Once Burned, Twice Spy Page 15

  “Really?” Holt demanded, his action-hero jaw jutting. “Or are you just repeating what Helmand told you to say?”

  My stomach clenched. Oh God. It wasn’t just my life on the line; it might be Arnie’s, too, if Stemp thought we had collaborated.

  “I remember that part just fine,” I said, holding my voice as steady as I could, which wasn’t very steady at all. I cleared my throat and tried again. “My memory’s good up to where the smoke thinned out and Dr. Mitchell said his bacteria were gone.” A merciful moment of clarity straightened my spine and strengthened my voice. “I want to see the surveillance camera footage. Everybody’s seen it but me, and I want to see why everybody’s trying to frame me.”

  “Everyone is not trying to frame you,” Stemp countered dispassionately. “We are collecting evidence and we will discover the truth.” Before I could respond, he continued, “I have collated the footage of the incident from all available cameras. Would you prefer to see them side by side or in sequence?”

  “One at a time, please.” I rubbed my aching forehead. “My brain still isn’t working right.”

  “Very well. We’ll watch in slow motion between when the smoke bomb appears and when the view is obscured by smoke.” Stemp’s and Holt’s faces disappeared and the screen displayed a surveillance camera view instead.

  The footage had been taken from across the room so I couldn’t make out much detail, but I was relieved to see that I looked a lot more composed in the video than I had actually been. There was no sign of the claustrophobic terror that had been coursing through my veins. My face was pale and grim, but so was everyone else’s.

  Beside me in the video, Grandin scribbled furiously in his notebook; just as I’d remembered. I nudged Hellhound. “See, he had a pen there.”

  Hellhound nodded, frowning at the screen.

  “Can we zoom in on his pen?” I asked.

  “We can magnify, but the detail is probably insufficient,” Stemp replied.

  The picture obligingly enlarged, but Stemp was right. The details of the pen blurred as the zoom level increased.

  “Damn.” I let out a breath and slumped in my chair. “I was sure that pen was a dart gun and he was just pretending to write with it; but there’s no way to tell from the footage.”

  “Agreed,” Stemp said. The picture zoomed back out to its original dimensions and the video resumed.

  A moment later my arm jerked forward and the smoke bomb tumbled through the air.

  “Hang on, play that back!” I snapped. “The smoke bomb might look as though it came from me; but I think Grandin threw it from behind me. At this camera angle you can’t see his hands at all. And if it had come from me you’d be able to see it in my hand.”

  “Not necessarily.” Holt’s mocking voice spoke as the video wound back and replayed. “You could’ve had it up the sleeve of your sweatshirt.”

  “But what about fingerprints?” I protested. “Were my fingerprints on it?”

  “No fingerprints were found,” Stemp replied.

  Holt snorted. “It’s a no-brainer to dip your fingertips in clear resin to obscure your prints before you handle something.”

  I gulped. Shit, there was another piece of spycraft I should have known. My self-confidence drained away and I felt myself reverting to a bungling idiot civilian. Just the way I’d felt when I had been partnered with Holt.

  He was still talking, his tone condescending. “…and then you could have easily peeled off the resin caps and chucked them while you were hidden by smoke.”

  Queasy anxiety twisted my stomach. So much for the defense I’d been counting on to clear me.

  “Did they check all the garbage cans for fingerprint caps?” Hellhound demanded.

  “Yes,” Stemp confirmed. “They found nothing.”

  “Then Aydan couldn’ta done it,” Hellhound persisted. “’Cause our whole team can vouch for her while the cameras were smoked out. If she’d thrown the finger caps in the garbage then, ya woulda found ’em; an’ she didn’t have time to get rid a’ anythin’ after the smoke cleared. She’s on camera the whole time.”

  “Nice try,” Holt sneered. “She probably swallowed the caps while she was hidden in the smoke. That’s what any competent agent would do.”

  “Whose fuckin’ side are ya on?” Hellhound snapped. “You’re s’posed to be clearin’ her, not railroadin’ her!”

  “As I said before, we are simply seeking the truth,” Stemp said coolly. “Agent Kelly, would you like to see the rest of the footage?”

  “Yes, please,” I whispered, my throat dry.

  Maybe Stemp had finally decided I was too much of a liability. Maybe the commander had been acting under Stemp’s orders, to frame me so I could be conveniently eliminated without any pushback from the chain of command. And if Stemp gave the order, Holt would kill me without hesitation.

  Film after film played.

  All of them were inconclusive. Either by coincidence or design, the view of Grandin’s hands was blocked by either my body or his in all the camera angles. Nausea swirled in my gut.

  “Ya okay, darlin’?” Hellhound inquired anxiously. “Ya look pretty pale an’ sweaty.”

  “I feel like shit,” I admitted. “Nauseated. Weak.” I swallowed hard. “Has… has Dr. Roth heard anything from the lab yet? Do they know whether…?” I couldn’t bring myself to say the words ‘…I’ve been poisoned’.

  “You’re prob’ly just hungry,” Hellhound said in reassuring tones. “It’s damn near two-thirty, an’ ya ain’t eaten since breakfast.” But the worry in his eyes belied his confident words. “I’ll go ask the doc,” he added. “An’ I’ll grab ya some food.”

  He slipped out the door, as always moving quickly and quietly for a man of his size.

  The videos vanished from the screen and the display switched back to Holt and Stemp.

  Holt studied me with a skeptical eyebrow raised. “You look like shit. Nice acting. And shooting yourself up with ketamine was a smooth move to make yourself look like a victim.”

  “I didn’t!” Anger heated my blood, lending me a moment’s strength. “I told you, I got shot! And we still don’t even know whether it was only ketamine or whether there was some deadly virus or something in there!”

  “Couldn’t be anything too deadly,” Holt drawled. “You’re still kicking. And I don’t see why anybody would bother using a dart to inject you with something lethal. There are lots of better and faster ways to off somebody. I bet ketamine was the only thing in there.”

  The door swung open and Hellhound strode in, smiling. “Hey, darlin’, good news! They finished at the lab, an’ the only thing in the dart was ketamine. You’re all clear, an’ they’re liftin’ the quarantine.”

  I would have been relieved if not for Holt’s cynical snicker.

  “Why the hell are you so sure I did it?” I snapped at him. “Like you said, any competent agent would be able to do this; so why aren’t you investigating Grandin? I’ve told you over and over, he was right beside me! He’s the only one who could have shot me from that angle; and he’s the only one who could have thrown the smoke bomb and made it look as though it came from me! And if he or the commander had dipped their fingertips in resin, either of them could have planted the dart in my pocket!”

  “We are exploring all possibilities,” Stemp said. He nodded to the plate of crackers and cheese in Hellhound’s hand. “Please eat. As soon as the quarantine has been officially lifted, Dr. Travers will be in with the lie detector.”

  I fell back in my chair with a breath of pure relief. “Thank God! I’d forgotten about our lie detector. It’ll prove I’m telling the truth!”

  “I certainly hope so,” Stemp said.

  “Can we look at all the surveillance footage now?” I asked. “I’d like to see everything from the moment we arrived up until Dr. Roth got here.”

  “Certainly.” Stemp turned to Holt. “Holt, you’re cleared to enter the area now that the quarantine is lifted, so pl
ease go in and take over Kelly’s role safeguarding our Weapons team while the rest of our allies continue their presentations.”

  Holt rose and strode away, his chest puffed out like Superman flying to the rescue of Smallville.

  Asshole.

  But at least I knew Reggie and Murray and Melinda would be safe. Holt didn’t mess around. He wouldn’t get distracted and let somebody shoot him in the back.

  I hissed out a breath as the screen switched back to surveillance footage. Let it go. The attack on me had been well-planned. If Grandin hadn’t gotten me at that particular moment, he would have found another opportunity.

  I munched crackers and cheese, feeling steadily better while we watched multiple views of the same action from different angles. Time dragged on, and my mind gradually cleared until I was able to concentrate fully on the details of the videos.

  “It’s good to see this,” I said, watching the footage of the personal searches from yet another viewpoint. “It helps to see what actually-”

  “Wait,” Stemp interrupted. “Let’s look at that again.”

  The video froze, then went back frame by frame. I leaned forward to stare at the screen.

  “There,” Stemp said. “Dr. Pino’s search.”

  We watched in silence while the video ran forward again in slow motion. The guard palpated Pino’s right leg, then his left. Paused. Spoke to Dr. Pino.

  Dr. Pino shook his head, looking terrified. Even in the low-resolution video, his brow glistened with sweat. Dark sweat stains streaked his clothes.

  The guard spoke again, indicating Dr. Pino’s left leg, and Pino reluctantly raised his pant leg to display a grubby bandage stained reddish brown with dried blood.

  The guard recoiled, unconsciously wiping his hands on his thighs, and nodded at Dr. Pino. Pino lowered his pant leg again and the guard completed his search, avoiding the bandaged area.

  “I’ll have Dr. Roth remove that bandage and examine Dr. Pino’s injury,” Stemp said. “If one wishes to conceal something during a search, hiding it under a soiled bandage is an effective tactic. Agent Kelly, that was the last of the video. Do you have any further questions?”

  “No, that’s it,” I said.

  “Very well. You may expect Dr. Travers and the lie detector shortly.” The video image blinked out.

  “Glad Stemp’s got everythin’ under control, but that Holt’s a real fuckin’ prick,” Hellhound observed in the ensuing silence.

  “He’s actually okay sometimes,” I explained. “But once he starts playing Holt The Magnificent, he’s a total tool.”

  “Is he any good?”

  “I have no idea, and I’m sure as hell not going to sleep with him to find out.”

  Hellhound guffawed. “Your Freudian slip is showin’, darlin’. I meant, is he any good as an agent?”

  “Oh.” Heat suffused my face. “Um, yeah. He’s actually a really good agent. The problem is he never lets anybody forget it.”

  “Huh.” Dismissing the topic of Holt with a grunt, Hellhound rolled his chair closer to mine and slipped an arm around my shoulders. “So how ya doin’, darlin’? Feelin’ any better?”

  “Yeah.” I sighed and leaned into him, propping my head against his muscular shoulder. “Thank you. Again.”

  The door opened, making me twitch guiltily away from Hellhound.

  “For Christ’s sake, are you two at it again?” Reggie growled, but there was a quirk of humour at the corner of his mouth. “You’re worse than Murray and Melinda.”

  I relaxed back into Hellhound’s embrace. “No, if we were Murray and Melinda we’d be banging each other up against the wall right now.”

  “Hey, there’s a thought,” Hellhound said with interest. “Ain’t ever done ya up against a wall…”

  Reggie clapped his hands over his ears. “Jeez! Too much information!”

  “So, did you want something?” I inquired, grinning. “Or were you just sneaking in here hoping to get a cheap thrill?”

  He snorted. “Anytime I want a cheap thrill, I’ve got my own right hand. Catching you two in the act would only make me puke.” He nodded at Hellhound. “Especially him. The only way he could get uglier would be if he was naked.”

  Hot anger jerked me upright. “Listen, asshole-”

  “Hey, it’s okay, darlin’,” Hellhound interrupted. “Chow an’ me are cool.” He flipped Reggie a casual middle finger and a sideways grin. “He likes havin’ me around ’cause I’m the only bastard as fuckin’ ugly as him.”

  “You are not!” I snapped, still seething. “Neither of you is ugly, and it pisses me off when-”

  “Easy, now.” Hellhound silenced me with a light kiss. “Ya gotta know I ain’t ever gonna win any beauty contests. But it’s nice to know ya got my back anyway.”

  “Same here,” Reggie agreed with unaccustomed softness. “Thanks, Aydan.”

  Heat rose in my face. “You’re welcome. Both of you.” Hurrying past the moment, I began, “So what-” just as Reggie said, “So I just came to tell you-”

  The door swung open again.

  “…the quarantine bubble is down, all the presentations are done, and Stemp and Dr. Travers should be here any minute,” Reggie finished as a voluptuous blue-eyed blonde strode in carrying a metal briefcase. “Hi, Honey,” he added.

  She gave him a warning frown softened by the twinkle in her eyes. “Watch it, Reggie. If you keep calling me by my given name, I’ll be forced to divulge the sordid details of-”

  “Jack!” he interrupted, throwing up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Hi, Jack! Nice to see you again, Jack!”

  She gave him a wicked grin, incongruous on her angelic features. “Hello, Reggie.”

  “Okay, I have to know,” I demanded. “What do you have on him that works so well?”

  “Jack…” Reggie said warningly.

  She smiled. “Sorry, that bit of leverage is mine alone.” She raised a perfectly-sculpted eyebrow in Reggie’s direction. “Unless somebody suffers another memory lapse.”

  “I’ll be going now,” Reggie said, and retreated out the door.

  Before the door could close behind him, Stemp and Holt strode in and took seats across from us. “Dr. Travers,” Stemp greeted Jack. “Let’s get started.” He shot a level look at Hellhound. “Helmand, wait outside.”

  Hellhound stiffened. “No.”

  A tense silence descended. Stemp sat immobile and unblinking, a deadly snake poised to strike. Holt moved forward in his chair as if eager for a fight.

  “I ain’t leavin’,” Hellhound continued mildly. “If you’re only questionin’ Aydan about this mornin’, ya ain’t gonna ask anythin’ I ain’t cleared to hear.”

  “True,” Stemp agreed without changing expression. “Very well, you may stay.”

  His acquiescence was issued in the same clinical tone he might use to pronounce a death sentence, and I hid a shiver. If he issued a kill order today, Arnie would die with me.

  Holt sat back in his chair again, his arms crossed and his expression impassive; but his hard blue gaze challenged me.

  Jack busied herself attaching the familiar crown of electrodes around my forehead and tweaking knobs in the lie-detector case. A few minutes later she stood aside and said, “Go ahead, Director.”

  My pulse ticked up. This was my one chance to prove my innocence. Don’t screw it up…

  Stemp fixed me with his flat reptilian gaze. “Please answer yes or no. Is your name Aydan Kelly?”

  “Yes.” The green light flashed its reassurance.

  “Did you throw a smoke bomb during Dr. Mitchell’s presentation today?”

  Adrenaline gushed into my veins. Usually he lobbed a few easy questions to test the detector’s responses, but he was jumping straight into it today.

  “No.” My voice came out in a croak, and I eyed the lie detector fearfully.

  Green light.

  Despite my attempt to hide my emotions, a breath of relief escaped me.

  “Did you i
nject yourself with any substance today?”

  “No.”

  Another green light sent my confidence soaring.

  “Do you know who shot you with the ketamine dart?”

  “No.” I waited until the green light flashed before adding, “But I have a pretty good idea.”

  “We will explore that later. Did you put the dart in your own pocket?”

  “No.”

  The lie detector flashed yellow, and my heart froze in my chest.

  Chapter 20

  Paralyzed, I stared at the damning yellow light flashing on the lie detector machine.

  “What…” My voice came out in a dry whisper, and I cleared my throat and tried again. “What does that mean? I’ve never seen a yellow light before.”

  “It means you don’t know the true answer,” Jack said. “The detector compares the brainwaves generated by your memory of the event with the brainwaves generated by your response to the question. If you don’t have a memory of the event, it’ll flash yellow to indicate an invalid pairing. If you had remembered the event but lied about it, there would be a mismatch in the brainwave patterns and it would flash red. Director, try the question again; and Aydan, this time just answer ‘yes’ as a test.”

  “But I didn’t!” I protested. “I know I didn’t put the dart in my own pocket because I never even saw the dart until…”

  My treacherous memories slithered through my grasp.

  Had I seen the dart? Arnie had told me the commander found it in my pocket during the metal scan, so I must have seen it then. But I couldn’t remember…

  “Did you put the dart in your own pocket?” Stemp asked, his voice and gaze as cold and impersonal as if we were strangers.

  Maybe we were.

  Maybe I’d never known him.

  “No!” I repeated, and the yellow light flashed again.

  “Try it once more,” Jack urged. “Just say ‘yes’ this time, Aydan. It’ll turn yellow just the same. You’ll see, it’s only indicating that you truly don’t know.”

  “No.” Fear rose in my throat. This was it. Stemp was going to kill me today; and if I said ‘yes’ now, my own fake testimony would bury me. “No! I didn’t do it! I’m not going to say I did!”