Tutor, Nanny, Spit-up, Spy

by Perry Kirkpatrick

  Opening one of the French doors, he looked around cautiously before slipping through. They all followed and stopped just inside. The blaring of the alarm was beginning to make Emily’s head pound. Brent switched apps on his phone and checked the feeds from his Dot cameras.

  “Okay,” he said in a low voice, bending and speaking right in Emily’s ear to be heard over the alarm. “The way back to the schoolroom is clear. It’s a pretty defensible room. Let’s get there as quickly as possible.”

  She nodded, her heart pounding. They ran along the hall and turned in at the schoolroom. “Put the kids over there behind the desk,” Brent ordered.

  “Okay, everybody,” Emily said, loudly enough to be heard, “we’re going to have you all sit right behind the big desk here. Sofia and Juan, can you take turns keeping Mateo still and his ears covered?” The children did as she’d said, not asking any questions. Daniel had his hands clamped over his ears, and his eyes were enormous.

  She joined Brent near the room’s entrance. “Are you armed?” she asked quietly. He gave a tight nod. He had positioned himself to one side of the doorway.

  He gave Emily a nudge to get behind him. “All clear so far,” he said, passing her his phone with the Dot feeds and narrowing his eyes at the empty doorway.

  Emily glanced over toward the big desk. The children were still safely out of sight. Brent half-turned and gently turned her chin with one finger. She looked up at him.

  “Hey, listen,” he said. “I don’t know what’s going on. Emily, I may have to—shoot someone. If you can avoid seeing it, do that for me.”

  She nodded. “Can’t you just shoot the gun out of their hand, though?”

  Brent grinned a crooked grin at her words. “Movie stuff, Emily. Back me up half a mile and put a scoped sniper rifle in my hands, sure. Close range with a handgun in the heat of the moment, though?” He shook his head.

  After a few more long, tense moments, the alarm abruptly stopped and Moreno’s voice came over the intercom system.

  “Please acknowledge you can hear this.”

  Brent pressed the button on the box on the wall. “This is Brandon Peters, we can hear you.” Romeo answered similarly and said he was with Mrs. Gonzalez. She took over and demanded to know what was going on and if the children were safe.

  “Apologies, Senora Gonzalez. We experienced a short blackout on all of our security camera feeds as well as the intercom system,” Moreno explained.

  Brent pressed the talk button again. “Mrs. Gonzalez, Miss Tessier and I have all four children here safe in the school room.”

  “Oh, gracias!” She sounded relieved and a little teary.

  “We’re all clear,” Moreno said. “The glitch appears to be over.”

  Emily retrieved the children from behind the desk and took them out to the hallway. Mrs. Gonzalez must have run all the way from her bedroom where she’d sheltered upstairs. She hugged all the children at once, reassuring them—and it seemed, herself—in Spanish.

  Emily stepped back to give them some space. “I have serious doubts that was a glitch,” Brent murmured.

  Without looking at him directly, Emily asked, “Why?”

  “I’ve seen that sort of temporary blackout when someone hacked into a security system.”

  Chapter 15

  Emily stood at her window, leaning her head against the cool glass and staring to the west where she now knew Brent’s van was hidden.

  “Keep your eyes and ears open,” Brent was saying over the phone. “That whole thing today with the security system was pretty suspicious.”

  “You’re telling me. I hope these poor kids aren’t traumatized for life.”

  Brent grunted. “Yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised if there are some nightmares, depending on how crazy this gets. But, assuming we keep any and all assassins away from their dad, they’ll bounce back, I’m guessing. They’re a tough bunch, and they have a good family.”

  They were silent for a heavy moment.

  “I’m staring at you,” Emily said, trying to lighten the mood.

  “What?” Brent actually sounded mildly startled and she congratulated herself.

  She laughed. “I’m staring at you.”

  “Actually, I can conclusively prove you’re not.”

  “You can?”

  “You’re looking to the west—toward where my van is parked. Not that you can actually see it from the house. I made sure of that.”

  “How—how did you know that?” Emily pressed her nose to the glass and looked around the grounds near the house—what she could see from her window, at least.

  “I’m staring at you!” She could hear the smirk in his voice.

  “What?”

  “It’s like one of those hidden-picture puzzles, Houdini. See if you can spot me.”

  She narrowed her eyes and looked around again.

  “When you squish your nose against the glass like that you look like an entirely different person,” he teased.

  “I’ll keep that in mind as a disguise option.”

  He laughed. “Found me yet?”

  “No. Can we blame it on the fact that it’s nearly dark? Are you really out there somewhere?”

  “Yep, I really am. I’m keeping a close eye on this place until we are sure the threat is gone.”

  “You’re good at the stealth thing,” Emily said, shaking her head. “Of course you are, though. I’m sure it’s required to graduate from spy school. Oh, tell me there is a spy school, Brent!”

  Before he could answer, though, Emily’s phone beeped, and she took it away from her ear to check the screen.

  Oh my goodness.

  “Brent! Diaz is getting a call!”

  “Hang up with me and press the option to record his conversation. I’ll be right up!”

  “Okay.” Emily did as he said with hands shaky from the sudden adrenaline.

  It’s showtime!

  Diaz had already picked up. When she hit record, both sides of the call funneled through her phone’s speakers. Glancing nervously at the door of her room, she quickly turned the volume down a little and listened intently, wishing she could understand what the men were saying.

  Diaz was mostly listening as the other man spoke. Occasionally, he grunted or said “Si.” Once or twice, he asked a question.

  As the two men seemed to be bringing the call to a close, Emily heard scuffling outside her bedroom window, and she hurried to open it for Brent. He climbed in silently, again wearing his all-black outfit and balaclava.

  Diaz ended the call, and Emily’s phone beeped to let her know the recording had stopped.

  “Do you always let creepy ninja assassins in your window that casually?” Brent teased in a whisper.

  “Only the ones who have just spent the last little while watching me through my window with—presumably—a pair of binoculars or a scope,” she retorted.

  Brent pointed at her and said approvingly, “That’s a good one. And I’ll admit, I do deserve the ribbing, because it does sound pretty disreputable when you put it that way.”

  Emily smothered a laugh and held her phone out to him. “I got most of it, I think.”

  Brent sat in one of the arm chairs, and Emily sat across from him in the other. He pressed the play button and listened intently, translating aloud as he went. “So they start out with the other guy basically saying, ‘I have an update on things.’

  “Diaz says, ‘Good. What is it, sir?’

  “Then the other man says, ‘We believe the time-frame of the attempt will be in the next 24 hours. Still no word on who, and the background investigation on the nanny came back clean. The tutor’s is taking longer.’”

  Emily’s eyes grew huge and she whispered, “Wait—they’re checking up on us like we’re checking up on them?”

  Brent shrugged and nodded, continuing to translate. “Diaz says, ‘Yes, I’m suspicious of that man. He doesn’t seem quite right.’”

  Emily covered a snicker with her hand, and Brent shot
her a sideways look.

  “Diaz just told him about the security system glitch earlier today. The other man promised to look into it. He says, ‘For now your orders stay the same—keep on high alert and follow all protocols—with one exception. I want you to keep President Gonzalez at home for the next 24 hours.’

  “Diaz says, ‘Yes, sir. I agree his visit to the game would be a very likely place for an assassin to strike.’

  “Then the other man says, ‘Keep me apprised of anything else that happens. I’ll contact you the moment I have more information.’”

  That was the end of the call. Brent tapped a few buttons to send a copy of the recording to himself, and then he handed Emily’s phone back to her.

  “So he’s talking to his boss back home?” Emily asked.

  “Yes,” Brent said, nodding slowly. “And the good news is, the number matches that of the phone call you overheard the other day. I downloaded his phone logs so we could match who that caller was.”

  Emily smiled. “I’m glad that’s all it is. I didn’t really want him to be the bad guy. He seems nice—in a serious-bodyguard kind of way.”

  “It’s good to know there’s someone here we can trust for certain, too,” Brent added.

  “That’s true,” she said. “I do feel better knowing that. Have you gotten anything back on anyone else?”

  “Yes, on Lopez, or Hincha—if you want to make him mad,” Brent said. “I just got a call from Santa that they are still double-checking, but they’re pretty certain that his family is on the wrong side of the law back home.”

  Emily raised her eyebrows. “Really? Are they just, like, petty thieves or are they something else?”

  “ICS is still working on that. There are possibilities of ties to a San Martino street gang or maybe even a guerrilla group.”

  She sucked in a breath. “Really?”

  “We should know more tomorrow. I just hope it’s not too late.”

  Chapter 16

  The next day dragged by for Emily. She felt on-edge, half expecting an assassin to jump out from around every corner.

  And half expecting it to be Hincha-Lopez.

  The children seemed to sense the tension in the house, although she was sure their parents weren’t sharing details about the assassination threat.

  True to his word to his superior in San Martino, Diaz convinced Mr. Gonzalez to stay home from the baseball game he’d planned to take Juan to. The little boy was disappointed and a little sullen since nobody would tell him the reason for the cancellation.

  Emily didn’t see much of Mrs. Gonzalez, either. She and her husband spent most of the day upstairs in the sitting area off their bedroom talking in low, earnest voices and making whispered, urgent phone calls in Spanish. They always halted whatever they were saying and pasted on the most cheerful smiles they could muster when any of the children were near.

  Emily tried to keep the little boys busy while the older two were doing schoolwork with Brent. Daniel asked repeatedly if they could go outside to play, but she told him it wasn’t a good time.

  “It’s very hot out there today,” she said, which was true. “It’s going to be 117 degrees!”

  “Is that really, really hot?” He spread his arms out wide as if one could measure temperature in distance.

  Emily smiled at him and mimicked his motion. “It is really, really hot.”

  Brent had said something earlier that had annoyed her. He’d suggested that if it came down to being with the Gonzalez children or helping to save their father, she might need to make a hard choice.

  “Remember,” he had told her in a low tone when she’d brought Juan and Sofia to the schoolroom, “our mission is Mr. Gonzalez. Our interactions with Eeny Meeny, Miney, and Mo are actually just part of our cover.” He hadn’t said it with much conviction—it was almost as if it was a speech he thought he was probably supposed to make, but didn’t particularly agree with himself.

  She had still wanted to throw something at him.

  She stared down at Daniel now and smiled again. “You’re very cute, chiquito Daniel.”

  He wrinkled his nose at her and said, “Danielito.”

  “Oh.”

  That’s awkward when the 3 year old is correcting one of the only Spanish words I’ve managed to pick up so far: little. Apparently that’s not the right way to pair it with a name?

  “Well, Danielito, want to tell me what ‘a-ya como estrella’ means? Remember Mr. Peters said it the first day he was here?”

  The boy looked a little confused for a moment.

  I probably messed up the pronunciation beyond recognition.

  “Oh, ‘Ella es como una estrella’?” Daniel grinned shyly. “He say Tessi is like a star.”

  Emily blinked. “Oh.”

  No wonder Sofia is under the impression we might go on a date.

  Pulling herself out of her surprise, she asked the little boy, “Want to go see what the cook is making for lunch?”

  He nodded, so Emily scooped up Mateo and lugged him down the stairs with Daniel following close behind. On their way to the kitchen, they passed Brent on the phone in the hall just outside the schoolroom.

  He was listening intently to whomever was on the other end of the call, and he winked almost imperceptibly at Emily as she passed by with the little boys.

  They discovered that the cook was making tacos for lunch. She interviewed Daniel about whether his mom and dad would eat a lot of tacos. She, too, seemed keenly aware of the change in the day’s schedule.

  We haven’t thought to investigate her at all, Emily realized with a jolt. She could easily poison Mr. Gonzalez’ food!

  She worked to extricate the little boys from the kitchen as smoothly as possible and hurried back to find Brent. He was looking down at his phone, still out in the hall.

  “Daniel,” she said, giving the boy a small nudge in the direction of the schoolroom door, “go see what your brother and sister are up to in school.”

  “Hey,” Brent said. “That was Santa.”

  “Before you say any more,” Emily whispered, “won’t the guards see us standing here talking? Can they hear us?”

  “I looped the schoolroom and hall cameras before I came out here. They shouldn’t notice anything. And, no, there’s no audio.”

  Emily relaxed a little. “What did Santa say?”

  “They worked it all night and finished their investigation of Lopez-Hincha’s family. His uncle on his father’s side and a couple of cousins do have guerrilla affiliations, but Lopez dramatically severed ties with them several years ago. Ever since, he’s done nothing but repudiate them and work his rear end off to prove he wants nothing to do with them.”

  “So they don’t think he’s a threat?”

  “They can’t find any reason he’d suddenly be working with the group he hates so much.”

  “Nobody kidnapped his fiancé and used her as leverage? Nobody threatened to expose the fact that he stole a candy bar as a child? Oh! Or what about—” Emily broke off. “Never mind. I have a new suspect for you.”

  Brent raised his eyebrows.

  “I feel really bad that I didn’t think of this sooner, but someone should investigate the cook. She could so easily poison Mr. Gonzalez’ food or coffee!”

  Brent winked conspiratorially at her. “I have a feeling we don’t need to worry about her.”

  * * *

  Once the kids were in bed for the night, Emily paced her room nervously. The 24-hour window that Diaz’ boss had been worried about was nearly over, and nothing had happened. Nobody had tipped their hand.

  “We’re out of suspects if the cook truly isn’t a crook,” she whispered to herself. She went to the window and stared outside at the dusk, trying to spot where Brent was probably hiding.

  Nothing.

  Movement to the right of her window made her startle and jump back. A dark figure swung into view, perching on a narrow bit of decorative, horizontal trim below her window.

  Taking
a deep breath to calm her pounding heart, Emily opened the window and Brent slipped through along with a wave of heat from outside.

  “Don’t do that!” she said. “You scared me!”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, sounding truly penitent as he pulled off his balaclava. His dark hair stood on end, as it always did, and he grinned crookedly at her. “I’ll admit to sometimes enjoying how easy it is to startle you, but this time wasn’t on purpose.”

  “I’m just extremely tense today,” Emily said. “Though I can’t imagine why.” She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Do you think there really is a threat?”

  Brent nodded grimly, pulling out a couple unfamiliar devices, his burner phone, and some cables from the pockets of his black cargo pants. “Our intel is good. Someone is definitely planning something.”

  “Well, we’ve cleared all the guards,” Emily said, watching in mild confusion as Brent hooked various cables and devices together, plugging them into the ports on the side of the flat-screen television on her bedroom wall. “We either have no suspects, or we’ve missed something important and they’re all still suspects.”

  Brent nodded. “Yeah, I know. This is an unusual case.”

  He powered on the TV, and after a moment, the Dot feeds populated on the large screen in tiled rows.

  “Did you just turn my room into your own personal surveillance station, Brent?” she asked, her eyes wide.

  He grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, kinda. Check it out, though: I’ve even got the drone feed here too!”

  Emily grinned. “Oh, I’m not complaining. Not even a little bit. This is so, so cool. Much better than what I probably could have been watching on that TV.”

  They stood together, watching as various guards made their nightly rounds, checking all the door and window locks. They could hear them checking in on their radios.

  “It’s funny how we can hear one person transmit and then a half-second later it echos through 4 other radios,” Emily said.

  After a while, they drew up the armchairs and sat, their eyes still glued to the feeds on the screen. Mr. Gonzalez and Moreno walked together toward the French doors leading to the backyard.