Don Bruns - Stuff to spy for

“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.

“We’ve got a serious problem.”

That’s exactly what we needed. Every project needs a very serious problem. “Andy, can it wait until morning?”

“No.”

I sighed. James picked up on the urgency and moved in closer. I tilted the speaker toward him. He may as well know whatever Wireman knew. James and I, as usual, were up to our asses in this thing. “Tell me what the problem is.”

“You know that smoke detector that James installed in Conroy’s office?”

We both looked at each other. My hand started shaking and I seriously thought I would drop the phone. James shook his head back and forth like he didn’t want to be reminded of that smoke detector.

“Yes, Andy.”

“It went off.”

“It went off? There was a fire?” Jody told us that it really worked. I just hadn’t considered there would be a real fire.

“It went off and there was no fire. A false alarm.”

Whew. “Well, what could be the problem. It’s defective and we’ll switch it out for one of ours tomorrow.” Problem solved. No wonder I was Person in Charge of the Project, or whatever I was.

“No, Skip. We went up and opened it, trying to quiet it. And Skip, this smoke detector is unlike any I’ve ever seen. I think you need to come over here immediately.”

“Immediately?”

“Immediately.”

Mrs. Conroy was coming over, and I had to be there for her. Wireman was concerned about the detector and I couldn’t leave him with that. “Andy, can this wait maybe one hour?”

I could hear conversation in the background. “I don’t think so, Skip. Sandy Conroy is here and he wants some answers right now.”

“S kip. I can handle this. You need to get to Synco, pronto.”

“Damn it, James. She’s not a happy camper. If it was just handing over the transcript, but I know she wants more information.”

“Even better. I can’t give it to her. We can put her off, because I know nothing. Nothing.”

“But you do.”

“She doesn’t know that. I’ll play dumb.”

I let the comment slide. “What am I going to tell Conroy? Wow. I can’t imagine what I’m going to say to him. I am in so much trouble.” I couldn’t even fathom how much trouble. It was like, when we were doing it, it was an adventure. Now, there was a likelihood that I’d broken the law and could be arrested.

James took a sharp curve, braking as he rounded the corner, and the shrill sound of metal scraping metal gave me chills.

“James, I could lose my job over this.”

“You could probably go to jail over this.” He was thinking the same thing.

“You installed the detector.”

“Hey, boss. Didn’t you tell me to?”

“James-”

He swerved to avoid a parked car, straightened out, and gave the old truck some gas. “Amigo, we’ve talked about this. Carol Conroy gave you permission-no, she actually asked you to install a listening device in her husband’s office. She didn’t say why. She just told you to do it. Just like you told me to perform the actual task.” James pulled into our parking lot. He rammed the sidewalk with the bald tires, and we both took a deep breath.

Carol Conroy’s Lexus was nowhere to be seen. Grabbing my laptop, I stepped out of the truck, and walked down to the Cavalier. I’d be in the office in ten minutes.

“I’m going to hand her the envelope, and tell her something came up at Synco. You couldn’t make it, but asked me to give it to her.”

“Exactly.”

“If she wants to check on that, she can drive by Synco and she’ll see your car in the parking lot.”

“James, please. If she asks about Sarah, if she mentions Emily-”

Doing his best Sgt. Schultz from Hogan’s Heroes imitation. “I know nothing. Nothing, Colonel Hogan.”

“Wish me luck, James. I just hope they don’t have the cops there. If I need bail money-”

“I haven’t got it, pal.”

I didn’t hold out too often on my good friend. But once in a while-“James, seriously, if I need money-”

“You won’t. This is going to work out. Just have faith, pard.”

“Listen to me. If I need help, money-”

“I’ll find some.”

“No. In my room, on the second shelf in the closet, there’s a Shel Silverstein book. Where the Sidewalk Ends.”

“Okay.”

“Page sixty-three, there’s three hundred dollars.”

“Got it.” He didn’t even look surprised.

I got into my car and on the third turn of the key the Cavalier coughed to life. I’d planned on putting some of my new wealth toward a new car. It didn’t appear I was going to see any of that wealth any time soon.

There was a poem on page sixty-three that I still remembered. When you’re a kid it’s easier to memorize things, and I’d memorized a poem called “Who.” And I thought about the second verse of that children’s fantasy. The exact wording wouldn’t come back to me, but it was something to do with having X-ray eyes. Who can fly and who has X-ray eyes? And who will be the man no bullet can kill? I will.

X-ray eyes. That’s what we’d had last night when we watched Sandy Conroy’s office from the ceiling. It was all amazing. I’d actually had X-ray eyes. I’d witnessed conversations and confrontations. I’d seen and heard things that were meant to be private. And earlier this evening I’d listened in on strangers’ intimate conversations that were foreign to my ears. It had been exciting, exhilarating, and now I was going to pay the price.

Flying, with X-ray eyes, and being the man no bullet can kill. Who can do all that? I will.

O n my way over, I concentrated on what could have happened. Somehow the detector was set off. Maybe Conroy smoked cigarettes or cigars, and even though Florida had passed a no-smoking ban, he was Sandy Conroy. The laws weren’t made for some people. People like me for instance. I didn’t seem to have too much trouble breaking the law. Putting GPS units under cars, cameras in office ceilings, taping private conversations.

What would they do to me? A police car came up behind me and I froze, slowing down to a crawl. He pulled to my left and zipped on down the road, paying no attention to the criminal that was almost in his grasp.

James was right. I’d have to give up Carol Conroy. It was all I could do. Tell them that she offered us money to tape conversations. But that meant that I’d be fired from Jaystone Security Systems. That meant that Sarah and her boyfriend wouldn’t pay me what they’d promised, and that meant that Carol Conroy certainly wouldn’t give me a cent. And if I was convicted of a felony, I couldn’t imagine Em sticking it out with me. And how many years could they give me for that crime? And how much of a fine? How did criminals who did long time in prison ever make enough money to pay the fines? And when you came out of prison as a convicted felon, who would ever hire you? You could sweep floors, maybe work at a fast-food restaurant, work on one of the fishing charter boats, helping some rich guy bait his hook and clean his fish. But what kind of a life could you possibly have?

I pulled into the nearly empty parking lot, glancing around at the seven or eight cars that were still there. Wireman’s truck was up front. There was a yellow foreign sports car. I didn’t recognize the body style. Head of security was not there. But I knew where he’d been about twenty-five minutes ago, and I knew what he’d said. I had a recording of what he’d said. Just another crime of mine.