Spy High Read online

  Ratboy’s smile thinned to a razor edge and he shot a gloating look at me before following her like a jackal slinking after unsuspecting prey.

  “Wait, Nichele!” The words burst from my lips as I ran after her. “I mean, Blaze.” I threw a threatening glare at Ratboy as I passed him and caught up to Nichele. “I’ll come with you,” I panted. “I’m just going to grab a granola bar from the kitchen.” I raised my voice to call back to Skidmark. “I’ll be back a little later!”

  He lifted his joint in a vague salute before returning it to his lips, and I faced Nichele’s puzzled look as I fell into step with her.

  “See the guy behind us?” I asked.

  She turned to look as Ratboy stepped off the path to disappear into the forest. “Yeah, what a creepazoid. I saw him up at the garage. What’s his deal? Why didn’t you introduce us?”

  “I don’t know his name. I call him Ratboy.”

  Nichele giggled. “Perfect. He totally looks like a Ratboy.”

  “Yeah, well, rats have a mean streak.” She sobered at my tone, and I added, “Watch out for him. He’s got a hate on for me, and he’s exactly the kind of cowardly little dickwad to take it out on you because he knows we’re friends.”

  Nichele tossed her head. “I’d like to see him try. I’ll kick his weaselly little ass.”

  “Yeah.” I sighed. Just like a tiny terrier, all attitude and barely a mouthful for a big dog. “Just don’t give him a chance, okay? Stick close to Aurora, and make sure you stay where there are lots of people.”

  “I can take care of myself, Aydan.”

  “I know.” I made big pleading eyes. “Just do it for me, okay?”

  She smiled and flung an arm around me. “Girl, you’re such a worrywart. Okay, I will.” Then she leaned in, lowering her voice and bouncing her eyebrows. “So that was Orion. Oh-em-gee! Holy hunka-burning-love, girl, why aren’t you hitting that?”

  I shrugged. “Why aren’t you? He was hot for you, and you’re always telling me you only live once.”

  “Aydan!” Nichele drew back, flushing with indignation. “I’m with Dave! How cheesy do you think I am?”

  I grinned. “Just testing you.” I sobered, looking her in the eye. “You know, there was a time not too long ago when you wouldn’t have hesitated to jump him. The old Nichele would have had his clothes off by now.”

  She stopped dead, her cheeks paling. She stared at me for a long moment before dropping her face into her hands. Her voice came out in a terrified squeak. “Ohmigod, I’m in love with Dave. Ohmigod! Aydan, what am I going to do?”

  “Hey, stop panicking!” I gripped her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “So you love Dave. Dave loves you. I’m not seeing a problem here.”

  “But I can’t love him!” When she emerged from the shelter of her hands her eyes were wide and dark with fear. “If I love him it’ll break my heart when he cheats on me and I can’t, I just can’t-”

  “Nichele, for shit’s sake! He won’t cheat on you. That’s why you love him!”

  “No, I love him because I’m an idiot!” She hid her face in her hands again. “Oh, God, why didn’t I just sleep with him and then dump him like all the rest? Ohmigod, I’m such an idiot.”

  “No, you’re not.” I pulled gently on her wrists, coaxing her hands away from her face. “You’re not an idiot. You’re a smart, beautiful, successful stockbroker with brilliant business sense. You know what you want and you go after it. And Dave is a hero who put his life on the line for you once already and he’d do it again in a heartbeat. He’s one of the good guys, Nichele, and you know it. Don’t second-guess yourself.”

  “He put his life on the line for you, not for me,” Nichele mumbled, but she straightened, colour creeping back into her cheeks.

  “For both of us,” I corrected. “He didn’t even know you then and he still risked his life to save you. You know I’m right.”

  She nodded slowly, then with more conviction. “I guess… you’re right.”

  “Of course I’m right.” I nudged her with an elbow. “I’m always right.”

  “You’re always full of shit.” She gave me a wobbly grin.

  “Well, yeah, that too. Why do you think my eyes are brown?”

  After delivering Nichele safely into Aurora’s clutches and extracting a promise that they’d stay in populated areas, I jogged back to the garage. Skidmark still lounged against the wall, and he still had a half-smoked joint between his fingers. I seriously doubted it was the same joint.

  I came to a halt in front of him and surveyed his heavy-lidded eyes. “Maybe we should leave this for tomorrow,” I suggested.

  He yawned and scratched his crotch with luxurious satisfaction before carefully stubbing out the joint on the sole of his boot. Then he tucked the roach into the breast pocket of his grimy coveralls and rose with another cavernous yawn.

  “’S cool,” he mumbled. “Let’s do it.”

  I followed him into the garage with trepidation, but it turned out he was as good a mechanic stoned as most guys were sober. We made passable progress even though he moved at a dreamy pace punctuated by drags on the ever-diminishing joint, which he took outside to light and carefully extinguish after each toke.

  We had been working in comfortable silence for some time when he spoke as I was removing the second-last head bolt on my side of the engine.

  “Tell Sugar-Loaves to be careful. Guys get funny ideas.”

  I stopped turning the ratchet to lock eyes with him. “I told her. And if any guy gets funny with her I’ll rip his nuts off and feed them to him.”

  Skidmark raised both hands in a ‘don’t shoot’ gesture. “Be cool. Just saying.”

  “Okay, I heard you.” I returned my attention to the bolt.

  “So you’re some badass chick,” he said conversationally. “Sugar-Loaves must be your little lezzy rug-muncher. Can I watch while you two get it on?”

  I extracted the bolt and eyed him expressionlessly, hiding my annoyance. “I’m here to wrench. If you’re going to talk, it’ll cost you in beer.”

  “That’s cool.”

  He wandered out the door and I turned back to the last head bolt, trying to regain the pleasant relaxation I usually got from automotive work.

  It eluded me. Even though Nichele had promised to be careful, I couldn’t help worrying about her. I didn’t know where Ratboy had gone or whether he had any way of figuring out where Nichele’s tent was, and I was nervous about Orion, too. I didn’t like the way he and Ratboy had been standing together in quiet conversation when Nichele and I had arrived at the garage.

  I glanced toward the open door but saw no sign of Skidmark. Maybe he’d decided to go somewhere else and smoke himself into oblivion. That’d be nice. I chanced a quick peek at my tracking unit and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Orion’s red dot in the vicinity of the main building. He likely wouldn’t try anything that close to the busiest part of the commune.

  I tucked the tracker back in my pocket and bent over the engine again. I was staring morosely at a scored cylinder wall when Skidmark shuffled in again and held out a condensation-beaded can of Kokanee.

  I straightened with surprise and accepted it. “Thanks.” I popped the top and tilted the can for a long, icy swallow. “Ahhh! Oh God, that’s good.”

  “That’s what she said, girlie.”

  I narrowly avoided snorting beer out my nose. When I managed to gulp my mouthful, I turned to face Skidmark’s grin. “Wiseass.”

  He emitted his wheezy laughter before sobering and jerking his chin at the damaged cylinder. “Damn kids. Don’t know shit about engines.”

  I grunted agreement and took another drink before asking, “Is there a place in town where you can get it bored out and sleeved?”

  He shrugged. “Just hone it here.”

  “Those scratches are pretty deep,” I protested.

  “Hone the burr off it; new rings; good enough.” He withdrew a second can of Kokanee from the pocket of his
baggy coveralls and popped the top. “It’s not a Corvette.”

  My heartstrings quivered at the thought of my beloved ‘66 ‘Vette, safely tucked away in my garage at home. My beautiful garage, with my clean tools all neatly organized in their shiny floor-standing chest…

  “I wish.” My words came out on a sigh as I surveyed the filthy garage with its scattered heaps of greasy tools.

  He chuckled. “Yeah.” He took a long swallow of his beer before placing the can on the bumper and tackling the head bolts on his side. “So you seen the cougar yet?”

  “No.” I picked up the ratchet and began at the other end of the head.

  “Thought you might have. You’re always out in the woods.” When I shrugged, he continued, “Thought I came close to seeing it last night. Heard something out by the bench but it was gone when I got there.”

  I returned a noncommittal grunt as I pulled out my bolt and moved to the next one, hoping he didn’t notice the sudden tremor in my hands.

  “Orion thought he heard it moving around outside his tent last night, too,” Skidmark persisted.

  “Yeah, that’s what he said.” I busied myself with the ratchet.

  “Did you hear anything?”

  “Nope.”

  Skidmark ceased his pretense with the head bolt and faced me directly. “Aren’t you worried about it?”

  I sighed. “I’m careful when I’m in the woods. Besides, Moonbeam says the Earth Spirit will protect me.” I raised my wrist to display the beaded bracelet.

  “You really believe in that shit?” Skidmark asked.

  Surprised, I straightened to frown at him. “Don’t you?”

  “It’s shit.” He picked up his beer and poured a healthy slug down his throat, then let out a resounding belch. “If you think a bracelet’s gonna protect you, girlie, you’re dumber than I thought.”

  I frowned at him in silence for a few moments, bothered by more than his words. The thought that had been nagging at my subconscious suddenly surfaced. For the last several minutes he had actually carried on a coherent conversation. Gone were the disjointed ramblings of an old hippy stoner. He was even standing straighter, his gaze sharp on me.

  That was the fastest recovery from a high I’d ever seen.

  Impossibly fast.

  So he wasn’t as stoned as he’d been pretending to be.

  As if realizing his mistake, he yawned, his eyelids drooping again as he shuffled over to the door and lit up. Slouched against the door frame, he sucked in a huge lungful of smoke and blew out a stinking cloud. “Aren’t you supposed to meet Sugar-Loaves for supper?”

  I glanced at my watch. “Yeah. Do you want me to come back afterward?”

  He waved his joint vaguely. “Tomorrow.”

  He drifted away on a cloud of pot smoke, leaving me to finish my beer in uneasy solitude.

  Chapter 21

  The evening passed quickly while Nichele and I laughed and visited, and I realized how thoroughly I’d isolated myself from everyone else at the commune. In four months I hadn’t gotten to know anyone beyond the exchange of a few friendly hellos.

  I eased out a sigh. It didn’t matter. I was there to do a job.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” Nichele asked.

  I snapped back to the present. “Nothing.” I cracked a huge yawn. “I just zoned out for a second there. I had a crappy sleep last night and I’m bagged.”

  “Oh.” Nichele glanced around the abandoned kitchen, the propane lantern on our table casting the only light. “Has everybody gone to bed already? It’s only ten o’clock!”

  “Maybe not to bed, but back to their tents,” I said. “We tend to go with the daylight rhythms here. No all-night clubbing for us.”

  Nichele laughed. “Not so much for me anymore, either. I’m getting old. I can only make it ‘til two AM.”

  “Well, feel free to stay up as late as you want.” I stood and stretched, rubbing my ass to regain the circulation after several hours of sitting in a hard wooden chair. “I’m going to call it a night, though. I’ll walk you back to your tent.”

  “Okay.” She bounced to her feet, then cast an uncertain look around the dark room. “Do we take the lantern?”

  “No, the lanterns stay here. I thought Moonbeam gave you a flashlight.”

  “Oh.” Nichele frowned. “She did. I forgot it in my tent. It was still light at supper time.”

  I shrugged. “I forgot mine, too, but I always have my little one. Come on.” I extinguished the lantern and led the way to the door.

  When we stepped outside the chilly evening breeze greeted us, and I zipped up my jacket.

  “Oh, jeez!” Nichele’s voice trembled, and I flashed the light in her direction. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her naked shoulders and gooseflesh pebbled her arms and legs. “It was so nice and warm next to the woodstove I didn’t even think about a jacket.”

  “Well, haul ass then.” I set a brisk pace toward the encampment.

  “W-wait!”

  I turned in time to see her stumble over a root. She regained her footing and hurried up, her arms still wrapped around herself while she shivered uncontrollably. I reluctantly removed my jacket and handed it to her, beginning to shiver myself in my sweatshirt.

  “Th-thanks.” She wrapped the jacket around herself, her teeth chattering. “Hey, what have you g-got in here? Rocks in your p-pockets?” she teased, and I forced a chuckle and walked on, praying she wouldn’t pull out any of the ‘rocks’ for examination.

  As I had hoped, she hurried to follow the faint illumination of my light.

  “G-god it’s c-cold out here. And d-dark.” She glanced fearfully around in the blackness.

  “Less t-talking. M-more walking.” My own teeth were starting to chatter with a combination of nerves and cold.

  When we arrived at her tent she shed my jacket and dove into her cot, burrowing into the blankets so only her nose and eyes showed.

  I pulled on my jacket with relief and searched briefly for the flashlight Moonbeam had given her. When I found it, I placed it beside the cot. “Here, you might need this if you have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.”

  “If I d-do, I’ll just p-pee the bed,” Nichele quavered. “I’m not g-going out there again.”

  I laughed. “This was your idea, remember.”

  “I s-so suck! Why d-didn’t you t-talk me out of it? You know I hate c-camping.”

  “Goodnight. Sleep tight.” I withdrew with a grin.

  As soon as I was clear of the main encampment I delved into my pocket for my night-vision headset and breathed a sigh of relief when my green-tinted surroundings sprang into focus. Switching to thermal-only, I turned a slow three-sixty. The occupied tents behind me showed as faint glows through the trees, but no other heat signatures appeared.

  Alone. Good.

  I switched back to night vision and hurried in the direction of Moonbeam and Karma’s tent. For the past four hours I’d forgotten my mission, happily immersed in being no more than Aydan Kelly the bookkeeper and Nichele’s best friend. Now worry tightened my throat.

  Four hours. I hadn’t seen Orion or Moonbeam or Karma once during that time.

  Shit, how could I have been so careless? A top agent like Kane would never forget his mission; would never let personal distractions compromise the safety of his charges. If something bad had happened I’d never forgive myself.

  I quickened my pace to a trot.

  No snoring disturbed the silence of the forest. My stomach twisting into a cold knot, I switched to thermal-only. Was that a faint glow through the trees?

  Creeping closer, I let out a breath when the intervening forest thinned and the glow resolved itself into two large blobs and three small points. Moonbeam and Karma, safe in their tent with their three fat candles burning.

  Thank God.

  Turning away, I massaged my thumping heart through my jacket. So far, so good. I pulled out my tracking unit and frowned at Orion’s dot. Over in the renters�
�� camp again. What the hell was he up to?

  But at least if he was there, Ratboy probably was, too. I stood thinking for a moment. This was probably the best time to go for a walk and report to Stemp.

  I headed for one of my newly-discovered routes.

  After about twenty minutes of walking, I scanned around me one last time before pulling out a secured phone. Stemp answered on the first ring as always.

  “It’s Aydan,” I said quietly. “Your mom and dad are still fine. Orion has been making late-night trips over to the renters’ encampment, and he seems to be associating with Ratboy more frequently. I don’t know if they were friends before or if this is a recent development. I’ll see if I can snap a photo of Ratboy and text it to you, but for now here’s a description…”

  I rattled off Ratboy’s particulars before continuing, “Skidmark is definitely hiding something. He pretends to be a lot more stoned than he is. Your parents said he’s a Vietnam vet and part of his stress reaction is to control access to and from the commune by making sure the vehicles don’t run unless he wants them to, but I’m not convinced that’s all there is to it.”

  “Interesting.” Stemp paused as if considering. “Easy enough to verify the military record if we have Skidmark’s real name.”

  “Do you?”

  “No.” He hesitated again. “I can’t think of any plausible reason why you would ask my parents for his real name, and I doubt they’d tell you even if they knew. Mother is unreasonably attached to her own nomenclature.”

  “Yeah, and I don’t think Skidmark will tell me. He didn’t even give me a straight answer when I asked why they call him Skidmark. And there’s no point in trying to photograph him and do facial recognition. He’s all hair and beard.”

  “But he’ll be receiving a military pension if he’s a veteran,” Stemp replied. “I’ll have the analysts check Veterans’ Affairs here and in the U.S. for pension cheques going to the commune’s address or a post office box in town, cross-referenced with approximate age. That should narrow it down to handful of people at most. I should have that information by late tomorrow. Meanwhile, continue to observe. If Ratboy is spending more time on the commune, that group may be more of a threat than we had originally thought.”