Drew Nance Book 2: "The Hidden Staircase" by Bobbie J. Cabot Chapter Eleven: Drew and Otto’s Garage / Julian and His Proposition

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They gave Sabrina and her brothers pecks on the cheeks, and Drew drove Callie home. On the way, Drew tried to probe gently, and Callie said she liked Sabrina. Drew sighed in relief, and said that she liked her, too.

When they got to her house, Callie gave her a quick peck, ran to the door, waved bye-bye, and Drew drove away.

As Drew neared her house, she saw Carson’s company car pulling up in front. She tooted Arcee’s horn and waved.

Carson looked a little confused by the car and before he got furious, Drew jumped out and gave her father a hug.

“Now, before you get mad,” Drew said, “let me explain!”

Carson waved to his driver. “Go on ahead, Barkley,” he said. “I’m okay for the day. My daughter and I are going for pizza. Go on home, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I can bring you to the restaurant, sir,” the uniformed chauffeur said.

“No need. She’s gonna drive us. I guess she’s going to show off her new car. At least I think it's her car.”

He nodded. “Very good, Mr. Nance. Good night, then.” He nodded to Drew. “Good night, miss.” And he drove away.

“Okay, Drew,” he said, with arms crossed. “Start talking.”

“Can we at least go for pizza first?” Drew wagged her eyebrows expressively.

“Oh…” Prying eyes and ears… He picked up his briefcase. “Okay. Just let me change quickly and drop my briefcase off.”

Drew nodded and went back into Arcee.

After a few minutes, Carson came back out wearing one of his new “casual” outfits and carrying something in his hand. It was one of the portable radio signal detectors.

Carson climbed in (he had opened the door in the conventional manner) and handed the detector to Drew.

Drew gave the inside a fast sweep and, aside from the stereo, there were no radio sources inside the car.

She sighed. “I think it’s safe to talk now.”

“Okay,” Carson replied. “Then start talking. Tell me about this car first.”

Drew pulled back into the street and, as she drove, told him about her idea of finding another car so they could ride around anonymously when they needed to. The cash that she got from Phil Cohen’s Escalade paid for her new Peugeot.

“Nice sporty little car. But of all the cars, why a Peugeot? And how much did it cost? And I hardly think this would make you look anonymous.”

“The car itself was only a couple of thousand. That’s because it had a stoved-in roof. But Otto, my car guy, was able to fabricate a replacement roof, and modify it just like he did with Tiger.”

“But why a Peugeot? Peugeot doesn’t have that good a reputation when it comes to sports cars.”

“Peugeot still has a good reputation when it comes to rally cars. And the RCZ is their first sports coupe in ten years, and it’s gotten a lot of good feedback. It even won a couple of awards.”

“So your car guy just replaced the roof?”

Drew giggled. “Of course not!” And she went over the changes.

“So it’s like your old car?”

“Better!”

Carson grinned. “So when do I get to drive it?”

“Whenever you want,” Drew dimpled.

She then explained that she had Frank “anonymize” her old one. It would be their new car for “secret missions.” Drew giggled at that. She explained that it was at Otto’s for a repaint, and it’ll be done in about a week. Drew said she’ll pick it up when they come back from Hawaii.

Also, she explained that she found a nice little house by the water, also in St. George, and she’s going to stow the car there. There, they can stow all their “secret stuff” and do all their talking, planning and scheming.

She said that she had given Joe one of the stock certificates and asked him to convert the little house into a “safe house” exclusively for their use, and would make sure that it’s not connected to anyone, and not under any observation.

“How would that even be possible?”

“Joe would make sure that the street in back and the areas surrounding it will be free of any security CCTVs or monitors.”

“There are CCTVs on Staten Island?”

"There are a few – mostly at intersections or near banks, commercial areas and train, bus & ferry stations. You know, the usual. But not like in New York City.”

“Well…” Carson said, “seems you have everything well in hand. But! Next time, no doing anything like this without talking to me beforehand.”

“Okay, Pops,” Drew said contritely.

In the silence, Carson rubbed his hands together. “So!” he exclaimed. “How bout some pizza?”

Drew laughed. “You're serious about the pizza? I thought it was just a code signal. Well, okay, then. But after this one stop.”

“Where are we now, anyway?”

“We’re coming near the ferry station.”

“What’re we doing here?”

“I was thinking of passing by the new house.”

“I guess we can, and then we can go for pizza.”

“Hey, Pop, there it is.” She pointed at the house.

Carson looked out the window. It was a tidy little two-story house in the corner, with a nice façade that made it look like a Manhattan brownstone. Some of the houses around it looked like brownstones, too, but others looked like more utilitarian concrete houses.

In any case, Carson thought that it looked like a nice, new residential neighborhood. He wouldn’t mind having a place here.

“I can’t slow down, Pop,” Drew said. “They might notice.”

“That’s okay.”

Carson looked around the street. “You know, Drew, this actually looks like a nice, clean neigborhood. Plus, it’s right near the water. What would you think of moving here?”

“You’re serious?”

“Well, I have no problem with our current place. I was just thinking that this was a nice neighborhood, too.”

“Well, if we move here, the, ummm, ‘safe house’ might not be too safe – that the bad guys may discover it. You know?”

“I guess you’re right.”

“But if you really want to move, we can. Let’s ask Frank’s opinion about it.”

“Good idea.”

“So, I was thinking, maybe we can go to this place called ‘Campania’ for pizza. The kids at school say it makes the best italian pizza on the island. It used to be the Nove Italian Bistro, and it’s in Etingville in Richmond Avenue.”

“That’s a bit far, don’t you think?”

“Trust me, Pop, it’s going to be worth it.”

But in less than twenty minutes, they were already there. Drew couldn’t park in front of the place but was able to park near the florist’s less than a hundred meters away.

“Watch this, Pop,” Drew said, and flicked two switches.

Drew’s RCZ’s doors unlocked and swung up.

“Hey, cool! Lambo doors!”

“Like it, huh?”

Definitely. Any more tricks like that?”

“Nothing else, really, except for the removable roof, like I told you.”

“I’d like to see that.”

“Well, maybe not now.”

“Later then.”

They stepped out and, Drew pressed a switch on her door fob and the doors slowly swung down and locked.

“Let’s go.”

Drew put her arm through the crook of Carson’s arm and they casually walked to the restaurant.

As usual, they got a lot of attention from the largely-working class clientele. Drew smiled politely as Carson led her to the table the waitress pointed out. In a bit, the people turned away and proceeded to enjoy their dinner again. Despite their good-looking and well-to-do aura, it was just a father and daughter having an Italian dinner.

They ordered the sixteen-inch pie with several extra toppings. And while their pie was still in the oven, Carson ordered a Corona Light while Drew had her usual Diet Coke, and they shared some spicy chicken wings while they waited.

It was like one of their Sundays, and the two enjoyed their dinner. It was pretty good because the place used a wood-fired oven. They took their time and ended up going home at around ten or so. When Carson looked, he was surprised that they spent more than three hours just chatting. When they were paying for their meal, their waitress said they also sold frozen pies. So long as they ate it within a week, it would preserve the flavor.

Carson looked at Drew, and she nodded.

“Can we get two frozen pies, please? Can we pick the toppings?”

“Sorry, sir. It’s pre-made. But you have a choice of two types. We have the Take-Out Veggie Pie – it has extra cheese, sweet peppers, zucchini and white mushrooms. And there’s the Take-Out Meat Pie, which has extra cheese, olives, pepperoni, sausage and white mushrooms.”

“We’ll take one of each, then. Wait – make that one veggie and two of the meat ones.” He handed her his card.

“No problem. I’ll be back with your pies.”

“Two meat pies, Pop?” Drew asked.

“I’m bringing one of them to the office, and have it for lunch tomorrow.”

“Ahhh.”

Going back, Drew handed Carson the keys, and Carson had a blast driving Drew’s new car back home.

- - - - -

After her dad had gone to bed, Drew got the spare camera pens she still had. She then went downstairs, and grabbed one of the radio signal detectors and the nonlinear junction detector. She then went to the garage and ran both devices over her new car, both inside and out, and underneath and in the wheel wells, trunk, boot, engine, and everywhere else she could think of. As predicted, the result was negative. She then tried to find a way to hide a couple of the cameras somewhere inside the car.

Drew noticed the screws that held the leather top onto the dash. She compared it to the camera pen’s barrel and the screw’s head was larger. She stepped out and rifled through her dad’s messy toolbox, She found a Philips screwdriver and went back in. she then picked the screw nearest the top and center of the dash, and, with a lot of effort, was able to unscrew it. She then slid the camera pen into the cavity. It was a bit loose but it handily slid into the hole. She fixed that by wrapping a couple of layers of duct tape around the pen. With that, it fit more snugly.

With it in, the dash looked pretty normal. Nothing amiss or unusual, except that, when she pressed down on top of the "screw," it clicked the bottom of the false pen, like one would on a normal pen, and activated the motion-detection pin camera.

She let it run for a bit and then clicked it again. She then retrieved the little micro-SD card, replaced it with another, and then put it back in. For good measure she clicked it again. She’ll have to check the card and see if the camera gave a good coverage of the inside of the entire cabin.

That covers her car. But…

She then came to a sudden realization. They’ve been religiously checking and keeping their entire house under survaillance – literally everything in the house, the outside, the yard, the roof even, and the garage. But…

They had not checked the inside her dad’s BMW.

He’d driven the car over to the Tate Center several times, and parked it inside their basement parking, so it was possible some kind of surveillance device (or devices) could have been planted in it. But then again, his dad has not used it since he was assigned a company car, except once or twice.

She thought hard and tried to recall… Nope. He just used it a couple of times since he got his limo, but those trips were totally innocuous.

And had she or her dad done anything unusual in the garage recently? It was conceivable that any surveillance device in the car could have recorded them while inside the garage.

So she turned off the audible alrams on the detectors and ran both of them over and through the BMW as thoroughly as she did her car. And as she did, she discovered one – there was a device inside the glove compartment.

The one inside the glove compartment was probably a tracking device. Maybe a listening device, too. She couldn’t take it out or neutralize them in any way because that might tip the bad guys off, so she left it alone. And, instead took several pictures using her burrner cellphone.

“Dammit!” she thought.

In her paranoia, Drew decided to do a thorough check of the entire house and grounds. She even included a thorough check of the drawers, cabinets and closets in all the rooms in the house (she had to tiptoe in her dad’s room in order not to wake him). She even checked the safe – something they never thought to do before.

She didn’t discover any other devices anywhere, but still decided to take out and replace all the micro-SD cards in all the cameras they had, and replace the AAA batteries that they used with fresh ones, with the intention of reviewing the footage in all of them.

She went to their hidden safe, retrieved her old netbook, and went to her dad’s office.

From there, she reviewed each of the SD cards and didn’t see anything unusual.

She did catch on video the delivery people from American Amalgamated delivering her dad’s stuff, and then a couple of days later when they went back to pick up their hanger-racks. But they didn’t do anything suspicious.

In a way, that relieved her, because it indicated that they (whoever they were) weren’t really making a big effort to keep them under surveillance. The only conclusion that felt reasonable was that the Tate & Company people were just making sure that they could track her dad in case he used his car, which might be SOP for all company executives.

But then, that was just an assumption. They couldn’t take anything for granted.

She had also seen some pictures of her friends rushing through the hall in nothing but towels after they’ve had showers, and her friends hanging out in the living room. She even saw some of them snooping around a bit, but nothing really sinister – just the usual checking-the-medicine-cabinet-and-stuff thing. She also saw several of the girls’ boyfriends using their entertainment center, but that’s it. Totally normal.

So, nothing…

Oh, well. That’s sort of good news.

She wrote a note to Carson explaining what she found and her conclusions, and what she thought to do, which was essentially to do nothing. But she will send the pics she took of the device to Lt. Hardy.

She also wrote that she needed to go to Otto’s to check out Tiger for bugs as well, but will be back as soon as possible.

She put her little computer and the detectors away, and went upstairs. She left the note on her dad’s bedside table and went to her room to change into something more appropriate for snooping around.

She came down again, this time wearing a short, tight black miniskirt over black tights, her only pair of black shoes, which was a pair of combat boots, a black, long-sleeve bodysuit and her dark-purple faux leather jacket. She had no black jacket, and her purple one was the closest she had. The final touch was one of the knitted balaclavas they used in their previous escapade, which she put on her head, and rolled up to look like a skullcap.

Oh, well.

She went and grabbed the detectors, put them into a little backpack, jumped into her car and drove to Otto’s.

It was just past midnight and the traffic was very light. Around Staten Island, midnight meant almost empty streets, so she made good time. Still, she didn’t drive fast so as not to attract undue attention.

By taking the direct route, which was via Howard Avenue, and then Staten Island Expressway, and then to West Shore Expressway, she was in Pleasant Plains in less than thirty minutes. She found a parking lot near some place called “Extreme Dance” on Amboy Road, parked, and walked the rest of the way.

Eventually, she found the garage and ducked behind a low, wooden fence that separated it from the empty lot next door. Some of Otto’s guys were still working, so she decided to climb over the fence and sneak in the back way.

She sprinted to a pile of old tires and waited for the right time to rush to the back door and sneak inside.

From there, she looked for Tiger and found her parked near Otto’s paint room. Her paint job had been sanded down preparatory to applying primer, and her rims had been taken off already.

Drew pulled down her Balaclava and ran over. She ran her detectors over her, including in the wheel wells, the boot, the engine compartment, and the underside. Totally negative.

She then slowly opened her driver’s door and climbed inside.

She noticed the stitching of her seats were halfway undone – it looked like they had already started re-upholstering her.

While scootched down, she ran the detectors through Tiger’s cabin. Again, nothing.

Drew felt a little bit irritated – all this trouble for nothing.

“Anyone there?” someone called.

Oh, no! It was one of Otto’s guys.

Hurriedly, Drew stuffed the detectors into her pack. She decided to “fess up” but, when she was about to sit up straight, she realized she had the balaclava on. She hurriedly pulled it off and stuffed it into her pack as well.

“Hey, Morty,” Drew called as she sat up. “It’s just me.”

“Drew? Is that you?”

“Yep!”

Morty switched the lights on and came over.

“What the hell are you doing here? And at night, too.”

“Sorry, Morty. I guess I got to missing my car, and I just wanted to check on her.”

“But it’s late – why didn’t you come visit during regular hours?”

“Ummm, no reason. Guess the spirit moved me or something…”

“Girls…” Morty mumbled.

And Drew and Morty had a pleasant talk. Clearly, Morty was attracted to her but was keeping his distance – he was forty years old, after all, and had a family. He didn’t want to acquire a reputation as a creepy, dirty old man. To keep things comfortable, he called Lefty (so called because he was the only left-handed guy in the shop) to bring in a couple of sodas, and with him around, he felt better.

Lefty was a tall, rugged, good-looking nineteen-year old apprentice in the shop (in fact the only apprentice in the shop), and had just started working in the shop for the summer to gain some practical work experience.

The three of them talked cars, although Lefty was more interested in Drew than in cars at the moment. Drew found out Lefty was a very nice kid from a middle-class family in Green Ridge, and, from his talk, Lefty was actually more a nerd than anything else, but Drew corrected herself and thought the term motorhead might be more appropriate. But they connected on a mutual love for detailed, intricate things, and that made their chit-chat more comfortable.

Drew liked the guy right away, and thought of her best friend, George, from the days when she was still Andy, a teenage guy. Lefty had the same enthusiasm and energy that George did, except George was more into comics than cars, and she thought Lefty could become a friend, too. But the guy was clearly sexually attracted to her, and she didn’t know how to handle that, at least in the context of a guy-friend. Girl-friends (that is to say, friends that happened to be girls and not “girlfriends” in the romantic context) were easier for Drew to comprehend, understand and manage, but this would be the first boy-friend (friends that were boys) for her, if ever, since she started living as a girl.

It was good that she had the Hawaii trip so the guy couldn’t chase her, at least for a while, and snuck the trip into their little talk.

She could see the disappointment in Lefty’s eyes, but he played it casual, and Drew played along.

Drew ended up saying goodbye at around two in the morning, and by that time, their little group had grown to seven, with the guys all vying for Drew’s attention. It was good Morty was around to keep things civil.

Anyway, Drew left the garage at around two, and waved goodbye to Morty and his guys. The guys had wondered how she got to the garage, and assumed she took a cab or an Uber or something, but she said she brought her new Peugeot, and had parked it in a parking lot a block away.

As she started to walk back to her car, Morty hit Lefty on the shoulder.

“What’re you doing, kid?” he whispered to Lefty. “Go on and walk her to her car!”

So Lefty sheepishly came over and accompanied Drew to her car.

When they got close to Drew’s car, Lefty whistled.

“So this is the famous Red Peugeot,” Lefty said.

“What do you mean ‘famous?’” Drew asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Lefty said. “It’s just that Morty and Otto talked about the rebuild they did for your RCZ so much that I have wanted to see her ever since yesterday.”

He came over and ran his eyes over the door frame. “Can you swing the doors up?” He asked.

Drew giggled and clicked her car fob, and both doors swung up.

“Cool…”

“Well, I think I should go home, now,” Drew said. “I didn’t really get permission to leave the house this late, and I don’t want my pop to ground me or whatever.”

“Why not come over tomorrow instead?”

Drew shrugged.

“Girls…” Lefty smiled.

He walked her to the driver’s door and helped her in. For some reason, Drew liked that.

“’Kay. See you when I pick up Tiger about three weeks from now.” She pushed a button and the doors swung down again. She then rolled down the window.

Lefty shook his head. “I will never get tired of that.”

“Me neither,” Drew smiled. “Hey, I have a question…”

“Yeah?” Lefty had a hopeful look.

“What’s your real name? You don’t really look like a ‘Lefty,’ you know.”

He smiled a little disappointedly. “It’s Horace.”

“Not exactly an improvement from Lefty.” And after a beat, they both laughed.

“You have a middle name or something?”

“Theodore.”

“Well…” And they bursted out laughing again.

“I think I’ll start calling you Ted. How’s that sound?”

“I guess…”

“Let’s start over, then.” Drew stuck out her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Ted. I’m Andrea Jane. People call me Drew.”

Lefty shook her hand.

“Pleased to meet you,” he smiled.

“Good night.”

Lefty stepped back and Drew drove away.

“Ted,” Lefty mused. “I think I like that.”

And he started walking back to the garage.

In the morning, Drew woke up early and put on a bathrobe over her nightie, which was her regular sleeping attire nowadays.

She walked downstairs and walked to her dad’s “office” underneath the stairs. She wrote another lengthy note, and told him about what she found out about her old car, which was that it wasn’t bugged, or if it was, the bugs had been taken out by Otto’s guys.

Anyway, she further wrote that they need to be careful around Carson’s BMW, and not make any efforts to “debug” it, that they need to let Frank know, and to ask for advice.

She tore the sheet from the pad, folded it and put it by Carson’s place setting on the dinner table. She then went back, got the top ten sheets from the pad and tore them up for good measure in case someone tried to trace her handwriting.

She then started preparing breakfast – this time, she prepared some sliced ham, scrambled eggs, toast, coffee and a fruit cup which she made from grapes, sliced up apples and bananas.

When Carson came downstairs, he was already dressed up for work.

“Hey, Honey,” Carson said. “You’re up early.” He gave her a light kiss.

“Good morning, Pop. Ham and eggs, toast and fruit.”

“Sounds great.”

He sat down and Drew served him breakfast. Casually, he picked up her note and read it.

Drew dished up some food for herself and waited while Carson read it through.

Carson, after finishing, wrote on the paper, and handed it to Drew.

“I agree,” Carson had written. “Can you take care of it? I don’t think I’ll be able to do dead drops anymore. It’s good that you started that ‘safe house’ and as soon as it’s ready, we move everything over there. Also, I have some material I think Frank can initiate investigations on.”

Drew looked up and saw a thick packet on the dining table. She went back to reading.

“I can’t leave the originals,” Carson had written. “so you should scan them and make duplicates for us and for Frank. Keep it for now, but you have to leave it in my briefcase later tonight when I come back. I’ll help. Also, we need to find a way to make this bug-detection thing easier. Think up something and I’ll help.”

Drew looked at Carson and nodded. She took the paper, fed it into the trash disposal, and turned it to mush.

They finished breakfast and Drew saw him off to work. Carson did, however, make sure that he didn’t forget his pizza.

Drew went back to the kitchen, got her netbook out and went to her dad’s office. She hooked up her little computer to the printer-scanner, ran off a couple a copies of the documents Carson left using fresh sheets of paper from a just-opened ream (she made sure not to touch the paper). She then encrypted the digital copy of the scans and typed up a note on what she discovered. She printed it out and put it together with the scanned pages. She then put it inside a fresh manila envelope, also untouched, and put it in an old plastic bag. At the last minute, she remembered and also printed the pictures she took of the bug, and included it in the manila envelope.

She then took the netbook upstairs and soaked in the tub while she perused the scanned pages.

It seems that her dad’s discovered several old cases. They were all dismissed under technicalities and allowed several Seattle construction projects of Tate Holdings, a company of the Tate consortium, to proceed. Though the Tate companies themselves couldn’t be prosecuted, their subcontractors weren’t as protected, and with the clues in the documents Carson got, these companies could be pursued for forged permits, bribing government officials, intimidating local business owners to sell out, et cetera, et cetera. And since construction work hasn’t really started yet, there was still a chance to stop them.

Drew smiled. She knew that her dad was a genius, and she was pleased that he was working on their project. She knew yhey’ll stop these guys, eventually.

She then looked through these documents and tried to find links between them and the original papers her Uncle David gave them. But, looking up at the clock on the bathroom wall, she noticed the time.

“Shit! I’m late!” she exclaimed.

She turned off the netbook, put it aside and started draining the tub. She rinsed, shampooed her somewhat-shaggy hair, and finished getting ready.

As usual, it was yet another dilemma picking out her ensemble.

She had to look good since she was going to Benzaiten. It wouldn’t do to disappoint Ellen and, especially, Julian.

She ended up picking out a cute dress with tiny animal-print patterns. It was a chiffon A-line mini with cap sleeves and a round neck. She then put a wool-blend waterfall cardigan over it with elbow patches and ribbed edges. She put on a pair of knitted “Boho Candy Cottages” tights in ginger with red embellishments. For footwear, she selected her new “Faithful Footsteps” brown booties over a pair of oatmeal-color cotton-nylon lace boot socks. Under it all, she wore a white-shirt bra and a maroon thong gaff.

She spritzed herself with 212 White that was recommended by Julian, which was now her regular perfume.

She stowed the envelope in Arcee’s trunk, as well as one of her long, blonde wigs, and with that, she drove on to Benzaiten.

When she arrived, there were several parking spots. She picked the one nearest the front entrance.

She stepped in and waved to Ellen, who was at the counter register, as usual.

“Hey, kid!” Ellen said. She came around and gave Drew a hug.

“Hey, Ellen,” Drew said. “Is he ready for me?”

“Sorry, Honey, you’re early. How about you have a snack while you wait?”

Drew nodded and went to the minibar. During her first visit, she never noticed that the salon had a minibar, but on her second visit, she noticed it. So far as she knew, this was the only salon that had one. But what did she know.

Remembering the contents of the Benzaiten Club Rules inside the little pink booklet, “I’m a Friend of Julian’s,” she knew that she was entitled to free snacks and drinks at the minibar.

“Good morning, Pixie-chan,” a cute Japanese girl at the bar greeted her. She was one of the apprentice hairdressers, and was probably taking a short break while she waited for a client.

“Ohayo, Momo-chan,” Drew said. “Can I have a biscuit and an orange juice?”

“Of course,” she said, and brought out a little plate with a couple of Senbei crackers. From the little fridge behind the bar, she brought out a two-liter plastic jug of Natalie’s Orchid Island Company Gourmet Pasteurized Orange Juice (which Drew knew to be the best brand of supermarket juice).

The girl, Momoko, waved two glasses at her – a tall collins glass tumbler and a little breakfast juice glass. Drew pointed to the tall glass, and Momoko poured the glass four-fifths full of the ice-cold orange juice.

“There you go,” she said, and Drew smiled her thanks. She munched on her favorite rice cracker and sipped juice while she texted, waiting for her turn.

Ellen came over giggling.

“Look at what I got,” she said in singsong while she waved the pictures she had.

Drew groaned, guessing what they were. “Where did you get those, anyway?”

“Oh, we saw these pictures that a couple of girls were giggling over in the waiting area while they waited for their turn. Anyway, I borrowed them and made a quick scan. I suppose they’re from your school and they took pictures of your little race. You were absolutely super-sexy-hot! Who’re the two other girls?”

“They’re my best friends. The taller blonde one is Callie and the shorter brunette is Iola.”

“Well, the three of you look real good together. Like Charlie’s Angels or something.”

Drew smiled. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

“Well, Julian is back from his break. You’re up next. And afterwards, he’d like to take you out for lunch.”

Drew raised her eyebrows. “Is this about that proposition you mentioned?”

“I believe so.”

“Can you come with?”

“I don’t know, Drew. I’ll ask. But it’s just Julian. If you’re worried, you shouldn’t be.”

Drew shrugged.

“If it’ll make you feel more comfortable, of course, I’ll go with you.”

Julian came out, in his signature silk poet shirt and linen pants.

“Darling!” Julian said in greeting, and bussed her cheek.

“Hi, Julian.”

“You are as lovely and stylish as usual, but looking rather shaggy, I fear. No worries, we’ll have that sorted in a bit.”

He snapped his finger and Ellen popped up with a pastel green cape – a color which Julian seems to have associated to her personally.

After two visits, Drew was fairly familiar with the routine, and she passively had her hair shampooed.

“Anything new with you, m’dear?”

“Well, my friends and I are going to Hawaii for about three weeks. A summer vacation care of my pop.”

“Oh! Then we need to do something special then.”

“And I bought a new car.”

“You did? But don’t you already have that nice blue one?”

“Oh, I sold that to get the new one.”

“I’m going to want to see this new car, then. Well…” Julian said as he finished shampooing. “As soon as Ellen has you dry enough, we can start on your trim.”

In a few minutes, Drew was in the barber’s chair.

“Hmmm,” Julian said as he felt through her hair. “Keeping up with the regimen, then?”

“Yes. I’m still using the Lazartigue shampoo and the Fekkai conditioner. And I apply the hair serum twice a week. I didn’t apply any today, though.”

“That’s all right.” He continued to feel through her hair. “Well, your hair’s showing the care you’ve been giving it. And I have to tell you, you have incredibly fast-growing hair. On average, hair grows about half an inch a month. I think your hair grows twice as fast as that. Your hair is now well below your shoulders.

“I think I won’t touch the length and just trim the frayed ends, and maybe in your next appointment, we’ll be able to indulge in different kinds of styles. For now, we’ll think of something stylish but simple to manage, and look good while you’re frolicking among the beach bunnies in Hawaii. Let’s see…”

And from there, he started working his magic, at the end, she came out looking better than she ever did.

“Now,” Julian said, and started explaining. “I’ve put lots of copper highlights in your hair, which should make you stand out in the sun, and while at the beach, though I fear you may bleach them out rather quickly. Now – what I did was to give you lots of voluminous waves. I used a round brush, to get this kind of whooshing volume at your roots, and then I wrapped the ends around a flat iron to create subtle spirals, especially at the ends.

“With the treatment, your perm should last you for a month, and all you need to do is towel-dry it, comb it and allow it to air-dry, and it’ll fall back into place. But being in the sun and at the beach, I think you should come back immediately after your trip for a touch-up. Also, apply the hair serum daily while you’re in Hawaii.”

“Wow,” Drew commented as she looked at the mirror Ellen was holding.

Julian chuckled. “If I can get a penny everytime someone says that…”

As usual, Ellen took several snaps of her and her new ‘do, which would go into Julian’s scrapbook.

“You do great work, Julian. Your work looks better than what those Hollywood types get.”

“Well, speaking about that… I think Ellen mentioned...”

“A proposal?”

“Well, yes. Let’s talk it over lunch, if you’re game.”

“Can Ellen come with us?”

“Of course. Ellen? Can you call us a cab?”

“Oh, no need. We can use my new car. If one of you doesn’t mind squeezing in the back seat.”

Julian had picked a place called Bocelli, a fancy old-town style restaurant that served Italian food. Drew didn’t mind Italian again, but wasn’t all that hungry, so she just stuck with their antipasti menu.

And as they sipped their drinks (Drew picked a virgin Sangria), Julian talked to her about a proposition.

Apparently, despite Benzaiten’s reputation on the island, Julian was barely breaking even. So, he decided to do something about it.

“You know that I want to keep Ben’s a local, neighborhood kind of salon – nothing fancy, just a place where islanders can go to to look better and feel better about themselves. But it’s just not making it, especially because of how we do things.”

Drew nodded. “How can I help?”

“Well, it’s like this: I’m sure you’ve heard about how I sometimes do some work on some celebrities…”

“I’ve heard rumors.”

“Well, I’m thinking of making that a regular kind of thing now, like one or two days a week. So, I’m converting a loft I’ve rented in Manhattan into a salon studio. Yes, that means cutting down my time at Ben’s but that’s the only way I can see to keep it running.

“I’ve been training some apprentices to take up some of the load. Daryl, for one, is shaping up to be a great stylist. Anyway, to start it up, I’ve been thinking of putting up a kind of catalog or brochure which I’ll circulate privately among my celebrity clients and friends.

“I want it low-key and under the radar. I don’t want it on the net, so it’ll be a printed brochure. I want it unofficial, by word-of-mouth only, and strictly a by-appointment type of thing.”

“That won’t get you too many clients, you know.”

“Well, If I can get at least three clients a week, I think we can keep Ben’s the way it is. And that’s all I want.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“But how can I help?”

“Well, I have to have some models for my little brochure, right?”

“Oh, no…”

Ellen gave her a hug. “I think you’ll look fabulous, Drew.”

“I’m not worried about that. It’s just…”

“If you want to be anonymous, we won’t use your name if you prefer.”

“But why me?”

“You’re one of my classiest and best-looking clients. Of course, you.”

“We’ve also been picking some other girls,” Ellen said. “We need a blonde, a brunette, a redhead, an African-American and an Asian-American. We’re not into stereotyping people, but that’s how it is when you’re showcasing hairstyles. So, five racial types for each of four age groups.”

“Oh?”

“So we need five each for kids, for teens, for young adults and for mature women.”

“Who else have you gotten as models?”

“Well, Julian’s picked a bunch of kids of some of our clients, and we have more than enough for adults and older women, But we’re having trouble with the young adult models. There’ll be you if you agree, an African-American girl from Annadale, an up-and-coming redheaded singer named Dannie, so we’re short a brunette and an Asian-American. Once we have those two, the brochure will be complete.”

“The key here is that all of these are clients of mine,” Julian said, “And we’ve been trying to come up with looks for them. Your racecar look is great, and since you’re going to Hawaii, I think we have the beach look covered. As for the others, we’re still making them up.”

“Why not get your celebrity friends to help.”

Julian shook his head. “No, it can’t be celebrities – we want to be low profile.”

Drew became quiet and sipped her sangria.

“Well, what do you say, Drew?” Ellen said.

After a bit, she cleared her throat. “Can I think about it?” she asked.

“Well, of course, you can think about it,” Julian said. “But we’ll need to start work on it in about three weeks or so.”

“Okay. I’ll let you know as soon as I get back from Hawaii.”

“Fair enough. Ellen?”

Ellen pulled out a small Canon PowerShot point-and-shoot camera. “Can we ask a favor, and if you can take some pictures of yourself while you’re in Hawaii? Sort of like selfies?”

Drew took the camera. “Well, okay.”

Julian said that he can’t really pay much as compensation, so he explained that Drew’s next six visits will be completely free. To Drew, that was a big deal simply because of how Julian went about his work.

Eventually, they finished lunch and Drew brought Julian and Ellen back to Benzaiten, and then she went to Central Park. When she got there, she went around and around the perimiter of Central Park for what felt like hours (New York traffic and all) and found a spot near the New York Historical Society on Central Park West. Which was excellent, since there was a security guard-slash-doorman stationed by the Historical Society's entrance, so her car should be safe enough.

She then started walking to the usual dead-drop near the bench with the Sisters of Charity plaque. She searched for the black trashcan – the only black trashcan in Central Park when all the others were painted green. She casually threw her manila envelope in the black trashcan and walked away to look for a food cart.

Eventually, she found one selling some soft pretzels. She bought one and found a convenient sunny bench and sat down. She wasn’t really that hungry but it was good for show, just in case she was under surveillance. She brought out her old Transformer tablet and spent some time just surfing.

In her mind, she was counting how long it would be reasonable to sit around and make her trip to the park look natural, and when she’d been there for over thirty minutes, she decided to leave.

She casually walked around the park for a while and, surprisingly, had a pleasnt time time just walking around, even though the walking around was to see if someone was following her..

Using her phone, she looked for a Best Buy, found one on 62nd, and walked there.

With her current theory, she thought they weren’t really being monitored constantly, so she thought she was fairly safe. But, just in case, she wore her sunglasses, and would pay in cash. If they were really being monitored, the glasses won’t fool them much, but she was betting they weren’t.

When she was in Best Buy, she used her usual charm and asked about hidden cameras and microphones, and a very helpful nerd clued her in.

Apparently, any recorder or camera transmitting wirelessly can easily be detected, whether it was currently transmitting or was off. But Drew already knew that, and had RF detectors and junction detectors at home. But she wanted to find other tools.

For hidden stand-alone microphones, the clerk showed her a microphone detector which can detect microphones based on an acoustic feedback that the detector can pinpoint so long as they were recording.

As for stand-alone cameras, those were more difficult to detect. Apparently, to detect such devices that weren’t recording wirelessly, it had to be located visually. The clerk showed her a device that used multiple flashing LEDs. The LEDs will make the camera’s lens send back a reflection, which one can spot. There were even smartphone apps available on phones that use the smartphone’s camera and flash to do the same thing.

The technique was called “glint detection.” The problem, of course, was that glint detection was far from foolproof but that was the best technology currently available. Their non linear junction detectors did better.

In the end, she just got a couple of PKI 4725 detectors that looked like small point-and-shoot cameras complete with something that looked like a lens. They could do the same things that their stuff at home could do except in a camera-sized package, though with limited range.

She also got a small, cheap old-model smartphone with a nice camera, a couple of extra rolls of the Faraday Cage netting that she bought before, and some odds and ends.

Her next thing was to buy some long black wigs from a place called Bitsz-N-Pieces, and talked to the friendly people there. Instead of obfuscating, she told them up-front that it was for her, and they showed her several brunette styles that were very nice-looking. They talked about their new “lacefront hairline” models that would give an off-the-face natural hairline, and Drew checked them out.

These lacefront ones seemed a little more delicate, and might not last, but they did give a more natural kind of look.

In the end, she got a few of the more standard ones and only two of the lacefront ones, all of them in brunette shades. She picked various styles, making sure to ask the people in the store some help and advice.

She also bought other stuff that they thought were necessary, such as several collapsible wig stands, a better kind of net to put over her regular hair before putting the wigs on, and other stuff necessary for the wigs.

Again, the dilemma of remaining anonymous worried her, but the proprietors never did ask her anything personal. A sign on the wall clued her in – apparently, the store did a big business on “medical” wigs for people underging chemotherapy or other operations necessitating the use of wigs, as well as provide wigs for transgender folks, and said that the store’s staff was very discrete. They may have assumed she was one of these people who was undergoing some medical thing.

The sign also said that Jewish married women could get discounts, but needed to show proof, indicating that they did a lot of business with jewish women.

Like in Best Buy, Drew paid cash for the wigs and other paraphernalia, and was out in less than an hour. The clerk gave her several business cards and they asked for her to share with her friends. Drew said thanks, making some vague comments about how the wigs will help during her upcoming chemo. Hopefully, that would put them off the scent if ever someone tried to trace her.

She went back home and put the wigs and forms in the safe, and the other stuff at the bottom of her dresser’s lowest drawer.

As for the detectors, she took them out of their boxes and put one in the closet downstairs, and one in her room. She burned all of the packaging out back, but made sure to preserve all the important information.

She then got a can of Swamp Pop soda and lounged in the living room to wait for her dad, and loaded some apps on her new, “cheap” burner phone-slash-detector while she waited.

- - - to be continued - - -

 

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