Spy, Spy Away

by Diane Henders

  I gave him a little shake. “Stop worrying, Spider. It’ll all work out. No matter what happens, you won’t lose your family and you won’t lose Linda. Nothing else matters. You’ll figure it out together.”

  He let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing under my grip. “Thanks, Aydan. You’re right. So…” He eyed me hopefully. “Will you? Carry the ring for me?”

  I released him to face him squarely. “Spider, I understand you’re worried, but I really don’t think that’s a good idea. I have to go undercover in Vegas later this week. You won’t want me carrying it down there. I’m supposed to be back on Friday, but if anything happens…” I swallowed hard. If anything happened, it would be the end of me and his ring. “…I might be late to your party,” I continued with stubborn optimism. “And you’ll just end up worrying more. I’ll put it in the gun safe in my basement.”

  His hands clenched around the small box. “But…”

  “Or maybe you could give it to somebody else for safekeeping,” I suggested. “Leave it with your parents. Or one of your sisters.”

  “No way.” He gave me a rueful grin. “My mom and sisters can’t keep a secret to save their lives. They’d blab two seconds after I showed it to them. And my dad wouldn’t blab, but he’s a lousy liar. My mom would know he was hiding something and she’d worm it out of him.” He held out the box to me. “Please, Aydan. I really, really need you to do this for me. Just this one thing, and I promise I won’t ask for anything else.”

  His beseeching look melted me despite my better judgement. “Oh, Spider, you know I’ll do anything I can for you.” I accepted the box with a sinking sensation and hesitated, wondering where to put it.

  “Wait, I have a velvet pouch for it,” he said as if reading my mind. “It’ll be easier to carry than the box.”

  With the ring safely stowed in its tiny velvet sack, I double-knotted its cords and eyed it worriedly. Such a small, priceless thing. My hand hovered at the zipper of my waist pouch. What if somebody stole my waist pouch?

  Spider watched me, his forehead crinkled with apprehension, and I sighed and tucked the tiny item into my bra instead. He blushed, but smiled. “Thanks, Aydan.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  After a few more empty reassurances, I plodded back to my car, the almost-imperceptible sensation of the ring weighing like lead on my heart.

  Back at Sirius Dynamics, I was heading for my office when Dermott beckoned from the doorway of Stemp’s office. “Bit of activity at your place this morning. Looks like you have a secret admirer.”

  “What do you mean?” I eyed him warily as he ushered me around to look at his computer monitor.

  A still view from my surveillance cameras filled the screen. He punched a key and the video played, showing Hibbert striding up my front walk with a white object swinging from his left hand.

  The view switched to the next camera and my guts wrenched when the object resolved into a small body, its mangled fur matted with crimson.

  “Is that a cat?” My question was half-strangled by horror and rising bile.

  “Analysts say jackrabbit,” Dermott said shortly. “Judging by the injuries, they figure road-kill.”

  I swallowed hard and applied a tremendous effort to prevent my shaking legs from dropping me into Dermott’s chair as Hibbert tossed the corpse onto my doorstep and strode away, grinning.

  “That’s fucking sick.”

  “Not as sick as if it was a cat,” Dermott replied. “It’s just a Fuzzy Bunny.”

  I heard the capital letters in his tone and nodded slowly. “Yeah, that makes sense. Asshole. He wouldn’t know about the cameras, but he’d figure I’d know it was him and get the message.”

  Dermott switched the display off. “And what’s the message?”

  I grimaced. “The last thing he said to me: ‘I’ll get you, bitch’.”

  “That’s original.”

  I matched his sarcastic tone as best I could with my paper-dry mouth. “That’s our boy. Mr. Originality.”

  Dermott shrugged. “Analysts figure it’s safe to move the carcass. The way he tossed it down, there’s almost certainly no explosive device in it. He didn’t take precautions with a mask or gloves, so there shouldn’t be any biohazard. And it was stiff as a board. He probably found it frozen by the side of the road and picked it up just for you.”

  “I’m touched,” I muttered, and swallowed another surge of nausea.

  After a short sojourn in the ladies’ room to regain my composure, I shuffled back to my office and slumped on the sofa to wait for Jack and Germain. My butt had barely hit the sofa when my waist pouch vibrated, and I sighed and pulled out my phone.

  “Is this Arlene Widdenback?” The male voice was pleasantly modulated, with precise diction that managed to sound efficient without being prissy.

  My heart lurched. Parr’s secretary. It had to be.

  “Um… speaking.”

  “Hello, Ms. Widdenback, this is Archibald Rankin, Nicholas Parr’s assistant. I’m confirming your flight on Mr. Parr’s private jet for this Thursday, departing at eight P.M.”

  “Oh, uh… good… hang on…” I hurried over to rifle the desk for a pen and paper. God, everything I did was computer-related. There wasn’t a scrap of paper to be had. I dragged my chequebook out of my waist pouch and planted an elbow on it for stability while I juggled pen and phone.

  “Okay, eight, Thursday night, got it. I’ve never been on a private jet before. What do I need to do when I get to the airport?”

  My marching orders in hand, I sank onto the sofa again to simmer in queasy fear. I’d probably have to go gunless again. And I’d be trapped for nearly three hours inside what amounted to an airborne ballpoint pen, with people who wouldn’t hesitate to torture and kill me if I blew my cover. Assuming it wasn’t already blown and this was just a convenient way to eliminate me.

  The fear escalated into a full-blown panic attack, and I closed my eyes to breathe through it. In. Out. Ocean waves.

  Okay, panic attacks were cognitive distortions. All I needed to do was look at this objectively and identify the true risks…

  Captivity, torture, and death.

  Nope, objectivity definitely wasn’t the answer here.

  I went with denial instead. Thursday was days away. Anything could happen between now and then. Parr could change his mind. A terrible blizzard could sweep in and close down the airport. I could discover some hugely important piece of evidence in the network that would result in Parr’s arrest and shut down Fuzzy Bunny entirely. I could be killed by a chunk of airplane lavatory ice falling from the sky.

  Hell, anything could happen.

  I spent the next day and a half immersed in the network, scouring every connection I could find until Jack finally called a halt late Tuesday afternoon.

  “Aydan. Aydan.”

  “Wha?” I mumbled into the sofa cushions, hugging my pounding head.

  “We’re stopping now.”

  I dragged myself upright and pried open one eye. “Just one more session, okay? I just want to-”

  “No.” She and Germain spoke simultaneously. They exchanged a warm glance before turning matching expressions of disapproval toward me.

  “Aydan, you were beating your head against the couch so hard I thought you were going to concuss yourself,” Jack said in her ‘don’t mess with Supermom’ voice. “It’s six o’clock. You’ve had enough for the day, and we aren’t going to let you hurt yourself. Whatever you’re looking for, it can wait until tomorrow.”

  I was just opening my mouth to protest when Dermott poked his head in the door. “She finally out of the network?” He surveyed me with a frown. “Jesus, Kelly, you look like shit.”

  I couldn’t summon up enough energy for indignation. My voice came out flat and lifeless. “Fuck you very much.”

  Jack gasped and coloured.

  Dermott barked out a laugh. “Your boyfriend popped by with another present for you this afternoon. Want to come and
see?”

  “What is it, a horse’s head?”

  His mouth twitched. “Not exactly.”

  I groaned and dragged myself to my feet to plod for the door.

  This time, the object in Hibbert’s hand wasn’t immediately recognizable. He placed it on my doorstep and strode away grinning as usual, and I squinted at the pale object barely visible against the snow. “What the hell is it?”

  Dermott smirked. “Guess it’s been a while for you, eh, Kelly? You don’t recognize a cock when you see one?”

  He zoomed in, and I recoiled. “Oh, for chrissake.” I stared at the anatomically correct dildo rearing up out of the snow. “Well, it’s better than road-kill rabbit. Is it going to explode?”

  Dermott snickered. “Not unless it’s more realistic than I think it is.”

  “Very funny.”

  He sobered. “No, I already had one of the bomb guys go out and collect it. It’s just an unaltered silicone sex toy. Apparently it’s a common brand…”

  I sighed. “Yeah, I recognize it.”

  “Too much information, Kelly.”

  I shot him a disgusted look. “I meant, one of my bookkeeping clients owns a sex shop and I’ve seen that model there. It’s one of the super-realistic ones that comes in skin tones of… um… various races…” I ran down. That probably was too much information.

  “So do you want it for a souvenir?” Dermott asked, straight-faced.

  “No. The veins gross me out. Let the bomb squad guys keep it. I’m sure they’ll figure out some amusing use for it.”

  He grimaced. “It has veins? Okay, that really is too much information.”

  “Yeah, I thought so, too.”

  “So I assume this is another reference to a previous conversation?” He appraised me seriously. “Should I take a guess about what he threatened you with?”

  I sighed. “Three guesses; the first two don’t count. Thanks for getting rid of it.” I turned to head for the door.

  “Kelly.”

  I trailed to a halt. “Yeah.”

  “Watch yourself, okay?”

  “I will.”

  Chapter 36

  Wednesday morning, I hauled myself out of bed exhausted from screaming myself awake over and over. Shuffling out to my car, I jabbed a hostile middle finger at the sky, which had cleared overnight with the promise of fair weather for the next several days.

  Slumped in my car, I thumped my forehead against the steering wheel. I hadn’t found any solid evidence in the past nine months of searching, so I wasn’t likely to find it before Thursday afternoon. And the fucking traitorous weather wasn’t going to cooperate.

  Time to face reality. I gave up hope for blizzards and evidence, and switched to fervently wishing for death by icy BM.

  It didn’t happen. By the time I drove home after another marathon session in the network, I could barely see the highway through my pounding headache. The headlights of the oncoming traffic sliced lasers of pain through my eyes and I fought to stay awake for the short fifteen-minute drive.

  At home, I flung a few items into a suitcase and regretfully removed my pocketknives from my waist pouch. I couldn’t take them through airport security, and if Parr was planning to kill me during the flight or immediately afterward, they wouldn’t do me any good in a checked bag. And if he wasn’t planning to kill me, I wouldn’t need them anyway.

  When I undressed for bed, I tucked Spider’s precious velvet sack under the pillow next to my gun as I had done for the past three nights. Dreading the nightmares I knew awaited me, I slid into bed and diverted my mind to my latest moral dilemma.

  My promise to Spider nagged at my conscience. It would be stupid to take the ring with me. My chances of survival were about fifty-fifty. If I got killed, the ring would be lost forever.

  I flipped onto my side, yanking the covers irritably. But he trusted me. He was counting on me to do what he’d asked.

  But dammit, I couldn’t. I reared up to punch my pillow into submission.

  I had to do what was best for him. I’d carry the ring with me in the morning as promised, but I’d stop off on my way to the airport and tuck it into my gun safe. Set up a timed email so if I didn’t make it back, he’d know where to look.

  Flopping back down again, I blew out a long sigh. If I lived, he’d never know I hadn’t respected his wishes. If I died, at least the ring would be safe. And maybe he’d forgive me.

  But I’d never know.

  I rolled over again. It was the right thing to do. It was for the best.

  I closed my eyes and let the black dreams take me.

  The night seemed interminable, but morning felt too early. I crept out of bed aching and exhausted, my hands trembling and my throat raw from screaming.

  Thankful I’d done most of my packing the night before when I was actually less tired, I threw the last of my things into my suitcase and carried it out to the car. At least I could pick up anything I’d forgotten when I dropped off Spider’s ring in the afternoon.

  I spent the morning in the Sirius network chasing down every scrap of information I could discover about Parr’s personal life and Fuzzy Bunny’s upper management. My research made it even clearer how difficult it would be to make charges stick to Parr. He and his wife were involved in various philanthropic activities, his employees seemed to love him, and the local office had been voted one of Calgary’s top ten places to work the previous year.

  My swearing was especially heartfelt when I left the network at noon. When I opened my eyes at last, Jack looked shocked.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  “Remind me to keep the kids down in my lab on ‘bring your child to work’ day,” she said faintly.

  “Good idea,” I agreed.

  After a lunch I barely tasted, I scanned the contents of my suitcase one more time and decided I didn’t give a shit. I was only going overnight. Or going to die; one of the two. Either way, my luggage just wasn’t that important.

  I had just zipped it up when Jack and Germain arrived for our afternoon session. Moments later, Dermott strode into my office, too, carrying a laptop case.

  “Here you go.” He set the case on the coffee table in front of me. “And here.” He opened his hand to reveal the portable network generator and a wristwatch. “Put your regular network key in your old watch the way you did when you were undercover at Harchman’s. The new network key is in the other watch.”

  Jack’s and my objections formed a chorus of dismay.

  “I can’t take classified technology right into Parr’s hands!”

  “That new key is almost completely untested and it makes her lose consciousness!”

  Dermott scowled. “The chain of command already approved the generator and key for use outside the secured area-”

  “A block away, not in Fuzzy Bunny’s fucking back pocket!”

  He shook his head like an angry bull and kept talking over my interruption. “It’s approved by the chain of command. You need an undetectable way to communicate with us. And the new key is less obvious. You swear your fucking head off when you use the original key, Kelly. I can hear you all the way down the hall.”

  “If it’s life or death I can keep quiet,” I argued.

  “Bullshit. Sometimes you can. And sometimes swearing is the best-case scenario. Worst-case, you have a fucking seizure and scream like a banshee from hell.”

  I stalled in mid-rebuttal, and he shot me a scowl. “Yeah, I read the reports, Kelly. At least with the new key, you’re silent. And a few minutes of unconsciousness is better than a few minutes of screaming if you’re doing covert ops.”

  That was unassailable logic. I shut my mouth and considered it.

  “We don’t know how long the unconsciousness will last,” Jack protested. “The first time it was only a few seconds. The second time it was much longer. What if she becomes comatose the next time she tries?”

  “So try it again now.” Dermott gave her a hard look. “If she passes out for a few minu
tes, we’ll know it’s not getting much worse. If it’s a lot longer this time, then she’ll have to make the decision if the situation warrants it in the field.”

  Jack drew herself up, her gaze slicing him like blue lasers. “In my professional opinion-”

  “I don’t give a shit about your professional opinion,” Dermott snapped. “When you’re in the field, you do what you have to do.” He turned back to me, ignoring the scarlet that flooded her face. “Kelly, try the new key now. That’s an order.”

  I hesitated, fighting the instinctive urge to tell him to stick it up his ass. He might be a prick, but his logic was sound.

  And a small and cowardly part of my mind whispered that if I was comatose, I wouldn’t have to get on the plane with Parr.

  I reached for the watch.

  Jack’s hand flashed out with the speed only achieved by mothers of small children. Wristwatch clenched in her white-knuckled fist, she faced Dermott with an icy rage that made her appear to tower over him despite her five-and-a-half foot stature.

  “You will not bully her into this.” Her tone sent a shaft of ice down my spine, and her anger wasn’t even directed at me.

  Dermott blinked, obviously surprised by the ferocity concealed by that soft and pretty exterior. Germain made a half-hearted gesture as if to step in, but wisely decided against it. He crossed his arms instead, his eyes sparkling with interest while he observed.

  “He’s not bullying me,” I offered mildly. “I would actually like to try it again.”

  Dermott was smart enough not to betray any triumph. He remained silent and expressionless as Jack rounded on me.

  “Aydan, this is untested technology. Sam might have been able to evaluate it more effectively than I can, but that knowledge died with him. I’ve only had a few months to get up to speed with your project, and I’m barely scratching the surface of everything there is to know. And we’ve lost Spider’s expertise, too. This is unsafe, plain and simple. Don’t do it.”