A Spy For a Spy

by Diane Henders

  He flung his bony arms around me. “Oh thank God, Aydan! I couldn’t believe it, but…”

  I patted his back. “I’m glad you didn’t believe it. But don’t tell anybody, okay? I mean nobody.”

  He drew away, blinking. “But it would be okay if I told Linda, right? I already talked to her about it…”

  “No, Spider!” I clutched his arm, already regretting my indiscretion. “Nobody.”

  God, I sucked at this spy stuff. A real spy would have kept her mouth shut and watched his heart break with the belief that his hero was a coward and a criminal.

  No, dammit, I couldn’t do that. And anyway, it was too late.

  “Promise me, Spider!” I shook his arm. “Don’t tell anybody!”

  He stared down at me, wide-eyed. “Okay... But, Aydan…”

  “No buts. If anybody asks, tell them you asked me and I said I couldn’t talk about it, but you thought I acted as if the rumour was true. If anybody else finds out, innocent people will die. Promise me!”

  He straightened, squaring his skinny shoulders. “I promise.”

  Spider and I were the last ones to trail back into my office. Stemp and Doytchevsky were already seated to the left and right of the sofa like a pair of particularly unprepossessing bookends, and I took my place in the middle.

  Jack looked up from her small case and gestured with its headband of trailing wires. “I want to monitor your brainwaves when you go in this time.”

  “Okay…” I raised a questioning eyebrow in her direction. “But you know I’ll probably flatline when I get into the Knight’s system, right? Don’t freak out this time.”

  A flush stained her cheeks. “I won’t. It was… just such a shock the first time you did it. I’ve been studying the records from your earlier sessions, and I’ve tweaked my instrumentation. I want to see if I can detect some brain activity even after you’ve… left. It will give us a better idea of whether you’re actually in trouble or just experiencing a normal… well, normal for you… disconnect.”

  I laughed. “I’m glad you don’t actually expect me to be normal. There’s not much hope of that.”

  She chuckled, too, as she placed the wires on my head. “There’s no such thing as ‘normal’, really. We’re all just points along a continuum.”

  “And some of us are farther out than others,” Spider teased.

  I stuck out my tongue at him, and the return of his usual mischievous grin warmed my heart.

  Inside the virtual file repository, I materialized a couple of chairs and sank into one of them, reaching for Stemp’s hand with resignation.

  “An anchor doesn’t really work for this, does it?” he asked.

  “Not really. When I get jumbled in the Knights’ firewall, I can’t hold on anyway.”

  “Can I come in and anchor you there?”

  “I doubt if it’s even possible.” I raised my voice, even though I knew the rest of the team could hear us just fine through the interface. “Kasper, is it possible?”

  “How would I know?” His nasal voice set my teeth on edge.

  “You’re supposed to be the damn expert here…”

  Stemp’s grip tightened on my hand, and I clenched my teeth to prevent myself from saying something I might regret. I turned to face Stemp. “Even if you could follow me into the internet, you wouldn’t be invisible.”

  “True, but would it matter as long as we were outside the Knights’ firewall?”

  “No… probably not… Spider?” I appealed to the virtual ceiling.

  “Even if it’s actually possible, it would be a really bad idea,” he said promptly. “In the first place, it leaves both of you without an anchor here. In the second place, Aydan doesn’t always know what connections she’s passing through. You could get stopped or separated by firewalls or intrusion detection software. There’s no telling how that could harm anybody other than Aydan. Don’t even try it.”

  I blew out a breath. “Okay, then. I’ll be looking for camels on my way back.”

  I faded into invisibility and dove into the data stream.

  Chapter 28

  This time, the Knights’ server was even harder to find. I cast about through endless data tunnels, frustration building. Occasionally I caught a whiff of something that might have been it, only to lose the scent when the IP addresses shifted again.

  At long last, I ferreted it out. Floating outside their firewall, I felt Stemp’s distant anchor only as a tenuous shred of connection. God, how far away was I? What if I couldn’t detect Spider’s homing beacon when I came out?

  Fear closed in, disrupting the ordered data of my consciousness. Clinging to my courage, I faced the firewall. I had to do this. Somehow, I’d get home.

  I made it through on my first try, surging invisibly into their network. Sherman had left a reply, but I didn’t like the look of the message. Concentrating fiercely, I memorized its cryptic contents.

  Please let me retain it. I floated, repeating it to myself again. Damn, it must be nice to be Hellhound, with his effortlessly accurate memory.

  I steeled myself and slipped back through their firewall into the internet, refusing to panic at the trackless complexity. Just stay calm and look for camels.

  When a string of camel searches erupted practically in my face, I jerked back. No way that could be Spider. Probably some little kid doing a school report or something.

  But the search terms were so repetitive. Could it be…?

  No way. It couldn’t be that easy.

  It was. Seconds later, I materialized in Sirius’s file repository.

  Stemp rose, looking surprised. “That was quick.”

  “Yeah.” I couldn’t hold back a grin. “When I went in, the IP felt like it was on the other side of the world, but it must have shifted while I was inside their network. It dumped me out practically next door.” I turned for the exit portal. “Let’s get out of here.”

  The instant I straightened in the reality of my office clutching my thundering skull, Doytchevsky’s voice bored into my brain. “Did you get it?”

  “Yes.” The word ground out between my gritted teeth, and I massaged my temples, desperately missing Kane’s strong hands.

  “Well, what is it?”

  “Just shut up for a minute, would you?” I hissed. “Goddammit…” I thumped my head against the back of the sofa, trying to release the knotted muscles at the base of my skull.

  “Don’t! Aydan, please don’t!” Spider’s pleading voice was accompanied by the clasp of his hands around my head, his skinny fingers more tentative than Kane’s firm touch, but welcome nonetheless.

  I groaned and dropped my head forward, stretching my neck. “Thanks, Spider.”

  I sat up at last, rubbing my forehead. “Sherman replied, but he’s using some kind of code. His message was…” I hesitated, making sure I had it right. “…Office, 2455874.187500, RXM, 634257.”

  “That’s useless! Why didn’t you decrypt it?” Doytchevsky demanded.

  I held back the urge to snarl. “That is the decrypted version.”

  “Well, it’s no damn good. You should have-”

  Stemp raised a silencing hand. He shot a glance at Spider, whose fingers were flying over his keyboard. “Webb?”

  “Let me make sure I got it right.” Spider read back the numbers and letters.

  “That’s it.” I rolled my shoulders, cracking my neck. “For all the good it does.”

  “It might be better than you think.” He studied his screen with the bright-eyed enthusiasm he always exhibited when confronted by a technological puzzle. “Hang on.”

  After a few moments of rapid typing, he surfaced again with a smile. “Well, ‘office’ is easy enough. It probably means exactly what it says. And I think the first number is just a Julian date.”

  “A what?”

  “It’s an alternate calendar system to the Gregorian calendar we use today. Lots of programmers use it. It’s just a continuous count of days and fractions since noon Un
iversal Time on January 1, 4713 BCE-”

  “Never mind that,” Stemp interrupted. “Can you convert the date?”

  Spider looked slightly crestfallen. “I already did. It’s tomorrow at four-thirty in the afternoon.”

  “Good. What about the rest?”

  Spider hunched his shoulders, frowning at his screen. “That might be a problem. If Aydan couldn’t decrypt it, it’s probably a cipher with a cryptovariable that we don’t have. They’re likely using a codebook of words or phrases that correspond to letters or numbers. We could start crunching it through our system, but it would take forever.”

  “We don’t have forever. We need it before tomorrow.” Doytchevsky glowered at me. “Idiot. If you had just told him a time and place, we’d be fine. Now we can’t do anything without giving ourselves away because Kraus would know the code.”

  “And if I’d specified a meeting without using their code, Sherman would’ve known right away I wasn’t Sam and vanished forever,” I snapped.

  I turned to Stemp. “Let me talk to Sam. He never did actually commit treason, and I think he regrets the way things turned out. I bet he’ll help us.”

  Stemp fixed me with his reptilian gaze. “He undoubtedly regrets the way things turned out. Being incarcerated tends to have that effect. And the only reason he didn’t commit treason was because he lacked the opportunity.”

  I shrugged, still wanting to believe in Sam despite the small cynical voice in my head that agreed with Stemp. “Regardless of his motivation, he’ll likely cooperate if he thinks it’ll help him.”

  “True.” Stemp considered in silence for a moment. “I’ll talk to him. If he gives me the right answers, we’ll be able to put a team in place and take Sherman without any difficulty. Well done, Kelly.”

  He rose, glancing at his watch. “You’ll be visiting your bookkeeping clients today, won’t you?” At my nod, he addressed all of us. “Briefing at fifteen-thirty when Kelly returns.”

  Stemp strode out and I heaved myself to my feet, avoiding Doytchevsky’s scowl. He didn’t accost me, though, and I hurried out of the building, not sure whether to feel relieved or worried.

  I keyed open the back door of Blue Eddy’s Saloon and slipped inside. A voluptuous cascade of piano music curled around me and I released a breath that felt like I’d been holding it for days.

  Dawdling toward the source of the sound, I let the music soak into my skin, washing away the ugliness and fear of the past week. By the time I poked my head into the bar, I was actually capable of giving Eddy a real, honest-to-goodness smile.

  “Hi, Aydan!” His grin lit up the empty room while his clever fingers poured out music as if they required no input from his brain at all.

  “Hi, Eddy.” I strolled over to perch in my favourite spot on the corner of the stage, leaning against the wall. “If I sit here for the next ten years or so, will you just keep playing?”

  He laughed. “Sure, no problem. As long as I get a beer break every now and then.” The music continued, never a false note. He gave me one of his semi-serious looks, eyes twinkling. “I missed you last week.”

  “Thanks. I missed you, too.”

  He shot me a grin. “You only missed my piano-playing.”

  I feigned indignation. “That’s not true. I missed your burgers, too. And your beer.”

  He chuckled.

  I rose and added, “You know you’re the bright spot of my week. But I guess I’d better stop goofing off and make up for lost time.”

  He sobered, the music trailing off. “Hey, Aydan, I wasn’t complaining. I know how busy you are, and I’m happy with any time you can give me. You’re doing a great job with my books.”

  I resisted the urge to hug him. “Thanks, Eddy. I really needed to hear that today.” I planted my hands on my hips and gave him a mock glare. “Now get those hands back on that piano and get to work. You’ve only got half an hour before the bar opens.”

  He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.” The rollicking notes burst free again, and I let them dance me into his cramped office.

  An hour and a half later I emerged, my good humour restored by excellent blues music and the safe, predictable world of bookkeeping. My spirits rose even further when Eddy waved from behind the bar and pointed to my usual table in the corner. A platter reposed in the centre, wisps of steam still rising from the hand-cut fries and enormous burger.

  I wandered over and sank into the chair, smiling. Eddy would probably refuse payment, concocting his usual story about food ordered by a customer who later changed his mind. His friendship and generosity were doubly sweet after my miserable morning.

  I slouched happily in the chair and applied myself to the delicious food, letting the blues lull me into pure contentment. Eddy raised a beer bottle and an interrogative eyebrow in my direction but I shook my head regretfully, miming hands on a steering wheel. He grimaced understanding and turned to serve another customer.

  I was just returning my attention to my plate when a middle-aged man in a suit and tie caught my attention, moving purposefully toward me. Something about him looked vaguely familiar, but a rapid perusal of my mental files came up empty.

  He smiled and raised a hand in greeting as he approached, and I gave him a tentative smile in return, wishing once again that I had Hellhound’s photographic memory.

  Shit, how did I know this guy?

  He slid into the chair opposite me and offered his hand. “Hello, Ms. Widdenback.”

  “Uh… hi.” I shook his hand, hiding my alarm in a smile.

  Everybody in Silverside knew me as Aydan Kelly. My so-called fans called me Arlene Cherry. Who the hell was he?

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember your name,” I prompted.

  “You can call me Paul.”

  Paul. Why did that ring a bell? But not a very loud one, dammit. Who the hell…

  He smiled. “I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. I’m sure you must have spoken to hundreds of fans in Vegas.”

  “Oh!” I tried to cover my dismay with an expression of enlightened recognition. “You were the man in the hall outside my room. How did you find me?” I tried to make it sound like an expression of casual interest, but I was pretty sure my chagrin leaked through.

  Shit. Like it wasn’t bad enough to have to deal with horny fans; now I had a creepy stalker into the bargain. His cowed expression in Vegas had obviously been an act. Now he radiated assurance.

  Marvelous. Just what I needed. A confident creepy stalker.

  He smiled as if reading my mind. “Don’t worry, I’m not stalking you.”

  Before I could respond to that conversational gambit, he spoke again. “I completely understand your desire to maintain a low profile, and you’ve certainly been successful. Everyone in this town seems to know you as Aydan Kelly.”

  Shit!

  I rose. “Paul, I’m afraid I’ll have to cut this short. I have a meeting.”

  “Hear me out, please.”

  Had he intentionally twitched aside his suit coat to reveal that shoulder holster concealed beneath? I shot a glance around the bar, adrenaline surging.

  Not packed, but the usual Tuesday lunch patrons were scattered here and there. Eddy was in the most danger, closest to my table with his back turned while he joked with a couple of the regulars.

  I had to get the hell out. If it turned into a shooting match, there would be fewer innocent targets outside in the snow and cold.

  “Let’s talk outside.” I turned and walked away, the hairs on the back of my neck bristling with the expectation of an attack.

  Chapter 29

  The attack didn’t come. I slipped out the back door unscathed, letting out a breath at the sight of the few cars in the deserted parking lot. No passersby at all, thank goodness.

  I leaned one shoulder against the building, my hand resting casually on my hip as close as possible to my holster, my fingers buried in my sweatshirt to hide their trembling. ‘Paul’ leaned against the building as well, facing me
with his arms crossed over his chest. That placed his hand close to his holster, too.

  But he probably didn’t know about my gun, tucked away under my baggy sweatshirt. Maybe he’d be lulled into carelessness…

  “What did you want to talk about?” I held my voice level, my tone polite.

  “I’d like to talk to you about Aydan Kelly.”

  I put on an expression of regret. “That was a terrible accident. So sad.”

  “Yes.” His lips twisted into an ugly little smile. “How did you arrange it?”

  I didn’t have to fake my astonishment. “What? I didn’t arrange it. It was an accident.”

  “And her home and assets were coincidentally transferred into your name. And you coincidentally took her name and her clients.”

  “Um… No, it wasn’t like that at all…” Another burst of adrenaline threatened to redline my heart rate. I flung out the first idea that came to mind.

  “Aydan and I were business partners. Um… friends. Almost like sisters. We even looked alike. We used to play tricks on people all the time when we were younger…”

  My mouth ran on while my brain churned furiously through wild and ridiculous excuses. “She transferred everything over to me because… um…”

  I seized with relief on a cover story I’d used before Arlene Cherry. “…because her crazy ex-husband was stalking her. We put everything in my name so he couldn’t find her, but then she died…”

  I trailed off at the sight of his cynical smile.

  “I bet he killed her!” I exclaimed, frantically grasping for something, anything plausible.

  How convincing did I have to be? Who the hell was this guy, anyway?

  “Are you a cop?” I blurted.

  “No.”

  Damn. Police would have been embarrassing but easily handled by a short conversation with Stemp.

  Not-police meant I was in deep shit.

  “But you wouldn’t have any reason to worry about talking to a cop, would you?” he asked silkily. “Because you haven’t done anything wrong, have you?”