6. Harry Hogan – A Spy Among Us

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“Not Thompson,” Max said, shaking his head. “He’s too careful about such things, paranoid you might say. So, anyway, I stood there under the window, just listening, and I could hear her talking but she wasn’t talking loud enough for me to understand what she was saying. I’m pretty sure she was talking on the phone because I could only hear one voice, and sometimes there was silence, like she might be listening to what someone else was saying.”

“Max, are you sure Mr. Thompson didn’t come home earlier than planned?”

“It wasn’t his voice I heard,Harry, it was a woman,” Max said.

“Maybe it was the television,” Harry pointed out. “He might have been watching a movie in bed.”

Max was silent for a minute and then said, “No, Thompson’s bedroom is at the right front corner. This room was at the back left corner.”

“How can you be sure it wasn’t the television?”

“Because of what I heard.”

“But you just said that you couldn’t understand what she said.”

“Well, I think she must have moved closer to the window and then I could hear most of it.”

“Okay, so what exactly did you hear?”

“I only got bits and pieces but I heard her say that: ‘…a decoy team could come in by chopper first to draw everyone’s attention… then hit from inside… they’ll never know what hit them until it’s too late… need someone who knows how to get inside as quietly and quickly as possible… someone with intimate knowledge of the building… perhaps someone who’s upset about being fired or laid off…’ Just scraps of conversation but to me it sounds like someone is up to no good.”

Harry rubbed his chin. “Hmm, it could be someone planning a burglary I suppose.”

“I don’t think so Harry,” Max said. “I still say it’s a spy, maybe scouting for some terrorist group, I don’t know… It sounded like someone was planning to do some serious damage somewhere, so I got out of there as fast as I could.”

“Somehow, I still think there’s a simpler explanation behind all this.” Harry drained his mug and replaced it on top of the book. “But I’ll swing by in the morning and have a look around.”

Max stood up. “Thank you, Harry. I think I just might be able to sleep tonight, after all.”

“And no sleepwalking,” Harry added as he opened the door.

“I hope not,” Max said and chuckled as he went down the steps. “Good night, Harry.”

“Good night, Max.” Harry shut the door and turned off the lights behind him as he walked to the bedroom. The coffee mugs sat forgotten as he pondered the bits of conversation Max had overheard. He had tried to downplay the potential seriousness of this because he knew it would cause Max to sleepwalk for sure. In reality, however, considering the things happening in the world these days, anything was possible, and it certainly needed to be checked out. At this moment, however, his pillow was calling and he intended to go keep it company.


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Now retired, after 39 years as a Librarian, Fay Herridge is a voracious reader, avid family historian, and a love of writing. She also enjoys walking, gardening, knitting, crocheting and photography; and is active in church and community events. Her poems and stories have been published in newspapers and magazines. “Satisfaction comes when others enjoy my work while inspiration comes from anywhere and everywhere.”
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