A Spy For a Spy

by Diane Henders

  I froze, my anger draining away into cold, lethal purpose. Very slowly, I unlocked my joints enough to plant my fists on his desk. My voice was low and deadly.

  “You. Will. Not. Screw. Him. Over.”

  Stemp’s expressionless façade never wavered. “No, I will not screw him over. Given my knowledge of your psych profile and your reactions in the past, not to mention your…” His lips twisted. “…insistence on the lie detector, I’m inclined to believe your story. But if you didn’t file this complaint, who did? Your signature is on it. And how do you explain this?” He gestured toward the photo of Kane’s and my entwined bodies.

  I collapsed back into my chair, trembling with unspent adrenaline. “I staged this with Kane for my other op. I knew I was being followed, but it never occurred to me this could happen. Fucking moron. I should have known. I should have been more careful.”

  Apparently Stemp was sufficiently convinced by the profound sincerity of the latter sentences to accept the lie contained in the first. He raised an eyebrow.

  “You have another mission now?”

  “Oh, hell yeah,” I snarled.

  Hunting Doytchevsky to the ends of the earth and crushing him into a disgusting little grease spot.

  “Can you give me details?”

  “No. Just get rid of that stupid fake complaint and I’ll deal with this.”

  Stemp eyed me levelly. “There’s a problem.”

  My stress level ratcheted up another notch. “What problem?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Can’t what?” My nerves stretched to breaking.

  “I can’t suppress the complaint.”

  Chapter 16

  I stared at Stemp, my blood draining into my socks. “What do you mean, you can’t suppress the complaint?” My voice was a bare whisper.

  He returned my gaze, looking almost as sick as I felt. “I can’t. It’s already been escalated up the chain of command. There’s a strict protocol in place for handling complaints like this. It’s too late.”

  “But it’s bullshit! I’ll write another letter denying it. I’ll write as many letters as it takes…”

  “It wouldn’t help,” Stemp said. “Once the process is in motion, it can’t be stopped even if the initial complaint is retracted. The hearing still has to be held.” He gestured toward the damning photos. “And what are you going to say about these if you can’t disclose your other chain of command? That it was consensual? That would damage both of you.”

  “It’s still better to say it was consensual. At least the sexual harassment thing won’t go on his record…”

  I trailed off at the sight of his face. “God, no. It all goes on his record?” My stomach twisted itself into a hard knot. “So you’re saying he has to go through this… this… travesty? And even if the claim is proven false, it isn’t expunged? That’s… that’s…”

  “Bullshit, I know,” Stemp finished quietly. “Whoever is doing this has an excellent knowledge of how to cause the most damage with the least effort. And I intend to find out who it is. This came in by fax from the business centre at the Mirage late last night. I’ll get the surveillance camera footage and-”

  “Don’t,” I interrupted. “I’ll deal with it.”

  The quirk of Stemp’s mouth didn’t look quite as humorous as before. “I gather you’re accustomed to holding rank in your other chain of command. However, you do not outrank me.”

  “Sorry,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean it that way. But really, just let it go, please…”

  Stemp’s gaze pinned me to the chair. “I have allowed you a great deal of latitude and placed a great deal of trust in you, but in this case my top priority is damage control for all of us. I will not stand by while a good agent gets railroaded by the system.”

  He drummed his fingers on the desk, visibly switching to tactical mode. “Some collateral damage is inevitable, but maybe the charges could be downgraded to a minor sexual misconduct. Kane might be allowed to keep his pension, though probably not his rank. Best-case, if you deny sexual assault, we might convince the tribunal that it’s simply an adverse personal relationship and he could avoid charges. He will be removed from your project and reassigned no matter what we do, of course.”

  He shot me a wry look. “I presume you’ll handle any potential consequences to yourself through your other chain of command. But to protect both you and myself, I have to investigate the complaint as fully as possible. If I do not, the only alternative would be to disclose my unauthorized knowledge of your other activities.”

  He grimaced. “I doubt either of us would be pleased with the consequences of that.”

  Sudden realization smothered the cutting comment I’d been ready to make about covering his own ass. In his world, unauthorized knowledge frequently turned out to be fatal. He didn’t know I was lying through my teeth.

  His trust made my gut clench with shame.

  Stemp struck while I was vulnerable. “You know who sent the photos and the trumped-up complaint.”

  It wasn’t a question. Completely blindsided, my mind refused to summon up a convincing lie.

  Just say no, dammit. Meet his eyes and say no.

  The guilt swamped me. I couldn’t do it. And I was already too late. My silence had spoken louder than words.

  Trapped! Panic trickled into my veins.

  “Can you tell me?”

  Oh thank God, a loophole. I could just say it was part of my other op and he’d drop it.

  The words wouldn’t come.

  I dragged myself upright and met his gaze. “It’s John Smith. Well, Kasper Doytchevsky. That’s his real name.”

  Chapter 17

  Stemp’s eyes narrowed. “Why would Doytchevsky want to make it look as though you’d filed a sexual harassment charge against Kane?”

  I slumped in the chair, unable to even sit upright. Resignation made my voice flat.

  “Long story. I left some details out of my last report.”

  Stemp’s face froze over. “What details? And why?”

  I blew out an exhausted breath. “Doytchevsky was a Russian secret agent during the Cold War. He was working as a handler for their network super-user Irina…” My mind went blank. “Um, Irina Somebody-or-other. She’s dead anyway...”

  “Popov. Or perhaps you were thinking of Doytchevsky?” Stemp supplied drily.

  “Uh, right, they were married. You already knew that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh.”

  Shit, I’d been killing myself to keep Doytchevsky’s secret and Stemp already knew? Son of a bitch…

  “Anyway,” I stumbled on. “Irina started feeling irresistible compulsions and hearing voices in her head. She thought she was going crazy. She was eventually diagnosed with schizophrenia.”

  Stemp’s eyes sharpened at this revelation. Maybe he didn’t know as much as I thought he did.

  “It wasn’t schizophrenia,” I went on. “It was her Knight, Rex Rimmel, controlling her inside the network, but nobody knew that except Rimmel and of course he wasn’t about to blab.”

  I sighed. “She committed suicide eventually, but not before Doytchevsky started to piece together her ramblings. He became obsessed with finding out what had happened. Eventually he captured Rimmel and tortured him until he spilled all the Knights’ secrets. Then Doytchevsky killed Rimmel and made it his life’s mission to destroy the rest of the Knights.”

  “You were aware Doytchevsky had prior knowledge of the Knights of Sirius and you omitted it from your report?” Stemp’s expression didn’t change, but his tone chilled my heart as though an icicle had slipped between my ribs.

  “You had already granted him a top-level security clearance, and he’d held it for years. I made a full report about the Knights’ activities as soon as I could. His knowledge didn’t pose any additional risk.”

  “That was not your decision to make.”

  I eyed his impassive face. “I’m sorry, I know it doesn’t look good, but I was
forced into a decision.” I took a chance. “You know how things don’t always go quite the way you planned in the field.”

  His lips thinned. “True. Go on.”

  “I needed information from Doytchevsky for one of my other missions. As leverage, I threatened to report his prior knowledge of Knights’ treason and told him he’d go to jail as an accessory, but I promised to keep it a secret if he gave me the information.”

  “But you antagonized him somewhere along the line.”

  “Um, yeah. He wasn’t happy when I wiped out the Knights and took away his chance for revenge.”

  There was also the small matter of how I’d abducted him, chilled him to hypothermia, and threatened to torture him. That might have made him a little cranky, too…

  I banished that thought and continued. “So the omission from my report didn’t jeopardize our security, it just protected him from potential charges. And it should have ended there.”

  “But it didn’t.”

  “No. When I discovered Terry Sherman was still alive, Doytchevsky saw his last chance for revenge on the Knights. He’s been following me around because he believes I’m hunting Sherman, and he wants to get there first.”

  I sighed and slouched down in my chair. “He’s convinced I’m in contact with Sherman. That’s why he’s been trying to threaten and coerce me to give up Sherman’s location. He showed me those pictures last night trying to blackmail me into cooperating with him. I didn’t think he’d take a chance on having his secret revealed, so I bluffed and told him I didn’t care if he sent you the pictures. Obviously I underestimated his obsession.” I rolled my aching shoulders. “And Kane is paying for my mistake.”

  Stemp leaned back in his chair, his expressionless gaze focused in middle distance while his fingers drummed a slow rhythm on the desk. At last, he spoke slowly.

  “You’re right, this changes nothing in terms of the current state of our national security, so I’ll let your omission slide.” He shot me a flat stare. “This time.” His gaze slid into the distance again. “Maybe we can use Doytchevsky’s obsession to our advantage and test his loyalty at the same time. Since we’re perennially under-staffed in the first place, and now that Kane is suspended into the bargain…”

  Guilt churned in my stomach. If only I’d done something differently. But what, for chrissake? I’d been telling Doytchevsky the truth all along.

  “…we’ll see whether Doytchevsky’s skills are still sharp. You and he will work together to capture Sherman.”

  My attention snapped back with a jolt. “What?”

  “Yes.” Stemp gave a single brisk nod, obviously satisfied with his solution. “You can feed him information and let him do the legwork while you relay progress reports to us. That will free up resources for our other operations and also ensure, shall we say, enthusiastic progress in the search for Sherman. When you’ve narrowed down a location, notify me and we’ll move in to capture Sherman. If Doytchevsky proves himself to be acting in the best interests of our country in the process, he’ll never need to know we had this conversation. If he proves less than loyal…” He trailed off and lifted one shoulder a fraction of an inch in what served as an eloquent shrug for him.

  “But, um…”

  Please no. I raised the first objection that came to mind. Well, the first valid objection. ‘He’s a sleazeball and I want to throttle him’ probably didn’t count.

  “He doesn’t trust me as far as he can throw me. And when he realizes I’ve dropped the harassment charge, he’ll know I was lying-”

  “Which is why you won’t drop it,” Stemp said smoothly.

  “I sure as hell will drop it!” Outrage made me louder than I’d intended.

  Stemp subdued me with his snake-eyed stare. “Whether or not the accusation is dropped at this point will make no difference to either the scheduling or the outcome of the hearing. You’ll be able to explain yourself then. In the mean time, letting it stand gives us a tactical advantage.”

  “But Kane deserves to know…”

  “If Kane has been falsely accused, he already knows. If, however, there is something else I should know about your interactions with him, now would be a very good time to tell me, Kelly.”

  I bit my tongue. Hard. “I didn’t mean that, I just meant…” I eyed his stiff face and took another tack. “We’re not really going to ‘narrow down’ a location. If I can track Sherman through the internet, we’ll have an IP address that will tell us exactly where he is.”

  “Yes, but we can’t move fast enough to capture him using that method. I did send personnel to the address you gave us earlier, but they didn’t arrive for several hours, and of course there was no sign of Sherman by then.”

  “But I need to be here in order to get into the network to get the IPs.”

  “And you’ll feed that information to Doytchevsky in the field. Pretend to be cooperating with him. You’ll place a tracking device on Doytchevsky so we can keep tabs on him, and I’ll monitor the operation from here.”

  Place a tracking device on him. Yeah, right. Like I’d intentionally touch that slimebucket, except maybe to punch his lights out…

  Oblivious to my internal kvetching, Stemp continued. “At a guess, I assume Sherman is making his way back here to rendezvous with Kraus, but we won’t know for sure until we get several different contact points so we can plot his progress. If I’m right, then the longer we wait, the easier it will be to capture him.”

  He reached for the telephone. “I’ll get Webb to come over right now so you can try to make contact again.”

  “Um, actually, I have to go.”

  His reptilian gaze pinned me in place. “Go? Where?”

  “It’s Sunday. You said I had time off until Tuesday night. I’m taking it. I’ve already spent…” I glanced at my watch. “…three hours that I didn’t have, and I’ll lose another two getting back to Calgary.”

  “What’s in Calgary?”

  None of your damn business.

  “Personal,” I said instead, and returned his stare as emotionlessly as I could manage.

  We eyed each other in silence for a few moments. “Very well,” he said at last. “Since time is actually on our side for this operation, I’ll agree to that. It will also allow you time to plant the tracking device. Stop at Stores on your way out. I’ll requisition more disposable phones and the tracking device. Check in minimum daily. If you don’t…”

  I shrugged and completed the sentence. “…you’ll come and find me. And I won’t be glad to see you.”

  “Something like that.”

  After a short wait at Stores, I collected my gear and hurried out into the lengthening shadows toward my truck, shivering in the cutting breeze. Dammit, five o’clock already.

  I hopped into the truck and fired it up, letting the engine idle while I punched Nichele’s number on my cell phone.

  She answered on the first ring. “Aydan, where are you? What’s taking so long?”

  “Sorry, I had this big emergency, and I just got done-”

  “You’re still in Silverside? Aydan, we have to get started!”

  “I know, I’m sorry, I’m on my way. Did you-”

  “I made all the calls and I have a list of all the numbers. I’m packed and ready to go. The police haven’t got anything yet,” she reeled off in her ‘business’ voice.

  If I hadn’t been so worried, I’d have taken a moment to enjoy my usual amusement at the hyper-efficient dynamo concealed by her fluffy off-duty persona. But under the circumstances, I didn’t feel much like laughing.

  “Good, Nichele, then get some rest. I’m leaving now, and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Wait, one more thing.” She hesitated. “I called Hellhound. Arnie, I mean. I thought since he’s a private investigator, he might be able to help. He said he would, but… Aydan, I’m sorry, I thought you guys were still friends. I didn’t know…”

  “We are still friends. What are you talking about?”

/>   “Um, don’t be too sure about that. He said he’d work with me, but he doesn’t want to have anything to do with you.”

  My heart plummeted to my toes before a wave of rage washed over me. God damn Doytchevsky. He had hurt me in ways he couldn’t have even imagined.

  Nichele’s plaintive voice brought me back to reality. “Aydan, I don’t know what to do.”

  Somehow I held my voice steady. “Don’t worry, Nichele, it’s just a misunderstanding. I’ll call him and figure it out. Just get some rest. I’ll see you soon.”

  I hung up before she could question me and stared at the flashing message indicator on my phone. I hadn’t taken time to check my messages before, but now I had a pretty good idea what they contained.

  Hands shaking, I punched the button to view my single text message.

  It was from Stemp. ‘Call home’, sent at three A.M. the previous night. He must have texted me right after the fax came in. God, did the man ever sleep?

  Never mind, it was irrelevant now. And anyway, I was only stalling, avoiding the three voicemail messages from Arnie’s number.

  I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and pressed the button.

  His first early-morning message sounded puzzled and hurt. “Aydan, I just talked to John. What the fuck? Call me.”

  Next message, a few hours later. “Aydan, what the fuckin’ hell? Call me!”

  The last one was from a couple of hours ago. This time his voice ground through the speaker like icy gravel. “I been tryin’ to cut ya some slack for stabbin’ my best friend in the back an’ flushin’ his whole goddam career down the fuckin’ shitter. But if ya don’t even have the guts to call me, then fuck ya.” It sounded as though he’d hung up with a sledgehammer.

  I stared through the windshield, trembling. Tears rose in my eyes while the soulless voicemail prompt yammered in my ear. ‘To erase this message, press seven. To save it, press nine…’

  I gulped and punched seven before flinging the phone onto the seat beside me. Resisting the urge to curl into a ball and cry my heart out, I smeared a hand across my eyes and let anger straighten my spine.