Page 102 of The Librarians
“Sorry. What did you say?”
Hazel regards her a moment, then smiles apologetically. “We need a huge favor. Would you consider going back to your condo? Tonight itself, if possible.”
Astrid blinks. “Wh-what?”
Why?
“I wish I could give you more details, but the short version is, we think whoever broke into your place did so not to take anything—or not just to take something but also to install spy devices.”
Goose bumps raise up all along Astrid’s arms. Was that why the intruder didn’t care where she was last night, since her absence made their work easier? “Because of Perry?”
“Because of Perry, or possibly because of me. I just learned from Conrad that Perry and those who intruded upon your privacy were all looking for money my late husband might have hidden. If those intruders believe the two of us have become friends, they are likely to think it’s because we have banded together to look for the cache.”
“So…I should go back there now. Otherwise they might think it’s suspicious that I started to stay away as soon as they put the devices in?”
Astrid digs her toes into the brown shag carpet. It’s comforting underfoot. Jonathan’s house—with everyone here—feels so much warmer and safer than her own.
“I worked with a local private investigator some time ago,” says Conrad. “Today after I got back to Austin, I put her on retainer out of an abundance of caution—didn’t think we’d need her service so soon, but here we are. May I have her join us?”
He has a reassuring demeanor, not that of a brisk, time-conscious man of business but more like an expedition guide who is invested in everyone’s safety and well-being, willing to explain everything at length.
His question was asked to the whole room, but also to Astrid in particular. She nods tightly.
Conrad calls the PI. “Madeleine, I’m putting you on speaker. Miss Sorenson is here. Please tell her what you texted me.”
“Right, thanks, Conrad,” says a youngish-sounding but efficient voice. “Miss Sorenson, with the information you provided, I did a network scan of your home Wi-Fi network. I am texting you some screenshots now. Can you please take a look?”
Astrid finally bought a Wi-Fi-enabled TV after her roommate Becky moved out, to keep Hulu on in the background so the condo wouldn’t be so quiet all the time. She took a picture of the information on the side of her router to connect the TV to the network, and still has it in her phone. Apparently those strings of letters and numbers were what Madeleine needed to perform the audit.
The PI’s screenshots arrive. Astrid zooms in, trying to make sense of what looks like a spreadsheet.
“The fourth column lists the MAC numbers of the devices on your network. I have checked. Most of the devices, according to their MAC numbers, are normal household items, but there are two I cannot account for.
Astrid’s throat closes. “Spy devices?”
“I can’t be entirely sure, not having done a sweep myself, but the likelihood is there.”
Sophie, seated next to Astrid on the couch, places a hand on her shoulder. Astrid reaches up and grips it tightly. “So…what should I do?”
“From what I understand, you don’t wish to alert those who planted these possible surveillance devices that you have become aware of their existence. In that case, you will need to do the sweep yourself.”
“But I’ve no idea how to do any such thing.”
“That will be a drawback, but at least you’ll be in your own home, not someone else’s Airbnb where cameras are concealed inside wall chargers or a speckled-looking piece of decoration. Do you have any pictures of the interior of your home on your phone?”
With unsteady fingers, Astrid scrolls through her album and forwards several recent portraits of her houseplants, which have become a pleasant and largely non-fraught topic of conversation with her mom, who enjoys regular photo updates of her plant grandbabies. But in those pictures, much of her condo can be clearly seen behind the plants.
“I’m going to say the devices are most likely in the living-dining area,” pronounces Madeleine’s authoritative voice. “The people who installed them had no assurance that you weren’t at home, so there is a good chance they steered clear of the bedrooms. And if they have installed the devices in the public areas, then they would want a spot that has a clear, unobstructed view of everything.
“A camera wouldn’t be stuck on your window, for instance, because if you shut your blinds, it becomes useless. But it could be on the end of your curtain rod, facing toward the dining table. Or it might be on the frame of one of those blackboards behind the dining table—people typically don’t look closely at curtain rods or picture frames.”
“And if there’s a listening device?” asks Sophie.
“Those don’t need to see so they might be hidden behind stuff. I see you have a frosted glass light fixture above your dining table; that would be a favorite spot. The back of the face frame on your bookshelf would be another. But remember the camera and don’t go looking for anything in an obvious manner. And assume whatever you say will be transmitted and recorded by a remote device.”
Astrid swallows. “I might hyperventilate, but I think I understand everything. I should be there so they don’t think I’m deliberately avoiding my condo for some reason. And while I’m there, I should try to find out where the spy devices are, but without coming across as if I’m looking.”
“Exactly. If you choose to return to your condo tonight, I’ll be on hand. I had to leave your cute little gated community when some lady tapped on my window. But I’ll bet she’s gone to bed now, and I’ll drive in after you and be near enough in case you require assistance.”
