Spy Now, Pay Later

by Diane Henders

  Just to be on the safe side, I extracted my bug detector and checked its reassuring green light before speaking again. “Long story. I need to get home. I’m getting an important email.” When I tried to tuck the bug detector back in my waist pouch, my hands shook so hard I dropped it.

  Hellhound scooped it up and passed it back to me, his warm hands closing around my icy fingers. “First we get ya somethin’ to eat, darlin’.”

  I started to argue, but reconsidered. “Okay. It’ll probably take him a while to send the email anyway.”

  As we turned for the door again, Hellhound stepped in front of me. “This time I go first.”

  “It’s fine, he’s gone,” I reassured him. “And he won’t hurt me anyway. He was just threatening you to scare me.” I sighed as the truth of that hit home. “Shit. I really wish he hadn’t seen you. I was hoping to keep you out of this.”

  We stepped out on the sidewalk and Hellhound’s gaze flicked over the quiet street. “Outta what?”

  “I promise I’ll tell you as much as I can while we eat.” I hesitated. “Shit, I don’t want to fight the crowd at Eddy’s tonight, but the only other thing that’s open this time of night is the hotel bar. I hate that place.”

  “We could grab somethin’ at your place.”

  A recollection of the chaos at home made me wince. “No. Meet you at the hotel.”

  “Okay. I’ll walk ya to your car.”

  When we arrived, Hellhound eyed my tape-and-plastic window without expression. “I’m guessin’ this’s part a’ the story?”

  I sighed. “Yeah. See you in a few minutes.”

  At the hotel, I braced myself for the auditory assault of another hockey game as we stepped into the bar. Making our way to a table as far away from the big screen as possible, we sank into chairs with our backs to the wall.

  I vented a long groan that must have been audible even over the blaring of the TV and Hellhound slid his arm around me. I let my head drop to his bulky shoulder, wishing I could just fall asleep and never wake up.

  “Fresh meat tonight, eh?” The waitress’s sarcastic voice roused me. She eyed Hellhound’s bruised, bearded face and scuffed leather jacket before turning her curled lip toward me. “Scraping out the barrel with this one, aren’t you?”

  I had exactly one nerve left, and she had just gotten on it. I erupted to my feet, blind with the need to beat the ever-loving hell out of whatever my fists encountered.

  She jumped back, her mouth dropping into an ‘O’ as Hellhound’s powerful arms clamped around me and pinned my arms.

  “Easy, darlin’,” he growled in my ear before turning to the waitress. “Bring us a coupla burgers an’ beers an’ hold the attitude.”

  “Wh-what kind of b-”

  “I don’t give a shit,” Hellhound rasped. “Just bring ‘em.”

  She scuttled away faster than I’d ever seen her move, and Hellhound eased his grip. “Ya okay?”

  I nodded and dropped back into the chair, the last of my energy draining away. He sat down and tucked his arm around me again before brushing a whiskery kiss over my forehead.

  “Okay, darlin’,” he murmured. “Talk to me.”

  I sighed and surreptitiously checked my bug detector. As long as nobody was listening, I could probably tell him at least part of the story without endangering him or getting in trouble for blabbing classified information. I hesitated, sifting through facts and mentally editing.

  Hellhound frowned. “Come on, Aydan. I can help, but I gotta know what’s goin’ on.”

  “I know, Arnie, but there’s only so much I can tell you. Sorry, but some of it’s classified…”

  Hellhound leaned down to meet my eyes squarely. “Ya gotta make your own decisions about that. But I’m just gonna say, remember who got sent to pick up that top-secret weapon from ya after the crash.”

  I leaned closer to whisper. “I asked Dermott about that during the debriefing. He only said you were a weapons specialist. He wouldn’t tell me how high your security clearance is.”

  Hellhound’s gaze sank to the tabletop. “I can’t tell ya either, darlin’. Sorry.”

  I eased out a breath between my teeth. I trusted Hellhound with my life. And he obviously had a sky-high security clearance if Dermott had sent him despite his injuries instead of assigning someone else.

  “Screw it,” I said aloud. I hitched my chair closer and wrapped both arms around him, tucking my head into his shoulder to hide my lips in his beard. His arm tightened around me and I poured out the entire story, safe in his embrace.

  When the beer arrived I pushed my bottle toward him, but he passed it back to me. “Drink up, darlin’. Sounds like ya need it.”

  When I began to demur, he shook his head. “Drink it. I’m drivin’, an’ you’re stayin’ here at the hotel with me tonight. If your place’s trashed, an’ bugged into the bargain, we’ll go there long enough to get your email an’ maybe straighten up a bit if ya feel like it, but ya don’t need to deal with that shit tonight.”

  Relinquishing the burden of responsibility with relief, I tipped back a long swallow. The cold crisp bubbles tickled my palate, and I set the bottle down with a breath that felt like I’d been holding it for days.

  “Thank you,” I said with feeling, and leaned over to kiss him.

  He grinned. “Hell, if ya kiss me just for a mouthful a’ beer, I can hardly wait to see what I get for the burger.”

  I pulled a face. “I’ve had the burgers here. The most likely thing you’ll get is food poisoning.”

  The food arrived more promptly than usual, but the waitress had obviously used the intervening time to repair her damaged snark. “I was just kidding, you know,” she snipped as she plunked the plates down in front of us. “Everybody else knows how to take a joke.”

  We ignored her and dug into the burgers, which were either better than I remembered or else I was in such an advanced state of starvation that anything would have tasted good.

  When the waitress slapped the bill on the table and marched away, Hellhound raised a conspiratorial eyebrow before carefully counting out exact change. Then he appropriated my pen and scrawled on the back of the bill, ‘Here’s your tip: Don’t be a pissy bitch.’

  I snickered, but shook my head at him. “You realize I’ll never be able to come in here again.”

  He shrugged. “Why would ya wanna? Let’s go.”

  As we pulled up in front of my house I cautioned, “Remember the bug.”

  “Yeah.” Hellhound turned off the ignition and we headed for the door. When we stepped inside he shot a disgusted look around the mess. “Christ, darlin’, what kinda fuckin’ dickless asshat would do this?” He put extra emphasis on the epithet and I clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle a beer-induced giggle.

  Grinning, he continued, “Whoever did this is a fuckin’ clap-rotted dickcheese. Prob’ly got it ba-a-a-a-ad from fuckin’ sheep. An’ he prob’ly can’t get it up anyway unless his mother’s suckin’ him off…”

  Caught between dismay and laughter, I smothered myself with both hands while he continued to spout the vilest insults imaginable. At last dismay won and I shushed him, trying not to giggle out loud.

  I shot him a significant glance. “I’m just going to go and see if my computer still works.”

  “Okay, darlin’. Ya want some help?”

  I considered that for a moment. “Yes, please.”

  It was worth a try. Maybe Hellhound would recognize Kane’s friendly visitor.

  We waded through the tumbled heaps of books and file folders in my office to get to my computer.

  “It ain’t busted.” Hellhound sounded surprised.

  “No, I think they were looking for something else,” I replied for the benefit of the bug, and fired up the computer. Sure enough, I had new email. I selected the only message with an attachment, sent from a nondescript public address that had undoubtedly ceased to exist right after Sharkface sent the file.

  Hellhound and I watched the vi
deo clip in silence.

  Apparently Fuzzy Bunny was too cheap to install night-vision cameras. The murky streetlights revealed a slight figure in a hooded parka hurrying up Kane’s front walk in the darkness. She pressed the doorbell, then waited.

  When the door opened, I drew an involuntary breath. Either Kane had been caught changing clothes or… no, he was likely making it look as though we’d been in the middle of a passionate encounter.

  Which we nearly had been, dammit.

  Even in the poor-quality video, his shirtless torso showed the chiselled definition of his muscles. His half-zipped jeans and rumpled hair completed a delicious picture.

  Apparently his visitor found him delicious, too. She hurled herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck to draw him into a protracted kiss.

  At last he extricated himself and leaned down as if to speak in her ear. The parka hood nodded, and the visitor turned back toward the street. The streetlight caught the curve of her cheek, the corner of her smiling lips, and the wing of a dark eyebrow. Then she tugged the hood down and hurried out of the camera view.

  Was that the elusive Dawn White? And could Spider run any useful facial recognition on such a tiny flash of her features?

  The clip ended and Hellhound and I exchanged a glance.

  “Well, looks like the computer’s workin’ okay,” he said casually. “Ya gonna be a while?”

  I skimmed the list of emails and sighed. “Yeah, I need to deal with a few of these. I’ve been neglecting my bookkeeping clients lately.”

  “Okay. I’ll just straighten up a bit,” he said, and left.

  Slumped in my chair, I stared at the screen, my mind churning through the implications of Sharkface’s video. Maybe Kane was perfectly safe. Well, except for the imminent threat of a tonsillectomy from his visitor’s tongue. But he hadn’t seemed too concerned about that.

  As long as nothing had gone wrong since then, he was probably fine.

  I blew out a long breath. And if something had gone wrong, I had no way of knowing or helping him tonight, so I might as well try not to worry. Propping my eyelids open, I made short work of the most critical emails. I was just about to turn off the computer when a small flash caught my eye.

  Every drop of blood squeezed from my heart as I stared open-mouthed at the tiny square blinking in the corner of my monitor.

  It couldn’t be.

  The man who had controlled that signal was dead. I had killed him myself. I could still feel the kicks of the gun in my hand; see the devastation of splintered bone and tissue that used to be a face; feel the blood spattering my pant legs with each shot.

  But the only other person who had used that signal was my dead husband…

  Chapter 36

  Transfixed, I stared at my computer screen. The tiny dot blinked back.

  Drawing a deep breath, I raised trembling hands to the keyboard. Alt-Shift-click.

  The text window popped onto my screen, its cursor zipping across to form the words, “Are you unobserved?”

  It took two tries for my shaking fingers to fumble out, “Who is this?”

  “Dickhead.”

  My mouth dropped open. Well, fuck you, whoever you are.

  I typed, “Fuckface!” and slammed the Enter key.

  The cursor zipped across the screen again. “No; this is Dickhead.”

  My heart gave a great thump as Stemp’s dry voice spoke again in my memory. ‘As much as I don’t particularly appreciate being called a dickhead yet again…’

  Of course. I had noted this obscure communication system in one of my reports a couple of months ago. And Stemp was a computer expert.

  “Where are you? What’s happening?” The words spilled from my shaking fingers.

  “Have item. Can’t call home but all OK. Stall D 12 hrs.”

  I had only typed the first few letters of my many questions when the text screen vanished.

  Heart pounding, I slumped in my chair, staring at the blank screen without seeing it.

  The ‘item’ must be the weapon, and ‘all OK’ made sense. But what the hell did the last sentence mean? Was it a numbered parking stall somewhere? And what about Kane? Did the ‘all OK’ include him?

  I scribbled the cryptic message on a scrap of paper before I could forget it, then frowned at the last sentence again.

  Was he telling me to be at Stall D in twelve hours? Where the hell was Stall D? Or had he left something for me in stall number D12? But if that was the case, what did ‘HRS’ stand for? I couldn’t think of any parkade that fit those initials.

  A quick computer search yielded no useful results. I was pretty sure he wasn’t referring to Hair Replacement Services or Heart Rhythm Society. What else could ‘HRS’ mean? Was it some alphanumeric code that I’d know if I was a real agent?

  I groaned and massaged my aching temples. No frickin’ idea. I’d get Spider to run it through the system in the morning.

  I turned off the computer and trailed out the door.

  When I emerged from the hallway, Hellhound was righting my upended sofa, the bulky muscles rippling across his back and shoulders as he set it on its feet. When he stooped to retrieve the cushions, the view was too good to resist. I padded over and ran an appreciative hand over his hard-muscled ass.

  He whirled, his startled expression giving way to a smile. “Hey, darlin’, didn’t hear ya sneakin’ up on me. But I ain’t complainin’.”

  I was just leaning in for a kiss when my phone vibrated. Swallowing hard, I yanked the phone out of my waist pouch and squinted at the text message. My pulse quickened when I read Spider’s message: “Want to come over for a beer?”

  My shaking fingers fumbled out, “See you in 20 minutes” and I turned to Hellhound, groping for some plausible excuse to leave immediately without alerting the listeners on the other end of the bug.

  “Are you going to be ready for bed soon?” I blurted, and held my phone up so he could read Spider’s text.

  He frowned but replied with his usual teasing rasp. “Shit, darlin’, I been ready for weeks. Let’s go.”

  We hurried into our boots and jackets, and as soon as the SUV’s doors closed behind us Hellhound nodded at my waist pouch. I showed him the bug detector’s green light, and he demanded, “What the hell? Webb doesn’t drink.”

  “I know. He must have found something and couldn’t risk saying anything on an unsecured line.” I clicked my seatbelt on and forced myself to sit back in the seat instead of perching on the edge. “Hurry up and drive.”

  Despite my nervousness, the hum of tires on pavement and the warmth of the SUV had nearly lulled me to sleep by the time we parked in front of Spider’s small bungalow. A series of jaw-cracking yawns made my eyes water, and Hellhound glanced over.

  “Guess ya ain’t been sleepin’ much lately.”

  “No.” Another yawn threatened to dislocate my jaw as I hauled myself upright. “Let’s go.”

  When I tapped on Spider’s door, it popped open so quickly I guessed he’d been standing right beside it. His bright-eyed smile loosened the knots in my belly, and I peered over his shoulder into the house before leaning in to whisper, “Did you find something?”

  “Yes, come on in.” He beckoned us in and closed the door behind us. “I just scanned for bugs and Linda’s working the night shift tonight, so we can talk…” He hesitated, his gaze flicking to Hellhound before eyeing me questioningly.

  “I’ve told him everything about the weapon, and about Stemp and John,” I reassured him.

  “Oh, good. Kane’s okay!” His words tumbled out before we even finished removing our boots. “The facial recognition program caught him at a gas station in Calgary about half an hour ago. He’s with a woman…” He shot me a quick glance before continuing, “…and I’m running a cross-check to see if her face pops up in any official databases.”

  The tension left my body on a whoosh of released breath. “Thank God. Can you show us the footage?”

  “Sure, come on…”r />
  He turned and hurried down the hall, and we followed him into a basement that looked like a NASA command centre.

  “Holy shit, Spider!” I turned in a slow circle, taking in the banks of computer screens and tables covered with various electronic oddments. “You’ve got a better setup here than the bunker under-”

  I snapped my mouth shut as I remembered Hellhound’s presence.

  “It’s okay, darlin’, I know about the bunker under Webb’s office,” he reassured me. “An’ the one under Sirius.”

  “Good.” I let out a breath and slid my arm around him. “It’s so nice to be able to relax around you.”

  He grinned and bounced his eyebrows. “Gimme a few minutes alone with ya, darlin’, an’ you’ll be so relaxed-”

  “Um, do you want to see the video?” Spider interrupted, colour rising in his face.

  “Yes, please.”

  He slid into a chair and his fingers flew across one of the several keyboards arranged on the desk. Then his fingers stilled and the tips of his ears turned pink. “Um, Aydan…” He gave me an awkward glance over his shoulder.

  “Yeah?”

  “Um…” He let out a breath and his colour deepened. “Never mind.” He punched a key and a moment later a grainy black-and-white video flickered onto one of the screens.

  Together we watched the silent footage as Kane emerged from the passenger side of a small, sleek sports car and paced around to its gas cap.

  Hellhound whistled. “Nice ride. I ain’t much of a car guy; what is that thing, darlin’?”

  I squinted at the screen. “Looks like a Saturn Sky. They were great little cars. Wish I could have afforded one before Saturn went belly-up…”

  The driver’s door opened and a slim dark-haired woman got out to wrap her arms around Kane for a lengthy kiss before heading for the convenience store.

  Kane finished gassing up the car, and a few minutes later his companion returned and they drove away.

  “Same chick,” Hellhound said.

  I turned to study him. “Are you sure?”

  He shrugged. “I ain’t sayin’ I’m as good as a fancy facial recognition program, but she sure looks like the same chick to me.”