The Voyeur Mafioso, Part 8

Part 7 here.

REDFIELD MALL, UP TO YOUR DISCRETION, NO TIME FRAME REQUESTED

In a large mall, especially an indoor one, one can choose from any number of stores. Though the customers may not, I happen to grow bored with the same body types, the same bubbly, overly tanned cheerleaders and sorority girls. After winning the trust of my superiors, I can now be given the autonomy to be a bit more creative with locations as I see fit. Stores specifically designed for women are out. There’s no way I could obtain access there.

Young mothers with children are usually too preoccupied to know what I’m up to, but children can be either great helps or great hindrances. For one, they are unpredictable and can get in the way. I have better luck at nondescript chain retail outlets that appeal to modest wallets and pocketbooks.

The best video usually is produced by those skilled at concealing a camera, then having enough panache to sneak back in and retrieve the day’s rushes. It is rumored that one such person, our most popular, profitable, and proficient employee is a female store manager at Victoria’s Secret.

For those assigned to beach detail, five hour’s drive south, I’ve heard that a man at a swimwear shop, one frequented by women in their early twenties, is its store manager. Those are coveted positions, providing one almost a vacation, but I hate hot weather, hot sand, and the people attracted to it.

Someone like me would have no chance at success there, which is why my skills lie elsewhere. I don’t usually retrieve anyone else’s footage, but, like earlier, from time to time I do when needed. Truthfully, I’m not even sure why I’m here today.

It makes me nervous, more nervous than normal. For me, it pays to be paranoid. But why would anyone set me up? I’m popular with the viewers and I make decent bread. Maybe someone’s got a lens pointed my direction this very moment for a nice reversal of fortune. Maybe not, but I keep getting that same sixth sense that I’m under surveillance, with or without the benefit of technology.

STAY RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE. WE KNOW WHAT YOU ARE DOING HERE.

I’d respond, but I can’t. My only communication with the real world by company equipment is by e-mail, and only then when submitting the day’s work. Who could this be? Is this for real, or is someone trying to scare me? We always try to be careful with identities. Whoever this is must have some inside track to know how to find me. This phone is hooked up to an e-mail address and telephone number specifically reserved for work. Both change every three months.

WE CAN’T KILL OR HURT YOU, BUT YOUR EVERY MOVE WILL BE DOCUMENTED FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE.