Perpetual Motion (15 page)

“If you’ll keep an eye on Karen, and let me
know the second you see anything suspicious.” He lowered his voice,
“And, if you don’t tell anyone else about this...We don’t want to
alarm the other tenants.” Cynical gave him a hard look. “I’ll
recommend you for the Police Academy.”

At first, Cynical wasn’t sure if Karl had
heard him. He simply stood there, stone faced. “I still have to be
responsible for the whole building,” he said gravely.

“Of course.”

Slowly, Karl nodded, as if accepting the
proposition. “Okay, I’ll keep an eye on 315.”

“Great, I really appreciate it,” Cynical
said, and actually meant it. Not only did he not have to worry
about Karl turning him in, an extra set of eyes could be valuable,
especially ones that had access to cameras throughout the building.
“Hey, you want a slice of pizza?” he asked, clasping his new
associate on the shoulder.

“That’s okay,” the guard said firmly. “I’m on
duty.”

He definitely had the right man for the job,
Cynical thought, as he watched the security guard strut down the
hall with a renewed sense of purpose. Pleased, he turned his
attention back to the apartment and the pizza.

Waking, Cynical wiped a line of spittle from
the corner of his mouth as he stared at the plastic wood grain desk
an inch from his eye. Sitting up from his slouched position in a
stiff, swivel chair, he saw Karen was curled up asleep on the
futon, Desmond was crashed out on the carpet, and Conan was on
TV.

A sound caused the PI to whirl around just in
time to make out someone wearing infra-red goggles and waving a
long metallic wand coming out of the bedroom. For a moment, Cynical
wondered if he was still dreaming; the shooting pain in his lower
back told him otherwise.

“This place had a serious infestation
problem,” the man said as he raised the goggles, revealing Angelo’s
weary eyes.

Slowly, Cynical unfolded himself from the
squeaky chair. Karen stirred, while Desmond let out a snore, dead
to the world.

“Check this out. I found five IR bugs,”
Angelo said, lowering his voice. “I had to use a CCD video camera
with the IR filter removed - ”

“Infrared?” Cynical was still trying to rouse
himself, while keeping up with the techno-jargon.

Angelo nodded. “Yeah, they had this place
wired up tight. Whoever did this is good,” he conceded before a
smile broke across his face. “But I’m better.”

“Okay, so you’re sure no one is
listening?”

“We are clean inside and out,” Angelo said
assuredly.

“What’s to prevent someone from putting
another one of the bugs on the phone line outside?”

Angelo cleared out the empty pizza boxes to
get to the telephone on the kitchen counter. “See this,” he said,
pointing to a small electronic box beside the phone. “This little
baby sends a signal that scrambles anything down the line.” He
grinned coyly. “If they try again, that will befuddle anyone who
tries to listen in.”

Cynical patted Angelo on the shoulder. “Nice
work.”

The young surveillance expert looked rather
proud of himself.

“What’s going on?” Rising from her futon,
Karen looked at both of them, focusing on Angelo. “You’re still
here?”

“Yeah,” Angelo said. “It took longer than I
thought.”

“Why don’t you go to bed?” Cynical suggested,
motioning to the bedroom.

Her response was a grumpy sound as she
obediently stumbled into the other room, shutting the door behind
her.

Cynical gestured for Angelo for them to take
it outside. The young surveillance expert nodded his understanding
as he gathered up his equipment and put it into the metal suitcase.
Packed up, he followed Cynical into the hall. Once the door was
shut behind them, Cynical got out his wallet. “What do I owe
you?”
“Because it’s you - ”

“Forget that,” Cynical said, cutting him off.
He began counting out his cash. “Tell me what’s fair?”

“You know what? These bugs are worth some
real money. Let’s just call it even.”

Shaking his head, Cynical forced a couple of
hundred dollar bills into the young man’s hand. “At least take this
too.”

“Thanks,” Angelo said, relenting. He pocketed
the green; then seemed to be considering his words. “You know, I
don’t like to ask questions about jobs – and you don’t have to tell
me. But, the tap and the bugs are better than what I’m used to
seeing. Not too many outfits even have access to this stuff.”

Cynical nodded, not surprised.

“Well, this is government grade,” Angelo went
on. “So, it’s got to be an agency or a high end security outfit.
You don’t know who these guys are, do you?”

Cynical shook his head tightly.

“Huh.” Angelo chewed on the information, or
lack thereof. “Whoever they are, why would they be interested in a
sweet girl like Karen?”

“She knows someone who has some valuable
information…” Cynical said, letting the explanation go cold.

Angelo nodded, knowing he’d pushed it as far
as he should. “Okay, well, be careful,” he said with genuine
concern.

“Tell your dad hello,” Cynical said with a
nod.

“I will,” Angelo said. “And he’ll ask when
we’re going to get together for a couple of pints?”

“Soon.”

With a wry smile at the white lie, Angelo
turned to walk down the hall, disappearing into the stairwell.

Turning around, the x-detective tried the
handle. It didn’t budge. “Son of a - ” Locked out. He started to
knock; then held back. Rather than wake the sleeping kids, and come
off looking like a bumbling buffoon, he turned and headed back
downstairs to his car. It was more comfortable than a computer
chair anyway.

The Neuberg’s plain white van was already
gone when he entered the garage. Slipping behind the wheel of his
car, he started the engine and pulled out of the underground
parking lot.

In front of the building, he found a perfect
spot just across the street from University Circle. From his new
vantage point, he could keep an eye on the dark, third floor
apartment. All was quiet and he hoped to keep it that way. At least
now, if Michael called, no one else would be listening.

It was seven am when Karen answered the
persistent knocking on her locked front door. Opening up, she found
her “protector” wearing an even more crumpled version of the suit
he’d worn all day yesterday. Bordering on looking homeless, the man
held a cardboard tray of coffees and a bulging sack from
McDonalds.

“I thought you weren’t going to leave us?”
she said irritably.

“I was outside the whole night,” Cynical
explained. “I just ran around the corner to pick up some breakfast.
You’re welcome by the way.”

She stalked into the living room, leaving the
door open for Cynical to enter. As he came into the living room, he
saw Desmond had moved from the floor up to the futon, where he was
still busily sawing logs.

“You want a coffee or a sausage biscuit?” he
asked her.

“I’m a vegan,” Karen said with a note of
condescension. “I’ll take a coffee though.”

“Angelo found five bugs in here last night,”
he informed her as he handed over the Styrofoam cup.

“Five?!” she exclaimed, suddenly more awake.
“Are you serious?”

Desmond stirred; then let out a snore.

“Yep,” he confirmed, unwrapping his bacon,
egg and cheese biscuit.

“I thought I was just being paranoid,” Karen
said, her head in a dense cloud of thought. “It turns out I wasn’t
being paranoid enough.” She focused on Cynical. “Do you have any
idea who’s behind all this?”

“That’s the question,” he said before taking
a big bite.

“How do you know they won’t come back? Are
you going to be around 24 hours a day?” Her voice was climbing,
teetering on shrill. “I mean, don’t you need to sleep or something?
What are we going to do then?”

“Karl is going to keep an eye on you, and I’m
going to bring in some extra help,” Cynical said, trying to sound
as reassuring as possible with a mouth full of food. A snort came
from the sleeping heap a few feet away. “And don’t forget, you have
Desmond with you.”

“Oh, yeah, thanks,” Karen said mockingly.
“So, let me get this straight. You want me to stay in this
apartment until Michael calls – if he calls. Meanwhile, these
people – whoever they are - are listening to every word I say - or
maybe they’ll just decide to kill me, like they did Fernando?”

Obviously, his hostess had gotten up on the
wrong side of the bed this morning, although, given the situation,
who could blame her? When he spoke, Cynical took it nice and slow,
trying to calm her down, while appealing to her sensibilities.

“Okay, first, no one is listening to you
anymore because we got rid of all the bugs. Secondly, I don’t think
anyone wants to kill you. If they did, you’d already be dead by
now.” The last sentence hung there, sounding almost like a
threat.

For a moment, Karen just stood there,
thinking to herself and silently fuming. “Give me one good reason
why I shouldn’t just take off and disappear?”

“You could do that,” Cynical admitted. “But
this is your best chance of reconnecting with Michael. We just need
to be patient.”

Frustrated and scared, the girl turned in a
huff. He knew he was asking a lot of her and, just as he was
reaching out to try and reassure her, she snapped back around on
him, sloshing her coffee, and spilling a few drops on the
carpet.

“By the way, I’m missing a picture,” she said
accusingly. “You don’t happen to know anything about that, do
you?”

His eyes fell to the carpet. Busted, he
decided it was best to come clean. “I was here a couple of days ago
- looking for you.” Looking up, he found her eyes narrowing in on
him. “I conned Karl into letting me into your apartment and I
listened to the messages on your answering machine. I heard - ”

“You were here?” She cut in, pointing at the
coffee droplets at her feet and speaking loudly enough to startle
Desmond into almost waking up. “You listened to my messages?!”

“That’s how I knew to go to the Boom Boom
Room,” Cynical calmly replied, trying to deescalate the situation.
“And I picked up a picture of you and Michael to show around.”

“So, you broke in and stole my picture.” Her
voice and face conveyed utter disgust. “And I trusted you!” Before
he could object, she thrust a finger toward the door. “Get
out!”

If he wasn’t before, Desmond was awake now.
From under the blanket, he watched as Cynical slowly backed toward
the door. The older man looked tired as he paused with his hand on
the doorknob.

“Yeah, I took some shortcuts to find you, but
we’re up against some serious people and I can’t afford to waste
time,” he said meagerly. “If I didn’t do what I did, you wouldn’t
even know about Fernando, or how much danger you’re actually in.
Your place would still be full of bugs – and there would be no one
between you and whoever is doing all this.”

Karen didn’t say anything for a few seconds.
While she was still mad, she seemed reluctant to completely sever
the relationship with the only person who’d stepped forward to help
them out. Her unshaven knight in a wrinkled suit, she thought.

“I want my picture back,” she finally said.
And with that, she went back into her bedroom, slamming the door
behind her.

“Women,” Desmond said with a sympathetic
shrug.

Back in his car, Cynical reached into his
glove compartment and took out the cracked photo of Karen and
Michael. The former was not going to be happy with the condition he
was returning it in. She had been right though; he was using her.
His whole plan hinged on a love sick kid calling his fiancé. It was
flimsy but, at the moment, it was the only lead he had – so he had
to pursue it.

Karen was right about another thing; he
wasn’t going to be able to provide around-the-clock protection. Not
only did he not want anyone getting to her, he also didn’t want her
to slip away and try to find Michael on her own. He had seen that
thought cross her mind that morning. Putting her under surveillance
was necessary, for her protection, as well as to safeguard his shot
at Michael.

Spinning through the contacts in his cell
phone, he stopped on a name and hit ‘send.’ The voice on the other
end answered, “Boney’s Bail Bonds.”

In addition to managing a stable of bounty
hunters, “Boney” knew a variety of characters on both sides of the
razor wire; from ex-cons to ex-cops to even ex-detectives. No
matter what you needed, Boney could recommend a name.

“Hey, Bones, it’s me.”

“Cynical?” Boney’s crackly voice lightened a
shade. “How you doing?”
“I need help protecting a girl.”

“If she’s pretty, I’ll do it myself,” Boney
generously offered.

“Yeah, but who would protect her from
you?”

The bail bondsman snorted.

“She’s the easy part, but she’s attracted the
attention of some heavyweights,” Cynical went on. “I need someone
who can handle himself, just in case.”

“How soon you need somebody?”

Cynical glanced at his watch. He figured he
could put in another full shift before he’d need a break. “By five
o’ clock would be nice, and I’ll need him all night.”

“Let me make some calls,” Boney said, already
spinning his rolodex. “I’ll get back to you.”

“Thanks Boney,” Cynical said, hanging up. He
looked up to 315’s empty balcony; then at his watch. Eight hours to
go. Turning on the radio, he skipped the know-it-all talkers who
told their lemmings what to think and who to hate.

On the far left end of the dial, an
easy-listening jazz station hit the spot as he settled back in his
seat. About the time he got comfortable, his cell phone rang.