one | once upon a spy

279 12 15
                                    

𝚘𝚗𝚎 | 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚙𝚢

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

𝚘𝚗𝚎 | 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚙𝚢

Stalking someone in New York City is simple.

You blend in with the people on the subway. Drown amongst the crowded streets. Headphones in, with no music playing, in order to hear everything around you. Matte black oversized sunglasses on. Dress to impress—preppy with an edge, business casual, tourist, trendy, bohemian, street, etc. Dress to not impress—homeless, street rat, etc. 

It's easy. With practice.

The matte black oversized watch dinged as I sat in a coffee shop on the lower east side of Manhattan. I smirked. Right on schedule. I love when subjects live on a tight schedule. It makes my life easy.

The small family of three picked up their drinks and left the shop without saying another word. The two parents went left. The son went right.

Tracking three people. Easy. I needed to pinpoint which of the adults would be best to place an audio device somewhere on their person.

I accidentally rammed myself into the mother.

I exaggerated my already faded English accent. "Sorry love," I said.

Target acquired. Target engaged. Mission accomplished.

The typical workday for adults is 9-5. For me, working is constant. Recording the audio device happened constantly, so that I could take notes on the transcript later on. I'm unable to follow the parents to their place of business, so recording is my only surveillance.

🂧

"Finally! I've been waiting for you all day!" A voice squealed. The voice didn't scare me, as I was turning the key to my apartment.

"Sorry Celia, I was working. Come in," I said.

The two of us sat in the living room of my penthouse on the east side of Manhattan. Her giddish and bouncy behavior led me to believe that she was ecstatic at the moment. Her squealing voice in the hallway didn't die down.

"I got the job!" Celia proclaimed.

"Congratulations," I deadpanned.

Don't get me wrong, I love Celia, but I have things to do that don't involve celebrating.

Celia Porter is the only friend I've ever had. I've lived an exciting nineteen years of life, but that life has always remained under the radar. She lives in my building, so we've known each other forever. She's a couple years older than me, so we never had slumber parties, but she's nice enough to keep her around all these years.

"I wanted your opinion on some first day outfits, but I could see that you're lost in a case right now," she empathized.

"My latest download will take over an hour. That should give us time for a few outfits," I smiled.

Not If I Save You FirstWhere stories live. Discover now