by Marc Jedel
After Brody left, Samantha looked at me. “He calls you John, Cuz?”
“It’s a long story. He knows my real name now.” I flashed a thumbs-up sign to Samantha. “We’re cool.”
“Dude”—again with the emphasis—“he’s waaay cooler than you. Seems nice, too.”
Finished with our meal, we got up and I carried our things to the corner. Starbucks must have decided that their coffee menu wasn’t confusing enough for us mere mortals so they added a garbage and recycling area with a large sign of instructions. I couldn’t make heads or tails of them to determine what went into which container, so I tossed everything in the landfill container. If we needed directions on how to throw away trash, life had gotten too complicated.
Lunch accomplished, Samantha and I were now ready for showtime. Our mission was on. We’d received no recall order, so we were going in. I didn’t have any face paint or 3D-printed latex masks to pull over our heads, turning us into undetectable duplicates of the Sirius CEO. That was unfortunate, because really, how cool would that have been?
That brainstorm spurred a more practical concern—I still needed a costume for Halloween tomorrow night. I’d put that on my list. I didn’t have a list, but I’d start one just for this. Perhaps we could stop to look for something appropriate on our way back to my apartment. If I found a Doug Samerson mask, then I’d buy a few of those as well. For future missions, after Rover was part of Sirius.
“Are you there?” asked Samantha.
I’d zoned out again. I needed to work harder to avoid that. I nodded and we left Starbucks.
We took Samantha’s convertible to the Sirius offices. To soothe my conscience, I justified it was in case we needed to make a quick getaway. If Rover and our competitors were successful, then far fewer people would own such cool cars. Perhaps my next idea should be to have Rover offer cool cars to members who paid a premium fee. I needed to add that winner to my nonexistent list.
We walked to the entrance in silence, dodging the lunchtime crowd. Before we reached the front door, Samantha said, “So, Cuz, seriously, what’s the plan?”
Ha! She had cracked first.
Not even bothering to hide my smug smile, I pulled out my Sirius badge that I’d kept from my previous two visits. With my picture printed on the front, it was a near-perfect match for the normal employee badges. I held out the second badge, an imitation that I’d made for Samantha in my home office this morning. Using a similar tactic last month had worked well, so I anticipated success today too. I ignored the little mental tug trying to remind me I hadn’t actually passed through security with that other fake badge. We’d have to wing that part and hope for the best. “A wing and a prayer,” as the saying went.
I explained the simplicity of my plan. The best plans always were. Timing our approach with care, we were going to walk up to the non-functioning badge reader, wave our badges in the direction of the busy receptionist, and walk right through. We would head up to the CEO’s fifth-floor office and look for Izzy’s notebook on her desk. Then, with notebook in hand, we’d make our way out of the building without running into anyone who knew me.
Samantha stopped dead in her tracks. We were now twenty feet from Sirius’ front door. “Seriously. What’s our real plan?”
Questioning the leader’s plan in the middle of execution was a recipe for disaster. Hadn’t Samantha ever watched a heist movie? Our mission was on the verge of failure. I thrust the fake badge into her hands and said, “Come on, live a little.” Payback felt great.
Despite her outward bravado and normally high cool factor, Samantha almost botched her spy role. She must have been out of practice in doing crazy stunts with her cousins. Or, since it concerned Izzy, this time mattered more to her than simple youthful hijinks.
When I greeted the security guard by the front door, Samantha almost had a heart attack. Rotating her head like a jittery mouse watching for an attacking owl, she almost ran over a woman pushing a baby stroller as we approached the badge reader. When the mother glared at her, Samantha almost bolted for the car before I grabbed her arm.
“Careful,” I boomed. “We’ve got to get back in time for our meeting without stepping on any babies.” As the receptionist looked up from the package delivery guy who was demanding her signature, she raised her eyebrow and gave me a puzzled look. I pointed my finger at the receptionist before turning it into a wave and big smile like we were old pals.
Confidence was the secret. Pushing Samantha ahead of me through the narrow entranceway, I nonchalantly held the gate for a woman leaving for lunch.
The insistent delivery driver slapped the counter, drawing the receptionist’s attention back to him. We were through, thanks to UPS’s tight driving schedule.
Phase 1 completed as planned. And without incident.
Samantha took a few deep breaths after we rounded the corner and waited for the elevator. “Boy howdy, Cuz, you were smooth. Weren’t you nervous that you’d lose your job at Rover if they caught you?”
I swallowed as my throat went dry and my breathing grew shallow. That possibility hadn’t crossed my mind. I had been showing off for my cousin. She hadn’t double dog dared me or anything, but she had been making fun of me for being too cautious ever since she got to town.
Hiding my discomfort, I pushed the elevator button again. “In for a penny, in for a pound,” as the saying went. Dang, so many good ones wasted without Raj around.
The fifth floor was quiet during lunch. Growing more nervous as I approached the CEO suite, I slowed our pace, scanning for anyone who might recognize me. There was no sign of Doug Samerson or Sean Peters. They’d probably gone for lunch together and were busy dreaming up more visionary ideas to dump on their unsuspecting employees.
I checked behind us for a tail. A small group of people filled the aisle, walking away from us to the elevators. We were clear. I pointed two fingers at my eyes before rotating them to point at Samantha’s eyes. Then I gave the silent universal hand gestures for “stay right here and stand guard.”
“What are you doing?” she asked.
I sighed at the waste of my fine fieldcraft. Samantha needed more training before our next mission. “Just stand here and let me know if anyone comes.” I moved out of the corridor bordering Isabella’s cubicle to search her desk for her notebook.
A tan Moleskine notebook sat right next to her keyboard. Flipping it open revealed Isabella’s name and cell phone number inscribed in the inside cover. What outstanding detective work on my part. “All right,” I said in exaltation.
Phase 2 of our mission completed.
Using all the detective wiles I’d picked up from watching TV, I found the last page with writing by flipping open to the ribbon bookmark.
A hand clasped me on the shoulder.
I gasped.
Samantha stood to my side, looking at the page. “Is that it?” she asked in a loud stage whisper.
“Geez.” As I caught my breath, I made a mental note to institute an extensive “Spy 101” basic training curriculum starting tonight. “Yes. If you’re not going to keep lookout, at least be quiet and help me look for clues around here.”
“Shouldn’t we take it with us and get out of here?” asked Samantha.
Her logic made sense, but I couldn’t admit that to her so I pretended I had a plan. “That’s not part of the plan. We’ll take a quick look to see if there’s anything in here. If there is, we’ll bring it to the cops. Otherwise, we’ll just leave it here.”
Isabella’s handwriting was hard to decipher, her words crammed together onto each small page. Nothing suspicious appeared on the last page. My brain struggled to parse her handwriting into words and interpret the acronyms and abbreviations into English. Isabella had kept busy with a ton of action items and notes to herself.
A nearby noise startled me.
Glancing around revealed nothing out of the ordinary. I also needed more spy training, particularly on how to remain calm during a mission. Now that we
were behind enemy lines, my nerves were jittery.
Returning my attention to the notebook, I flipped back a page.
“What are we looking for?” Samantha asked.
“I’m not sure, but I hope we’ll know it when we see it… Like that.” I jabbed a finger against the page.
The line was short and cryptic: “Larry—see soon.”
“I knew it,” I said, triumphant. “There was a connection between Isabella and Larry.”
“Why’d she want to see Larry?” Then Samantha teared up. “Do you think she was dating him? She never mentioned anything to me about him.”
“I think …” Then, as the puzzle pieces clicked into place, my voice grew more confident. “I think you’re right. They were dating. After all, Isabella told us she kept personal notes in here too.”
“If she was dating him, why would she need a reminder to see him?” Samantha’s voice rang with skepticism.
Her reasoning was sound and made me pause while I sorted through the possibilities, weighing and assigning probabilities like the finely-tuned detecting machine I’d become. Without all my police experience, Samantha had to have missed something important. The most likely option slotted into place in my mind. “I think I know who found out they were dating.” I pulled back from the notebook, feeling smug that I had figured it out.
Samantha didn’t seem to notice my satisfied glow. “Cuz! I swear I’m gonna—”
I interrupted before the threat was issued. “Okay, Sean Peters, their chief of staff, discovered that Isabella and Larry were dating. He was jealous because he liked Isabella too. He got into a fight with her and then killed Larry so he could have her to himself.” Then, a stray thought intruded and my voice faltered. “Or, Gloria still liked Larry and she found out Isabella and Larry were dating. She went insane with rage and killed him.” Regaining my confidence, I added, “Or both Sean and Gloria worked together to kill both of them.” I swatted away any remaining doubts and added, “In any case, this is proof that Isabella and Larry were in contact. I need to show this to Mace for our investigation right away.”
My satisfied glow returned. Samantha shouldn’t beat herself up over missing the connections. After all, she didn’t have my expertise. “Put this in your purse,” I said, thrusting the notebook at her. Remembering what I’d seen in Samerson’s office, I decided we deserved a quick reward for completing our spy work undetected. “I want to show you something fast before we get out of here.”
“Shouldn’t we skedaddle now?”
Her Okie-influenced phrases were a little much sometimes. “Come on. This is worth it.” I was already halfway through Samerson’s office door by the last word. Samantha’s curiosity outdueled her hesitation, so she shoved the notebook into her purse and followed only a few steps behind me. She’d always been the first cousin to join me when we snuck into the kitchen for forbidden pre-dinner snacks during family reunions at the lake house.
The golden glow emanating from the wide-open bathroom door beckoned us forward.
“Whoa!” exclaimed Samantha as she noticed the glow.
“I know. I caught a glimpse when I met the CEO earlier this week.” I stepped to the doorway to get a better view. “This is way more impressive than I’d thought. Look. Even the toilet paper spindle is gold.” I pointed to it as Samantha crowded in closer to get a good look.
“It can’t be real gold, do you think?” she asked in amazement.
That’s when we heard the voices in the hallway outside the office.
They didn’t sound like Samerson or Peters, but I wasn’t positive. There was only one reasonable option for our escape. The fifth floor was too high for a diving exit through the window. Besides, that would hurt.
I pulled Samantha the rest of the way inside the bathroom, closed the door behind us, and twisted the lock. I put a finger to my lips.
Samantha rolled her eyes but didn’t add any further commentary.
We stood silently in the golden glow, hardly daring to breathe while we waited for whoever it was to go away.
No such luck.
An authoritative voice rang out, “Hello? You in there. You need to come out.” The knob rattled as someone tried to open the door.
We were still safe.
If we stayed quiet, maybe they’d go away or forget that they’d seen us. We could wait them out and sneak out in the middle of the night. It worked for ostriches, didn’t it?
A firm knock on the door ended that pipe dream. “Excuse me, but you need to get out of there right now.” This voice sounded stern.
The first voice returned. “The police are on their way. Don’t make us break down this door.”
The jig was up. I unlocked the door to face the music. This mission was impossible.
13
Friday Afternoon
Reality struck me hard. My stomach felt queasy and my head throbbed. This mission had started as harmless fun, more showing off for my cousin than anything. Until we got caught. What had started as a lark could cost me my job once Sirius acquired Rover mere weeks from now.
The two security goons frog-marched Samantha and me out of the CEO’s bathroom and down the hall into a conference room. The younger one strode with his chest thrust out, chin up, eyes looking forward. He kept a firm grip on my shirt collar. This wannabe police officer, or prison guard, enjoyed the attention as people returning from lunch stared at our peculiar procession. It was understandable. Security guards become invisible to office workers—seeing them do more than drink coffee or stand by an entrance alarmed people.
That was how we got caught. I’d forgotten about the security guard by the lobby door. He must have noticed us slide past the barrier without a proper badge. The flaw in the plan was mine from the beginning.
I felt even lower.
We sat there in silence, not looking at each other, both lost in our own thoughts for a few minutes while the wannabe cop went to the lobby to escort the police upstairs. Real cops. Through the glass conference room walls, people gathered to gossip and look at the spectacle.
The two police officers had only collected our identification when Doug Samerson burst through the conference room door. “What’s going on? Someone broke into the building? Were they in my office? Were they going through my files?” The CEO wheezed as he pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his forehead.
I tried not to hyperventilate. As soon as Samerson noticed me, my future at Sirius was over. I looked down, hoping he would leave soon.
An officer handed back my driver’s license and said, “We just started questioning them. And you are?” She didn’t seem happy about the interruption.
Samerson puffed out his chest and strutted a few steps. “I’m the CEO. I run this place, and I demand you search them.”
The officer’s face tightened. “We can’t search people without probable cause—”
Samerson spit out, “But they were in my office. It’s probable they stole something.” He exaggerated the enunciation of the words, as if trying to make sure a mere police officer could understand him. “I want to press charges.”
Charges? I looked up in dismay. We hadn’t stolen anything. Sure, they would yell at us and throw us out of the building. I was familiar with that routine. But this created a whole new concern for me.
Then I remembered Isabella’s notebook, with her name on it, resting inside Samantha’s purse. I glanced over at Samantha. Her eyes were wide and she’d turned pale. She hadn’t forgotten about the notebook. I felt the blood rush out of my face. I hadn’t even considered the possibility of jail.
The officer narrowed her eyes. “What do you think they took from your desk?” She didn’t react to Samerson’s tone, her voice remaining calm yet focused.
How many years of training were required to stay calm in a tense situation? I couldn’t even talk to authority figures without feeling my blood pressure skyrocket. To heck with the voicemail lessons I’d been studying, I needed police training on remaining calm in a crisis.
And in normal life. That would be helpful too. Would the police open up their training to civilians? What about for those of us who were secret partners with a detective? If we weren’t also in prison, that is.
“Oh, it’s not on my desk …” A bead of sweat formed on Samerson’s forehead as he stopped himself and took a breath, his eyes racing from side to side. “I mean, there’s something … something top-secret.” Gaining confidence, he added, “Yeah, they could have taken our top-secret business plans. From my desk.”
The police officer’s face didn’t give anything away as she gave a half-hearted nod. “Okay. What do those look like?”
The wannabe cop jumped in. “They’ve got these hard red covers, and they’re about this big.” He held his hands a foot apart. Perhaps he hoped to get a recommendation to the police academy in return for his helpfulness.
The officer raised an eyebrow and turned toward us with her own exaggerated show of deliberateness. She looked at me, with nothing in my hands but clammy sweat, while I quickly glanced down again, trying to hide from Samerson. She then rotated to look at the small purse in Samantha’s lap.
It was nowhere near large enough to hold a rigid folder. Izzy’s small notebook was an entirely different story, however. I heard the officer’s skeptical “Hmm.”
Samerson’s gulp was audible in the now-quiet room. “Maybe they took something else. I have a lot of sensitive papers.” He swallowed again. “Very sensitive. They could have stuffed those in her purse.”
Samantha clutched her purse to her stomach.
I snuck a surreptitious glance when the wannabe cop cleared his throat. He must have decided he was invited to participate in this conversation too. “No, they didn’t—”
He stopped when he saw Samerson glaring at him.
Samerson didn’t seem to appreciate the extra effort. The wannabe might need to apply to the police academy sooner than he had expected.
