12.
-
I sat on the couch in the back lounge of Kalli’s office, the employee area where I knew she and other people who worked here sometimes slept. I figured it was as safe a place as ever, especially since apparently, my apartment was now some kind of den of spies. I’d paced around silent for a day and a half, waiting only for my payment from Manta to go through before getting cash, a bag, and taking off out the back service entrances of the building to take what I felt was a pretty complex route to throw off anyone following me.
She walked in, plopping the bag of takeout on the one table by the door.
“Seriously, you should’ve just stayed there, now they’ll definitely know you’re onto them since you’re in the wind.”
I picked through the bag at the lo mein and soda, “Who says that, anyway? ‘In the wind’?”
“Ben I’m serious.”
I cracked open one of the containers, and started digging in. “Look, come on, what’re those feds going to do, they don’t have any jurisdiction, it’s just them probably being paranoid and wanting to steal glory about the Caramello thing.” The food was from The Best Chinese, an awfully named local place, and probably one of the only Chinese food places left in Astoria.
“It may not be the FBI bugging your place.” Kalli sat down at the other end of the couch, picking at her kung pow chicken and rice. “I found it when I did a random sweep of my car when I was at your place, just a quick search for listening frequencies…”
“Wait wait wait. You do what?”
“Standard stuff, now stop talking.” Kalli put a hand up and continued. “Anyway, I picked up a frequency for listening, and the one I found, which was the one listening in on you,” here she pointed at me, “listening in on you talking to yourself and the cat, I might add, was pretty weak and spotty. Combined with the fact that there weren’t any other cars around on the block, made me realize it was from one of those spy store kits.”
“Huh,” I picked at some chicken and noodle, “So who, the mob? Those guys who jumped us at Hale building?”
“Jumped you,” she corrected me, putting her food down. “Probably, maybe someone who’s in whatever rinky-dink ‘family’ these guys think they are who’se always kept an ear out for the money all these years, because I’m sure some of them totally believe in it, after all these years, a sort of mafia urban legend. Hey, did you ever talk to Wagner about whatever it was he wanted to talk to you about? He’s been calling here looking for you.” Kalli asked me.
“Phone tag, with them getting the comic and him getting new deadlines, no time. Figured at this point it’s moot, no rush, honestly.”
“Yeah, I doubt that.” Kalli picked up her chicken and headed out the door. “Stay here as long as you want, Ben, but figure it out.” She left, leaving me sitting on the couch, by myself this time.
Black Ink: A Ben Miles Mystery Novella Page 4
