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“Okay. I’ll let you know when he’s done.”
“Thanks, Carlton. Again, sorry for not telling you in advance. I know how persnickety you are.” She chuckled.
“No worries, miss.”
After hanging up, Zoe sat silently and stared across the room. It was one espionage episode after another. She went back to the spreadsheets to check if any more of her jobs were going sideways. Only the one in Toledo. So far.
* * *
Avery Snowden had been working with the Sisters for several years. He was the master of surveillance, whether it was audio, video, or in-person. He would often send one of his employees to check for bugs, but he had also been instructed to install a security system and a new lock in Zoe’s apartment. He knew he could do the job quickly and without drawing any suspicion. He maintained a vast wardrobe that included a variety of service uniforms. Manhattan Cable happened to be one of them. He also packed a locksmith jumpsuit into his work kit so he could change into it before installing the lock. Then he’d change back into the cable uniform and exit the building.
Now Avery frowned at the old locks on Zoe’s door. It was a newly renovated apartment in a prewar building that should have had a more secure lock and dead bolt. He looked up and down the hallway. All of the doors and locks looked the same. Avery wondered if it was a co-op rule. They had so many. He entered the apartment and sent a quick text to Charles.
Check with Zoe. Co-op rules for locks?
While he was waiting for a reply he began to unpack his tools. First was the SpyBust detector. It was calibrated with active laser scanning, detection for bugs, GPS trackers, cameras, wiretaps, and pretty much anything else invasive and hidden. Then came the items for the security system. One for the front door, and one for each of the large windows that looked over Gramercy Park. By New York standards it was a large two-bedroom apartment. A short hallway with built-in closets led to the open living room/dining room space. New York apartments were also known for very small kitchens, with very small appliances. This was no exception, but with Zoe’s background, she had been able to convince the co-op board to allow her to remove the wall between the kitchen and living area and replace it with a light gray slate peninsular counter with base cabinets. The twelve-foot-high ceilings, white painted walls, and large windows gave the thousand-square-foot apartment the appearance of being larger than it really was. The high-gloss wooden floors allowed a good amount of reflection from the windows, which were flanked by traveler’s palm trees. The midcentury furnishings gave it a chic and well-designed look. No one would guess the building had been erected in the 1930s.
Avery began his search for any kind of listening, recording, or video devices. He checked the intercom phone, the landline, the cable boxes, and the microwave first, then did a sweep of the bathroom, bedrooms, and the living area. So far nothing. Then he began installing the sensors on the windows. He placed one on the bottom for when the window was completely closed, and then another six inches higher than the ledge in case Zoe wanted to open them. That would allow her to have fresh air and safety at the same time. There were heavy screens and cat-proof panels on the lower half of the windowsill. In all his years of experience Avery had yet to meet a thief, burglar, or intruder who could fit through six inches. He was confident no human was getting in, and no feline was getting out. Thinking about felines, Avery wondered where they were. Then he spotted a ball of fur curled up in a luxurious cat bed bathed in sunshine. He squatted down to speak to the kitty. “Hey, which one are you? Buster or Betty?” By the look the cat gave him, she clearly said, “I am Betty.” He could have sworn she shook her head in disgust before she stretched and resumed her position.
“Pardon me, miss. Sorry to disturb you, but is your buddy Buster around?” Again, she gave him a look of disdain, then stared toward the kitchen. Avery grinned. Sure enough, Buster must have come out of hiding because he was now sitting on the countertop. Avery wasn’t going to judge. He knew a writer who let her cat live on her dining room table. Cats were interesting creatures. Sometimes more interesting than people.
Avery continued turning Zoe’s apartment into a high-tech flat. He installed the operating panel near the front door and another in the bedroom. Both had panic switches for the police and EMS. She could activate and deactivate the alarm from either post. It had been almost an hour and he hadn’t heard back from Charles about the lock for the door when his phone pinged.
Good to go.
Avery slipped the locksmith jumpsuit on and opened the Schlage Touch keyless electronic dead bolt package. It only engaged the knob after you entered the proper code on the keypad. He favored it because it complicated any attempt to pick or drill through it. The bolt and the alarm system would be sufficient safety measures. Should someone break in, the alarm system would signal the police. Just as Avery was finishing installing the lock in the hallway, an elderly woman poked her head out of her apartment. Avery moved swiftly in an attempt to evade any questions, slipping back into the apartment and closing the door behind him. However the words, “Young man? Young man?” echoed through the hall. He decided he should speak to her so as not to draw suspicion. He pulled down the jumpsuit and zipped up the cable jacket, swapped baseball caps and slowly opened the door. He kept his head at a level where she couldn’t get a good view of his face.
“Ey? Can I help you?” Avery used one of his international accents. This time it was Canadian.
“Oh, I thought you were a locksmith?” The confused woman furrowed her brow.
“Not this feller. Just the cable guy fer sure.”
The woman blinked several times and, without a word, returned to her apartment.
That was a lot closer call than he’d expected. He gathered his tools in a hurry, set the lock with the name of one of Zoe’s cats, and headed toward the stairwell. If the woman decided to come out again, he figured she wouldn’t follow him down the twelve flights of stairs.
By the time he reached the eighth-floor landing, Avery figured it was safe to take the elevator to the lobby. Much to his shock the elderly woman was on the elevator. He thought he might be in a Seinfeld episode. The one when Jerry stole a babka from a lady in New York and then she turned up at his parents’ condo in Florida. The woman looked up at him. “Busy day you’re having?”
Was she being facetious? “Ey. Every day.” He touched the tip of his cap and got off on the next floor.
Why did these things only happen when it was a Sisterhood caper? Silly question.
* * *
For Zoe, the day moved at a snail’s pace. By lunchtime she was ready to climb the walls. Waiting until she could leave for the day was torture. Then, around two, Kyle buzzed her. “Mr. Fielder wants to have a meeting.”
“Zoom?” Zoe knew Fielder spent most of his time in the Caribbean or Miami.
“No, he’s in the office today. I think all week.”
Zoe thought she would throw up in her mouth. “Oh. Okay. Big conference room?”
“Nope. His office,” Kyle replied.
That, too, was unusual. Malcolm liked to have an audience and usually held forth in the conference room. Zoe’s radar told her something was awry. “Did he say what it was about? I’d like to be prepared.” Now that wasn’t a lie.
“No, but Donald Walsh is going to be there, too.”
