Kiss And Say Good Spy (The Never Say Spy Series Book 12) Read online

  Kiss And Say Good Spy

  Book 12 of the NEVER SAY SPY series

  By Diane Henders

  Published August 2017 by PEBKAC Publishing

  Amazon Kindle Edition v.1

  ISBN 978-1-927460-47-4

  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.

  Thank you for reading!

  Copyright © 2017 Diane Henders

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or in any means—by electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise—without prior written permission.

  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: Spy High

  Book 10: Spy Away Home

  Book 11: The Spies That Bind

  Book 12: Kiss And Say Good Spy

  Book 13 is coming soon!

  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 Cassie at Crowe Photography: Thank you for coming all the way up here from Victoria! Your flexibility and expertise made the photo shoot easy, even for a camera-hater like me.

  To everyone else, respectfully:

  Canadian English is an unholy hybrid of British and American English, so I apologize if spellings in this book look odd to you. But if you find typos, please send an email to [email protected]. 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 1

  Driving through the cold grey November morning, I belted out an off-key version of ‘My Own Way To Rock’ along with Burton Cummings. The bouncy tune might have been enough to energize me for a day at the office, but it couldn’t dissipate the perpetual current of low-level anxiety buzzing in the back of my mind.

  I stopped murdering the song and switched to foolish optimism instead.

  No need to worry. I could just relax and be myself: Aydan Kelly, ordinary middle-aged bookkeeper. My undercover assignment had dragged on for months with no discernible progress, so maybe my potential arms buyer had lost interest. Or gotten arrested. Or better yet, killed.

  Or maybe he’d seen the error of his ways, repented, and joined a monastery to spend the rest of his days ministering to the poor and infirm…

  The ring of my burner phone shattered my fragile bubble of wishful thinking.

  Heart thumping, I swerved over to stop by the side of the road. After a single deep breath that was supposed to be calming, I thumbed the Answer button and barked, “Arlene Widdenback” in my best hardass-bitch voice.

  “Good morning, Ms. Widdenback.” Frederick Labelle’s rich radio-announcer’s tones oozed through the small speaker like warm butterscotch syrup, stirring queasiness in the pit of my stomach. “I hope you are well.”

  “Fine,” I said shortly. “I’ll be even better if you finally have a deal for me.”

  “Not quite yet.” He infused the words with all the synthetic regret of a weatherman predicting hail, tornadoes, and plagues of locusts. “However, you’ll be pleased to hear that our client will be coming to Calgary soon, and he’d like to meet you face to face.”

  Fear tightened my throat, and I held onto Arlene Widdenback’s no-bullshit voice with an effort. “You’re supposed to be my broker, so do your job and bring me a deal. I don’t do face-to-face meetings.”

  Annoyance chilled his voice, congealing its former sweetness into something quite a bit less pleasant. “That’s what I told him. I’ve been working on this deal since August, and I don’t appreciate being cut out at this late date.”

  “So tell him to go piss up a rope,” I snapped.

  “Unfortunately, it’s not that simple. He was quite… insistent.”

  Mentally agreeing that gangland bosses could be remarkably persuasive, I sat in silence that I hoped would radiate disapproval.

  Should I just repeat ‘I don’t do face-to-face meetings’ and hang up?

  But the last time I’d refused a meeting, Labelle had sent a very cranky man with a gun to collect me. And if a middleman arms broker like Labelle kept a cranky gun-toter on staff, a high-ranking gang member like Benoit Riel probably had a whole stable of cranky gun-toters.

  And even that thought didn’t scare me as much as what the Department might do to me if I bungled this mission…

  “He hasn’t given me an arrival date yet,” Labelle said into the silence. “Likely early next week. I do hope you’ll be able to meet him. I think his visit is a positive sign that he’s ready to move the deal forward.”

  Stall.

  I grunted, putting as much contempt into the sound as I could. “Maybe. Call me if he actually shows up.”

  I pressed the disconnect button and collapsed back in my seat, willing my pulse back down into normal range.

  After a few moments of fruitless
yoga breathing I abandoned the effort and activated my small bug-detecting device. Its indicator light glowed a green ‘all-clear’, and I pulled out one of the Department’s secured phones and hit the speed-dial.

  As usual, Director Charles Stemp answered on the first ring with a crisp, “Yes?”

  “It’s Aydan,” I said, trying not to sound as anxious as I felt. “I have a development. Benoit Riel might be coming to Calgary to meet with me in the next few days.”

  “Excellent. Briefing at zero nine hundred.”

  I checked my watch. Eight thirty. My civvie clients would have to wait.

  I held in my sigh. “Okay. I might be a few minutes late, though.”

  “Very well. I’ll inform your partner.”

  The click of his disconnect sounded before I could utter the words, “Wait, what partner?”

  Uh-oh.

  As I jogged across the frosty parking lot to the entrance of Sirius Dynamics, my heart thumped in a rapid rhythm that had nothing to do with exertion. Who would I get? Please, let it be someone I liked and trusted…

  Dammit, I didn’t want a new partner; I wanted my first and best one back. A vision of John Kane’s steady grey gaze and reassuringly broad shoulders warmed my mind. If only he hadn’t resigned…

  I puffed out a harsh breath as I hurried into the building. Too late for that. Get over it.

  The security guard gave me a cheerful ‘Good morning, Aydan’, and I managed a smile while I jittered through the sign-in procedure. I took the stairs two at a time, then paused at the top to dry my sweaty palms on my jeans and give myself a mental pep talk.

  I could do this. I was getting closer to being the experienced agent I’d been impersonating for the past year. I’d taken some courses, and I had a few missions under my belt. And despite turning forty-eight a couple of months ago I was in the best physical shape of my life. Everything would be fine. Piece of cake.

  I headed for the meeting room with my feet dragging as though I was already knee-deep in doom.

  Outside the door, I plastered on a smile that I hoped would look convincing, then stepped inside.

  “Hi…” I began. My greeting faltered at the sight of the occupants of the room, and I faked a cough to cover my dismay before continuing, “…Greg; Ch…” I added another strangled cough when my attempt to force Stemp’s first name from my lips failed. “’Scuse me; something in my throat,” I croaked. “Director.” I nodded to Stemp and slid into the nearest chair, hoping I hadn’t sounded as idiotic as I felt.

  “Hey, Kelly!” Greg Holt greeted me, his steel-blue eyes glinting like broken glass in the craggy landscape of his face. “Long time no see. Team Anger-Management, boo-yah!”

  Forcing a laugh, I reached across the table to reciprocate his proffered fist-bump. His gaze flicked behind me and I spun, but let out a pulse-calming breath at the sight of Clyde Webb’s beanpole figure.

  Thank God. At least I could count on Spider.

  “Hi, Spider!” My relief burst out on my face in a wide smile and I jumped up. “Here, take this chair. I’m going to-”

  “…sit with your back to the wall,” he finished along with me, his mischievous grin making him look more like a high-school kid than a twenty-seven-year-old techno-genius. Then he turned a repentant expression toward Stemp. “I’m sorry I’m late. I got, um…” His cheeks went pink. “I was a little late leaving the house this morning…”

  Holt guffawed. “Three months married and the honeymoon’s still not over, eh?”

  Spider blushed scarlet. Dropping into the chair I’d just vacated, he mumbled, “Sorry, it won’t happen again,” with a guilty glance at Stemp.

  Stemp’s impassive façade eased enough to allow a quirk at the corner of his mouth. “You’re forgiven. Agent Kelly just arrived moments ago, too.”

  “Oh, good…” Spider gave me a flustered glance. “I mean, um… not that I’m glad you were late, too, just… I’m glad you weren’t waiting on me.”

  Giving him a smile and a pat on the shoulder, I rounded the corner of the table and sat down with my back to the protection of the wall.

  “Now that everyone is present…” Stemp began.

  Shit.

  I had been clinging to the hope that my real partner would arrive at any moment. But no; apparently I was getting Holt.

  Good God. As if I wasn’t already scared enough.

  I dragged my attention back to Stemp’s voice as he brought Holt up to speed.

  “…Agent Kelly has been posing as Arlene Widdenback, a dealer in arms of all kinds, but particularly in technologically advanced designer weapons. Three months ago Frederick Labelle, a former broker for Fuzzy Bunny’s now-defunct arms empire, initiated contact on behalf of one Benoit Riel, who is high in the gang hierarchy in Montreal.”

  Holt glanced over at me. “What did you sell him?”

  “Nothing, yet.” I slouched a little lower in my chair. “It’s been frustrating as hell. Labelle keeps hinting that Riel will put in a big order, but it hasn’t happened. Then this morning he called to tell me Riel is planning to come to Calgary and wants to meet me.” Hiding my fear at the thought, I added, “Who knows, though? He doesn’t know when Riel is supposed to arrive, so it could be just talk. He’s been oozing butterscotch-flavoured bullshit for months now.”

  “That’s weird,” Holt said. “If Riel’s using Labelle as his broker, why would he want a face-to-face?”

  “No idea. I told Labelle I didn’t do face-to-face meetings and he should do his job as a broker and bring me a deal.”

  Holt raised an eyebrow. “Huh. Are you going to stick to that if Riel shows up?”

  “Probably not,” I mumbled.

  “Good call,” Stemp said. “Keep playing hard to get, but you should definitely meet with Riel if he comes. Holt will be your backup.”

  Holt’s lips tightened, and I could almost see the thought-bubble above his head. He was a top agent. He should have the leading role.

  Stemp continued smoothly, but I knew he hadn’t missed Holt’s reaction. “The analysts have uncovered a complex web of interrelationships, so it will be ideal that Holt is unknown to Labelle, Riel, Tawny Harchman, and James Helmand.”

  I blinked. “I see the potential connection with Tawny Harchman since we know she had ties to Fuzzy Bunny, but what does Helmand have to do with this? He’s in prison, and he never even knew about my Arlene Widdenback cover. He only knew that Fuzzy Bunny wanted me as Aydan Kelly and he was going to make a tidy profit by handing me over.”

  I didn’t bother to add ‘after he beat me and tried to rape me’, but memories of pain and terror stirred darkly in the back of my mind nonetheless.

  “Helmand was incarcerated with the former members of Fuzzy Bunny and they got to know each other,” Stemp replied.

  My mouth went dry. Oh, shit…

  Stemp went on, “The latest intel indicates that Tawny Harchman also had contact with Helmand through her connections with Fuzzy Bunny; and we’ve discovered that Helmand knows Benoit Riel through his gang connections.”

  My heart thudded to the bottom of my belly. “They all know each other. Great. Absolutely fu-” I bit off the incipient f-bomb and substituted, “…fine. Marvelous.” I massaged my temples, where a tension headache was already throbbing.

  Stemp nodded. “Not ideal, I agree. Now that Helmand has been released-”

  “What?” My voice came out in a strangled squawk, and I cleared my throat and forced a level tone. “It’s only been a year.”

  Stemp gave one of his infinitesimal shrugs, his mouth flattening into a sour line. “We couldn’t prove he had intent to jeopardize national security, so the money laundering and assault cases were tried in civilian court and the charges were plea-bargained. He has been a model prisoner, and yesterday he completed two thirds of his sentence and was released on parole.”

  Oh, God. That vicious bastard was free. Sick fear flooded my belly at the thought of him coming after me.

  But at least I was ar
med. What about Nichele? He knew where she lived. After brutalizing her once, he wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.

  Shit, I had to call her right away…

  “So do we know where he is?” I tried to hold my voice steady but it quavered slightly despite my best efforts.

  “He’s in Calgary, but the conditions of his parole prevent him from contacting his victims, including you, your friend Nichele Brown, and Helmand.”

  Holt frowned. “Helmand? Isn’t that who we’re talking about?”

  “James Helmand is the parolee,” Stemp replied. “I was referring to his younger brother, Arnold Helmand. For clarity, let’s refer to them by their first names.”

  “Arnold… oh. Hellhound?” Holt asked. “Big ugly bearded guy covered in tattoos; sniper and weapons specialist?” Stemp nodded and Holt’s frown deepened. “His brother is a gang kingpin? Isn’t that a hell of a security risk?”

  “Arnie would rather die than even give James the time of day,” I snapped. “He doesn’t associate with James at all.”

  “Arnold’s loyalty isn’t in question, nor is it relevant to this briefing,” Stemp said. “But it is relevant that James knows your cover story and your subsequent dealings with Fuzzy Bunny. He’ll think that Arlene Widdenback’s connections with corrupt law enforcement were what resulted in his arrest.”

  “Great,” I muttered. “So not only is he going to be pissed that I escaped and he didn’t get his money from Fuzzy Bunny, he’s going to be super-pissed that I got him arrested.”

  “Very likely,” Stemp replied, as though he wasn’t the least bit concerned that I was the target of a murderous lunatic with a vendetta.

  And why should he worry? He thought I was an experienced agent who could easily handle the situation, not a bookkeeper scrambling just to stay alive…

  “Inform me as soon as your meeting with Riel is scheduled,” he went on. “Webb, get wiretaps on Riel’s and Labelle’s phones as soon as possible. Holt, I’ve given you security clearance to access the complete dossier on Arlene Widdenback and the developments in this case to date. Questions?”