Spy Now, Pay Later

by Diane Henders

  By the time the motion of the trailer ceased, Sharkface was concealed behind a curtain fashioned from the second tarp, taped securely to the walls and floor. Hellhound waited behind my car while the clanks of the door latches heralded Dave’s arrival.

  As soon as the ramps were extended I drove down and got out, sucking in breaths of clean, cold air. Hellhound and Dave rapidly stowed the ramps and Hellhound swung the doors shut against Dave’s curious stare.

  Dave’s nose twitched. “What’s that stink?”

  “Must be a sewer backup somewhere,” Hellhound said. “What’s the plan, Aydan?”

  “Dave, get back in the truck and promise me you won’t get out until I text you that we’re coming. When you get my text, open the doors and pull out the ramps, and then get back in the cab. Don’t do anything else, and don’t look in the trailer. Got it?”

  He nodded reluctantly. “’Kay. But-”

  “No buts. You’re the most important part of this plan and I have to know I can count on you.”

  His ears went pink and he straightened, squaring his shoulders. “You can count on me.”

  “Thanks, Dave.” I gave him a hug. “Now get in the cab and wait for my text.”

  “’Kay.” He strode to the front of the truck and swung up into the cab without looking back.

  Hellhound winked. “Good job, darlin’. Lucky he’s still half in love with ya.”

  A flush warmed my cheeks. “He’s in love with Nichele. And with the idea of playing James Bond.”

  “Whatever works. Ya got a plan?”

  “Kind of.” I glanced at my watch. “It’s almost time. Let’s talk in the car.” We strapped in, and I put the car in gear and continued, “I need to go to the liquor store and buy a bottle of something so I’ve got a bottle-shaped paper bag to leave on the front seat. I’ll tell him the weapon is in the car, and I’ll park fairly far away from the liquor store. You can hide between a couple of cars in case anything goes wrong, but I plan to bring him to the car and hit him with a trank when he leans in. Then even if somebody’s watching, it’ll just look as though he got into the car.”

  “Good plan, darlin’, but I’ll go buy the bottle. If he’s early, ya don’t wanna get caught comin’ outta the store with the bag.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  I pulled into a parking spot and Hellhound got out to stride toward the liquor store as if he hadn’t a care in the world. I watched tensely until he disappeared inside, then scanned the parking lot.

  Shit, I should have made Sharkface give me a description of Arlington.

  Too many damn details to think about.

  But at least worrying about details kept me from dwelling on gut-wrenching thoughts of what was happening to Kane. They wouldn’t be playing around with depilators…

  Pushing away nightmare memories that bled terror into the edges of my mind, I stared at the liquor store until my eyes burned.

  What was taking Hellhound? How fucking long did it take to grab a bottle and pay for it?

  At last he strode out, paper-wrapped bottle in hand, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Getting out of the car, I left it unlocked and walked toward the store. Hellhound and I passed each other with no sign of recognition, and I heard the muffled thump of the car door behind me.

  Everything in place.

  Shivering in front of the liquor store a few minutes later, I checked my watch. Dammit, Arlington was late. What if he wasn’t coming? What if Sharkface woke up and started yelling? Shit, shit, I should have taped his mouth…

  “Arlene?” A rawboned man with pockmarked skin approached, his beady gaze flicking over me and skittering around the parking lot.

  “Who are you?” I demanded.

  “Kevin Barnett was in a car accident and he asked me to meet you and pick up the item you were going to give him.”

  I gave him a suspicious glare. “Why should I believe you?”

  He twitched his scarf aside to show the muzzle of the gun trained on me. “I don’t give a shit whether you believe me or not. Give me the bottle.”

  Chapter 43

  I didn’t try to hide my surge of fear. “Okay, okay, you can have it. It’s in my car. You can have the car, too, I’ll give you the keys, just don’t hurt me…”

  Arlington jerked his chin toward the parking lot. “Move. I’ll be right behind you. If you try anything, I’ll shoot you.”

  “Okay, don’t shoot…” I walked as slowly as possible, my gaze scouring the parking lot. Where was Hellhound? Could he see what was happening?

  We were halfway to the car when his burly figure emerged from between two pickup trucks ahead of us, frowning at one of the trucks as if surveying some invisible damage. As we approached, he turned his back and bent to poke at the sidewall of the rear tire.

  I didn’t dare glance his way as we passed, but I knew he’d be ready for the slightest opportunity. Thank God nobody else was nearby in the windswept parking lot.

  I walked almost past my car before halting abruptly to stop Arlington near the centre of the back bumper.

  “It’s in the trunk,” I said and pressed the trunk release, holding my breath.

  I had just raised the lid when I heard a familiar flat report and Arlington began to topple. I shoved him toward the trunk and he collapsed into it with a thud that made me wince. An instant later Hellhound was beside me, and we bundled Arlington’s legs in and slammed the lid.

  Despite my thundering heart, a laugh bubbled up. “What a team!” I reached up to press a kiss against Hellhound’s grin, and we hurried for the front of the car.

  Dropping into the driver’s seat, I massaged my chest in an attempt to soothe my heart back into a normal rhythm.

  “Ya okay, darlin’?” Hellhound asked.

  “Yeah.” I drew a long breath, willing calm.

  “We better head back to the truck now,” he said. “Barnett’s trank’s gonna be wearin’ off.”

  “I know.” I hesitated. “I need one more thing, though. Do you know where I can get theatrical supplies? Like fake blood?”

  Hellhound eyed me with interest. “There’s a place close to here where I got that wig an’ the dye for my beard. What’re ya thinkin’?”

  “I’m thinking we’re running out of time and I’ll probably puke if I have to t-torture…” The word choked out and I swallowed hard. “Anybody else. I don’t know what I would have done if the depilator hadn’t worked…” I trailed off, my stomach twisting.

  I was pretty sure I did know.

  I drew a deep breath. “I want to scare Arlington badly enough that I can avoid the whole thing,” I finished shakily.

  His face softened. “Darlin’, ya didn’t torture Barnett. Ya scared the shit outta him, that’s all.”

  “Arnie, I tied him down and subjected him to pain and fear so intense he shit himself.” I gulped down nausea. “That’s torture.”

  “Ya only pulled out a few leg hairs,” he insisted. “If that’s torture, those fuckin’ Brazilian wax places oughta be outlawed.”

  I shuddered. “I’m not arguing that.” I put the car in gear. “I’ll drop you at the truck. You can trank Barnett again and make sure Dave stays put while I go and get the fake blood. Tell me where the place is.”

  Fifteen minutes later I slammed on the brakes and took a hard right into the nearest alley, my heart thumping with sudden fear.

  God, I was an idiot. I’d almost made a fatally stupid mistake.

  Hell, it might still turn out to be fatal unless I was really, really lucky.

  Pulling in behind a garbage dumpster, I drew my trank gun and got out of the car to hurry around to the trunk. My keys jingled in my trembling fingers and I silenced them in my fist.

  Dammit.

  Swallowing hard, I crept around beside the rear fender instead. Sucking in a deep breath, I hit the trunk release and took a rapid step forward to fling the trunk open and fire another dart into Arlington. He didn’t move, and the wind swirled reassuring
ly around me. After waiting as long as I could hold my breath, I inhaled cautiously. When nothing untoward happened I blew out a long breath, the tension releasing from my shoulders.

  Which saint watched over fools? Whoever it was, I owed him or her big-time.

  I leaned in and confiscated Arlington’s gun. God, that could have been bad if he had woken up.

  After a moment of deep breathing, I rummaged through his pockets and took his cell phone as well before checking my watch. Okay, at least twenty minutes before he’d need another trank. With any luck I could make it back to the truck by then.

  Apparently I’d used up all my luck in the alley. The voluble store owner subjected me to a relentless recitation of all the famous actors he had met, and pestered me with jovial questions about my need for fake blood and Halloween makeup in the middle of winter. Exercising the utmost restraint, I kept a smile on my face and refrained from tranking him.

  Fifteen minutes had passed by the time I escaped, my shoulders knotted with tension. Leaning into the back of my car, I opened the folding rear seat and reached into the trunk to press another dart into Arlington’s neck before getting behind the wheel.

  At long last I backed cautiously up the ramps into the trailer, trying to ignore Dave’s rubbernecking. The tarp curtain was still in place, and the smell seemed worse than ever after my respite in the fresh air.

  Dave’s nose was twitching again when he closed the doors, but I stayed behind the wheel of the car so I wouldn’t have to face his questions.

  As soon as the latches clanged shut, I squirmed out of the car with my bags.

  Hellhound’s strained face relaxed into a smile. “Shit, darlin’, glad you’re back. I used my last two darts on Barnett fifteen minutes ago.”

  “Oh, shit! Sorry, I should have thought of that!” I sidled back to reach into the car. “Here’s another magazine.”

  As he pocketed it, I popped the trunk and let out a breath of relief at the sight of Arlington’s repose.

  Hellhound leaned in to examine him. “How long d’ya figure before he wakes up?”

  “I don’t know. I dosed him fifteen minutes ago. Barnett recovered really fast, but Arlington’s a lot smaller…” My heart rate ratcheted up a notch. Kane’s time was ticking away. “The sooner the better.”

  I snugged nylon restraints around Arlington’s wrists and ankles and pulled the tuque from my winter survival gear down over his eyes before we lugged his limp body behind the curtain and tethered him to the wall. Then I hurried back to the trunk to retrieve my theatrical supplies.

  Several minutes later, I glanced over as Hellhound’s clever fingers put the finishing touches on a gruesome-looking wound on Barnett’s leg.

  “Nice work. You’re really good at this.” I reached over to peel up the bottom of Sharkface’s duct-tape blindfold and dribble some fake blood down his cheeks before replacing the tape.

  Hellhound nodded. “School drama club, thanks to Mom and Dad Kane.”

  We both went silent.

  Doug Kane. Oh, God, how could I face him?

  That thought was interrupted by a groan from behind us, and I turned to Hellhound and jerked a thumb at the tarp curtain.

  He nodded, rapidly gathering up the makeup supplies before disappearing behind the tarp.

  Arlington’s drooping head rose slowly. “Wha’ th’…?” His body went rigid against the restraints.

  I let him struggle for a few moments before speaking. “Relax. You’re not going anywhere.”

  He froze. “Wha… Arlene? Is that you?”

  “Yeah.” I knelt beside him, not too close. “I need you to answer a quick question for me.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  I whisked the tuque off his head and watched his eyes widen at the grisly sight of Barnett’s makeup. “Because that’s what happens when I don’t get the answers I want. Hold still.”

  I tore off a strip of duct tape and plastered it over his eyes. “Barnett said you had John Kane. And he said you’d know where he’s being held.”

  “I don’t know any John Kane, but…” His head twitched sideways as if expecting a blow and he spoke rapidly. “Don’t hurt me. I can still help. Who do you figure this Kane guy crossed?”

  “Parr. So if somebody pissed Parr off and he wanted information from them, where would they be?”

  “Probably the butcher shop.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I snapped.

  He flinched. “An actual butcher shop. Good for interrogation. Lots of sharp tools, easy to hose down afterwards, and nobody questions some ground-up meat and bone being thrown away.”

  My stomach tried to climb my throat and my voice grated out as if edged with shards of broken glass. “Are you sure about that? Because this is your only chance. If you’re lying to me now, the next thing coming out of your throat will be screams.”

  He shrank away as far as his bonds would allow. “N-no, I’m not sure. Like I said, I don’t know this Kane guy. But if Parr wants information, that’s probably where he’ll be.”

  My heart battered my ribs so hard I could barely hold my voice steady. “Give me the address and tell me how it’s set up inside.”

  As he began to speak, Hellhound stepped silently around the tarp. When Arlington finished his recitation, I glanced up to see Hellhound’s affirmative nod.

  “You’d better be right,” I snarled, and pressed a dart into Arlington’s neck.

  Lurching to my feet, I staggered to my car to extract a couple of secured phones. I handed one to Hellhound and croaked, “Call Germain. I’ll call Dermott.”

  First I called Dave and told him to find the nearest possible place we could unload the car. Then I pressed Dermott’s speed dial.

  Heaping curses on his head with every ring, I clenched the phone hard enough to make its plastic creak. When he finally answered I rapped out a status update in a few sentences, finishing with, “I need backup!”

  “I don’t have it to give.” Dermott’s voice crackled with stress. “But I’ll get Webb to coordinate with the police to back you up. They’ll respond to a hostage situation, just don’t tell them any classified details. Hang on, I’ll transfer you to Webb and he’ll set it up.”

  A moment later, Spider came on the line. “You found him? Thank God!”

  “I don’t know,” I cautioned. “I just have an address and a possibility.”

  “That’s better than what we had.” His voice wavered and I heard him swallow. “Give me the address and I’ll get a police team there. Do you have your police radio with you?”

  “What police radio?”

  “You don’t have…?” He bit off the pointless question. “Maybe Germain has one.”

  “Hang on. Arnie? Does Carl have a police radio with him?”

  Hellhound relayed the question and a moment later his nod made me suck in a breath of relief.

  “Carl has one,” I told Spider.

  “Good. Tell him to give me five minutes and then call in to coordinate with the police.” He drew a tremulous breath. “Good luck, Aydan.”

  “Thanks.” I hung up and tapped Hellhound on the shoulder, staggering as Dave braked.

  Hellhound said, “Hang on” into the phone and raised his eyebrows at me questioningly.

  The trailer’s door latches clanged and I jerked my chin at my car. “Finish talking while we drive.”

  Chapter 44

  By the time we neared our rendezvous point, Hellhound and Germain had completed their phone conversation and developed a plan. If I hadn’t been so terrified, my pride would have been smarting from the short but stinging rebuke Germain had delivered on the speakerphone when I lobbied to let the police handle it instead.

  Hellhound glanced over from the passenger seat and his grim expression eased as he reached over to squeeze my knee. “Don’t let Germain bother ya, darlin’. It’s just battle nerves talkin’.”

  I hunched my shoulders. “No, he’s right. He’s such a good agent and he�
��s sacrificing his mission for this. I’m just an idiot chickenshit-”

  “Stop runnin’ yourself down!” Hellhound’s sudden bark made me jump, and his voice softened as his palm made a gentle circle on my thigh. “Listen, darlin’, I know ya gotta hang onto your cover story, but now ain’t the time. I know ya can kick your way through hell an’ back, an’ we need ya now. John needs ya.”

  My belly hollowed at the thought.

  Around the corner from the butcher shop, I parked beside Germain’s Sunfire. I couldn’t see any police units, but I knew they’d be somewhere nearby.

  Too late for self-doubt now. A memory-flash of Doug Kane’s steady grey eyes straightened my spine. No worries; no regrets.

  “Let’s do it.” My voice came out ridiculously level.

  Hellhound’s soft rasp stopped me as I reached for the door handle. “Hey, Aydan. Ya know I love ya, don’t ya?”

  My stiff lips surprised me with a smile. “Yeah. Don’t make me run for Tijuana.”

  He grinned and we got out.

  Smiling was the last thing on my mind a few minutes later while we made our way down the sidewalk toward the butcher shop. I checked my watch and drew a shaky breath. Germain would already be in place at the back door. If Arlington hadn’t lied to us about the layout, this should work…

  A few pedestrians hurried along the windswept sidewalks in the late-afternoon twilight, and I could hardly believe they didn’t seem suspicious of my jerky facsimile of a casual stroll.

  Hellhound leaned down and made one more attempt to change our plan. “Let me go first.”

  “No. That’s final.” I made my voice as firm as my quivering belly would allow. “I’m wearing a vest; you’re not. I go first. End of story.”

  My pulse thundered in my ears as we approached the shop, its glowing ‘Closed’ sign staining the drawn blinds blood-red. Too soon we arrived at the front door, and I stood close to block the view while Hellhound bent over the lock. An instant later it released and I shoved my way into the shop, my trank gun already swinging up to fire across the store at the startled-looking man with his pistol half-raised.