"The Coffee House Spy" 15

Thies and Brent shared a look that telegraphed they were at an impasse with the non-agent, fake, fat guy.

Thies narrowed his eyes on the smug captive. “When were you supposed to leave that message on the restroom ceiling?”

The non-agent looked up from his sandwich and shrugged. “In about a half hour, but that’s not happening.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Thies replied with a cryptic expression.

“You’re gonna let me go?”

“No, but the message could still be placed there without you.”

“No it can’t; they know what I look like and there will be a lookout watching for me.”

“Okay, then you’ll go but you’ll have another lookout with a gun aimed at you, a sharpshooter. So, you’ll place the note and go out the window where another sharpshooter will be waiting for you. You’ll make no other contact; is that clear?”

“What if I refuse?”

“You really need to ask?” Thies said with an evil smile.

Non-agent shook his head. “No, but what are you giving me to show them?”

Thies looked at Brent and Brent shrugged. There was nothing substantial he would offer anyone looking for his brother.

Thies motioned for him to follow him back into the kitchen.

 

“Can you give me something that will spin their heads and keep them on a false lead?” Thies asked.

Brent had taken a small photo from the album in the warehouse; it was taken when he and Russ were young; it was taken at their uncle’s beach house. Brent slipped his hand inside the hidden sleeve pocket of his jacket and took the picture out of it. He looked at it and cringed, thinking how far removed they were now from those innocent kids. Danger lined the life path they took and they understood that but they never thought those they worked for could be the enemy.

Thies walked over to him and looked at the picture. “Is it significant…a clue?”

“No, sentimental.”

“Not an emotion encouraged in our line of work,” Thies chuckled darkly,” Can I use it for bait?”

“Yeah, make a copy on the scanner.” Brent said handing the picture to him, “You’re going with him?”

Thies nodded. “I’ll take care of this and I’ll signal when we leave so you can scrub this apartment.”

Brent nodded. “Stacy’s taking Emily to her place.”

“Good; I’ll meet you there after the drop.”

“You’re sure you don’t need me to back you up?”

“I’ve got back up; Grace is on the way.”

A vibration on both Thies’s and Brent’s phones had them looking surprised and when they looked at their respective phones and read the coded message from Stacy, they both knew they’d have to revise their plan and they quickly did.

“I’ll send you the logistics after I speak with Grace and she set things in motion.”

“Alright,” Brent nodded.

They walked back into the living room and Thies shook his head at the fake, fat guy, non-agent devouring his fourth sandwich.

*

Emily was given a two week vacation but she had to drop off the manuscripts she’d edited at the office first and Thies had arranged the travel for her and Brent through his old partner, Grace.

Grace had secured them a beat up old, dodge dart to enhance the image of the old folks they would portray. Inside the car were prosthetics and dowdy clothes they’d need to don in order to pull off the transformation.

An hour after Brent left Thies to his own plans, he was driving Emily to the SHT office downtown in the old, beat up car. They were both unrecognizable in their septuagenarian disguises.

Brent pulled into a space a few buildings down from the SHT office and reminded Emily to walk like an elderly person when she got out of the car.

Emily shuffled along the street and gingerly climbed the steps but once inside the building, she opened the door to the stairwell and raced up the steps. Since no one ever used the stairs unless the elevator was out, she was alone in the stairwell.

 

When Emily got to the third floor where the SHT offices were she took off the grey wig and placed it into the oversized bingo bag she was carrying and she took out her stylish purse from inside it. Then she took off the padded gym pants and oversized sweatshirt revealing her slim pants and white cotton t-shirt underneath and slipped off the thick gummy shoes and put on her soft, leather flats.

Emily rolled up the old clothes and put them into the large bag then left the disguise, stuffed bag behind the exit door as she entered the third floor hallway.

The small office of SHT had six employees in house, Emily’s boss, Mr. Sheffield, his secretary, Gladys, the two copy editors, Mary and Alan and the acquisitions department lawyer Karen and her assistant James. They were all at their respective desks when Emily walked in.

 “So I hear you’ve got vacation?” Gladys said with a friendly smile.

“It starts right after I hand you these manuscripts I’ve worked on.”

“Then put them right here on my desk but before you go, Mr. Sheffield asked to see you when you got here.”

“Oh; did he say why?”

“No but he said you can go right into his office.”

Emily nodded. “Okay.”

Mr. Sheffield looked up when she entered and smiled at her.

“Good afternoon Emily; I have to say I was surprised when you asked for a vacation; you haven’t wanted to take one.”

Emily shrugged. “I decided to see what its like to do nothing.”

“I see,” he chuckled.

 “I’ve already given Gladys the manuscripts I’d edited.”

“Excellent and I’m sure you’re wondering why I’d asked to see you.”

“I guess.”

“It’s because I’m curious to hear about the author you must have given a business card to and asked to send their manuscript directly to you?”

“What? I haven’t done that and all five hundred business cards I told you I didn’t need are still accounted for in my desk drawer so, why would you think I did that?”

“That does make things stranger,” he mumbled.

“What’s stranger?”

“I received a manuscript address to you and marked confidential,” he told her, opening his desk drawer. He took out a manuscript sized, manila envelope and handed it to her. “This came for you by special delivery yesterday.”

Emily stared at the envelope in his hand and shook her head.

“I have no idea who this could be from,” she said, noticing it was addressed to her but there wasn’t a return address.

“In that case, do you want me to give it to someone else? You’re finally taking your vacation and-”

“No, no. I’m curious now and you know me, I may find I’m bored on vacation and this could be something interesting to edit.”

Mr. Sheffield frowned at her response.

“If you work on it Emily, you’ll need to send me the hours so I can pay you.”

“Sure,” she said taking the envelope from his hand. She flipped it over and pulled off the tab that sealed it to look inside.

She saw the title page had a sticky note across it with her name scribbled on it; it blocked the title. She slid one finger into the envelope and flipped up the note. Under the note she read the title and sucked in her breath.

“Is something wrong?” Her boss asked.

Emily quickly looked up and schooled her features into a bland expression.

“No. It’s just another ‘simple how to’,” she said with a forced grimace.

“What’s it about?”

“Uh, it’s about how to…unclog a toilet and other simple septic tank repairs,” she said as convincing as she could, because the real title had sped up her heartbeat and made her dizzy with fear.

“Sounds boring to me; are you sure I can’t give it to someone else?”

“No, I’m good and I’m going to get started on that vacation right now, unless there’s something else you need?”

“That was it but…please try to have some fun on your vacation Emily.”

“Of course; I’m sure I’ll have oodles of fun,” she mumbled before she turned and stepped out of his office.

Emily left the office and walked back to the stairwell where she’d left the old lady get up. She put down her purse and the mysterious manuscript to put the disguise back on.

She jammed the grey wig on her head, slipped on the owl shaped no prescription glasses, padded sweatshirt, jogging pants and the gummy shoes and put her purse, flats and the manuscript inside the large bingo bag.

The gummy shoes made no sound as she ran down the three flights and back out to the sun lit street to see ‘old man’ Brent waiting for her. He was leaning against the ‘seen better days’ dodge dart swinger.

“How’d it go?” Brent asked as he opened the car door for her.

“So not usual,” she mumbled giving him a worried look as she slid into the passenger seat.

Brent frowned but walked around the car and sat down in the driver’s seat before he asked her, “Why?”

“I think I just got a clue, or a threat, from someone,” she said lifting the manuscript out of the bingo bag and holding it up for him to see it.

“What is that?”

“I’m not sure,” she said turning it over and opening the flap.

She pulled out the typed pages with the title page on top and removed the sticky note to reveal the title to Brent.

“What the…?”

“Yeah; I don’t know who sent it but it came to the office addressed to me and marked confidential. Why would anyone think I’d need to know the “Simple How To become a better spy?”

Brent gripped the steering wheel tighter. “They know where you live and where you work. We’re going to have to get you to a safe place sooner than I thought.”

*

Brent and Emily shuffled up the steps of Stacy’s apartment building and Brent kept an eye on the periphery. There were no interested eyes on them.

When they stepped into Stacy’s apartment they found Thies had already returned but he still had the fake fat guy, non-agent with him? Also odd was Stacy’s appearance. She was in a blond wig and wearing thick framed glasses but then Brent remembered she’d said she recognized the fake fat guy, so she must be wearing it so he didn’t recognize her.

“Why’s he here; did the drop not go well,” Brent asked Thies as he pulled off the grey wig and took off the padded jacket. Emily stepped into the restroom to get out of her disguise too.

“It went a little off plan; he drew the triangle but he didn’t get a chance to place it on the ceiling. The agents watching him cornered him in the restroom and demanded he give up what he had. I watched from the stall window with my gun aimed at fake, fat guy so he didn’t go off script. He gave them the picture and they left.”

“Did you see who they were?”

“No, their backs were to me the whole time so I didn’t see their faces but I took him with me so he couldn’t tip them off that the drop was a fake.”

Brent nodded. “So we’re stuck with him.”

“You could say that but since I have his phone, any messages he gets from those interested agents will come to us.”

"Good," Brent smiled but he was more interested in finding out what was on that drive Emily had found in Sir Harry’s collar.

Earlier he’d brought all his stuff and equipment to Stacy’s apartment and he was past ready to discover what clue his brother may have left him on that drive.

Brent set up his equipment and computer and was about to slip the drive into it when there was a rhythmic knock on Stacy’s door.

“Who could that be?” Stacy asked drawing her gun.

“Relax; it’s Grace.” Thies told her as he stood up and walked to the door.

“Grace?” Stacy frowned, “Why is she here? Aren’t we tipping our hand enough with fake fat guy over there?”

“Hey; I’m an intricate part of your plan so you should treat me with more respect, and another chicken leg would be nice,” Fake fat guy said, stretching his re-zip tied legs out and leaning back in the recliner, the best chair in the room; he’d confiscated it on arrival.

Stacy and Emily had ordered three buckets and tons of sides from KFC delivered to her apartment before they left it; so anyone watching her would think she was still holed up there.

Stacy grabbed a chicken leg from a bucket and tossed it on a paper plate, “Here…don’t choke on it,” she said sweetly.

“Do I know you?’ Fake fat guy asked staring at her.

“Ewww; no way,” she scoffed and dipped he head as she turned away from him.

He shrugged and bit into the juicy chicken leg.

Grace walked in and her eyes widened at all the agents, and others, in the room. “This is close quarters,” she mumbled.

“For now, but we’re working on an alternative,” Thies told her, “and thanks for your help, again.”

“So they bought whatever you gave them?” Grace asked.

“There’s been no chatter, so we're not sure if they bought it, yet,” Thies told her.

“What did you use for the drop? I was curious about that,” Grace asked as she picked up a plate and placed a couple of chicken legs and a wing on it then grabbed up a side cup of coleslaw.

Brent was the one who answered her. “It was a picture of Russ and me as kids at a relatives beach house,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Not your Uncle Jake’s beach house,” Grace said with a clear tremor in her voice.

Brent and Thies looked at her with differing levels of concern.

“How do know about my Uncle Jake?” Brent asked, with fear stabbing at his heart.

“And why would it matter?” Thies questioned.

Grace swallowed hard and put down the paper plate. “Russ went there.”

“What!” Brent, Stacy and Thies said in unison.

“Ohhh, this is better than a spy, soap opera; you inadvertently gave them Russ’s true location.” Fake fat guy said to Brent with a wide grin.

“Shut up!” Brent said with a threatening glare then refocused on Grace. “What haven’t you told us and why haven't you told us?”

Grace slowly sat down on the couch and shook her head, “I promised Russ; he made me promise not to tell anyone, especially you; he wanted to keep you safe and out of it.”

“Yeah? Look how that worked out; you need to tell me everything you know,” Brent demanded.

Thies was bewildered by the revelation too. “Grace, how did you know where Russ went? How did you know Russ?”

“Russ and I…we…dated.”

“What?” Again all three agents spoke in unison.

“I know, I know it’s frowned upon.”

“It’s not frowned upon; it’s forbidden.” Thies told her.

“That’s why it had to be a secret.”

“When did you know he was going there?” Brent asked.

“He contacted me as soon as he got the new assignment; he knew it was a setup. He was being setup to take the fall for a corrupt ring of agents; that’s what he told me. He asked me to grab some stuff for him and gave me directions to the beach house; I left him all the supplies he’d need to stay there.”

“When; how long ago?” Brent asked.

“The week he gave you Sir Harry was the week I went to the beach house and he met me there. Look, I know you’re all upset with me but time is precious. If Russ is still there; we need to get to him before they do.”

 

Emily and Sir Harry had sat quietly watching the drama unfold and all Emily could think was, how did a simple trip to get coffee land her in this twisted spy novel?