It was mid to late morning before we had all the pieces in place. Morris and Eve had easily copied the fundraiser coupon book and with Omega’s help, it had been customized to Philly. In fact, Omega had actually found live coupons for all of the businesses that they used. If any of the damned things sold, they would actually work.
But getting team clothing had been surprisingly hard. The lead coach had been extraordinarily reluctant to help the FBI. She wasn’t so much hostile as she was protective of her team’s reputation.
“What if they demand a demonstration?” Coach Lenore had asked, staring at me with hard, judgmental eyes.
“To do what? Uneven bars in their living room?” I asked.
She put her hands on her hips and her lips thinned out.
“Caeco, show her a one-armed handstand,” Mitch Allen suggested.
I did, holding it.
“Do five presses, then handspring into a front layout, then a half twist,” Mitch said.
Upside down, body straight, I just gave him a look, but Agent Jay nodded, so I did what he said.
“That was a full twist,” Mitch complained.
“Yeah, so not landing with my back to you. How do you know so much about this stuff?” I asked, a little creeped out.
“Never mind that,” Jay said, turning to the coach. “You satisfied?”
The coach was looking at me, eyes narrowed, face thoughtful. “Yeah. Still not sure we should be involved in this,” she said.
“It’s a matter of national importance. The Bureau is grateful and we’ll return your gear as soon as we’re done with it,” Jay said, her foot tapping impatiently.
“Fine.”
So I ended up with two tank tops, a leotard, and a warmup suit, all in the team’s colors, with the team name across the back and on the right breast of the jacket.
Just after lunch, we pulled past a corner townhome in a brick building on Teesdale Street, parking four buildings down. Morgan’s place was well kept but older.
“Okay, what’s your story?” Jay asked for the tenth time as she looked me over. Since I literally can’t forget anything that I want to remember, I answered exactly the same way I had the first nine times.
“Hi, I’m selling coupon booklets to help my gymnastics team, the Honey Badgers, pay for our trip to Nationals. They’re only twenty bucks and they provide over a hundred dollars in savings. Would you like to buy one?”
I was wearing the team leotard with the warm-up suit over it.
“When do you go to Nationals?” Alice Barrows asked.
“In August, in Kansas City.”
“What’s your name?” Mitch asked, voice definitely taking on a creepy factor.
“Cassidy,” I said with a bright smile. My very first response to his pervy act had been decidedly more aggressive and Agent Jay had stopped me before I completed the yonkyo Aikido wrist control technique that would have put him on the floor. But this time around, I was channeling a few of the more perky girls from College Arcane.
“What’s your specialty?” Jay asked.
“Floor and vault. I’m the backup on balance beam.”
“You look too old for gymnastics?” Mitch asked, eyes narrowed.
“I’m in community college.”
“What do you study?” he asked.
“Computer technology,” I said.
“Alright, that’s all good. You’ll just have to play it by ear and find ways to ask the right questions. Look at everything you can and try to remember it all,” Jay said. Mitch snorted. She glanced at him.
“Agent Jay, have you seen her test scores? She remembers everything,” he said.
“Right. Okay, let’s do this,” Jay said. I popped my door and jumped out before anyone could ask any more questions. These things never go according to script, just like no battle plan survives contact.
Heading up the sidewalk, I stopped at the house just to the left of Morgan’s. Gotta be consistent. The old lady who answered the door decided that she had no interest in me or my coupon book, but she at least looked the coupons over first.
Then I moved to Morgan’s house. The original doorbell looked broken, but there was a wireless replacement installed just above it. I pressed that and was rewarded with two seconds of Mozart announcing me deep inside the house.
My sensitive ears brought me a quiet “What now?” followed by slow, heavy footsteps that approached the front door. The lock was unbolted and the door pulled open to find a tall, rawboned, older Caucasian man frowning at me.
I gave him my best vapid smile and launched into my spiel. Before the first sentence was done, his eyes had flicked down to my chest, dropped lower to my waist and legs, and come back up with an interested smile. I almost shuddered in his face. Almost.
“Come in, my dear. Twenty dollars, you say? Let me get my wallet,” he said, with what he must have thought was a charming smirk. “I’m always game for a good deal.”
Jetta would have said stranger danger. My own inner dialogue said terminate with extreme prejudice.
Instead I smiled and stepped into his home. He absently pushed the door almost shut and didn’t engage the lock. Both of those moves helped ensure his continued survival. He moved into the living room and directly to a wobbly end table next to a dark blue microfiber recliner. A fat old wallet was sitting on the table and he opened it like it was the vault of the ages.
Still smiling like I didn’t have two thoughts to rub together, I looked around his place. Definitely a bachelor, as the decorating scheme was haphazard and masculine, all dark colors and mismatched pieces of furniture. But the big bookshelf on one wall was what caught my eye. My brain noted a number of familiar book titles, including a copy of The Four by Scott Galloway, and Twilight of Abundance by David Archbald. But it was the framed certificate that I focused in on. The one that named Morgan Patterson as a sworn member of the Loyal Order of Arcana.
“Here you are, my dear,” he said, handing me a twenty with an expectant look. I took the money and handed him the coupon book.
“Thank you so much, sir. My team really appreciates it.”
“Always happy to support our young people,” he said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to complete,” he said with a wave at a cluttered desk in one corner. A desktop computer was active, the screen open but angled just far enough away that I couldn’t see its contents.
“Yes, sir. Thank you sir,” I said, moving toward the door, my eyes scanning the rest of the visible space, trusting my nanites to record everything. Moments later, I was outside and the door was shut behind me.
“Make sure to visit the neighbor on the other side as well,” Agent Jay’s voice said in my ear.
This time, the lady who answered liked enough of the coupons to actually buy a book. After completing the sale, I climbed back in the big Suburban and Mitch pulled away.