Stuff to Spy For (26 page)

Jim Jobs gave him a blank stare. He obviously had never heard of Chi Mak or the stolen documents case.

“Our government isn’t going to just give up all their secrets to some stranger. Or the enemy. We’re not going to make that mistake again. We learned our lesson. I’m convinced of it.”

“James, it happens.”

“But not like this. They don’t just open up their systems to somebody without a safety check. Do they?”

“It happens every day.” J.J. took a short swallow of beer. There was a tremor in his hands and I thought he might spill his drink. “There was a story the other day, Wall Street Journal, some hotshot from DOD was storing some of the department’s sensitive information on his home computer.”

“Home computer?”

“Yep. Let me tell you something else. I used to work for a subcontractor for the Rocky Flats plant outside Denver. They make nuclear weapons.”

“What does that have to do with computer codes?” James was obviously agitated.

“I’ll tell you what it has to do with security. One of the laptop computers with serious information went missing while I was there.”

“And?”

J.J. stood up, tugging on the boxer shorts. “I’m trying to tell you. I was accused of stealing the computer, and trying to steal government secrets.”

“You?” I couldn’t believe it. This strange neighbor whom I didn’t trust at all was telling us that he’d been implicated in a major government scandal.

“Me. They couldn’t find any evidence, and eventually I was cleared. Fired from the job, but cleared.” From a nuclear spy to neighborhood handyman. Someday I wanted to explore that journey.

“Do you know who stole the computer?” Still not certain this guy was giving me the truth, I wanted some closure to the story.

“Ended up being three computers. Eventually four. By the time the third one went missing, they decided not to prosecute anyone. It was too damned embarrassing. Our government can’t keep anything a secret. So don’t assume that the Department of Defense won’t open up their entire system to Synco Systems.
And if they do, it could be the single biggest security breach in the history of the United States.”

There it was. A real possibility.

“Jim, this really happened to you?” James was staring at him, wide eyed.

“I could never make up a story like that. And do I know who stole the computers? Everyone knew. Even the guys investigating the crime. But it’s all political. And if we had called them in on it, they would call us in on our thefts. And we’re stealing information from countries all over the world. It’s a treacherous game we play, boys. Treacherous.”

“So you’re telling me that this happens all the time?”

J.J. took the last swallow of beer. Scratching himself again, he moved toward the door. “I’m a simple handyman. I never stole a thing in my life—except a pack of lifesavers when I was seven. That’s all I know for sure. But what’s happening at Synco Systems is damned suspicious.”

I watched as he turned the door handle and pushed the door open. “J.J., wait.”

“What’s that?” He turned.

“You saw the car? The one with the shooter who shot our windows out?”

“I did.”

“Well, what was it?”

“It was a Honda Accord, Skip. Same kind that Feng drives.”

I fell asleep sitting on the sofa with the beer in my hand. It had happened before, but usually because I’d had too many beers in my hand in the preceding hours. Now, it was because I was exhausted.

I woke up to Springsteen singing “Born in the U.S.A.” I flipped open my cell phone and I’m sure the word I answered with was something like ’lo.

“Is this Water Connection Plumbing?”

“Huh?” I checked out my watch, and in the dark, with fog covering my eyes I think it said 4:30.

“This isn’t Water Connection Plumbing?”

“No, this is … yes. Yes it is.” They’d seen us. It came back fast. Someone had seen the truck and was checking up on us. Now what was I going to say? Got a problem? We’ll be there in a jiffy. We’ll have that toilet clog cleaned out in no time. And then I wondered if it was someone who knew me. Conroy? Feng? And would they recognize my voice and know that I wasn’t a plumber? I had that sinking feeling that I might be caught. I
knew the feeling well. It had been coming about every two or three hours for the last three days.

Once again. “This is Water Connection Plumbing?”

“Yeah. It sure is.” I spoke a little deeper. Growling. Maybe they wouldn’t know it was me.

There was a long silence on the other end, and I closed my eyes. This plumbing thing had been a bad idea from the beginning. Finally, “Well, your truck is about four doors down from our apartment and we’ve got a leaking faucet that’s kept me up most of the night. Is there any chance that you could—”

I closed the phone, unlocked the front door, walked outside, and stripped the vinyl magnetic banners from both sides of the truck. Rolling them up, I threw them in the driver’s side, and stomped back into our condo.

James was snoring peacefully as I shoved open his door. The catch had never worked on the cheap hollow piece of pressed wood and it crashed against the wall. He kept on snoring.

“James.” I shouted out his name as his snoring drowned me out.

Walking to his bed, a metal frame, mattress, and cheap box springs, I shook him.

“Um.” He sputtered.

“Wake up.”

“Mmm?”

“Wake up.”

“What? Are the cops here?”

“No. Someone just called and asked about Water Connection Plumbing.”

“Mmmm?”

“Get up. We need to talk.”

James struggled with the top sheet, twisting it, and finally freeing himself. He staggered to his feet, standing there in his
boxer shorts, looking like a taller version of Jim Jobs. “What’s all this about, Skip?”

“First of all, people thinking we’re plumbers. Not a good idea.”

He just did an elaborate nod, not fully awake.

“Second of all,” I was wide awake and ready to take some action, “we need to review that smoke detector camera card.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah. There were some things said that don’t match the conversation we heard tonight between Carol Conroy and Sandy.”

“So am I being paid overtime?”

“You’re the one who started this spy stuff, so don’t give me any crap about overtime. Okay?”

James staggered to the doorway, walking out into the living area. “Okay. Let’s view the movie, amigo.”

I’d thought about it. Carol Conroy couldn’t involve us with any degree of evidence. She had nothing. There were no witnesses at the Red Derby, no one had taped my conversations with Sarah—at least I didn’t think they had—and the rapport that James and I had was very private. What kind of evidence did Mrs. Conroy have that would implicate us in any of this sordid mess?

“The movie, Skip.”

I unfolded the computer and turned it on, clicking on the icon for the small video disk.

Not available. Disk missing

I tried it again.

Not available. Disk missing.

“Hold on, James.” I pushed on the slot where the disk was, hoping it would pop out. There was nothing.

“What’s going on, pal?”

“You know that digital card from the smoke detector?”

“Sure. You got it back when Conroy told you to take the smoke detector and leave, right?”

“That’s the one.”

So what’s your problem?”

“Well, it only plays back when you have it in the computer.”

“So play it.”

“James, did you take it out?”

“Absolutely not.”

“For any reason at all?”

“Skip, I did not touch it.”

I’d picked up the detector about thirteen hours ago. The card was in it. I’d seen it myself. I rubbed my eyes, thinking.

“Kemo Sabe, if it was in the smoke detector, we might try looking there.”

Of course. Breathing a sigh of relief, I walked into the kitchen and flipped over the two plastic pieces of the detector. I hadn’t moved them since I walked in and found Carol Conroy in our restroom. I held the loaded side up and looked inside. The card was gone.

“Carol Conroy. It’s got to be.” James was talking softly, not wanting to bother the neighbors. Although the gunfire, the construction company nailing plywood on our windows, our all-night visitors, and our on-again, off-again plumbing business had probably bothered them already. He puffed on a cigarette and drank an RC Cola from the can. “It just makes sense, Skip. You came in and mentioned the camera. Remember? She walked out and said ‘You had a camera?’ first thing.”

As we sat in the gloom on our cheap lawn chairs, we could hear birds waking in the distance, and I sniffed the air, smelling someone’s rotting garbage in a can down the way. Our back porch. Love it or leave it.

“She’s got the proof.”

“She wasn’t the only one in there tonight, James.” It had been like Grand Central Station. “Think about it. J.J. was there.”

“Point taken. He didn’t want you to put up the smoke alarm. Maybe he knew it was a camera and he lifted the card.”

I glanced down at Jim Jobs’s rear door, hanging by one
hinge. “The guy seems to know a lot about what’s apparently going on.”

“He does.”

“And the three cops. Those two guys who interviewed us and the one who checked the parking lot and interviewed the neighbors. All three were in the apartment.”

James shook his head, leaning back and drinking his RC. “And,” he belched quietly, “Em.”

“Em?”

“She’s on the list of visitors tonight, pard.”

“Em didn’t take the card.”

“She knew where it was. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Two guys from Twenty-Four Seven. Both those guys were inside when they boarded up the windows.”

“Man, we had a boatload of company tonight. That makes eight people, Skip.”

We both sat there, listening to the noise of people waking up. A car with a noisy muffler started out front and the squeaking of bedsprings and a frame was playing in rhythm about two apartments to our right through an open window.

“Somebody’s starting the day off with a bang.” James tossed the empty can at our trash container. Of course, he missed.

“So what do we do, James? If Carol Conroy wants to involve us down the road, she’s got the card. If she can prove that we installed the smoke detector, we’re screwed.”

“We’re probably screwed for a lot of other reasons as well,” he said.

“Give me a cigarette.”

“What? You don’t smoke anymore.”

“Give me a damned cigarette.” It had been a rough twenty-four hours.

James pulled the crumpled pack from his pants pocket and
shook out a forlorn looking smoke. He handed me his matches.

“I don’t want the matches.” I stuck the cigarette in my mouth and sucked on the filter.

“They’re close, James. Threatening us, stealing the card, all the other stuff going on, I think they’re getting the codes soon. Maybe today.”

“And then what happens?”

“My guess, okay? Synco sends two installers to the Department of Defense. They tell the bigwigs there that they need to get into the computers and get them ready for this new software. The minute they enter the codes, they start downloading. They know exactly what they’re looking for, and by Monday there are no more secrets. It’s all in the hands of Chen or Feng or whoever is paying seventy-five million dollars.”

“You’re crazy. This is the United States Government. They’re a little more sophisticated than that.” My roommate was usually the cynic. This time he was taking the side of the government. My rebellious roommate who hated the cops and any other form of authority. He was backing the Department of Defense. The thought actually depressed me.

In the early gray morning, James stood up and gave me a cold, hard look. “There may be something going on, Skip, but you don’t just walk into a government agency and steal them blind.”

“Have you been listening, man? You’ve heard the same stories I heard tonight, James. J.J. and the briefcases. Chi Mak, who just e-mailed the secrets to his home computer. It was that simple. We’ve read stories about missing uranium, government secrets, the KGB—I mean there must be hundreds of other stories. Security is a joke. Look how easy it’s been for us to walk through Synco. Hell, we opened up Conroy’s computer, James. And we didn’t even know what we were doing. Installed a smoke
detector that doubled as a camera. Compromising these agencies, these groups, is just too easy. Think about it. I mean, two complete idiots like us, we’re accidentally able to identify a national security issue. How safe is that?” I’d raised my voice and he raised his eyebrows. “And Synco Systems is a company that has a contract with the federal government. I can’t even get my mind around this. You and I just strolled in and walked out with some very scary information. You know I’m right.”

He walked to the concrete wall and slammed his fist against it. “Ouch.”

“James, we’ve got to go to work.”

“Knowing that Feng tried to kill us last night. Do you think it’s safe to ever go back there?”

“He’s not going to kill us at work.”

“Skip, I wouldn’t be surprised at anything that happened after last night.” He spit on the concrete and opened the door.

“Born in the U.S.A.” blared from my phone. I didn’t even look at the number. Anyone who called was probably trouble.

“Skip, are you there?”

“Yeah, Michael. What’s up.” I felt whatever energy I had start to drain.

“Listen, Skip, we’ve got a bit of a problem.”

I wanted to tell him he had no idea how big our problem was, but I waited for him to tell me his “bit of a problem.”

“Top guy says no-go on the hookup until we get our money.”

I’d seen it coming. I wasn’t totally ready for it, thinking that maybe there would be a last minute save, but I’d seen it coming. “You haven’t gotten the down payment, right? She was supposed to send it, Michael.”

“That’s why you’re my top guy, Skip.” Sarcasm was creeping into his voice. “You’re so good at figuring these things out.”

I wanted to go right through the phone and strangle him. “I’m going in to Sandy Conroy’s office this morning, Michael. I’ll
confront him and get at least half the money. Can we turn it on for half the money?”