7. Zero
7
ZERO
M ovement at the front door caught Zero’s attention. He watched as his target locked his front door and then hopped into his car to head off to work. It was always the same. The doctor left his home around six thirty a.m., then worked in the lab until about six, except for Mondays and Tuesdays when the man seemed to stay late and work until seven thirty at night.
Zero wasn’t exactly sure what the doctor did at the lab. It was a high-security facility, so it wasn’t like he could just walk in and take a snoop around. The man did have an advanced degree in biology and chemistry, and according to the journal that his boss showed him, the man was some kind of chemist.
The doctor did also have a secondary office that he kept, outside his home and the lab. Zero was still trying to understand why the man had the other office, but that was a question for another day.
Today, his goal was to break into the doc’s house and have a look around. See if there were any clues there that might help him with his investigation. The boss would be looking for results sometime soon, and so far, he was coming up with zilch.
Dressed as a cable repairman, Zero carried his box of tools around to the back of the house. It was always easier breaking in through the backyard, away from prying eyes. Not that he was any kind of super criminal. His specialty was cons, duping people out of their money. Breaking and entering was just a skill that he had developed over the years, hanging out with different sorts of questionable characters.
Once he reached the back of the house, he located the back patio door, then fished his cell phone out of his pocket.
“I’m here,” he said into his phone and waited.
“Give me one sec.” There was a forty-five-second pause before the voice came back on the phone. “Security cameras are looped. You have two hours.”
“Thanks, boss,” Zero said into the phone before hanging up on the man who hired him to do this job.
The man’s name was Marc, and he lived in the United States. Apparently, he was trying to confirm some information and needed him and his skills to assist him with this investigation.
Zero still wondered if Marc made a mistake and hired the wrong man. Other than being great at conning people, he was far from a professional investigator. Perhaps it was his confidence and ability to adapt to ever-changing situations. That was one of the skills you needed as a con artist—the ability to switch tactics midstream and think on your toes. If you weren’t convincing and sure of yourself, your victims would be on to you in no time at all.
Zero’s mind drifted back to when he was ten years old and pulling scams with his father.
“Here, hang this around your neck,” his father said, handing him a lanyard with a plastic ID card attached.
Zero flipped it over and looked at the picture. It was him, taken from one of the photos his father carried around with him in his wallet. He knew because he had seen his dad show his friends from time to time.
Scribbled just underneath his photo were the words “Press Pass.”
“Dad, what does ‘Press Pass’ mean?” Zero asked, throwing the lanyard around his neck and making sure that his photo was facing in the right direction.
“It means that you are here to take pictures and then share them on the internet and in magazines.”
“But I don’t have a camera, and how do I share the pictures on the internet and in magazines?”
His father held up a camera. “This is just pretend, remember. If anyone asks, Daddy works for a big magazine and is here to take pictures.”
“And what about me?”
“You are my assistant. Now are we done with all the stupid questions?” his father growled.
Zero knew better than to continue asking his father questions. Instead, he nodded and reached for his father’s hand.
Nodding, his father took his hand, then walked them into the fancy hotel where all the pretty men and women were chatting inside, smiling and laughing as they stood together and took photos.
“I’m a photographer from Green Velvet Cinema Magazine , here to photograph the event and actors,” his father said, holding up his pass to the woman at the door. She nodded, then gestured for them to enter the large conference room.
Inside, there were rows and rows of tables covered with black cloths and sparkly items.
“Here, give Daddy your press pass,” he heard his father say.
Zero turned and looked up at his father.
“But I thought I was supposed to be your assistant?”
“That was just until we got inside the door. Now that we are inside, you are going to pretend to be a famous child actor. If anyone asks, you are in movies made in the United States. No one in England ever pays attention to kids in US movies.”
“But, Daddy.” He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. He couldn’t think of any American movies that he had watched on the tele anytime recently. What if someone asked him what movie he was in?
“Listen carefully, kid. When we get to those tables, you’re going to ask those nice ladies and gentlemen if you can have one. Then take it. If they offer you two or more, you take those as well.”
“What are they?” Zero asked, looking at all the items on display at each table.
There were watches and tablets and fancy running shoes. There was even a table with cool-looking cell phones and cameras. He always wanted a cell phone, but his dad said that they couldn’t afford one.
“These are all gifts that companies give actors and actresses so that they can use them and hopefully post about them on social media or wear them at movie premiers. People then see celebrities using these items and go and buy them themselves.”
“All of this is… free?” Zero couldn’t believe that people just gave all of this stuff to famous people.
“Yup. Now go to those tables and start getting free stuff. Daddy is going to stay here and take pictures of people.”
Zero nodded, then walked over to the first table, where a man and woman were smiling.
They said hello and waved toward the row of items all laid out before him. He pointed to the first item, a handheld gaming device, to which the woman picked up a box and placed it in a bag for him. She waved her hand over the other items, and he slowly pointed to a tablet, which she placed a second box into the bag as well.
He continued making his way around the room from table to table, pointing at items and watching as people placed his selections into a bag.
After an hour, he walked over to his father carrying two bags while a guest services worker carried another six.
“Thank you, sir,” his father said, taking the bags from the young worker and watching as the man disappeared back into the crowd. “Wow, looks like you did well, my boy.”
They made their way out of the hotel and walked toward his father’s beat-up piece-of-shit car parked at the back of the hotel.
“Daddy, do I get to keep all this stuff?” he asked, excited to play with the handheld gaming system.
His father gave him a mocking face. “No chance! Daddy’s going to sell all this crap and make a shit ton of money.”
Disappointment set in. He never got anything cool. All of his friends had gaming systems and new toys, but here he was, having to steal toys from his friends or fish old gaming systems from the trash.
His mind finally returned to the present.
Opening his tiny kit, he pulled out two metal objects that looked like tiny nail files. He inserted both tools into the locking mechanism on the back door and began fumbling around until he finally heard a click.
Bingo.
Placing the tools and kit back in his bag, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.
It was time to see what the dirty little doctor was hiding in his home.