Friends In Spy Places

by Diane Henders

  “Good morning.” His velvet baritone warmed me. “I hope I didn’t wake you. I didn’t know whether you conformed to Hellhound’s sleep schedule or vice versa, but I thought it should be safe to call this close to noon.”

  I barked out a short laugh. “I wish. I’m not at Arnie’s anymore, I’m in Silverside. I got a text at six AM telling me to be back here for a nine AM meeting.”

  “Ouch. I’m surprised the highway was open.”

  “Ministry of Transport opened it at five AM, the bastards. They could have at least kept it closed for a few more hours so I could have gotten some sleep.”

  “You should lodge a complaint,” Kane joked. “How was your drive?”

  “Shitty. The road was open, but it wasn’t great.”

  “The highway reports say it’s clear now.” Kane hesitated. “Is it still all right for me to bring Daniel over so we can work on your Chevy this afternoon? Or are you assigned to another… project now?”

  “Um…”

  As far as I knew, I wasn’t in any more danger than usual. It should be safe enough for Kane to bring Daniel. And if I talked to Kane in person, Stemp couldn’t know whether I’d actually carried out my recruitment mission. And I could ask Kane about lethal untraceable drugs, too.

  But was I ready to deal with a six-year-old? Or… shit. Was Daniel seven now? I didn’t know when his birthday was…

  I jerked my mind back to the conversation. “I’m not really on another project yet,” I said slowly. “But… isn’t it getting pretty late for you to leave Calgary? Even if the drive only takes the normal two hours, it’ll be nearly two o’clock by the time you get here; and if you have to get Daniel home for bedtime, that doesn’t leave much time for wrenching.”

  Kane chuckled. “We’ll have lunch before we leave so it will probably be after two-thirty when we arrive. But a couple of hours in the garage will be more than enough. Seven-year-olds don’t have a long attention span.”

  “Oh.” My stomach clenched. “Right. Come if you want, then. Give me a call when you’re about half an hour out, and I’ll head home and meet you there.”

  “Great. See you then.”

  I disconnected and fell back in the seat.

  No more leisurely hours of automotive tinkering, cold beer, and comfortable bullshitting. Daniel’s wide eyes would notice my every gesture and avid ears would soak up any accidental profanity. And no matter how tidy and organized I kept it, my garage would never be child-safe. He would need constant supervision. Constant attention.

  Tension gripped my shoulders at the thought.

  Closing my eyes, I took a few calming breaths. Relax. Kane wasn’t asking me to parent his son.

  There was no commitment. No terrifying inescapable bond of need and duty…

  My heart attempted to climb out of my chest and I patted it back into place with another long breath.

  Not my child; not my responsibility.

  If only I believed that.

  Hands quivering on the wheel, I put the car in gear and headed for the saloon.

  When I strode into Blue Eddy’s, Eddy gave me a smile and wave from behind the bar. The gritty lowdown blues music slowed my still-pattering heart to match its earthy tempo, and my shoulders relaxed as I dropped into the chair at my usual table with my back to the wall.

  The usual handful of hard-bitten elderly men were bellied up to the bar, imbibing in slow motion with their eyelids already at half-mast; and several well-dressed couples occupied tables, enjoying brunch on their way home from church. All the small-town Sunday regulars.

  Including me. Stretching out my legs, I let the comfort sink into my bones.

  “What can I get you, Aydan?” Eddy asked as he hurried over.

  “I want a beer so much I can almost taste it, but I’m driving.” I sighed. “Just water, I guess.”

  Eddy chuckled. “Well, if you really want a beer, you can always crash on my crappy couch upstairs and sleep it off before you drive.”

  Wincing at the memory, I shook my head. “Nope, as much as I appreciated your couch that time, I’d better not do it again.” I gave him a grin. “If I get too comfortable here, you’ll never get rid of me.”

  “I wouldn’t mind.” He shot an amused glance at the dead-eyed men propped on their barstools. “You’re much prettier than the other regulars. Would you like some food?”

  Unsure whether he was joking or actually complimenting me, I avoided the issue. “Are you waiting tables today as well as bartending? Is Darlene sick?”

  “No, I gave her a paid vacation day.” He shrugged as though it was something any employer would do. “She’s a single mom, and Christmas is coming. She needs the time as much as she needs the money, and Sundays are never very busy anyway.”

  Impulsively, I reached over and squeezed his hand. “You’re a good guy, Eddy.”

  He flushed and made a self-deprecating gesture. “No big deal. So what can I get you? The cook did a great job on the Hollandaise sauce today. It’s her best Eggs Benedict ever.”

  “Sold.” As he turned away, I gently snagged his sleeve and added, “Hey, I’ve got a bunch of meetings coming up this week. So far it looks as though I’ll be okay for our usual Tuesday at eleven; but if things look like they might go sideways for me, could I come in some other time?”

  “Sure, whatever works for you. My door’s always open.” He grinned. “A good bookkeeper is worth her weight in hamburgers.”

  I settled back smugly in my chair as he hurried away. Now I had an excuse if I needed to avoid anybody. Like Nora.

  My satisfaction ebbed away, leaving an ache in my stomach. I couldn’t waste time avoiding her. Ian’s life might be on the line.

  I blew out an unhappy sigh and dialled Dr. Rawling’s number.

  Chapter 6

  A soothing male voice spoke on the telephone line. “Good afternoon, you’ve reached Dr. Henry Rawling.”

  Silence fell.

  “…Hello?” he added.

  “Oh! Shi… I mean jeez, sorry; I didn’t expect you to be answering the phone on a Sunday afternoon. I was expecting your voicemail,” I babbled. “Hi, it’s Aydan.”

  I could hear the smile in his voice. “I normally don’t answer the phone on Sundays, but Director Stemp said you would be calling.”

  “Oh. Right.” Keeping my voice warm and friendly, I added, “Thank you for picking up. So I guess you know I’m looking for an appointment.”

  “Yes, and I’m taking the upcoming week off for Christmas vacation, so I’m glad we can do this today. Would two o’clock work?”

  “Um… Actually, I’m expecting company at two-thirty…”

  “Do you have time now?”

  “N-Now…?” Overcoming my panicky impulse to evade and delay, I metaphorically yanked up my big-girl panties and added, “I’m having lunch right now, but I could meet you around twelve-thirty.”

  “That would be fine. I’ll see you then.”

  He disconnected, and I fell back in my chair with a groan. Now I really needed a beer. Or three.

  Instead, I sipped my water and pressed the speed dial for Hellhound’s number.

  After a couple of rings, his cheerful rasp tickled my ear. “Hey, darlin’. Did ya get to Silverside okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t call you earlier. It’s been a busy morning.”

  “Is that good or bad? How’d your meetin’ go?”

  “The meeting went okay, I guess. We made some progress with, um…” I hesitated. Unsecured line. “…the guy we were interviewing.” I sighed. “But I have to go and see Dr. Rawling this afternoon. God, I hate that.”

  “Yeah, I know, darlin’, but it’s for your own good.” Hellhound hesitated. “Wish ya could trust some shrink enough to really talk to ’em. Not hold anythin’ back.”

  I grunted. “Even if I wanted to, Rawling isn’t the one. His goals aren’t the same as mine. And it creeps me out knowing that the whole time he’s sitting there smiling and nodding and acting like my
best friend, he’s trying to worm inside my brain and judge me. Doesn’t that bug you, too?”

  “Dunno. Never talked to him.”

  “What?” My yelp of outrage made Eddy glance over in concern, and I gave him an ‘it’s-okay’ wave as I settled back in my chair and lowered my voice. “What the hell? Stemp’s blowing smoke up my ass about how I have to do this every goddamn time…” I trailed off, unable to think of a discreet way to say ‘somebody gets killed’. Instead, I finished, “…and you’ve never had a psych evaluation? With your job?”

  Hellhound’s sigh carried clearly over the line. “Hell, darlin’, nobody wants to know what’s in my head. I don’t even wanna know. S’long’s I get the job done, they leave me the fuck alone.”

  “That’s… that’s…”

  Words failed me as my anger rose. What the hell? Agents had a mandatory psych evaluation if so much as a drop of blood got spilled, but the Department completely ignored the mental state of a professional assassin?

  After a moment of sputtering, I managed words again. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard! That’s not fair!”

  “It ain’t stupid,” he countered gently. “It’s good that they’re makin’ sure you’re okay.”

  “No, that’s not what I meant. I meant, it’s not fair that they’re ignoring you! You could be… you could have been talking to somebody years ago! Things could have been so much better for you.”

  “Don’t think so, darlin’. An’ anyway, it doesn’t matter,” he added before I could protest. “I’m doin’ pretty damn good these days. Kane an’ his folks saved me when I was a kid; an’…” His voice softened. “Ya saved me all over again. Two chances is more than most guys get.”

  “Oh, Arnie…” I swallowed hard against the tightness in my throat.

  “Just don’t get any ideas about commitment,” he warned before I could get completely maudlin. “’Cuz I’d hate to hafta run for Tijuana this close to Christmas. It’d be a fuckin’ pain in the ass tryin’ to get a flight.”

  I laughed. “You know I’d run just as fast in the opposite direction. Besides, I figure I’ve pushed my luck about as far as I dare, dragging you to Nichele and Dave’s wedding last night.”

  “Jesus, darlin’, stop sayin’ that ‘W’ word. You’re givin’ me the cold sweats.”

  Eddy slipped a plate of food in front of me, and I smiled my thanks at him as Hellhound went on, “Ya gonna be back in Calgary for Christmas? Dad Kane’ll be here in a few days an’ he’ll wanna see ya if you’re around.”

  “I’d like to see him, too, but I’ve got a few things happening right now and I don’t know yet how it’ll all shake out. I’ll keep you posted.” The mouthwatering aroma of bacon drew my attention to my plate, and I added, “Eddy just delivered my food so unless you want to listen to me chewing in your ear, I’d better go.”

  Hellhound chuckled. “Figured ya were at Eddy’s; I could hear the blues. Maybe I’ll run up there for the jam on Thursday.” His voice coasted down into a sexy growl. “An’ a little R an’ R, if you’re up for it.”

  “Mmm.” A hot memory from the previous night made me smile. “You know I am.”

  “See ya soon then, darlin’. Take care. Love ya.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Still smiling, I stowed my phone in my waist pouch and dug into my delicious meal.

  Smiling was the last thing on my mind when I tapped on Dr. Rawling’s open door at twelve-thirty.

  He looked up from his desk with his usual pleasant expression. “Hello, Aydan. It’s nice to see you. Please come in and sit down.” He rose and gestured to the comfortable leather sofa and chairs in the corner.

  I entered, already second-guessing myself. Should I stride decisively? Stroll casually?

  Shit, now I couldn’t remember how to walk.

  By some miracle I managed to make it across the room without tripping over my own feet. I lowered myself into a chair with its back to the wall, and arranged myself in an open friendly posture. Feet slightly apart, elbows comfortably on the chair arms, neutral expression…

  My nose itched, and I hurriedly rubbed it with the back of my hand before rearranging myself in my ‘hello-I’m-perfectly-sane-and-normal’ pose.

  God, this was far worse than interrogating Grandin. At least I hadn’t given a shit what he thought. Rawling, on the other hand…

  My nemesis took a seat on the sofa diagonally from me, smiling his mild little smile.

  I wasn’t fooled.

  “So, Aydan, how have you been?” he asked.

  “Fine.”

  He smiled. Waited.

  Jesus, I hate psych evaluations.

  “I’ve completely recovered from being drugged with ketamine,” I volunteered in my best bright positive voice. “The hallucinations were really upsetting, but they only lasted for an hour or so and I’ve been fine ever since.”

  “That’s good to hear. How are you feeling about the experience?”

  “Disinclined to ever try street drugs,” I snapped.

  Dr. Rawling chuckled as though I’d made a joke. “Understandable. And how are you handling the emotional aftermath of Grandin’s attack?”

  “Fine.”

  That didn’t sound too cooperative, so I shrugged and added, “It sucked, but getting drugged was better than getting beaten up. Nice change, actually.”

  “And witnessing him murdering Agent Dirk?”

  The scene played again behind my eyes. So much blood. So horribly bright on the white snow…

  “That sucked, too.” My voice came out completely emotionless. “But there was nothing I could do.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  Somehow I managed not to spring to my feet and yell ‘How the hell do you think I feel?’

  “I’m pissed off,” I admitted, surprising myself with my own candour. “There was no reason for Dirk to die. He shouldn’t have even been there. And there was nothing I could do to stop it. And now Grandin’s sitting there in the interrogation room all smug because he knows he’s going to get a deal.”

  “So I’m hearing that you feel angry and helpless.” Rawling gave one of his patented understanding smiles. “Let’s explore that.” Behind his benign expression I imagined him rubbing his hands together like a giant spider salivating over the juicy contents of my brain.

  I gave myself a mental shake. Stop being so paranoid. He was only trying to help. But despite my best efforts, I couldn’t help mentally adding, ‘Trying to help the Department, not me’.

  Get on with it.

  “I feel angry because an agent was murdered in cold blood by a scumbag who was supposed to be on our side.” I gave Rawling a hard look. “I don’t feel helpless, because we’re going to figure out what Grandin was up to, and who he was working for.”

  Anticipating his next questions, I added, “And I don’t feel guilty, because I couldn’t have changed that situation no matter what I did. And I hate to say it, but I’m not grieving Dirk, either. I didn’t even know him. I’m just glad Grandin didn’t manage to kill Ian, too. It sucks that Dirk died, and it especially sucks that I had to watch it, but sometimes shi-” I bit off the four-letter word and substituted, “…stuff happens in our line of work.”

  Rawling’s accepting expression never changed. “Unfortunately, that’s true. And how are you feeling physically?”

  “Tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  “Nightmares?” he inquired sympathetically.

  “No, I slept like the dead; just not for long enough.” I conveniently omitted the fact that the safety of Hellhound’s embrace had ensured my dreamless sleep. I added, “I was up late celebrating my best friend’s wedding, and then Stemp texted me a meeting request at six AM this morning.”

  “Ah, yes. He informed me that he has assigned you to investigate your mother.” Dr. Rawling paused just long enough for me to say the next words in my mind right along with him. “How do you feel about that?”

  I fe
el like I really fucking hate that question.

  “I’m eager to start my investigation,” I lied.

  Rawling gave me a small smile that made it clear he’d noted my evasion. “And how do you feel about your mother’s deception and her return?” he clarified.

  Okay, into the minefield.

  I trod cautiously. “I’m not sure yet. And I don’t think I will be sure until my investigation is complete.”

  His bland expression said ‘I’m noting another evasion’ just as clearly as if he’d spoken the words aloud. I fought the childish urge to yell ‘Get out of my head!’

  That’s the whole point of this, idiot. He’s supposed to be inside your head.

  “It sounds as though you have some conflicted feelings about your mother,” Rawling persisted.

  No shit.

  I shrugged. “If she hadn’t lied last week and told me Sam Kraus implanted subconscious programming in my brain, I might have been more receptive to hearing why she faked her death and left thirty years ago. She says it was all a noble sacrifice to protect me; but I don’t trust her.”

  “Director Stemp said you seemed quite angry with her.”

  Bastard. He’d tattled on me.

  I hid my irritation behind a grave face and a restrained nod. “I won’t judge what she did back then until I know the whole story; but last week she lied just to serve her own agenda, and she put me through hell as a result. That’s going to be hard to forgive even if it turns out she’s been telling the truth about why she left in the first place.”

  “Sometimes well-intentioned people make errors in judgement when the personal stakes are high,” Dr. Rawling said gently.

  “Yeah.” I gave him a level look. “And sometimes even the most accomplished sociopath slips up and shows her true colours. Which is why I’m reserving judgement until I’ve finished my investigation.”

  “That sounds like a wise decision.” He smiled, and I held my breath.

  Did that mean we were done? Could it be that easy?

  “Now, about your other mission,” he said.

  My gut clenched.