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Authors: Don Bruns

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BOOK: Stuff to Spy For
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What had I been thinking, letting James take charge of this case?

The phone rang.

“Skip? The car is outside.”

James was already at the computer. He hit keys, dragged on the mouse, and I don’t know what all. Thirty seconds later he had a huge smile on his face. “Give me the phone, amigo.”

I handed him the phone.

“Em, you are at 1717 North Bayshore Drive.”

There was silence as she apparently said something to him, then he handed the phone back to me.

“Em?”

“Call me if you need me, Skip.” And she was gone.

“Congratulations, James. You got it to work.”

“I did. I proved your girlfriend was right where she was supposed to be. And, I proved that she thinks I’m extremely intelligent.”

I knew Emily well enough to know that she would never accuse James of being smart. “So what exactly did she say?”

“She verified the address.”

“And? How did you extrapolate the fact that she thought you had a brain?”

“It was the way she said it, pard. She came on the phone and said, congrats, Einstein. That’s where I live. Where the hell did you think I would be?”

I was glad to hear that Em and James were still getting along. It’s important that children play well together.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I pulled in early, right around seven a.m., not sure what to expect. One of our installation trucks was already there, unloading heavy boxes. There would be wiring, lots of wiring. And contacts, and motion detectors—real motion detectors—not like the secret camera we’d seen yesterday. We included smoke detectors in our package even though they had some installed. There would be control pads with secret passwords and codes for all kinds of things.

I’m surprised that things go as well as they usually do after we install a system. There are panic codes, breaking-and-entering codes, remote phone codes, fire codes, and more, and I figure somebody is going to screw up and all the whistles, bells, and alarms will go crazy because someone forgot to punch in a number. It happens, but not as often as you might think.

“Hey, Skip. This your gig?”

Andy Wireman was one of the senior installers. Honest to God, that’s his name. Wireman.

“It is.”

“Who’s doing the running?”

Runners. That’s what the installers called them. Michael called them supervisors. It was easier to hire someone part-time if you gave them the title of supervisor. “One guy who says he’s done it before. Name’s Jim Jobs. The other guy is my roommate, James Lessor.”

“You’ve got a lot of contacts going in. What is it, forty windows, every office door, seven outside doors?”

“Plus all the smoke detectors and the remote camera equipment.”

“Four cameras that can be accessed from a remote computer. This is going to be some operation.”

Select people could access the cameras and monitor every movement in the company from thousands of miles away. Why they would want to escaped me, but they could. “So, Andy, this is going to make all of us some good money.”

“Good job, Skip. The boys were excited from the get-go. And you, you’ll make a nice commission on this.”

I agreed. A nice hefty commission operation. “They’re running a pretty important project inside. I guess they just want to take the extra precaution.”

Wireman nodded and picked up two of the boxes, one under each arm. “You tell the runners we’re going to keep ’em running. Michael said he wanted us done and out in three days. I think that’s a little optimistic, but we’ll give it a go. Give me a hand.”

“Michael is a bottom-line lackey, Andy. He’d squeeze anyone to get his profit.” I picked up two more boxes, and we walked into the building. A lone secretary manned the reception desk, eyeing us with a furtive glance.

“Are you part of the security system people?”

“We are.”

“Do you have identification?”

We both pulled out our wallets and gave her identification.
I’d met the woman two other times, but I’d been with Sarah both times and apparently that was a different story. Sarah had pull.

She eyed the photo IDs and looked up at us. I even knew her name. Amanda. However, she acted like we’d never met. “Well, I guess you can go on in, but you’ll pass another checkpoint before you get to the main plant. I should send someone with you.”

“I’ve been here before, Amanda. I can show Andy the way.”

She frowned, but nodded for us to go ahead.

Down the hall, past another desk where we showed our IDs, then into what appeared to be an assembly room. It was too early for the workers to be there, and I was surprised they’d left us alone.

“So this is where the big project is being designed?”

“It is.” I remembered the first time I’d been inside. With workers at all the benches, silently punching computer keys and making whatever it was they made. And office number five, with a very dead body inside. I shuddered.

“And we’re free to wander?” Andy set the boxes down, and glanced around. He was seeing it just like I did, but this time empty of any employees. The room was a circle, with benches, computers at different stations, what looked like small welding machines, and other assorted machinery that was foreign to me.

“Can I help you?” The uniformed guard stepped from a doorway on the perimeter of the circle. There were the five doors. They all led to offices. He’d stepped out of door number two.

“I’m going to be the chief installer for your security system.” Andy stuck out his hand. The short, Asian gentleman kept his thumbs tucked into his thick leather belt.

“When you come back here, you should be escorted at all times.”

Andy kept his hand out. “Andy Wireman. We’re going to be working together, friend.”

“Mr. Wireman,” thumbs still in his equipment-laden belt, “someone should have walked you back here. From now on, please don’t enter this restricted area unless you come accompanied.”

“Got it.” Andy glanced at me and slightly rolled his eyes.

The guard glared at Andy and me as he rested one hand on a holstered pistol and the other on a small metal gray canister. “You will have someone from our staff with you at all times.”

It was my project. “Look, we’re going to have a team of people in here who will be all over this building for the next three or four days. You’re going to need eight or nine people to keep up with us.”

The small man with the closely shaved head glowered at us, then pulled a cell phone from his belt. Punching in two numbers, he waited. “You’re not making my life any easier.”

Andy smiled. Mr. Congenial. I’d worked with him before, and when I was ready to kill the client, Andy Wireman always kept his cool. Then, at the end of the day, we’d go out with some of his guys for a drink. And after about four or five shots Mr. Nice Guy would start throwing bar glasses, screaming about the assholes he’d had to put up with all day long, and he’d get thrown out of whatever bar we were in. But on the job he was strictly professional. Strictly.

The armed, uniformed man talked in a low voice, turning from us, then spun around and pointed at me. “You’re Skip Moore?”

“I am.”

“Sarah,” he heavily emphasized her name as if he didn’t approve of the girl, “Sarah will be back in a minute. And, Mr. Moore, just because you’re a close friend of Sarah, doesn’t mean you can break rules.”

The little guy walked to door number two, opened it, and stepped inside. The door remained open, and I assumed he was
watching us. I closed my eyes for a moment, thinking about his face. There was something familiar about the guy.

She came bustling in, if you could actually bustle in the high, high heels she was wearing. A wraparound skirt and a sleeveless blouse with a low neckline completed the outfit, and I saw Andy’s eyes do a double-take.

“Skip, Skip, I am so sorry. Feng is very loyal to the company, and I told you we’re working for the Department of Defense. We’ve got to really be careful that we don’t have any slipups.”

“I understand. This is Andy. Andy, Sarah.”

She’d let the hair fall down almost to her shoulders, and the short skirt and sleeveless blouse highlighted her golden tanned arms and legs. I saw Andy’s mouth open a little further. I should have warned him.

He held his hand out and she grabbed it. “Hi, Andy.”

“So, Sarah, how are we going to work if there has to be a Feng everywhere we are?”

“There are actually nine guards. Six men and three women. They’ll be at different stations watching.”

“Nine Fengs?” Andy shook his head.

“Nine.”

“We’ll make it work, Sarah.”

As supervisor I should have just told them to stay the hell out of my way, but Andy was in charge of installation. And Andy was Mr. Nice.

“Skip,” she took my arm and pulled me across the room. “Sandy wants to talk to you. He wants to meet the players on your team.”

I hadn’t even been introduced yet. “Sarah, I need to talk to you about the down payment. Michael has put aside the rule, but we need that check as soon as—”

Sarah smiled, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed me on the lips. Took me totally by surprise. I could smell the subtle perfume,
a light sent of flowers, and I could taste her lipstick, a very faint flavor of citrus. I didn’t know what to say.

“Hey,” she whispered as she stroked my arm, “we’re romantically involved, remember. Got to keep up appearances.” I immediately thought about Feng, watching the proceedings from office number two. The money issue? We’d address that at a different time.

I heard James’s voice before I saw him. He was laughing his loud, over-the-top guffaw with someone else and their jovial attitude seemed wrong for this early in the morning. Then I saw them.

“Skip, amigo. Have you met Sandy Conroy?” He pointed his index finger at the president of Synco Systems.

“No.” But James had.

“Sandy, this is my good friend Skip Moore.”

Conroy had that somber look on his face, but he stuck out his hand and we shook. “James has been telling me a little about your background, Skip.” I shot a look at James, who gently shook his head.

“My friend tends to exaggerate.”

“On the contrary, from what he told me you are the perfect person to run this job. He says you’ve got a keen eye for detail, and he’s assured me you’re the man I can trust to put this together. I guess we made a good choice.”

Sarah beamed. Her two boyfriends seemed to be getting along nicely. Who says you can’t have your cake and eat it too?

I introduced Andy to Sandy and James, and a minute later Jim Jobs shuffled in, a tablet and pen in hand. Essential tools for a supervisor. Maybe he had done this before. I introduced J.J., as James had started calling him, and motioned to James to follow me.

“What’s up, pard?”

“So you and Sandy are good friends?”

“Met him in the hall, Skip. He introduced himself, and we talked for a couple of minutes. That’s all.”

I dismissed it. “Listen, I know this is strictly paranoia, but there’s an Asian security guy named Feng who has a bit of an attitude. He looks very much like the guy I saw outside the Red Derby. I’d love to know what kind of a car he drives.”

“Feng. He’s head of Sandy’s security.”

I looked back at Sandy, Andy, Sarah, and J.J. They weren’t paying any attention to us. Feng probably was. “You and Sandy are such good buddies that he told you about his security arrangements?” I was pissed. I’d gotten James the job, and he knew more about it than I did.

“Hey, settle down, pard. He just mentioned that he should probably walk me into the assembly room or his chief of security, Feng, would have a fit. That’s it, pal.”

“Well, he’s right.” I took a deep breath. Then another, letting it slowly escape. I could have used a cigarette, but I quit smoking. “Anyway, as a runner, you have—”

“A what?”

“Andy calls you a runner. As a supervisor you have free run of the place.”

“Except there has to be a guard with any of us at any time.”

“Exactly. So, my friend, I’d like to know if Feng drives a gray Honda Accord. If you can time your lunch break with Feng’s, you could get him to walk you to the parking lot. Then, you could see what kind of car he drives. What do you say?”

“You think Feng is—”

“I recognize him from somewhere, James.”

“It’s a great plan, amigo.”

I smiled. James didn’t hand out compliments too often.

“But unnecessary.”

“James, call me crazy, but I’d like to know if there’s any
chance Feng is the Asian gentleman who was fooling around with Carol Conroy’s Lexus.”

James nodded, brushing back his unruly hair with his hand. “And the same guy who drove the gray Honda in Delray Beach. Skip, I haven’t had a chance to talk to you. I got here about half an hour early. I sat out in the parking lot, waiting for you to show up.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You parked all the way across the lot. I yelled, but you didn’t hear me. Then I got caught up with Sandy when I finally came in and—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. What’s your point?”

“Very simply, I saw Feng pull in. Didn’t know who he was at the time, but I saw him get out of the car.”

“What kind of car, James. Don’t play games with me.”

“Foreign. Not one of ours.”

I should have hit the son of a bitch. “What kind of car, James?”

“Honda, Skip. Gray Accord.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“It’s too easy.” Nothing came together like that.

“Some things are easy, Skip.”

“So this Feng guy has been following Carol Conroy and you and me?”

“No guarantee that it’s the same guy. And if it is, maybe he’s just checking up, pally. Could be a logical explanation.”

“Maybe.”

“But,” he hesitated, “if you’re up for it, we can turn the tables.”

“What do you mean?”

“We can follow him.”

“James, we have a job to do. Neither you nor I have the time to follow someone.”

“Yeah. What is your job, exactly? I mean, the installers are installing, J.J. and I are, as you so effectively put it, we’re running. What do you do?”

“I make sure everything gets handled.” Actually, I had the easiest job of the bunch. But I’d sold the project. The hard part
was done. Unless of course there was a problem. There was always that possibility.

BOOK: Stuff to Spy For
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