Stuff to Spy For (19 page)

“Mrs. Conroy,” James was banging on something in his
room, making it hard to hear on my cheap cell phone, “I will do everything possible to quiet things down and get you the information you want.”

“And when your job is finished, then I’ll pay you. Not until then. Do you understand? I don’t want any misunderstanding.”

Damn. And there were expenses I needed to cover. There was a moment when I thought she was going to refuse to pay. Now she sounded like I’d get my money, but who knew when? “And where would you like to meet?” Not the Red Derby again.

“I know where you live. I’ll be there tonight at seven p.m.”

“Fine.” She knew where I lived. That scared me.

“And, Mr. Moore, there isn’t any chance that Sarah Crumbly will be at your apartment is there?”

“Sarah?” Why would Sarah come to our dump? We couldn’t afford her. I quickly remembered why. “No. Nope. No chance. No way. We’re not seeing each other. I mean tonight. So, there’s no chance tonight. No chance at all. Nope.” I could have gone on, but it was time to shut up.

“And your friend?”

“James will be here.” Damn straight James would be here. I didn’t want to deal with this lady alone.

“Ah, good. But I was referring to Emily.”

I felt a chill go down my spine. I had no idea what she knew. How she knew. But I had the presence of mind to keep on going as if her question was perfectly normal. “No. Just James and me. A quiet night at home.”

Again, she was silent.

“Mrs. Conroy?”

“I would think that after the ruckus you caused this afternoon, a quiet night would be just what you need.” She hung up the phone.

“Dude.” James walked out of his room. “I’ve got something to show you.”

“James, I just talked to the ice queen.”

“Ah, the lovely Mrs. Conroy.”

“Yeah. She wants to come over tonight at seven to pick up the transcript.”

“I’ll be sure to disappear.”

“No. I don’t think so. She’s upset with you—and with me, and we both need to be here to take some wind out of her sails. Got to calm her down, James.”

“Then I’ll have about five beers just before she shows.”

“It might not be a good idea.”

James walked to the refrigerator and opened one. Something smelled spoiled, and I couldn’t imagine what it was. We use it primarily for beer. Maybe that leftover crab James brought home last week. Sometimes it doesn’t stay as fresh as it should.

“I can hear her now, Skip. ‘Mr. Lessor, I smell alcohol on your breath.’ ”

I knew the Will Smith comeback from the movie Hancock. “That’s ’cause I’ve been drinkin’, bitch.”

Neither of us cracked a smile. It had been that kind of a day.

“Let me show you. Just stay there.”

James walked back into his room, then reappeared with a tripod and what appeared to be a short telescope. It was wired to a box he held in his hand.

“Ta-da.”

I shook my head. “So not only will it pick up sound at two hundred yards, but it will withstand a throw of twenty or thirty feet.”

“You got it, pard.”

“Jody would be proud.”

“It still works, Skip. Must be the Lord’s will.” He gave me that charming smile. “And by the way, amigo, can you check on Feng’s car? Track that little sucker and see where he is right now?”

I flipped on the laptop and watched as the Miami map came into view. I scanned the screen, looking for Feng’s little blip. It was still surprising to me that he hadn’t figured out we were tracking his car.

I found the Honda. “It’s sitting still at the moment. It’s right near that day care center.”

“Maybe the guy’s a pervert, hanging around a school yard.”

“We’ve got nothing on this guy, James. Nothing. I say we drop it.”

“Humor me.”

“I think I do that every day.”

James ignored my sarcasm. “What time is it?”

I checked the computer. Five thirty.

“The dry cleaners is what, ten minutes from here?”

“The dry cleaners?”

“The one Feng stopped at when we first started tracking him.”

“About ten, yeah.”

“Let’s jump in the truck. Take the laptop, and let’s see if he goes there next.”

“And what’s that going to prove?”

“Probably nothing. But we’re taking along The Sound Max. Maybe give it a test run.”

“What?”

“I asked you to humor me.”

“You’ve already got us in trouble once today.”

“I can do better than that. You know I can. What’s my record?” He folded up the tripod and started out the door. “Grab the laptop, pard.” He walked out the door. Over his shoulder he yelled. “Five times in one day.”

“When?”

“When we were fifteen. I’ll fill you in on the way.”

Feng moved while we were en route.

“Following his ritual?”

“He’s headed toward the dry cleaners. It may be a quick stop. Honestly, James, he’s probably just dropping off laundry.”

“We’ll soon find out, amigo.”

“When we were fifteen? You set a record for getting into trouble? Why don’t I remember this?”

“You probably weren’t paying attention. Yeah. That must be it, because for just one day I set a personal record for doing things I shouldn’t have done. Mind you, Skip, I’m not saying I’m proud of all the things I did, but …” He hesitated. “Ah, what the heck, I am proud of them. If I remember right, I started that day in Miss Naab’s class, glued her grade book to the desk and she blamed you. I think you almost got a couple days off on account of that one.”

“Damn. I knew that was you, but you never admitted it.”

“So gluing the book was number one. I got you in trouble, which was number two, and for number three I skipped track
practice. Number four on the list, I ‘borrowed’ Mom’s car and picked up Janice Richards. Being fifteen years old, I obviously didn’t have a license. We parked in back of the old mental hospital, you remember that old decrepit place, and number five and last on my infamous list, I got to second base with Janice. All in all, a pretty good day.”

“You’re a nutcase. Do you know that?”

He just beamed and kept on driving.

“Feng stopped.”

“Was I right? He stopped at the cleaners?”

“It would appear.”

“We’ll be there in three minutes. There was a parking lot for a deserted gas station across the street. We can pull in there. Think he’ll recognize the truck?”

“I still have no idea what you have in mind.”

“Just be patient. All will be explained, Grasshopper.”

I watched the screen and Feng’s Honda didn’t move. James hit a pothole on Bianca Drive and I thought we were going to lose the muffler. He turned onto Bonita Boulevard and there it was. Chen’s Laundry. He pulled up beside the cleaners. A gray Honda Accord was parked directly in front of the establishment.

“There’s an office in the back, and those big plate-glass windows in the front. Where do you think he is?”

“If he’s just dropping off laundry, he’ll be out in the front by the counter. My guess is that’s it.”

“My guess is that he’s in the office.”

“Why does it matter, James?”

“You thought he was suspicious. You were sure he was following us using a Global Positioning System. Now, I buy into that and try to find out more, and you want to walk away from it.”

“All right, are we going to sit here and debate where he is?”

“I thought we’d prove where he is.” James pulled across the street to the abandoned cement-block building. They were plentiful in Carol City. If you wanted an abandoned building, complete with pitted cracked asphalt parking lot and weeds about ten feet high, you could find one in every other block. Some had been converted into churches, but most of those had reverted back to abandoned concrete-block buildings.

James backed up the truck so the rear was facing the plate-glass windows across the street. He got out of the truck and motioned for me to do the same.

I gazed at the laundry, a dirty white stucco building with a faded sign propped up in the front window that said open.

James rolled up the back of the truck and climbed in. I followed.

“Okay, Kemo Sabe, we’re going to see what the gossip is.” He set the tripod about halfway back in the box of his truck and aimed the wand at the front window of Chen’s.

Putting on his headphones, he pulled the trigger.

I watched the small metal box that was wired to the wand. A meter was flashing. “The meter, James. It’s flashing.”

He nodded. “We’ve got contact.”

We were buried far enough back that it was dark, and although I doubted that anyone was watching, I was sure they couldn’t see us.

“Extra starch in the shirts, Skip.”

“You can hear that?”

“Here.” He pulled off the headphones and handed them to me. I put them on, leaned over, and pulled the trigger.

“Yes, Mrs. Crider. We’ll have them for you Tuesday. Oh, it’s no trouble at all. I’ll ask Su Ning if she will sew two new buttons on the shirt.” The sound was clear, although I picked up street noise that was pretty loud.

In a minute, a woman emerged, turned right, and walked down the sidewalk. I could hear what sounded like an industrial strength fan running in the background, but there were no voices.

“Nothing else, James. You might be right.”

“Let’s head up the street. We can get a straight shot into the office window if we park back in the next block.”

I was getting into the spirit of the whole thing. We left the sliding door open, and I stayed in back with The Sound Max. James drove out of the small parking area and past Chen’s, stopping about a block away. Through the rear of the truck I could see the back window of the dry cleaner. James came around and climbed back in.

“How do you know that’s the office?”

“I don’t. But aren’t offices always in the back?”

I shrugged my shoulders. We had nothing to lose.

James put on the headset and pulled the trigger and I saw the meter flashing red and green. He was shaking his head and I wished we had two sets of headphones.

“He’s in there.” James was talking at about twice his normal volume.

“James. You don’t have to yell.”

“Oh, yeah.” He was quiet for a moment. “They’re talking about Mr. Chen’s business.”

“Oh, well that’s got to be exciting. How Su Ning sews her buttons or what?”

“No, shhh.”

I was quiet for a moment.

“How Mr. Chen will be able to retire after this next project. How he is looking forward to closing the shop and—” He got quiet for a moment, then pulled off the phones and handed them to me, motioning that I should put them on.

“The codes. It’s imperative Feng. We should have them by now.”

“Obviously we had a slight problem. There was a death in the immediate family.”

“You must put some pressure on to get them. Now. How much more emphasis can I put on this?”

“This is a sensitive area. It’s not possible to just walk in and demand—”

“Feng. This group forgets where they leave laptop computers with worldwide secrets on them. They allow workers to walk off with nuclear material, personnel information, and all types of secure matter. Feng, our own Chi Mak stole thousands of pages of information on weapons, nuclear reactors, and propulsion systems for U.S. submarines. For twenty years this organization was blind to his theft. They are the most inept establishment in the world. All we are asking for are the combinations. They should fall all over themselves to give them to you. You ultimately need them so you can install your security software. All we are asking is that you get them early. Early, Feng. We need them—now.”

“You are right.” Feng sounded remorseful.

“We’ve stressed this to Mr. Conroy.”

“Once there was a breach in our own security we did take care of it. That took some time, and we didn’t want to raise any red flags. You must understand that.”

Chen or whoever the other party was laughed. “Red flag?”

“The parties who had the information are no longer with us. There were four actual incidents.” I knew that voice. It wasn’t Feng. Who was it? I’d heard it before, recently, and I listened intently.

“And you would like me to compliment you on your ability to deal with problems in your own business? I’m sorry, Feng. I
cannot do that. You have been retained, at a very high price, to take care of those situations. It was your job.”

Feng once again jumped in. “They learned about the project, and we removed them. There is a level of trust that I have to gain now.”

“And there’s a time frame that has been moved up. Remove the obstacles, and give me the codes. Do you understand?”

“Yes. I understand.” I could tell by his voice that he didn’t.

“Feng, to you this is a job where you will be paid. Very well, I might add. But you don’t really understand. Maybe Conroy does. But you don’t. You don’t understand what we can do with these codes. What Chi Mak accomplished is nothing to what we can do. But that’s for another day and another time. Let me put it very clearly. If you don’t produce the codes in the next forty-eight hours, I’ll find someone who can.”

“Yes.”

“If you let anyone interfere with the project—anyone, I’ll find someone else. And your involvement with our plan will be permanently erased. I have pressure, Feng. You couldn’t believe the pressure that I have.”

Codes and combinations. James was looking at me with a frown on his face. I could sense he was worried about what I was hearing. I handed him back the headset. I didn’t need to hear any more. It was all being recorded on a card, so we could play it back later that night. It sounded to me like Feng’s life was being threatened.

James listened intently, nodding as if in agreement with the Asian men. Finally he pulled the earphones off and turned off The Sound Max. “What is going on?”

“James, you tell me. Does it even have anything to do with Synco Systems?”

“Oh, come on. Every word. I think this thing is very shady. Very shady.”

My phone blared “Born in the U.S.A.” and I glanced at the caller’s number. I didn’t recognize it. “Hello.”

“Skip? This is Andy Wireman.”

“Yeah, Andy.” I glanced at the clock on my cell phone. 6:40. We had to hustle to get back. Mrs. Conroy would be there in twenty minutes.