“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.