Girl Undercover 8 & 9: Traitor & The Smiley Killer (4 page)

I found Burt’s cell number in the folders on the fitness desk, then went out to the nearby basketball court where I would be sure to get privacy and called him. As I had feared, his voicemail picked up. I left a message, asking him to call me right away.

Leaving the basketball court, I walked behind the fitness desk again and logged into the computer there. Right as I was about to look up Burt’s home address, I remembered that he lived at Jonah’s place. I still found it and jotted it down on a piece of paper as I couldn’t recall the number on the building or which apartment they lived in. Then I hurried toward the stairs that would take me down to the cafeteria and the club exit, praying that I wouldn’t bump into Jonah inadvertently. He had texted me again, wanting to see me tonight. I had yet to respond, but I knew I couldn’t wait too long or he’d start to get suspicious.

Instead of having a bite in the cafeteria, I would use my one-hour break to visit Burt at home. I wasn’t about to ask Jonah if he knew of Burt’s whereabouts. Not only didn’t I trust him to tell me the truth, but, worse, he’d wonder why I cared what Burt was up to. It was bad enough that I had asked several of the other trainers and other staff members if they had seen the black man. I needed Jonah to keep thinking he and I were good, not give him reason to throw another jealous fit.

Fortunately, Jonah and Burt lived close to Nikkei and so did I. If I ran, I should be able to make it to my place in three minutes, find my platinum-blond wig and red glasses, then get to the massive pre-war building that housed the men’s apartment shortly thereafter. I wasn’t about to ask Jonah’s doormen for Burt looking the way I usually looked. I preferred that they described me as a bespectacled blonde wearing a nondescript sweater and a skirt if they mentioned a strange visitor to Jonah later.

I arrived at their apartment building with almost forty minutes to spare until I had to train my next client.

Taking a few moments to get control of my heavy breathing, I hovered right behind the corner to the main entrance. When I was breathing somewhat normally, I entered the building.

Plastering a pleasant smile on my face, I walked up to the two doormen who stood behind a wide desk.

“Good afternoon, miss,” the first one, a bearded man with bulging fish eyes, said. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, good afternoon, sir,” I said and walked all the way up to the desk, speaking in my best Southern accent. “I’m here to see Burt Laden in apartment 15 B.”

The doorman picked up a phone and punched in some numbers. His bulging eyes returned to me when no one picked up. “Is he expecting you? It doesn’t seem he’s at home.”

“Really? Yes, he’s expecting me. He told me to come by last night because he wasn’t feeling well.” I made myself look as distraught as I could, squeezing and twisting my hands beneath my chin. “Oh, sweet lord. I sure hope he’s all right. I’ve been trying him all day while I was at work. Would it be possible for one of you dear gentlemen to go check on him? That would be
so
considerate of y’all.”

The two doormen looked at each other and shrugged. Mr. Fish Eye grabbed a set of keys from a drawer in the desk and said, “Come on, miss. Let’s go check on Mr. Laden.”

I clasped my hands and let out a little yelp. “Oh, thank you, thank you, sir! I really do appreciate it.”

We took the elevator up to apartment 15 B and were soon inside it. It was quiet and empty-feeling, and after we had checked all the rooms, we knew why—there was no sign of anything living there besides a bunch of colorful fish in a gigantic aquarium in Jonah’s bedroom.

“Well,” I said and turned to the doorman. “That’s odd. Where could he be then?”

The man was about to say something, but the beeping sound emanating from my purse then, announcing an incoming text, caused him to close his mouth.

I made myself smile. “That must be him.”

I plucked my regular phone out of my purse as that had been the one making the sound, not my burner. Because I had used the burner when calling Burt, I knew it wasn’t him texting me. But the doorman didn’t know that, and since I didn’t like the way his bulging eyes had begun to narrow and the way the corners of his mouth were turning south suddenly, I needed to assure him I wasn’t the fraud that I was.

“Oh, it
is
him,” I exclaimed as if relieved. Pretending to read the message, I explained what Burt was supposedly telling me. “He went to the emergency room to get some treatment for his stomach. But he’s doing fine now, thank goodness.”

That seemed to do it for the doorman because his eyes returned to normal shape, and he no longer looked like he’d just swallowed a chunk of lemon. “He must’ve left through the other entrance then,” he mused.

“There’s another entrance to this building?” I asked with as much innocence as I could muster.

“Yes, there are three, but the tenants only use the main and the one going out to 80th street.”

“Oh.” I nodded as we walked out of the apartment. “Well, I’m going to head to the hospital and see Burt. Thanks so much for taking me up here.
So
sweet of y’all!”

“It was my pleasure,” the doorman replied and pressed the button to the elevator. The door immediately slid open and we entered the car. Now that I knew Burt wasn’t at home, I wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. The less time I spent with Jonah’s doormen, the better. I wasn’t too worried that Burt himself would show up; the gnawing tension in my stomach told me something had happened to him, and that that something wasn’t good.

I thanked the doorman again and left through the side exit. As soon as I was outside, I dialed Ian. He picked up on the second ring.

“It’s me,” I said, the words rushing out of me. “I think something’s happened to Burt. He didn’t show up to work today and I’ve called him. A few times. I just went to his house to see if maybe something had happened to him or he was sick, but no one was at home. One of the doormen let me in.”

“You went to Jonah’s house? What if Jonah was there? How’d you explain that?”

“I knew he wasn’t gonna be there. He had just started training someone when I left Nikkei.”

“Okay. Don’t you think his doormen will say something to Jonah when he gets home?”

“I already thought of that. I just wore my platinum blond wig and my red glasses. And I spoke with a Southern accent. Don’t worry; I’m very convincing. Jonah will wonder who the weird blonde is for sure, but I don’t think he’s bright enough to figure out it was me.”

At least I hope he’s not bright enough,
I thought but didn’t say.

Ian chuckled. “You’re probably right about that. The bloke does seem a bit dense. Which is odd for a hybrid.”

“Yeah, I know. But we should be grateful he isn’t so bright.”

“Right. What are you doing now?”

“I’m walking down the street toward my house. I need to change back into my trainer’s uniform and go back to work to train a couple more clients. Do you have the ability to track Burt’s cell phone? I can’t think of how else we can find him.”

“Yeah, as long as his phone’s GPS enabled—and most modern phones are—it should be a piece of cake.”

“I thought so. Okay, I’ll be done at work at seven. I’ll go to Apple and pick up a new disposable and call you then. It’s my turn to get a new one.”

Ian and I rotated getting disposables—every day one of us had a new phone, keeping it for two days until it was time to dump it. This way one of us always knew the other’s phone number and could make contact.

“Fine,” Ian said. “By then I should know where his phone is at least. Hopefully he’s with it.”

We said goodbye and disconnected as I reached my apartment building. Only then did I remember that it was Jonah who had texted me when I was inside his apartment, pretending Burt had. It was the second text he’d sent me in less than an hour, wanting an answer to if I could see him tonight. I needed to get back to him.

I fired off a response.

Hi Jonah, sorry, just finished with a client. I really would love to see you tonight, but I have to study for and take an online test to renew my NASM certification. It’s expiring this week, so I have to get it done tonight. I’ll have more time later in the week.

His response arrived only seconds after I had pressed Send:

Are you still training Ian? I don’t want you to train that bastard any longer.

I stared at the words, scowling. Who the hell did this little punk think that he was, ordering me around like that? My fingers were itching to type back that it’s was none of his fucking business, but I soon restrained myself. That would obviously be the wrong thing to say. I needed to keep my feelings to myself and play along, placate Jonah’s controlling behavior by telling him what he wanted to hear. Even if me not training Ian any longer would make it more difficult for us to go on with our mission.

No, of course not,
I texted Jonah.
I told him I was no longer comfortable training him because I’m dating you now.

Pressing Send, I smiled wryly, thinking that if that didn’t do it, I didn’t know what would. As expected, my phone soon buzzed with a reply.

Good. Where are you?

I sighed and rolled my eyes, typing a response back.

Walking home from my client’s. Did a house call. Coming into the club now. Have client in a few min. See you soon.

I pressed Send, sincerely hoping he’d stop texting me finally. Shouldn’t he be focusing on his client? I couldn’t imagine he was already done with the guy he’d started training right as I left at four.

A short while later, I was back to my Jamie persona and entering Nikkei, only a couple of minutes late for my five o’clock client. She had yet to arrive herself, thankfully. I hurried up to the fitness desk where I’d meet the woman, praying all the while that I wouldn’t bump into Jonah on the way.

Fortunately I didn’t, and I barely saw him while training my two clients. I couldn’t get out of the building fast enough to replace my disposable with a new one and call Ian to see what he’d learned about Burt, if anything.

Removing the battery from my old burner first, I threw that and the actual phone in a trashcan on my way to the Apple store located half a block away from Nikkei Sports Club. In doing so, no one would be able to track the disposable as it was no longer sending out signals and keep track of where we were. While it might be an unnecessary caution, Ian and I thought it was better to be safe than sorry.

It didn’t take long until I had a new phone in my hands and was dialing Ian’s newest number. He immediately picked up.

“Did you locate his phone?” I blurted before Ian had a chance to say anything, while power walking in the direction of my apartment.

“Yes. It’s uptown, in the East Harlem area.”

“Okay, let’s go there. Where are you? At home?”

“Yes. What about you?”

“I’m pretending like I’m on my way home. Jonah is badgering me about getting together tonight and I had to pretend like I had an important test to take. I’m just gonna walk a little more, then I’ll find a cab and head over to your area.” I picked up my pace some more. “That way we can head uptown together.”

“Do you have your gun on you?”

“No, I hardly ever bring it to work. It’s at home.”

“You should go get it before you come meet me. You might need it.”

“You’re right. I’ll hurry home and then come over to your house.”

“I’ll be waiting for you. Text me when you leave your place.”

Disconnecting, I walked as fast I could in the direction of my house. A few minutes later, my hip holster with my Glock in it attached under my sweater, I sat in a cab going crosstown to the eastside where Ian lived.

Because it was still rush hour, it took me a while to get there. When I finally did, he was pacing outside his building, an impatient look on his face.

“Thought you’d never come,” he said as he slipped into the cab and took a seat beside me.

“Blame that on New York and its frigging ridiculous traffic,” I snapped back. Having to sit behind cars that never moved had made my nerves taut, causing my brain to imagine all kinds of horrible things having happened to Burt. I had tried his phone a few more times, but of course he didn’t pick up. “Has he moved from the first location?”

“No, the phone is in the same spot still,” Ian replied and leaned between the two front seats’ headrests, giving the driver our destination. Then he reclined against the vinyl car seat, gazing at me. “Let’s hope that’s not because he’s either dead or has dropped his phone.”

“Don’t be morbid,” I said, even though exactly the same thought—that he was dead and therefore couldn’t move—had occurred to me. I told myself that this simply could not be the case; he might be hurt, but he was definitely still alive. Even if I had every reason to believe that was only wishful thinking.

Ian shrugged. “Just being realistic.”

“We can’t train any longer,” I said, not wanting to continue discussing the likelihood that Burt was dead.

Ian tilted his head, looking surprised. “We can’t? Why not?” A light went on behind his eyes. “Wait, don’t tell me. It has to do with Jonah, right?”

I smirked. “Of course. He told me today that he doesn’t approve of me training you any longer. I thought it best not to disagree with him. He’s already a major pain in the ass.”

“Yes, that’s smarter. Do everything you can to keep his mood in check for as long as you can.”

“Did you find out anything useful today?” I asked.

Ian shook his head, his face going dark and a deep wrinkle forming between his eyebrows. “No. I spent the day trying to crack their bloody security. Still no luck. One day I’ll get through though.”

I nodded, tired suddenly. “I really, really hope you will.”

Chapter 4

We arrived at the location where Ian had located Burt’s phone, a run-down neighborhood in the northern parts of Spanish Harlem. The pavement was cracked and dirty, and fishy characters hung around the street corners, surely up to no good. Some of the windows on the old apartment buildings were boarded up, others broken. Graffiti was everywhere. The banged-up cars parked along the sidewalk had seen their best years a long time ago. A Hispanic-looking girl who must still be in her teens walked by our cab, pushing a stroller and holding a toddler in her other hand that struggled to keep up with her brisk pace. The little kid nearly stumbled over a syringe someone had dropped on the ground.