drawer,” Safer says, writing in his notebook. “Briefcase.”
“Or maybe a cabinet,” I say. “Some old cabinets have little keys like that—did you see anything old-looking in his apartment? Once my dad showed me this desk at an antiques store that had a secret drawer, behind this panel—”
Safer looks up and stares at me. “This is an area of strength for you, Georges.”
“Not really. I’ve just been dragged to a lot of antiques stores.”
He smiles. “Still. You’re thinking like a spy. It’s progress.”
Which makes me feel good, actually. Like I’m possibly getting better at something.
And then, as if he can read my mind, Safer says, “You’re not a novice anymore, Georges. Is novice on your famous vocabulary list?”
“I know what novice means.”
“Good. Then you know what it means to be done with novice work.”
I’m not sure I like where this is going. “So what’s after novice work?”
Safer gives me his serious look. “Night work.”
Break and Enter (#2)
Night work means sleeping with my cell phone stuffed into a tube sock, under my ear. It’s on vibrate, and it goes off at two in the morning, dragging me from what feels like the bottom of the ocean.
“This is my third call,” Safer says when I fumble it out of the sock. “Now that you aren’t a novice, you have to learn to be a lighter sleeper.”
“How does a person learn that?”
“I’ll be outside your door in sixty seconds.”
“Now what?” I say when we’re standing on my doormat.
“You’re not dressed.” Safer takes in my T-shirt and pajama bottoms. He’s wearing jeans and a button-down oxford, tucked in.
“What’s the point? You said the whole idea is that we aren’t supposed to see anyone else.”
He starts up the stairs. “It’s just—spies get dressed . You know?”
When we get up to Mr. X’s, we both automatically look for the gum wrapper, which is still stuck in the door.
“Told you,” Safer says.
“And can you guarantee that he won’t come back in the next twenty minutes?”
“In the middle of the night?” Safer steps out of his shoes and lines them up on one side of Mr. X’s doormat.
“I don’t think I can go in there,” I say.
Safer opens one hand, showing me the little gold key. “I have to know what this opens, Georges. And that isn’t going to happen if we just stand here whispering in the hallway, is it?”
I shake my head. “I can’t. It’s not right.”
He looks at the ceiling for a second. “I could use your expertise in there, Georges. But if you aren’t comfortable with it, you can stand guard.”
“Stand here, you mean? In my pajamas? What if someone walks by?”
He pulls his credit card out of his back pocket. “The pajamas were your idea.”
“Like it would make a lot of sense for me to be standing here in a James Bond suit!”
“ Shhh . No one is going to walk by, Georges. It’s two in the morning.”
“Then why do you need a lookout?”
He shoves the credit card between the door and the frame, just above the knob. “Look, I need to know. Do I have a lookout or not?”
“No,” I say. “You don’t.”
“Fine.” Safer forces the credit card down in one quickmotion and turns the doorknob at the same time. The door opens, and he slips inside, closing it silently behind him.
I pace back and forth in the hall for a minute and then run back downstairs. I get into bed and lie still, but sleep is not happening. I listen for footsteps above me, though the fact is that I have never heard a single sound from Mr. X’s apartment.
That’s when my cell phone goes off. I’ve left it on my desk, where it buzzes against the wood and makes my heart practically explode.
“Hello?”
“If you were a key, what would you open?”
“Safer,” I whisper, “where are you?”
“You know exactly where I am, Georges. In fact, you’re the only person who does.”
“Oh my God—whose phone are you on? Are you calling me from his
“Or maybe a cabinet,” I say. “Some old cabinets have little keys like that—did you see anything old-looking in his apartment? Once my dad showed me this desk at an antiques store that had a secret drawer, behind this panel—”
Safer looks up and stares at me. “This is an area of strength for you, Georges.”
“Not really. I’ve just been dragged to a lot of antiques stores.”
He smiles. “Still. You’re thinking like a spy. It’s progress.”
Which makes me feel good, actually. Like I’m possibly getting better at something.
And then, as if he can read my mind, Safer says, “You’re not a novice anymore, Georges. Is novice on your famous vocabulary list?”
“I know what novice means.”
“Good. Then you know what it means to be done with novice work.”
I’m not sure I like where this is going. “So what’s after novice work?”
Safer gives me his serious look. “Night work.”
Break and Enter (#2)
Night work means sleeping with my cell phone stuffed into a tube sock, under my ear. It’s on vibrate, and it goes off at two in the morning, dragging me from what feels like the bottom of the ocean.
“This is my third call,” Safer says when I fumble it out of the sock. “Now that you aren’t a novice, you have to learn to be a lighter sleeper.”
“How does a person learn that?”
“I’ll be outside your door in sixty seconds.”
“Now what?” I say when we’re standing on my doormat.
“You’re not dressed.” Safer takes in my T-shirt and pajama bottoms. He’s wearing jeans and a button-down oxford, tucked in.
“What’s the point? You said the whole idea is that we aren’t supposed to see anyone else.”
He starts up the stairs. “It’s just—spies get dressed . You know?”
When we get up to Mr. X’s, we both automatically look for the gum wrapper, which is still stuck in the door.
“Told you,” Safer says.
“And can you guarantee that he won’t come back in the next twenty minutes?”
“In the middle of the night?” Safer steps out of his shoes and lines them up on one side of Mr. X’s doormat.
“I don’t think I can go in there,” I say.
Safer opens one hand, showing me the little gold key. “I have to know what this opens, Georges. And that isn’t going to happen if we just stand here whispering in the hallway, is it?”
I shake my head. “I can’t. It’s not right.”
He looks at the ceiling for a second. “I could use your expertise in there, Georges. But if you aren’t comfortable with it, you can stand guard.”
“Stand here, you mean? In my pajamas? What if someone walks by?”
He pulls his credit card out of his back pocket. “The pajamas were your idea.”
“Like it would make a lot of sense for me to be standing here in a James Bond suit!”
“ Shhh . No one is going to walk by, Georges. It’s two in the morning.”
“Then why do you need a lookout?”
He shoves the credit card between the door and the frame, just above the knob. “Look, I need to know. Do I have a lookout or not?”
“No,” I say. “You don’t.”
“Fine.” Safer forces the credit card down in one quickmotion and turns the doorknob at the same time. The door opens, and he slips inside, closing it silently behind him.
I pace back and forth in the hall for a minute and then run back downstairs. I get into bed and lie still, but sleep is not happening. I listen for footsteps above me, though the fact is that I have never heard a single sound from Mr. X’s apartment.
That’s when my cell phone goes off. I’ve left it on my desk, where it buzzes against the wood and makes my heart practically explode.
“Hello?”
“If you were a key, what would you open?”
“Safer,” I whisper, “where are you?”
“You know exactly where I am, Georges. In fact, you’re the only person who does.”
“Oh my God—whose phone are you on? Are you calling me from his
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