Spy, Spy Away

by Diane Henders

  When I reached the doorway, though, I was relieved to discover that the ornate mouldings and grand draperies of the ballroom were far more formal than its occupants. The sartorial mix ranged from faded jeans to eveningwear, and I was surprised by the sheer number of people milling around. Somehow I had expected a dingy room with a handful of gangsters trading threatening stares and muttering clichés like ‘youse guys gonna swim wit’ da fishes’.

  This looked more like a corporate ‘Holiday Party’. In fact, a moment later I realized the string quartet in the corner was sawing out seasonal music, and the decorations on the scattered cocktail tables looked distinctly festive.

  I didn’t see any metal detectors at the doors, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any. I hadn’t spotted them at the Hogback, either. And there did seem to be large men in ill-fitting suits positioned by each doorway. At least they got that part of the cliché right.

  Just as I noted them, one of the gorillas glanced over at me and spoke into his headset.

  I tried not to let the rush of adrenaline make me stiffen. Pasting a pleasant smile on my face, I strolled into the crowd, weaving between clusters of chattering people.

  The densest concentration of bodies seemed to be around the bar. I angled in that direction, slipping into the lineup to stand behind two tall, dark-suited men.

  Maybe they’d block the gorilla’s sight line. I let my gaze roam casually across the room and eased out a sigh of relief when all the security men remained in their positions.

  Letting the queue carry me forward, I drew a long, slow breath. Come on, heart, stop trying to escape from my chest and flee like the coward you are…

  A slow inhale; another slow exhale. In. Out. Just like ocean waves.

  Conversations gradually began to penetrate my fear, and I gave myself a mental shake. Jane Bond wouldn’t hide, she’d circulate confidently and eavesdrop on every conversation. Maybe even strike up an acquaintance with somebody and pump them for information.

  That was beyond the current capability of my paper-dry throat, but at least I could listen.

  In front of me, the two young men were snickering. “…should’ve seen Mortimer when I pulled that Uzi on him. He squealed like a little girl!”

  I was gulping air when the second man laughed. “Those super-soakers are the best! I saw him later and he was still drenched. Looked like he’d pissed his pants!”

  “I know, did I nail him or what?”

  “Yeah, you better watch it, though. One of these days you’ll get a suction-cup dart right between the eyes…”

  Their conversation died as they stepped up to request their drinks, and I retrieved my smile and reattached it to my stiff lips.

  Goddamn it, if my pulse rate didn’t slow, I’d have a heart attack right here in the middle of the ballroom. And nothing had even happened yet.

  The beleaguered bartender turned a ‘hurry-up-and-order’ smile toward me, and I barely resisted the urge to toss down a couple of shots just to calm my nerves.

  “Cranberry and soda, please.”

  While he splashed liquid into the glass, I concentrated on the women chatting behind me.

  “…and that new Bunny Snookums stuffie is just adorable in pink… oh, look, there’s Nick. Isn’t he a hunk?”

  By the time I registered that ‘Nick’ might be Nicholas Parr, the bartender was pushing the glass into my hand and the women had stepped up to the bar so I couldn’t tell where they’d been looking.

  I sidled away to take up a position at the edge of the bar crowd, scanning the room.

  Shit. Idiot.

  Any agent worth her salt would have at least checked the internet for a photo of Nicholas Parr. A businessman of his prominence would undoubtedly be featured in some news articles.

  I scanned the room, hoping I’d be able to identify the big cheese by a retinue of rats, but nobody stood out. It looked just like any other office party. In fact, I even caught sight of the requisite office jerk, already well marinated and wearing a smeary smile while he dangled a sprig of mistletoe over his own head.

  Then again, he was pretty easy to spot. I only had to look for the place where the women weren’t.

  I rubbernecked and eavesdropped a while longer, holding onto my smile and slipping into the crowd whenever anyone made as if to approach me. Dozens of inane conversations reminded me exactly why I loved my solitary bookkeeping practice so much.

  God, even Jane Bond would have been discouraged.

  I smothered a groan as the embarrassing magnitude of my own naïveté slowly dawned on me. ‘Fuzzy Bunny’s going down.’ Thank God I hadn’t uttered that profoundly improbable resolution out loud in front of Kane and Stemp.

  Parr obviously had contacts high up in government and business. I identified a few politicians and local bigwigs schmoozing here and there, but most of the hundred or so guests in the ballroom seemed to be innocent employees and spouses. Just ordinary workers with kids and mortgages, and no inkling of Fuzzy Bunny’s shadier operations.

  I sighed and sipped my cranberry and soda. This wasn’t going to be like yanking a single big ugly weed out of my garden. It was going to be like pulling chickweed: painstaking, tedious, and virtually impossible to eradicate.

  The gardening metaphor made me relax into the memory of silence and solitude, the hot sun easing my back, the wholesome smell of moist earth…

  “Arlene! How nice to see you again, my dear!”

  I spilled my drink.

  Chapter 31

  I stifled some particularly vile profanity and choked out, “Excuse me” before hustling for the bar, ostensibly for some paper napkins.

  Goddamn my shitty luck, and goddamn Lawrence Harchman! What the hell was that slimy little pencil-dicked rodent doing here?

  I dried my hands and crushed the sodden napkin in my fist before inhaling deeply, imagining both composure and my Arlene Cherry persona being drawn into my body.

  Then I pasted on a sexy smile and turned to face him. “What a lovely surprise, Lawrence.”

  I sounded convincingly glad to see him. God, I was so full of shit it was no wonder my eyes were brown.

  He smiled and drew his tubby little body up into the self-important posture I remembered far too well. “Yes, I’m surprised to see you here, too.” There was an edge of double meaning in his tone. “Do you work for Fuzzy Bunny?”

  “No.” I kept my tone pleasant. “Nicholas Parr invited me.”

  “Nick invited you?”

  He must have realized his emphasis was considerably less than flattering. He recovered smoothly. “What a small world! I thought I had met all Nick’s friends. How delightful that we share an acquaintance.” He peeled his arm away from the small, curvy blonde who was wrapped around him like a silicone-enhanced jellyfish, and patted her bottom proprietarily. “And this is my new wife, Tawny. Tawny, Arlene…”

  He trailed off.

  “Widdenback,” I finished, and extended my hand. “Nice to meet you, Tawny.”

  Shit, I hadn’t even thought it was possible to divorce and remarry in only five months. But maybe things got a little more streamlined when your wife got arrested for espionage, torture, murder, and whatever else they’d charged her with. I hid a shudder.

  Tawny giggled and wiggled as if attempting to squirm out of her painted-on sequined dress. “Hi,” she piped in a breathless little-girl voice. “I’m Tawny!”

  Distracted by her freakishly overinflated lips, I muttered, “Yeah, I got that”, before remembering I was supposed to be charming.

  She giggled again, and I felt my intellect being slowly sucked away by the vacuum of her presence.

  God, she couldn’t be for real.

  Slightly dazed, I turned back to Harchman. “Um, so, congratulations on your marriage.”

  He puffed out his chest, making the man boobs under his diamond-studded shirt unpleasantly perky. “Thank you. And how have you been since you vanished so… precipitately?”

  I had been right; Tawn
y wasn’t as dumb as she was pretending to be. Her vapid blue gaze sharpened, darting between us for an instant before fading into her bimbo act again. “Lawrence, honey, I have to go to the little girls’ room.” She patted his ass and pouted her overblown lips. “Don’t forget about me while I’m gone.”

  “Of course I won’t, my dear.”

  I tried not to watch while they cleaned each other’s tonsils before Tawny sashayed away in her sky-high stilettos, her swivelling hips making me fear for the future of her spine.

  Harchman watched her appreciatively for a few moments before turning back to me. His gaze roamed up my legs and perched on my boobs for a long moment before struggling to my face.

  He leaned in to lay a moist hand on my arm. “I was terribly hurt when you ran away and left me waiting. I was so looking forward to seeing you in that red cherry-scented leather you promised.”

  “Lawrence, I’m so sorry.” I leaned closer, dredging up the excuse I’d manufactured but never used back in the summer. “You remember John, the man who was mistreating me? While I was upstairs changing for you that day, he phoned and threatened me. I was so afraid, I just ran away-”

  “Isn’t that him over there?” Harchman interrupted.

  Sick dismay twisted my stomach. What malicious bitch of luck would make Kane stride into the ballroom at exactly that moment?

  “Uh… Yes…”

  Kane glanced our way and nodded pleasantly before heading in the opposite direction.

  Harchman’s plump face drew down into a scowl. “Wait. Are you scamming Nick?”

  “No!”

  Goddamn it! Kane hadn’t even been here thirty seconds, and our strategy was already shot to hell. My mind ricocheted through desperate excuses.

  “Um… I didn’t even know he was coming,” I lied frantically. “It’s a funny story, actually, um… we ended up working in the same building…”

  Harchman’s disbelieving expression shrivelled my inspiration to nothing.

  “I don’t know how Nick knows him,” I finished lamely. “But we’re not working a scam.”

  “You’re lying,” Harchman hissed. “You were working with him this summer to steal my drilling software, and you’re planning something underhanded with him now, too. You used me! How dare you, you… you floozy!”

  My jaw dropped and I stood speechless at his sheer gall for a second before fury suffused me. My hand shot out to seize a fistful of his shirtfront and jerk him toward me.

  His squeak of alarm reminded me we had witnesses. I released him and shoved my face down so we were practically nose to nose.

  “Listen, you little shit-weasel,” I ground out. “Don’t give me that bullshit! In the first place, you were all over me like fungus, Mr. Married Man. And in the second place, speaking of scams, how much have you made from all your Arlene Cherry videos?”

  He took a quick step back and smoothed his rumpled shirt front with a shaking hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I got down in his face again. “How much, you little prick? You used me. That’s me all over the goddamn internet, and I haven’t seen a fucking penny! How much did you make on the movies?”

  His eyes darted sideways and sweat beaded his upper lip. “Nothing, really. A pittance…”

  I smiled, slipped an affectionate arm around him and snuggled close to block any curious eyes.

  Then I clamped a vise-like hand on his crotch.

  “How. Fucking. Much,” I grated, emphasizing each word with a hard compression that made him rise onto his toes and squeak like a doggy chew toy in a Rottweiler’s teeth.

  “Please,” he whimpered. “P-please…”

  Just for variety, I twisted instead of squeezing. “What’s wrong, Larry?” I snarled. “You fucked me six ways from Sunday in those goddamn fake videos. Now you want to fuck me over financially. I’d think you’d be happy to have my hand on your balls.” I clamped down hard. “How fucking much?”

  His pink porcine face went bone-white, a layer of sweat lending it an appropriately lard-like sheen. “F-fifty-three thousand. That’s all, I swear.” His voice was almost as high-pitched and breathy as Tawny’s. “P-please. I’ll write you a cheque right now…”

  “That’s my boy.” I released my hold and patted him on the shoulder. “Let’s not have any more ugly talk about scams, shall we?”

  “N-no, of course not. It was just a mista… misunderstanding.”

  “Good. Because I’d hate to have to tell the world how pathetically small your dick really is, after you looked like such a porn hero in those videos. I can imagine it might cause a certain amount of, hmmm… amusement? In your social circle?”

  Harchman threw a panicked glance over his shoulder and groped in his suit jacket. “There’s n-no need to be rash. I’m sure we can settle this like civilized p-people.” He withdrew a pen and chequebook and hurried to the nearest cocktail table.

  The pen fell from his shaking fingers when he tried to write, but apparently the act of stooping to retrieve it restored some blood to his brain. He straightened, his eyes narrowing.

  “How do I know you won’t just blackmail me? Keep demanding more and more money?”

  I leaned on the table and offered him a pleasant smile that made the blood drain from his face all over again. “You don’t. But here’s the deal. If you cut me in on half the proceeds from here on in, we’ll be business partners. And then I won’t have any reason to cause trouble for you. Fair enough?”

  He relaxed visibly, colour returning to his face. “Of course. I was going to offer you a split anyway. I just didn’t know how to find you. None of this… unpleasantness… was necessary.”

  “Well, that’s just great, Larry. Because I don’t like unpleasantness.” I gave him another smile. “Now give me my fifty-three grand.”

  “I prefer ‘Lawrence’. And you mean twenty-six five.” He smirked, his smugness completely restored. “Fifty-fifty split, remember?”

  I made my toothy smile just a bit pointier. “Fifty-three, you dickless little shit. Consider it an interest charge for late payment.”

  He huffed and scribbled out the cheque. “There’s no need to be rude.”

  “Actually, Larry, there is.” I tucked the cheque into my purse. “I’ll be in touch mid-month, every month, for my cut.” I showed him my teeth again. “Have a nice evening.”

  As I turned away, I spotted Tawny heading purposefully toward us. When she realized I was looking, her laser-sharp gaze softened into her bimbo blues once again, and she fluttered her fingertips at Harchman and me. By the time she reached us, she was all bubble-headed giggles again, but her timing was far too coincidental for my taste.

  I wished her a pleasant evening and made for the ladies’ room. Without anger to sustain me, my legs turned to rubber and my guts felt as though they’d been hollowed out with a spoon. I barricaded myself inside a stall and slumped down on the toilet seat, propping my head in my shaking hands.

  Breathe.

  In. Out. Ocean waves.

  The washroom was a busy place. A constant flow of high heels tap-tapped in and out, borne on currents of perfume and gossip. The steady flushing of the toilets sounded like a space shuttle launch, and I stifled a groan and massaged my tension headache.

  At last I couldn’t take it anymore. Pushing my smile back into place, I exited the cubicle and washed my hands before abandoning the ballroom entirely.

  It took a while to find a quiet corner. There seemed to be several Christmas parties in progress, and the corridors were dotted with couples and groups of happy party-goers. At last I found an out-of-the way niche and tucked myself into it. Drawing a deep breath, I let the silence descend on me like a blessing from heaven. I rolled my shoulders, trying to ease the burning of my rigid muscles, and breathed for a while.

  After a few minutes, I revived enough to berate myself. I was here to do a job, not hide like a child. Other than the water-pistol Uzi, I hadn’t heard a single whisper of anything even vaguely
relating to weapons. I needed to get back out there and-

  The murmur of approaching voices made me shrink back into my corner. A moment later, I realized how suspicious I would look hiding alone in a niche in an empty corridor. Dammit.

  My mind racing, I seized the only semi-plausible excuse I could think of. Whipping my cell phone out of my purse, I held it to my ear just in time.

  “…delivery of the prototype for testing. It sounds very promising for covert-” The speaker broke off as he spotted me.

  Shit, this was the first useful conversation I’d heard all evening. And I’d gotten busted. Please don’t let him realize I’d heard the word ‘covert’…

  “I miss you, too, sweetie,” I assured my phone. “I wish you were here, but I guess I’d better get back to the party.” I paused. “Love you, too, honey. ‘Bye.”

  Tucking my phone back into my purse, I levered myself away from the wall and strolled toward the two men.

  They seemed to be occupying more than their share of the corridor.

  As I drew abreast of them, the white-haired man stepped in front of me. “Ms. Widdenback?”

  Adrenaline surged into my veins. “Um… yes?”

  I eyed him, measuring my chances of escape. About my height, but a hell of lot more muscle. The apparent age indicated by his hair was belied by a youthful face with penetrating blue eyes. His features were slightly too sharp to be classically handsome, but combined with those eyes and the hard fitness revealed by his well-cut suit, he bore a striking resemblance to a bald eagle or some other merciless raptor.

  The man with him was taller, slimmer, and younger, and I didn’t like my chances against either of them, let alone both at the same time. A glance down the quiet corridor made me curse my own idiocy. Go and get cornered in the only deserted part of the whole fucking hotel. Smooth move, Jane Bond.

  The white-haired man smiled and extended his hand. “I’m Nick Parr. I’m glad you could make it to the party on such short notice.”

  A shock of fear stole my voice for an instant, but my smile and handshake were reflexive after years of business events I’d never wanted to attend.