Spy, Spy Away Page 16

  My throat tightened at the rare glimpse of the human being behind the mask, and I swallowed hard before replying. “Thanks.” My voice came out husky, and I swallowed again before continuing. “I appreciate your concern. But I think I have a way to get out of the situation gracefully and convincingly. And I’d really like to finish this.”

  He smiled, more resignation than humour. “I expected you’d say that. Should I arrange a hand-to-hand combat qualification for you, too?”

  “God, no! Not unless you really want to watch Germain beat the shit out of me.”

  “Not particularly.” Stemp appraised me in silence for a moment. “So you intend to maintain your bookkeeping cover? You wouldn’t fight even for your qualification?”

  “Even if I was capable of fighting Germain, I wouldn’t. And I’d really appreciate it if nobody ever found out about Helmand.”

  “A report has to go through the upper chain of command, but I can redact the records so it’s strictly need-to-know. Unless there’s some administrative reason to access them, that should do it.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” I screwed up my courage. “Um… and… another thing…”

  Too much dangerous knowledge in my brain. Too much risk for the people I cared about.

  Only one way to protect them.

  I hesitated, wondering if I was about to do something profoundly stupid. Well, hell, it wouldn’t be the first time.

  I drew a deep breath and looked Stemp square in the eye. “I won’t risk letting anybody else read my mind. If anybody takes control of me in the sim again, I’ll kill them.”

  He sat back slowly in his chair, his face inscrutable again while he studied me. “Another loss of control?” he asked at length, his tone noncommittal.

  I mentally crossed my fingers for luck and made my voice as neutral as his. “Something like that.”

  Silence swelled between us, stealing the air from the room. His stillness and unblinking gaze reminded me of a statue in a wax museum, and I resisted the idiotic urge to poke him and see if he moved. I did my best to emulate his immobility, but my chest vibrated with the pounding of my heart.

  Come on, say something, dammit. Sweat prickled my backbone.

  I held myself still. The silence stretched interminably.

  “I can’t condone that,” he said at last.

  Shit, I’d read him wrong. A jolt of burning adrenaline seared my veins, my guts twisting with bitterness. Shouldn’t have trusted him. Never trust anybody, stupid.

  Too late now.

  Would he shoot me on the spot or inflict the slow hell of prison in the full knowledge of my claustrophobic terror? I resisted the urge to close my eyes as he reached into his desk drawer.

  When he withdrew a bug detector and activated it, the immobility I’d wished for earlier was suddenly bestowed upon me. Frozen, I stared at the green light without breathing.

  About a year later, he finally spoke. “Off the record, though, I can thank you for resolving a very difficult dilemma for me.”

  I managed a shallow breath. “…ah?”

  He shrugged. “You must know where my priorities lie. If you defend yourself inside the network, my interests are protected.”

  Of course. His wife and daughter. It suddenly occurred to me that he might not need me now that he had Tammy to do his decryptions. If Sam’s ‘heart attack’ was his doing, he might have been considering an ‘accident’ for me, too, to eliminate the risk to Katya and Anna.

  I might have just saved my own life. Score one for trust after all.

  I drew a slightly deeper breath. “Does anybody else know about…?

  “No.”

  “Not even your chain of command? Why…” I bit back the question. The less I knew, the better. “Never mind.”

  He dropped the detector back into his drawer and leaned back, his expression as bland as if we’d been discussing the weather. “You’ll need to attend anger-management classes.”

  “Uh… okay…?” I frowned a question at him.

  “It protects both of us. Me, from an administrative standpoint, in case you suffer another…” he gave me an ironic tilt of his chin. “…loss of control. In the past months, you have, after all, assaulted nearly everyone you’ve worked with. Including me. And you’ve uttered threats and been verbally abusive.”

  I slid lower in the chair. “Sorry. Those were misunderstandings.”

  “I know. But if I don’t act and someone else dies at your hands, my chain of command will demand answers. And it also protects you.” His smile was wry. “If you’re working to resolve your anger issues, you’ll be deemed less of a risk. And who knows, you may actually benefit from it. I, for one, would be pleased to avoid having your gun jammed in my throat a second time.”

  I squirmed, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. “Um, yeah. Sorry. Okay, I’ll go.”

  “Good. It’s a ten-week series starting after Christmas. I’ll contact Dr. Rawling and tell him you’ll be joining them.”

  I suppressed a groan and gave him my best imploring big brown eyes. “Can I go to the next series instead?”

  His silence wilted me more effectively than any reply.

  “Fine,” I muttered. “But I didn’t have any fucking anger issues before all this bullshit started.”

  Amusement tugged at the corner of Stemp’s mouth. “That’s the point.”

  Shit. Nothing like getting angry about being sent to an anger-management class. This time the groan escaped, and I sank my head into my hands.

  “Go and see Dr. Roth. Then go home. Rest and eat.” The warmth in his voice surprised me. “I’ll reschedule the team meeting for thirteen hundred.”

  When I looked up, he still hadn’t resumed his aloof façade. I managed a genuine smile for Charles Stemp, the human being. “Thanks.”

  Chapter 21

  Climbing the stairs at Sirius Dynamics a couple of hours later, I eased out a long breath. Clean clothes, a nap, lunch, and an ice pack had made me feel, if not human, at least half-way to simian. Vastly better than the pressed shit I’d felt like earlier, anyway.

  When I turned the corner into my office I paused, uneasiness fluttering down to perch in the pit of my stomach. Kane and Stemp stood near the wall, their expressions and posture identically cop-neutral. Spider sat behind my desk as if barricading himself from the group, blotches of angry colour on his cheeks. Jack’s usually flawless complexion was blotchy, too, and her pink nose rivalled mine.

  “Oh, Aydan!” Jack surveyed my face, tears welling up in her reddened eyes. “You must have just heard, too.”

  “Uh… I, uh…”

  What the hell? I retreated to the safety of the excuse I’d prepared earlier. “Um… allergies…” I made a vague gesture nose-ward. “I was digging for some stuff in my shed and I got a face full of something I really reacted to… Heard what? What’s going on?”

  “Sam died of a heart attack yesterday. I just found out. I can hardly believe it, it’s such a shock.”

  “…oh.” With an effort, I prevented myself from glancing at Stemp. “That’s…” I groped for something sincere to say. Not exactly a tragedy. And I could hardly say I was shocked. “…um… sad,” I finished weakly.

  “Oh, Aydan, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spring it on you like that. Come and sit down.” Jack reached out to guide me to the sofa and laid a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. “Would you like a glass of water?”

  “Um, no. Thanks, Jack. I’m fine…” I frowned, taking in Spider’s rigid posture and flashing eyes. He didn’t look shocked or sad. He looked mad as hell. My uneasiness morphed into outright worry. “Hey, Spider, are you-”

  “I have to go. I don’t feel well.” Spider jerked to his feet and strode out, his movements stiff.

  I hurried in his wake. “Are you okay? Do you want a ride home?”

  He turned to face me in the hallway, feverish colour burning in his cheeks. “No thanks, I’ll drive myself,” he snapped, and stalked away.

  Disconcerted, I tr
ailed back into my office. Stemp’s neutral expression hadn’t altered, but I had the distinct impression it was taking some effort for him to hold onto it.

  Jack gave him an uncomfortable glance. “Well… I guess… I guess I’ll go, too, then.” She hurried out.

  I sank onto my couch, staring after her and wondering what the hell I’d missed.

  Stemp cleared his throat and passed me an envelope. “The phone list. Call Hibbert whenever it suits you, and let me know what arrangements you make for delivery.”

  I hesitated. “Is it okay if I…” I gestured at the open flap of the envelope.

  “Of course.” Stemp shot me a slightly quizzical look, which I ignored while I slid the double-spaced photocopied sheets out and examined them.

  I recognized very few of the names on the list, but then again, I didn’t really hobnob with anybody except my team. I noted Kane’s name, and my alias of Arlene Widdenback, but no ‘Charles Stemp’. I raised an eyebrow in his direction.

  “Most of the list is accurate, but I’ve seeded it with some names that might be of interest to Fuzzy Bunny, while conveniently omitting a few others,” Stemp confirmed. “There’s nothing in that list that can’t be safely disseminated.”

  “Okay, good.” I tucked it back in the envelope, pretending I hadn’t just absorbed an infusion of queasy fear at the thought of facing Hibbert again. “I’ll let you know as soon as I talk to him.”

  “Very well.” Stemp glanced at Kane. “The two of you may as well tackle some more decryptions this afternoon. Unless you need Webb for anything…?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” I shot a look in Kane’s direction. “John? How about you?”

  “Not that I can think of,” he confirmed. He detached himself from the wall to sit in the chair across from me. “Let’s get started. Unless you want to call Hibbert first?”

  I tossed the envelope onto the coffee table and laced my fingers in my lap to hide their trembling. “No, I’ll do that later. Let’s do some decryptions.”

  The work dragged interminably, our usual process made frustratingly slow without Spider’s expert computer skills. When we exited the network a couple of hours later, I ground my raging headache against the back of the sofa, spitting some particularly colourful profanity I usually reserved for special occasions.

  Kane’s hands immobilized my head, his firm fingertips searching out the red-hot knots in my scalp and massaging them away. I let out a whimper of sheer gratitude and went limp under his ministrations.

  The pain subsided rapidly but I kept my eyes closed, wallowing shamelessly in his touch until a small blissful moan escaped despite my best efforts.

  I pulled away and sat up to shoot a guilty glance around my office. Fortunately we were the only two present, and I turned to face Kane, hoping the warmth in my cheeks wasn’t too noticeable.

  “That seemed like a bad one,” he observed neutrally, and I gave quick and silent thanks that he was continuing our usual friendly but impersonal business interaction.

  “Yeah.” I rolled my head and shoulders. “I’m just going to make a quick pit stop, and then we can get back to it.”

  “I think you need a longer break.” A hint of inflection in the remark made me search his face, wondering if I’d imagined it. “Let’s go down to the Melted Spoon for a snack,” he added. He smiled. “I’d hate to have to pick you up off the floor again.”

  I returned his smile. “That won’t happen. I haven’t been working that hard.” A fractional narrowing of his eyes prompted me to add, “But I could use a snack anyway. I’m just going to zip to the bathroom, and then I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

  Shivering my way down the sidewalk beside Kane a few minutes later, I retreated deeper into the hood of my parka to evade the icy fingers of wind that slipped through every tiny aperture.

  I cast a quizzical glance up at his profile. “Um…”

  He silenced me with a small hand movement and kept walking, his hand continuing the gesture into his jacket pocket. A couple of seconds later it emerged again and Kane used the motion to look at his watch, the steady green light of a bug detector glowing briefly from his half-concealed palm before he returned it to his pocket.

  “I had a feeling this wasn’t just a nice brisk walk out in the filthy freezing cold,” I whispered, trying not to move my lips too much.

  Kane turned a friendly smile on me. “Did you kill him?” he demanded through his teeth.

  My feet forgot how to walk.

  Kane’s hand shot out to grab my arm as I stumbled, and he leaned closer as if in concern. “You did kill him, didn’t you?” he hissed.

  Shit!

  Protect Arnie.

  My brain caught up and booted my mouth into gear. “Y-yes.”

  Kane let go of me and kept walking. His face was composed, but an arctic storm raged in his eyes. “So that’s why you wanted me to leave. So you could sneak back and kill him. You… that’s…”

  Words apparently failed him, and he jerked his jacket collar tighter, his mouth set in a grim line. The wind whistled between us, not nearly as cold as the frost emanating from Kane’s rigid posture.

  “I…” I began, but he was already speaking, his voice low and hard.

  “You’ve gone too far, Aydan. Murdering a defenseless old man just to protect me is not only illegal and cold-blooded as hell, it’s, it’s…” Muscles bulged in his jaw. “It’s goddamn insulting! And-”

  Answering anger boiled up in my veins. “Fuck defenseless! That asshole-”

  I clapped my mouth shut as I belatedly processed his words. Kill a defenceless old man to protect Kane…

  Shit.

  “Um, are you talking about Sam?” I asked meekly. “Because I didn’t kill him.”

  Kane didn’t stumble, but he shot me a single wide-eyed glance that for him was tantamount to standing stock-still and gaping at me.

  An instant later, his cop face closed down and we walked on in silence for a few moments before he spoke again. “You didn’t kill Kraus?”

  “No.” I crossed my fingers inside my pocket even though I wasn’t strictly lying. “As far as I know he had a heart attack.”

  “So who did you kill?”

  I hunched my shoulders and stuffed my fists deeper in my pockets. “I can’t tell you.”

  I dared a peek at the muscles rippling in his jaw. Could I tell him?

  No. Nobody could know.

  “Sorry,” I added.

  Several more silent strides.

  “You were attacked last night.” His grey gaze scoured my face for a moment before turning forward again in a convincing imitation of unconcern. “What happened?”

  I grimaced, mentally cursing my lack of control and his powers of observation.

  “Yes, I noticed your swollen nose,” he confirmed grimly. “Allergies, my foot. You killed your attacker, didn’t you? Who was it? Why didn’t Stemp mention anything about this when he briefed us this afternoon?”

  “It’s, um… it’s complicated.” I gave him a pleading look. “Could you please forget I said anything about it? Nobody is supposed to know.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Not even Stemp?”

  “Stemp knows. Nobody else.”

  Kane didn’t bother to conceal his sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing. “So it was one of your other ops. That’s why we weren’t briefed.”

  I aimed a kick at an inoffensive lump of snow and spoke before the lie could choke me. “Yeah.”

  “I’m sorry, Aydan.” He spoke quickly as we arrived at the Melted Spoon. “I jumped to a conclusion when I should have trusted you. Can you forgive me?”

  The guilt of my lies coiled around my throat. “It’s fine. Forget it,” I muttered, and yanked open the door of the coffee shop without looking at him.

  “I don’t blame you for being angry with me.” Kane spoke moments after we’d regained the sidewalk, steaming cardboard cups in hand. “I’m sorry I-”

  “John, it’s fine,” I interrupted.
“I’m not mad. Just forget it.” I clammed up as a heavily-muffled shopper hurried by in the opposite direction. “It was an honest mistake,” I added quietly when we were alone on the sidewalk again. “I won’t say I’m sorry he’s dead, because now you’re safe. But it was convenient timing, and I probably would have thought the same in your position.”

  “It was suspiciously good timing…” He hesitated.

  “Stemp had finished interrogating him before he died, so the timing wasn’t as good as you think. But luckily he didn’t tell Stemp about you and me.” I met his eyes steadily and answered his unasked question without rancor. “I really didn’t kill him.”

  He nodded, and our walk back to the office was considerably less chilly.

  Slouched at my desk a few minutes later, I hugged my cup of tea and eyed the envelope containing Stemp’s phone list with no enthusiasm whatsoever.

  Blowing out a long breath, I relinquished the tea and reached for the phone. Kane would arrive in moments with the network key, and I’d really prefer to do this without an audience.

  I punched in Hibbert’s number before I could chicken out and clenched the receiver in a sweaty fist, my prepared script swirling through my brain.

  Far too soon, Hibbert’s unctuous voice slithered to my ear. “Arlene. What a pleasure.”

  He gave the word a lewd emphasis, and I reflexively scrubbed my lips with the back of my hand, my guts twisting with the remembered need to gag.

  “I have the list.” My words choked out, and I drew a deep breath and clamped down on control. “Where should I leave it?” Better this time. Now I sounded cool and confident.

  “Why don’t we meet?” Slimy satisfaction oozed from his voice. “We can engage in some more… mutual benefits.”

  “I don’t think so.” I let ‘cool’ fade into ‘icy’. “The benefits were hardly mutual. You fell asleep right afterward. You got your thank-you, so we’re done.”