on Friday. That’s day after tomorrow. They have to put the shit somewhere. I need you find out where. If we don’t catch a break by Monday, I’m pulling the plug.”
Chapter 21: Claire
I had been spending lots of time with Sean during and after work over the last two weeks. We were growing closer every day, which was difficult for me because he seemed so open and honest and I was living a lie.
I knew it would all come crashing down when he learned who I really was. Until then, I was going to cherish every second we had together and hope that Sean would not hate me forever when the shit hit the fan.
I also knew better than to have long-term fantasies about a life with Sean O’Connor. He would never forgive me for what I’d done and I couldn’t blame him. I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to forgive myself.
Sean was in and out of the office most of every day, dealing with shipments coming in and going out. We’d usually meet back at his place for dinner out or in, then we’d kick back and relax a little while before the sexual festivities began.
We hadn’t missed a single night of having sex. Sean was a voracious lover, but totally unselfish. Sometimes it was all about pleasing me, sometimes it was all about pleasing him, and other times it was all about pleasing us both at the same time. Either way, neither of us ever came away unsatisfied.
I guess I was making memories while I could, because come Friday, the charade would be over one way or the other.
* * *
I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was Friday, almost noon. Sean and Patsy had been out of the office most of the day. If Lester’s source was right, the shipment of illegal goods would be arriving today, if it wasn’t already here. I wondered if that’s where Sean and Patsy were, seeing to the shipment at the mystery warehouse.
Then an idea came to mind.
I stood up from the desk and smoothed out my skirt, then picked up a folder of receipts and walked down the hall to the breakroom. Only one Stooge was there, Freddy Manicotti, the fat little Italian who had needed my help finding toilet paper. The other two, Danny and Doug O’Malley, were nowhere in sight.
“Where is everyone?” I asked as I opened the fridge and took out the leftover spaghetti I’d brought in for lunch. I loosened the lid on the Tupperware and stuck it in the microwave.
Freddy put down his racing form and picked up the can of Diet Coke he was drinking. “They’re off somewhere,” he said. He sniffed the air. “What's heating up there?”
“Homemade spaghetti,” I said with a smile. “My grandmother’s secret recipe. Would you like some?”
“You got enough?” he asked, licking his lips.
“I’m sure I do,” I said, taking down two plates from the cupboard and two forks from the drawer. We made small talk as the spaghetti heated up. When the microwave dinged, I filled his plate with spaghetti and kept just a little for myself. I had lied to him. It wasn’t my grandmother’s secret recipe. My grandmother didn’t even have a receipt for spaghetti. The pasta was from a box and the sauce was from a jar. That was the secret.
Freddy didn’t seem to notice or care. The moment I set the plate in front of him he dug in like a man who hadn’t eaten in days.
I sat down across from him with the folder of receipts. I picked at the spaghetti and pretended to leaf through the folders.
“Hey Freddy, can I ask you something?”
He shoved a huge fork of spaghetti into his mouth and bobbed his head as he chewed.
I picked up a couple of receipts and held them out like I was comparing them. “Sean had mentioned a shipment coming in today, but I don’t have any record of it. Do you know if it’s coming here or the other warehouse?”
Freddy licked sauce from his plump lips and swirled the fork through the mound of spaghetti. Shrugging like it was no big deal, he said, “It’s coming into the warehouse on Pratt.”
My heart literally stopped beating. I licked my lips because they were suddenly dry. I made a show of rolling my eyes and said, “Oh, that’s right. That’s the warehouse on Pratt and 5th?”
He took a swig of Diet Coke and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “No, sweetheart, Pratt and 21st, over in the old warehouse district.” He smacked his lips and looked at my untouched plate. “You gonna eat that?”
“No, Freddy,” I said, pushing the plate toward him. “It’s all yours. I have everything I need.”
Chapter 22: Claire
That was it. My time as Claire Goodman was finally coming to an end. I was relieved, elated, and more than a little bit sad because it meant my time with Sean O’Connor was coming to an end, as well.
I retrieved my purse from the desk and called Ed on my way to the car. I gave him the location of the warehouse and told him I’d meet him there. He told me not to go near the fucking place until SWAT could secure it.
He ordered me to go home and change (I think that was just to give me something to do), then he’d call when the warehouse was secure.
I hurried home and changed clothes faster than I ever had in my life, then headed to the warehouse. I got there just in time to see them brin
ging Sean, Patsy, the Two Stooges, and a half dozen warehouse workers out the front door, all with their hands cuffed behind them.
I got out of my car and leaned back against it to watch as they were loaded into the back of a police van. Patsy spotted me first and said something I couldn’t make out. Sean looked up, momentarily smiled, then frowned after he saw how I was dressed. I was wearing jeans, boots, and a black t-shirt and a bulletproof vest with the word POLICE across the front in big yellow letters. I had a Glock 19 holstered on my right hip and my detective’s shield clipped to the front of my belt.
When our eyes met, my heart sank.
Very clearly, I was a cop.
It was the first time in my career that I’d been ashamed of the fact.
Chapter 23: Sean
I heard my old man say, “I’ll be a son of a bitch. Would you look at that.”
When I looked up I saw Claire propped against an unmarked police car. She was dressed like a plainclothes cop. Son of a bitch. She was a cop. An undercover cop. The realization brought with it a wave of nausea. The woman who I’d invited into my business, into my life, and into my bed was a motherfucking cop.
“She’s a fucking cop,” dad said, growling in my ear. “Christ, son, your fucking girlfriend is a motherfucking cop.”
I didn’t say anything. I just stared at her until a cop grabbed my arm and shoved me into the back of a van.
The door slammed.
I closed my eyes.
We drove away.
Son of a bitch.
Claire Goodman, or whatever the fuck her real name was, was a cop.
I had to smile.
How utterly ironic.
* * *
My attorney was an old law school buddy named Tim Reed. Tim had graduated at the top of our class and had become a top-class criminal defense lawyer in the ten years since law school. I called him the moment I saw the SWAT van pull up outside the warehouse. I wasn’t surprised to see them. To the contrary, I had wondered what had taken them so fucking long to find us.
