Spy, Spy Away

  Spy, Spy Away

  Book 7 of the NEVER SAY SPY series

  By Diane Henders

  Published December 2013 by PEBKAC Publishing

  Smashwords Edition v.5

  ISBN 978-1-927460-13-9

  The town of Silverside and all secret technologies are products of my imagination. If I’m abducted by grim-faced men wearing dark glasses, or if I die in an unexplained fiery car crash, you’ll know I accidentally came a little too close to the truth.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are products of my imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Please respect my hard work by complying with copyright laws. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. You may not resell this e-book under any circumstances. If you enjoyed a free copy of this book, I’d really appreciate it if you showed support by buying your own copy or making a donation at http://www.dianehenders.com/donate.

  Thank you for reading!

  Copyright © 2013 Diane Henders

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

  Books in the NEVER SAY SPY series:

  Book 1: Never Say Spy

  Book 2: The Spy Is Cast

  Book 3: Reach For The Spy

  Book 4: Tell Me No Spies

  Book 5: How Spy I Am

  Book 6: A Spy For A Spy

  Book 7: Spy, Spy Away

  Book 8: Spy Now, Pay Later

  Book 9: To be released early 2015

  Humour by Diane Henders

  Probably Inappropriate

  Definitely Inappropriate

  Totally Inappropriate (to be released Summer 2014)

  More books coming! For a current list, please visit www.dianehenders.com

  Or sign up for my New Book Notification list at

  www.dianehenders.com/books

  For Phill

  Thank you for being my technical advisor and the most tolerant husband ever. Much love!

  To my beta readers/editors, especially Carol H., Judy B., and Phill B., with gratitude: Many thanks for all your time and effort in catching my spelling and grammar errors, telling me when I screwed up the plot or the characters’ motivations, and generally keeping me honest.

  To everyone else, respectfully:

  If you find any typographical errors in this book, please send an email to errors@dianehenders.com. Mistakes drive me nuts, and I’m sorry if any slipped through. Please let me know what the error is, and on which page (or at which position in e-versions). I’ll make sure it gets fixed as soon as possible. Thanks!

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 1

  “Well, well. If it isn’t Ms. Aydan Kelly. I see your little fraud game is still going nicely.” The middle-aged man gave me a smug smile as he slid uninvited into the chair across from me.

  My stomach contracted around queasy fear.

  “Hibbert.” I held my voice level. “If that is actually your real name.”

  He frowned, projecting righteous affront. “Of course it is.” He drew a gold case from his breast pocket and extended one of his cards with a flourish. “And please, do call me Paul. I was hoping you hadn’t forgotten me.”

  Didn’t I wish. I’d glimpsed him several times in the past two months, always giving me that sardonic little nod with a smile that just begged to be punched off his face.

  I ignored the card and gave him a flat stare. “What do you want?”

  The waitress slid a basket of hot chicken wings onto the table in front of me. “Here you go, Aydan. Do you want some more of that hard drink you keep chugging back?”

  I forced my stiff lips into a smile and saluted her with my half-empty water glass. “Thanks. Yes, please.”

  As she hurried away, I turned back to Hibbert. “You’re spoiling my lunch. Get lost.”

  “Miss Widdenback.” He pulled a hurt face. “Or do you prefer Miss Cherry? Is that any way to talk to one of your loyal fans? Maybe I just want to compliment you on your latest video. That footage with the Chippendales dancer was amazing. You’re very flexible for a woman nearing fifty.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a purr. “And you used your lovely long hair so… creatively. I’ve always had a thing for redheads.”

  I used every ounce of control to prevent myself from recoiling. God damn Stemp for setting me up with that porn star cover story. Even if it wasn’t really me in the videos, the thought of this slimeball salivating over them made my stomach turn. And I’d be lucky if salivating was all he’d done…

  “Stick it up your ass,” I snapped. “And fuck off before I get Eddy to throw you out.”

  I glanced over as Eddy slid a fresh beer across the bar to one of the regulars, his eyes twinkling while he engaged in his usual banter.

  There was no way I’d involve Eddy. Not when I knew Hibbert had a gun tucked under that well-cut suit jacket.

  But Hibbert didn’t know about the baby Glock cuddled in the waist holster under my sweatshirt, either. Better if he thought I was just a helpless female, depending on Eddy to protect me. Nothing like a few little surprises to keep things fresh.

  “Ah, yes, Blue Eddy.” Hibbert shot a contemptuous look toward the bar before returning his attention to me. “I’m quaking in my boots. But there’s no reason for you to be so hostile. I’ve come to offer you another business opportunity.”

  “I told you in October, I’m not interested.”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “That was small potatoes. An insult to a savvy businesswoman like yourself, and I do apologize. It’s clear I underestimated you. My associates would like to propose a more…” He smiled, the expression doing nothing to mask the hardness in his eyes. “…attractive offer.”

  The waitress arrived with my fresh glass of water, and I used the interruption to surreptitiously draw a deep breath, willing my pounding pulse to slow.

  His associates. The ruthless international circle of spies and arms dealers concealed behind the soft, cute smiles of the stuffed toys they imported. If they discovered I truly was Aydan Kelly instead of Arlene Widdenback impersonating Aydan Kelly, my death would be slow and excruciating.

  He leaned closer, pitching his voice below the blues music. “I hope you’re still enjoying your work at Sirius Dynamics.”

  I swallowed the tightness in my throat with a sip of wa
ter and gave him my best steely stare.

  Undeterred by my silence, he continued. “One of my associates is looking for a friend he’s lost touch with. The last time they spoke, his friend was working at Sirius Dynamics. I thought of you immediately.”

  I heaved a theatrically bored sigh and picked up a chicken wing, letting my gaze drift across the room while I devoured the hot, greasy meat and slurped the spicy sauce off my fingers.

  His voice deepened. “That’s very sexy.”

  I froze with my thumb in my mouth.

  Eeuw.

  Fine. Asshole. Stemp was going to owe me for this.

  I held eye contact while I withdrew my thumb slowly, sliding my lips down its length. Hibbert swallowed convulsively as I cleaned the last of the sauce off my fingers with little flicks of my tongue before leaning back with another sigh. “Get to the point.”

  My voice apparently jarred him back from the realm of fantasy. He blinked and shifted in his chair. “It’s a small thing, really.”

  His gaze locked onto my mouth as I went for another wing, and I jabbed the wing at him instead of biting into it. “You have ten seconds. Ten…”

  “All we want is a phone list,” he said hurriedly. “Just a photocopy of the company directory.”

  Ennui dripped from my voice. “Why would I bother?”

  “You would be compensated, of course.”

  I waved my chicken wing in a languid ‘go on’ gesture.

  “Two thousand dollars cash right now.” He withdrew a fat envelope from his coat pocket. “Three thousand dollars when you deliver the list.”

  I sneered, hoping I didn’t have wing sauce all over my contemptuously curled lip. “Stop insulting me. You offered me a hundred grand a couple of months ago.”

  “That was for a considerably different item. Which you didn’t deliver.”

  “I didn’t see any hundred grand, either. I don’t have time to waste on small-time guys like you. Scram.” I waved the chicken wing in a shooing gesture before biting into it, ignoring him and trying to be as unsexy as possible.

  “Small-time?” He sounded as though he was strangling.

  I shrugged, patted my lips with my napkin, and attacked another wing.

  When I glanced up again, Hibbert’s face was an unhealthy shade of burgundy. He drew a slow breath, and the smile he offered was distinctly lopsided. “Most people… most smart people would accept this offer with gratitude. Five thousand dollars for a simple, easily-accessible piece of paper. And if you deliver, it could be the beginning of a lucrative and beneficial relationship.”

  “Get lost.”

  “Fine.” He slapped another fat envelope atop the first. “Five now, five when you deliver.”

  I eyed the envelopes as if they contained long-dead fish. “You don’t seriously think I’m going to take those with the whole world watching. I’ll think about it and be in touch.” I trotted out my hard-learned spy lingo with secret satisfaction. “If I accept the deal, I’ll expect a dead drop. I don’t work with amateurs.”

  “Amateurs.” Hibbert drew another deep breath and cranked on his smile again. “Fine. I’ll expect an answer by noon tomorrow. And don’t even consider mentioning this to anyone if you want to stay alive.” He stuffed the envelopes back in his pocket and stalked out as if he had a hot poker jammed up his ass.

  As soon as the door closed behind him, I tottered off to hide in the ladies’ room until my knees stopped trembling.

  At last, I crept back to finish my unappetizingly cold chicken wings before heading for the back door. I hesitated in the enclosed vestibule.

  My nightmares had finally subsided after two long months, but even with all the therapy and mental effort, I couldn’t shake my lingering paranoia about emerging through a door when I couldn’t see what was on the other side.

  I hissed through my teeth. That was probably a good thing. Stemp still thought I was an experienced agent, not a clueless civilian bookkeeper. Maybe a bit of paranoia would help compensate for my total lack of actual spy skills.

  I pushed through the door, sidestepping and snapping a quick glance left and right. The glare of sun on snow nearly blinded me after the dimness of the bar, and the frigid December air stole my breath. I sucked in a lungful anyway and headed for my car, surveying its interior for intruders before I slid into the driver’s seat.

  I replayed Hibbert’s last words while I extracted the bug detector from my waist pouch and eyed its reassuring green light.

  A whole two months since my last death threat. Well, it had been a nice respite while it lasted.

  I blew out a sigh and grabbed one of Stemp’s secured cell phones from the glove compartment.

  He answered on the first ring, as usual. “Yes.”

  “It’s Aydan.”

  “Report.”

  “Paul Hibbert just offered me ten thousand dollars for a copy of the Sirius Dynamics internal phone list. Apparently Fuzzy Bunny is looking for someone at Sirius. I told him I’d think about it. He expects an answer by noon tomorrow.”

  “Very well. Briefing at fifteen-thirty, your office.”

  I hung up without offering or receiving a goodbye and drove to Up & Coming, watching the sparse small-town traffic in case anybody was following me.

  When I entered the shop, a snort of laughter escaped me. “Lola! You’re a sick, sick woman!”

  I scanned for the guilty party, shaking a reproving finger when her grin popped up from behind the shelf where she had been stooping to rearrange a display.

  “What?” Her wrinkled pixie face was a study in innocence.

  “You! Only you would put a Santa hat on Big John the Wonder Horse,” I sputtered, trying to hold onto my expression of fake outrage while I indicated the huge black silicone penis with its festive miniature… um… headgear.

  She widened her eyes at me. “I thought he should have a nice hat to go with his sack.”

  I succumbed, doubling over to laugh until tears rolled down my cheeks. “Sick,” I wheezed. “You’re sick. But funny as hell. Ohmigod, my gut. You made me hurt myself.” I massaged my aching belly, still giggling feebly. “What does Linda think of your Christmas decorations?”

  Lola smirked. “She bowed to my superior marketing skills. When we hid Big John and started displaying all the tame lingerie and candles up front, everybody asked where he was. He’s turned into our mascot.”

  “And a fine upstanding mascot he is, too,” I agreed, doing my best deadpan expression.

  “Yes, indeedy!” Her wicked grin softened into a smile. “It’s good to hear you laugh like that. I was worried about you for a while there.”

  “Thanks.” I suppressed the urge to shuffle my feet and held her gaze with an effort. “The therapy has really helped.”

  Letting her believe I’d been raped had been the only plausible cover story I could use at the time, but...

  I squashed my guilty conscience. It was true that the therapy had helped. That was all she needed to know.

  I changed the subject. “What about you?” I searched her face. “Have you recovered from being kidnapped? Are you sleeping all right?”

  Lola tossed her head, her spiked hair flashing vivid purple under the display lighting. “It’d take a lot more than that to scare this old broad. If that punk hadn’t drugged me, I’d have kicked his sorry ass.”

  I grinned down at her diminutive figure, choosing to play along despite the faint tremor in her voice. “Kicked his sorry kneecap, maybe. I doubt if you could’ve reached his ass.”

  “Ha. I’m meaner than you think. I could have stood on a chair and kicked him in the head.” She looked up at me, her wise eyes seeing too much. “But we were talking about you. You haven’t left your house except to go to work for the past two months.” She slid a motherly arm around my waist and gave me a squeeze. “It’s time to start living again, honey.”

  I gulped at the memory of how close I’d come to losing her, and hid my rush of emotion with a grin. “I am living. I’ve
had a fabulous two months of reading, baking, and working on my ’53 Chevy. I feel like I’ve gotten my life back.”

  The life I had dreamed of living before I ever knew about Fuzzy Bunny or Canada’s clandestine operations….

  I hid a sigh.

  “It’s not healthy for you to spend so much time alone.” She gave me the impish grin that always presaged some form of impending personal humiliation for me. “You should make a play for Big John. I bet you could snag him.”

  I snickered. “It’ll be a sad day when I have to work to snag a mechanical boyfriend. Even if he does have his own little Santa hat.”

  “Very funny. I meant the real Big John.” Lola waggled her eyebrows. “Go on, Aydan, wouldn’t you like a little hanky-panky with a hunk like him?”

  “God, you have no idea.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. I backpedalled rapidly. “But I don’t want a relationship. Now’s just not a good time.”

  “I know it’s tough to learn to trust again, honey, but don’t let the fear win.” The sympathy in her eyes made my conscience prod me even harder. Before I could come up with an appropriate response, she straightened, her face lighting up. “Hey, Aydan, I just had a great idea!”

  “Oh, no.” I flung up defensive hands. “Whatever it is, no.”

  “I promise it has nothing to do with wearing any of our merchandise.”

  “No dressing up.” I eyed her suspiciously.

  “No. In fact, the more I think of it, the more I know you’ll love it! It’s right up your alley!”

  “Leave my alley out of this.”

  She ignored my recalcitrance. “There’s a self-defence workshop for women at the rec centre this week. Tomorrow, Thursday, and Friday evening; Saturday and Sunday afternoon. Come with me! It’ll be fun.”

  “Um…”

  “Come on, none of my old-fogey friends will go with me, and I really want to go. I want to learn some self-defence moves.” She adopted a threatening scowl and swung her tiny fists at the air. “I want to kick some ass.”