My continued Thanks to Purdy's Pal for reading over this chapter.
Thank you to everyone for reading and any comments you make, however it is that your share them. Your time is appreciated and your thoughts well received.
Chapter 7
"Well hello, Zeke," the receptionist, greeted Michael. She licked her lips slowly and ended by pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. She fluttered her eyelashes as she looked up into Michael's eyes. "I hoped we'd be seeing you again today." She flipped the ends of her blonde hair over her shoulder. With her elbows perched on the edge of the oak desk, she rested her chin up on folded hands. She reminded Michael of a jungle cat ready to leap onto its prey.
"Well, hello…," Michael squinted a little, trying to read the woman's name tag. She happily leaned closer to him, exposing another half inch of cleavage as she brought her name tag into better focus.
'Shelley Markham - reception / sales trainee'.
"Shelley," Michael finished his greeting with a grin. "I'm waiting for Steve. We're taking the Pagani out for a test spin."
"That's the cutest accent I've ever heard," Shelley gushed. "Where are you from?"
"Kentucky," Michael answered and before Shelley could start asking questions about a hometown he knew nothing about, Michael quickly asked again about Steve.
"Are you sure you want Steve with you during your…spin?" Shelley fluttered her eyelashes again, making Michael wonder if it was an affliction. She opened the top drawer of her desk and pulled out a single key which she twirled around the tip of her finger. She seemed determined to get passed her 'trainee' designation and was gunning for the top sales spot. Michael was pretty sure she'd get there.
Steve Traynor appeared from one of the back offices in time to hear Shelley's proposal. He quickly grabbed the keys from her finger before joining Michael on the far side of the desk.
"Uh-uh-uh," Steve wagged his finger, "You're not stealing this client from me."
Shelley angrily crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Steve as she huffed, "I'm never going to make it out of reception at this rate. Next time a cute one walks in, he's mine."
Michael smiled awkwardly and refused to add an 'aww, shucks', as he took a few steps back from what was becoming a heated discussion between Shelley and Steve. Using their discussion as a distraction, Michael pulled a small bug from his jacket pocket and dropped it onto the floor. He gave it a gentle kick and watched it slide under a corner of the hardwood desk. It should last until the night cleaning crew came through and then be swept up with all the other detritus that makes its way onto an office floor. Unless someone knew to look for a miniature electronic device, no one would be any the wiser what it was or that it was ever there.
Getting the last word in about co-worker competitiveness, Steve grabbed Michael's elbow and pulled him away from reception. Before they reached the glass doors to the outside lot, Steve threw a jovial arm around Michael's shoulders, "Not to worry, Zeke. Ol' Steve will make sure you find the perfect car for Martha Sue's bragging rights." He led them straight to the Pagani. They both admired the fine lines and craftsmanship of the top-of-the-line performance car before getting in.
After the Pagani, Michael took out a Ferrari Enzo, a Lamborghini Diablo, and a Koenigsegg CCX. It was four o'clock when Michael started on his last test drive of the day. He and Steve were in the silver Bugatti Veyron that Sam had drooled over two days before. As Michael drove past, he was deep in conversation with Steve, distracting him from noticing the people in the Cadillac. Michael had his arm out the window and his hand holding onto the roof line; his middle finger was up for the quick moment of passing, so only Sam would see it. It may have been for the awful cover ID, or perhaps just a way to say there wasn't going to be a second turn in the million dollar car, but it made Sam laugh out loud all the same.
Sam was happy it wasn't him having to come up with the inane comments about farming in Kentucky and how whichever car Michael chose was going to set Booneville, Kentucky on its ear with gossip. He figured he owed Michael at least another trip to that specialty shop where he could pick up another half-dozen Greek yogurts.
Fiona was stuck listening to the secretaries and their back-stabbing, bitchy comments about the rest of the staff. There were enough comments about Zeke Watkins and his 'cute little ass' to keep Fiona simmering for most of the afternoon.
"I should send you in there to break up the tedium." She reached into the back seat and grabbed a bag of Frito's chips.
"You would rather hear conversations regarding my charms?" Sam chuckled.
With a dirty look at Sam, Fiona ripped open the bag with more gusto than was required. Chips went sailing through the air. Some landed on Sam's lap but most fell onto the floor between their feet.
"Hey watch it, Fi," Sam picked up the chips from his legs and dropped them into the plastic bag in the back seat that held the snacks. "I don't drive a garbage truck, ya know."
Fiona made a loud sniffing noise. "You could've fooled me."
The lingering scent of 'wet' inside the Cadillac made Sam frown. "Yeah, that new car smell is definitely gone. But… geesh, Fi, do you mind?" Sam had his right hand floundering along the carpeting looking for stray chips when Fiona moved her leg and nearly stepped on his fingers but moved at the last moment and crushed two chips instead.
"Sorry, Sam," Fiona said, but her smile didn't agree. She took a fresh chip from the bag and bit into it. More crumbs fell around Sam's hand still picking up the other pieces.
"Were you raised in a barn?" he asked, throwing the chip bits into the bottom of the plastic grocery bag.
"I've seen you eat nachos, Sam. You have no right complaining to me," Fiona grabbed another chip before Sam could close the chip bag and shove it into the back seat with the rest of the snacks. Sam just narrowed his eyes at Fiona, not wanting to get into a conversation on personal habits.
Fiona was having more fun with this conversation than the one going on around the reception desk. She had let the earlier conversation about Stoney slide, but decided to pick it up again as she wanted to find out what had gone on. "Did you eat all the good snacks yesterday?" Fiona turned in her seat to lean back on the door panel, getting a better view of Sam twitching in discomfort.
"There wasn't a lot of snacking yesterday," Sam picked up the binoculars and checked over the car lot.
"So what did you two old, war buddies do then?" Fiona asked.
Sam placed the binoculars in his lap and faced Fiona. She looked ready to quiz him for the rest of the day. With a sigh he chose what he considered the lesser of two evils and reached behind the seat. "Here, Fi. Have some chips," and he tossed the bag of snacks onto her lap.
They regrouped back at the loft and after a quick dinner of take-out, they started making plans. Although Michael despised his cover I.D. of Zeke Watkins, he seemed to be the right character to get people to open up. It took barely any effort on his part to learn that on Wednesdays the lot closed at six o'clock and all the office employees were gone by six thirty. The security for the outside of the building was quite severe, but once past the showroom, the offices were easy targets. Shelley had been a huge help with figuring out how to get past the main alarm. With the belief she would be having a secret rendez-vous with Zeke later in the week, Shelley shared her by-pass code. Fiona thought it extremely convenient that it was also the well endowed girl's phone number.
"That was some quick work there, brother," Sam's laugh became a groan of frustration as he withdrew an empty hand from the refrigerator. "I know I just stocked this baby up a couple of days ago. You becoming a private beer drinker, Mikey?"
"You are such a Neanderthal," Fiona muttered.
Sam raised his eyebrows in curiosity, not sure what brought on this particular bout of grumpiness. "Something bothering you, Fi?" he asked.
"Me?" Fiona asked with innocence. "Why would I be bothered if you and Michael want to drink yourselves through a swarm of shallow women with bad boob-jobs?"
Sam finally understood what was bothering Fiona, and knowing it was a wasted jealousy, couldn't resist the smirk, "You say that like it's a bad thing."
Michael had to intervene before Sam dug him a hole he couldn't climb out of. "Fi, if we're still working on this case by Friday, you can see to it that Shelley is too busy to make it to our meeting."
"Really, Michael?" Fiona smiled at the possibilities that swam through her mind. "You say the nicest things sometimes."
Michael smiled back as Fiona took his hand. His free hand brushed gently along her bare arm. Sam coughed to remind them both he was still in the room.
Trying to keep things on track long enough to finish planning, Sam asked, "So how many eyes you think it'll take to get this done tonight?"
Michael turned away from Fiona, but he remained standing close by. His fingers running down a stray lock of Fiona's hair. When he caught Sam smiling at him, he realized what he was doing and pulled his hand away.
"Are you trying to tell me you're busy tonight?" Michael asked.
"Me? No, I'm all yours," Sam shook his head. "I cleared my calendar when this job came along. It's a lot easier to reschedule with the ladies when I can promise a quiet interlude of Sammy time, than when the bullets are flying and I'm dodging for cover."
Michael gave a curious look, silently asking Sam who he had in mind. When Sam only fidgeted for an answer, Fiona spoke up, "Stoney getting anxious about his girlfriend?"
Sam gave a nervous little laugh, "Yeah. I've gotten three texts in the last two hours." He held up his phone as if to show the messages.
When Michael looked to be thinking it over, Sam offered, "I promise - no more swims. I'll sit on him and make sure he behaves."
Fiona raised her eyebrows, wanting to ask for clarification on the swimming episode, but remained quiet. It was apparent to her, that this would remain between the two men. She hid the smirk when she realized Stoney could be enticed to be more forthcoming about the little adventure.
With a sigh, Michael relented, "Fine. But you make sure it's clear to him that he's with you and you're with us."
"Sure thing, brother," Sam smiled and relaxed his shoulders, his one tell that he had been a bit worried.
The sun had set three hours before, but the bright lights on the car lot made it seem as if it were still mid-day. Michael stood with his arms crossed, blocking any potential passers-by from noticing Fiona, who was leaned up against the Charger, taking aim with an M40 sniper rifle.
"Are you able to make the shot, or is hitting that post too difficult?" Michael asked, masking most of his impatience with his teasing.
Fiona let off two rounds in quick succession. With the suppressor on, it appeared as if the lights just went out on their own. She quickly loaded one more cartridge and took out a third light. "How's that, Michael?" she asked with a grin, knowing the burned spy couldn't have done any better.
Michael turned to pick the rifle off the roof and slide it through the open window of his car to hide it in the back seat. Michael was pleased with Fiona's skills, and as the schedule allowed for a few moments, couldn't help but continue his teasing with her, "I'll let Sam know his time record is still safe."
Fiona glared and Michael smiled his toothy smile. Enjoying Michael's relaxed attitude, Fiona decided to play along. "That rifle has another shot ready. I can easily see to it that Sam isn't around to know."
"You'll have to work it out at the range," Michael grinned as he reached through the window and pulled a Mac-11 out from a black bag sitting on the back seat.
"Oh, Michael, you never said it was going to be that kind of evening," Fiona held onto the machine pistol with a look of love in her eye.
"It's not. That's just in case of emergency." Michael noticed the gleam in Fiona's eyes and the possessive way she held the weapon. "Fi?"
Fiona still looked slightly distracted when she finally looked up to meet Michael's gaze. "Yes, Michael?"
"Emergency only," he reminder her as he handed over a smaller hand gun. "This one too."
"I think I may have a different definition of an emergency than you."
Michael narrowed his eyes at her until he decided that she really wouldn't start shooting up the neighbourhood just for the pleasure of using the weapons.
"You had better get going," Fiona pushed on his shoulder to get him started towards the car lot.
Michael nodded agreement and started off across the street at a slow jog. Once he reached the other side, he cast a quick glance over his shoulder, as if to check Fiona was still where he left her. The quick wave of her fingers brought a smile to Michael's lips.
As he reached the eight foot chain link fence that was the first line of defence for the super cars, Michael hoped Sam and Stoney had managed their end and shut down the alarm on it. The code Shelley had given him would allow for the main gates to be opened, but their movement would be too hard to conceal from the security cameras there. Tentatively he gave the fence a quick shake. All remained quiet. The sensor had been shut down. He took his jacket and tossed it along the top of the metal fence. Quickly he climbed up and over, his jacket protecting him from the sharp little spikes that ran along the top edge.
Sticking to the shadows caused by the now extinguished lights, Michael made his way towards the office building for Platinum Performance Imports. He had to be extra careful not to set off any of the sensitive car alarms as he went past. Shelley had told him that two night security guards patrolled the grounds, but were known to hang around their booth listening to the sports channel. She recommended bribing them to get through, but Michael would rather they not know he was there at all.
Hiding behind a Ferrari, Michael scanned the area. From the security shack wafted the guards' mutterings over today's game highlights. He watched the cameras aimed at the building's entrance until he noticed their red lights blink out. Fiona was watching through binoculars and was on the phone with Sam. He and Stoney had shut the alarm down. Michael had his lock pick set out before he even reached the glass doors. He could only assume the quiet but distinctive smack was from one of the guards hitting the side of the now blank monitor. Michael had hoped they would be distracted enough not to have noticed the camera fade out for the thirty seconds he needed to undo the lock on the doors. Picking up the pace, Michael worked the pick until he felt the click of the lock. Quickly Michael slipped into the building. When the guard came to the front doors, he gave them a quick rattle and checked that the cameras lights were on and they were still scanning the area. Happy, he headed back to the security shack to continue the debate over the Heat's starting line-up.
