A moment of silence hovered between us.
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Stemp said quietly.
“Yeah.” I blew out a breath and hauled myself upright in the chair. “Are we done?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” I stood. “There’s one more thing I want to mention. I won’t be going back to Dr. Rawling. I’m done with him.”
Stemp’s expressionless façade didn’t even twitch. “Very well. Dismissed.” As I reached the doorway, he added, “Please let me know as soon as possible if Mrs. Ives will attend tomorrow night.”
“Okay. I’ll call her right away.”
In my office, I hesitated over the phone for a moment before turning back to the corridor. This was going to require some explanations that I didn’t want Stemp to overhear.
Fifteen minutes later I poked my head cautiously through the door of Up & Coming. The bell above the door jingled gaily, summoning Lola from the back room.
“Hi, Aydan!” she exclaimed with a smile. “Have you come to get your key back? Here…” She hurried over to retrieve her purse from behind the counter, and handed over my key.
“Thanks. And thanks again for locking up for me,” I replied, moving warily into the store and scanning for giant penises.
“You’re looking for Big John, aren’t you?” Lola teased. “He’s over there.” She pointed to a shelf containing what I had originally thought were pillar candles.
“What did you do to him?” I demanded, crossing to inspect the shelf’s contents despite my better judgement. “He’s… he’s mauve and sparkly!”
Lola giggled. “Cute, isn’t he?”
“Um… I don’t think you can successfully apply that word to a giant silicone dick. Even if it is mauve and sparkly.”
“Don’t worry.” Lola trotted over to pat my arm. “That’s not really Big John. That’s his brother, Percy.”
“Percy?” I choked.
Lola raised a mischievous eyebrow. “I was going to call him Big Jim, but his sparkles were too pretty. And don’t worry, Big John is still here.” She indicated the black silicone behemoth lurking behind the row of sparkling rainbow-hued dildos of various sizes. “Linda says Big John can be a little intimidating,” Lola went on. “She wanted to lighten the mood with some fun new colours.”
“Um… good thinking…” I mumbled before dragging my mind back to the issue at hand. “But I’m not here to shop. I have a favour to ask. Are you free tomorrow evening?”
She gave me a wink. “Depends on what you have in mind.”
“Free dinner,” I coaxed.
“Oh Lordy, it must be bad.”
“Probably not for you, but it will be for me,” I admitted. “My cold-fish boss has invited me to a dinner party with his parents and I need somebody to run interference.”
“Invited you to meet his parents?” Lola chortled. “Oho! Do I sniff a little office hanky-panky?”
“Christ, no!” I shuddered. “No; I’m friends with his parents, and this is his mother’s doing. She’s trying to play matchmaker, but Stemp and I are equally horrified at the thought.”
“Well, jeepers, count me in. I wouldn’t miss this for the world!” Lola’s wicked grin made me suddenly reconsider the wisdom of inviting her.
“Remember, you’re supposed to be on my side,” I reminded her nervously. “Just eat and make polite conversation. Don’t do anything evil…” The full realization of what I’d done crashed in on me. “Oh, God, I’m completely doomed.”
“Of course you’re not.” She patted my arm again, doing her best sweet-little-old-lady imitation despite her fuchsia leather hot pants, matching hot-pink hair, and silver-studded stiletto heels. “Everything will be fine. Now, tell me about your boss and his parents so I know what to expect.”
I sagged into the nearest chair, then leaped to my feet with a yelp when it began to vibrate and massage my butt. “Jesus! That thing just molested me! You need a warning sign.”
“Nice try, honey, but you’re smiling.”
“Give me strength,” I muttered. “Okay. My boss is Charles Stemp. He’s basically a robot inside a snake’s skin. Don’t expect him to act like a human being.” A twinge of conscience prompted me to add, “Okay, I’m exaggerating… a bit. He’s actually an okay guy most of the time, but…” I made a frustrated gesture, at a loss to describe the enigma that was Stemp without revealing any classified details. “Never mind. You’ll see when you meet him. His parents, on the other hand…” I trailed off, a smile creeping onto my lips.
“Go on,” Lola prompted eagerly. “I think I like where this is going.”
“His parents are completely opposite to him. They’re old hippies who live on a commune, and they drive Stemp absolutely bonkers. They call themselves Karma Wolf Song and Moonbeam Meadow Sky and they’re into spirit healing and auras and numerology and all that woo-woo stuff…”
I conveniently failed to mention Moonbeam’s garrotte and Karma’s lethal hand-to-hand combat skills. Even Stemp didn’t know about those.
“…and they’re both absolute sweethearts,” I continued. “I know you’ll love them, and I hope you’ll be able to tolerate Stemp.”
“I’ll be there with bells on!” Lola promised. “This is going to be a blast! Where do they live, and what time should we go?”
“Stemp’s right here in town. It’ll only take a few minutes to get to his house, so I’ll pick you up here at five-forty-five.”
“Okay. But… are you really going to call your boss by his last name all through the dinner party?”
“I’m hoping not to have to call him anything.”
Lola frowned. “What do you usually call him at work?”
I shuffled my feet. “Um… ‘Dickhead’…? But I’m trying to quit…”
“Really?” At my shamefaced nod, Lola’s wrinkled features split into a wide grin. “Oh, honey, I can hardly wait.”
Back at Sirius Dynamics again, I immersed myself in the report on Frederick Labelle in a futile attempt to distract myself from worrying about Daniel.
And Kane.
And the grim portent of the cadaver dogs.
I sighed and refocused my attention on the report.
It didn’t make me feel any better. On paper, Labelle was an upstanding businessman with a squeaky-clean reputation. According to Gladys and Lola, he was charming in person. According to my gut, he was a money-laundering, gun-running scumbag and I didn’t have a clue what to do about him. If I had been able to fall back on Kane’s experience and Spider’s technical expertise I might have had a chance, but without them I was sunk.
I groaned and sank my face into my hands, then hauled myself upright again.
No, dammit, I wouldn’t screw this up. I’d get my training courses and do it right. Scowling, I checked the email Stemp had sent me. The earliest course was a few weeks away. The rest were spread out over several months.
Dammit.
But I could get help in the meantime. Stemp had been a top agent before he took over the directorship, so I could depend on his expertise. I didn’t mind asking stupid questions if it kept people alive.
But maybe I should start at the beginning.
I dialled Tyler Brock’s number.
When his annoying nasal voice snapped, “Brock”, I drew a breath and reminded myself to be patient.
“Hi, Tyler, it’s Aydan Kelly,” I said politely.
“What do you want?”
I held onto my cordial tone. “I’m just calling to ask you a couple of questions about the party at my place.”
Wariness shaded his voice. “What about it?”
“You arrived with another guy…”
“No, I brought Tammy,” he interrupted. “Are you blind, too?”
“No…” I counted to three and reined in my temper. “I didn’t mean you came together; I just meant you arrived at the same time. A well-dressed middle-aged guy…”
“Whatever. So some hilfiger showed up at the same time as me.
So what?”
I briefly considered asking him to define ‘hilfiger’, but I probably didn’t want to know. The derogatory connotation came through loud and clear.
“I just wondered if you knew him,” I said mildly.
“No. He tried to talk to me about some midtown investment business and I blew him off.”
I already knew ‘midtown’ meant ‘lame’ in Brock’s language, so I let that one ride, too.
“Had you ever seen him before?” I asked instead.
“No. Are you done wasting my time? I have important work to do here.”
Irritation flared. “No doubt,” I agreed. “But I’m not done yet. Why did you spike Spider’s drink?”
“Stick it, Kelly.” The line went dead in my ear.
Teeth grinding, I considered redialling. But he probably wouldn’t answer anyway, and since it was physically impossible to reach down the phone line and strangle him, there wasn’t much point.
I breathed deeply a few times to dissipate my annoyance, then let it go.
Too bad Brock couldn’t provide any extra information on Labelle, but what the hell; I hadn’t really expected him to. That would have been too easy.
Squaring my shoulders, I pulled out Labelle’s note and reached for the phone.
Finger poised over the keypad, I hesitated.
If I called him from my cell phone, he’d have the number. After that, he’d be able to track my location using any rudimentary tracking system. Was that good or bad? It could work for me if he thought he knew where I was at all times…
Or should I call him from a Sirius Dynamics landline? If I was supposed to be a hotshot arms dealer, surely I’d have staff. If I let him think I had people here working for me…
No. Bad idea. Too close to the truth. I’d let him think I was just a bookkeeper here, and everyone I knew would verify that.
But wouldn’t an arms dealer surround herself with bodyguards and hired guns?
I hissed out a breath between my teeth. If Labelle had gotten his information from Parr, he would already know I worked alone.
Stiffening my spine, I drew my lips back in a snarl. Arlene Widdenback the arms dealer was such a badass, she didn’t need to surround herself with staff.
I’d just keep telling myself that.
Clinging to my illusions with all my might, I keyed Labelle’s number into my phone and hit the Send key.
The line rang once on the other end, and sudden panic seized me. Punching the End button, I stared at my phone, my heart thumping.
Shit, I couldn’t even make a simple phone call without almost screwing up. Labelle had come to my farm looking for Arlene Widdenback, and had smoothly covered his slipup when he discovered everyone there knew me as Aydan. And he’d addressed his note to Aydan, under Lola’s watchful eye. So was he expecting a call from Aydan or Arlene?
And how much did he know about Arlene’s story? Should I play Arlene the petty fraud artist or Arlene the ruthless arms dealer or Arlene the tacky middle-aged porn star? Or should I play Arlene playing Aydan Kelly the clueless bookkeeper?
I groaned aloud. Screw it. He had addressed his note to Aydan, so he’d get Aydan.
When I dialled the second time he picked up immediately, as if he’d been hovering near the phone waiting for it to ring again.
“Frederick Labelle.” His voice was smooth and reassuring, the kind of radio-announcer voice that inspired instant trust.
It wasn’t working for me.
“Hi, it’s Aydan Kelly calling,” I said in my best bookkeeper voice. “You left a note for me at my farm on Saturday afternoon. I’m sorry I missed you.”
“Aydan, so good of you to call,” he said warmly. “I was sorry to miss you, too, and I hope your emergency was safely resolved.”
“Thanks, that’s very kind of you.” I avoided any details and went on, “You mentioned some investment opportunities. I’m quite busy this week, but we could set up a short phone meeting…”
“I’d much prefer to meet in person,” he demurred. “I’m based in Calgary, but I could come up to Silverside this afternoon.”
Not a chance, bucko.
“I’m sorry,” I said, sounding amazingly sincere. “I’m booked solid until Wednesday.” When he began to make disappointed noises, I talked over him. “As a business owner yourself, I’m sure you understand why I have to make my existing clients a top priority. Would Wednesday at two o’clock work for you? Or I have another opening available on Thursday at ten.”
I could tell he wasn’t happy about it, but his smooth tone hid it well. “Wednesday at two would be fine. Due to the confidential nature of my business, I’d like to meet somewhere we can have privacy.”
Great, because I just fucking love being alone with dangerous criminals.
“Understandable,” I agreed, and threw out the first idea that came to mind. Public, but with privacy. “We can get ice cream cones and go for a walk in the park.”
“Ice c-” He stifled his incredulous bark and rolled out the warm reassuring voice again. “That sounds delightful. I’ll meet you at the ice cream parlour on Main Street at two on Wednesday.”
Trembling, I mouthed the usual goodbye pleasantries and disconnected.
I tried to immerse myself in planning, but my mind cycled anxiously between enumerating the many fatal ways I could screw up this new mission and worrying over Kane and Daniel.
It wasn’t a productive afternoon.
Chapter 16
By five o’clock my head was pounding and my stomach was in knots. I logged out of the network and sat staring at the blank computer screen for a few moments before jitters drove me to my feet.
“Fuck this,” I muttered, and headed for the door.
After a short stop at my farm to grab road food and my small backpack, I hit the highway heading west.
When my cell phone rang a few miles past Drumheller, I slammed on the brakes and veered over to stop precariously close to the ditch, heart pounding.
“Hello?” I gasped.
“Hello, Aydan, it’s John.” His deep baritone was still edged with fatigue, but he sounded a little better than he had earlier.
I hesitated, afraid to ask the question.
“I just wanted to let you know that there’s nothing new at this end,” he said tiredly. “The cadaver dogs didn’t find anything. The search teams have combed everything within a two-mile radius from the campsite, and I’m certain that if Daniel had been in that area, they would have found him.” He went silent.
“Oh.” The syllable fell from my lips like a stone. “So… what does that really mean?”
“Nothing. We’ll keep looking. It’s all we can do.”
“Okay. I’m on my way. I should be there in about two and a half hours.”
“You don’t need to do that,” he protested. “It’ll be nearly eight by the time you get here. The search teams only stay out until sunset at nine.”
“That’s okay. I have my gear with me. I’ll help you search tonight.”
He let out a breath. “Thank you.”
“See you soon,” I said, and disconnected.
When I pulled into the motel parking lot I cast a wary look around, but apparently the bike rally had moved on. The place was deserted except for Kane’s and Hellhound’s vehicles and a couple of white half-tons bearing oilfield-service logos.
I parked and shouldered my backpack before crossing to tap on the door of Kane’s unit. When he opened it, my heart smote me at the sight of his haggard features and unshaven jaw.
“Oh, John.” I stepped inside and drew him into a hug. He sank his face onto my shoulder and I held him close, stroking his hair and wishing I could do something to ease the terrible pain in his eyes.
After a moment he pulled away, squaring his shoulders. “Welcome back to the Ritz,” he said with an attempt at a smile. “It’s just as ugly as before, but at least it’s quieter now.”
“Hey, darlin’,” Hellhound added from behind him. “Nice to s
ee your pretty face. I’m already sick a’ lookin’ at Kane’s ugly mug.”
“Look who’s talking,” Kane retorted without rancour as I went over to collect a hug from Hellhound. He looked almost as careworn as Kane, but as always his embrace gave more comfort than it took.
“Thank you for coming,” Kane added as Hellhound released me. “I was hoping for a chance to communicate over a secure channel, but this is better.”
“Really? You have something?” I demanded, trying to hide my hope.
“No, I need something.”
“Oh.” My heart sank again. “What can I do?”
“Can you get me Murphy’s autopsy report?”
I glanced at Hellhound’s curious expression and said carefully, “Not this instant, but probably tomorrow.”
“Would you please?” Kane hesitated, then added, “If you’re still all right with doing that…”
“Of course. Set up a bogus email address tonight and I’ll deliver it as soon as I can. It won’t be first thing in the morning, though, because I have to do my requalifications at nine AM. Once you get my report, delete the email account.”
“Wait, you’re going back to active duty? Tomorrow morning?” Kane demanded at the same time as Hellhound growled, “Whoa, what the hell?”
“Yes.” I answered Kane and avoided Hellhound’s frown with a question. “Why do you need the autopsy report? I thought Mayweather already told you what was in it.”
“He only gave me the preliminary findings.” Kane made a frustrated gesture, his fist clenching before dropping to his side. “And he won’t give me the whole thing because I’m not on the case. Privacy Act; open investigation; blah, blah.”
“Aydan ain’t on the case, either,” Hellhound said suspiciously. “Are ya, darlin’? So how the hell are ya gonna get that report? Are ya some kinda super-hacker or somethin’?”
The Spies That Bind Page 13