Page 6 of Broken

The following morning, after a hundred push-ups and sit-ups, I fire off a text to Phoenix as I head to the bathroom for a quickshower. He knows to re-arrange or take on any of my clients who are happy having him fill in for me.

I try to remember who is on my schedule, but my head is in a different space right now. I get a message back as I’m heading out back.

Phoenix:

Done

He knows Nero has me on something and won’t ask any questions.

Caleb Dexter will be out of his apartment by seven thirty to go to work. It’s my opportunity to get into his apartment. Once the electronic surveillance is set there, I can head to the university where he works to watch him.

I leave home, hook my rucksack onto my back, pull on my helmet and start up the bike. As I pull out onto the street, I glance at the front of the shop and my pulse quickens. It won’t be opening for another three hours. Lucky usually is the first one in.

Phoenix won’t explain why I’m not in. At least, not the real reason. None of them will see me for the next few days because once surveillance is all set up, I’ll be monitoring it constantly. I push away thoughts of the shop and my employees’ questions.

The apartment building isn’t far, but I drive past and park the bike away from the block. It’s warm as hell today, even this early. I’ve dressed in shorts and a T-shirt and have a ball cap on.

I take a package out of my rucksack, put it back on my back, and tuck the package under my arm. I’ve printed off labels to make it appear official. Anyone who sees me will remember a delivery guy.

As I approach the door to the building, I slow my pace as a woman approaches. We reach the door at the same time. I check the buzzers as she uses her key.

I’m relying on her having no concern for a delivery guy entering the building. She holds the door for me. I thank her with a quick head nod, then go to the stairs. Getting into the elevator with her gives her an opportunity to remember me.

It’s not my intention to do any damage, but I don’t want to be remembered either.

The apartment is on the second floor. I pause to pull on thin gloves, then head out into the corridor, looking up from under the brim of my cap.

There are no cameras. I wasn’t expecting there to be. The building is older. It has a camera in the lobby area and right outside the entrance, but that’s all. At the apartment I’m looking for, I knock and wait. When there is no response, I take out my electronic lock picker. It’s noisy, but it’s fast.

Slipping inside, I close the door and stand still, waiting, listening.

The apartment is empty, but I clear the rooms quickly. No pets, not even a goldfish. Once it’s clear, I take the time to glance around in more detail.

The place is average, single guy decor. There are piles of books in one corner and paperwork on the dining table. The dishes he used for his breakfast are in the sink with a couple of mugs on the drainer. His bed isn’t made, and the closet door is open, but everything inside is folded or hung.

I have no fucking clue why Nero wants a college professor watched. I set my bag down and get to work, putting up cameras in the entry way, living room and kitchen and a final one in the bedroom.

If this guy gets up to any weird shit in the bedroom, I’d rather only listen than watch, but that isn’t very thorough.

Singling out a well-worn pair of sneakers, I carefully peel up the sole on the inside of one and place the tracker inside. He won’t be able to feel it and it’s durable enough to withstand the weight of a person walking on it.

This should cover his ‘private life’. The other tracker will go on something work related. He doesn’t drive, having had his license revoked for a DUI a couple of years ago. That alone tells me this guy is an asshole.

Finding nothing of note on a more thorough search, I go to the laptop in the spare bedroom. He must have a separate work laptop he takes with him. I’ll have to figure a way to get into that.

He doesn’t seem concerned about the personal one. The idiot doesn’t have a password. I’m not about to complain. I upload a program that will watch his activity and allow me to read his files. Then disguise it in a folder buried so deep, you would have to know it is there to find it.

Testing the camera feeds in an app on my phone, I make sure everything is working and double check nothing is out of place. I put the decoy package in my bag and head to the front door.

I listen for a few minutes, making sure the hallway is empty, then step out and close the door.

As I head toward the stairwell, the elevator door opens, and a woman walks out, right into my path. She’s carrying a large box so doesn’t see me. I am moving too quickly to get out of the way.

We crash together. She bounces backward and hits the wall, dropping the box as I reach out to the other wall to steady myself. Something inside the box smashes.

“Oh shit,” the woman gasps. “Dammit. This is just great,” she mutters, looking down at the box at her feet. “It better not have been the coffee pot.”

I curse inwardly. So much for getting out of here without running into anyone. Her mumbling is kind of amusing, but I need to leave.

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