Spy Away Home (The Never Say Spy Series Book 10) Page 20

  I sighed. “My gut agrees with yours. He’s an irritating little shit, but not a murderer or a traitor. Either way, though, I’d like to know my enemy.”

  Spider nodded and beckoned me toward the stairs that led to his basement technological lair. “Good idea. And hey.” He brightened. “If we catch Brock doing anything underhanded at all, he’ll be out of our hair.” He clattered down the stairs and hurried to his array of computer equipment.

  Chapter 26

  About an hour later, Spider leaned back in his chair. “That’s everything in the Sirius system. Are you sure you don’t want me to print it out for you?”

  “No, I got a good enough overview and I don’t want any tangible evidence that I was snooping. And anyway, there wasn’t really anything too useful there except his home address. If I need to recheck any details I’ll let you know.”

  Spider eyed me eagerly. “Now what are you going to do?”

  I dragged myself up from the chair beside him and stretched the kinks out of my back. “I don’t know yet. I’d love to put a camera on his house and a bug and a tracer on him, but I don’t have any of those things and I can’t sign them out of Sirius without an explanation…” I hesitated. “And considering that we’re both pretty sure it’s not him, I wouldn’t want to get caught spying on him. Can you imagine the shitstorm he’d stir up?”

  Spots of colour climbed Spider’s cheeks. “He’s been spying on you! Maybe you should stir up some trouble for him. You should complain to the privacy commissioner. You’re not under investigation so it’s illegal for him to access your personal data.”

  “I don’t have proof that he’s done that, though. It’s not illegal for him to follow me to the bar, and he has the clearances to view the surveillance footage from my house.” I sighed.

  “But, Aydan, you’re an agent and this is an investigation,” Spider protested. “You had to investigate Stemp four months ago, so I don’t see any problem with you investigating Brock.”

  “Except we had evidence that made it look as though Stemp was up to something,” I countered. “All we have is one little shred of circumstantial evidence against Brock. Hell, not even evidence, just hearsay from really questionable witnesses. That’s why I haven’t taken it to Stemp yet. He’d tear me a new one for jumping to conclusions.”

  “But how can you find evidence if you’re not allowed to look?”

  “I-”

  “Wait, hang on,” Spider interrupted. A smile spread across his face. “I have a way.” His smile faltered. “Or… I think I have a way. It just depends on how smart Brock is. And how paranoid.”

  I flopped back into the chair with a groan. “That’s the problem. He’s either innocent, or he’s scary-smart and really paranoid.”

  “Mm. I already know he’s smart…” Spider stared into middle distance, his hacker persona blazing in his eyes. “But I can do this.”

  “Um…” I studied him worriedly. “What are you talking about, and why do I get the feeling you’ll be in hell of a pile of trouble if you get caught?”

  “I probably won’t,” Spider said absently, and I sensed his agile mind assembling data and computing possibilities with lightning speed. “And even if I do get caught, I’ll just say it’s a security test…”

  He fell silent and I sat watching him, unwilling to disturb the flow of his thoughts.

  After a few moments he said, “Ha!” and leaned back in his chair, grinning. “Okay, Aydan, you said you wanted a camera and bug and tracer?”

  I stared at him in wonder. “You’re going to build them from scratch?”

  Spider laughed. “No. I can do better than that. I’m going to hack Brock’s phone and output all the audio, video, browsing history, and text messages, along with GPS tracking so you’ll always know where he is.”

  My jaw dropped. “You can do that?”

  “Oh, that’s easy.” Spider’s smile dimmed. “The hard part is not getting caught. If Brock’s as smart as I think he is, I’ll have to take a lot of precautions so he doesn’t realize what’s happening.”

  “Oh.” I eyed him anxiously. “I don’t want you to get in trouble with Stemp. And if Brock did hire Drake Mallard, it could be dangerous for you if he figures out you’re the one who hacked him.”

  “He won’t.” Spider sat up straighter in his chair. “Brock may think he’s something special, and maybe he is… but this is my thing. This is what I do.” His grin widened to something considerably more savage than his boyish features should have been able to achieve. “I’m so going to pone him!”

  “Um… what exactly does that mean?” I inquired cautiously. “It sounds painful. And possibly x-rated.”

  Spider flushed. “I said ‘pone’, not, um…” His blush deepened. “…‘bone’…” He hurried on, “People pronounce it different ways; ‘pone’, ‘pwon’, ‘pun, ‘own’; but it’s spelled P-W-N. It’s geek-speak for totally crushing somebody with your computer skills.”

  I grinned. “Okay, you’re totally gonna pone him. You are the hackmeister!”

  “Yes!” Spider returned the high-five that I offered, grinning in return. “Leave it to me, Aydan. I’ll hack him tonight and send the files…” He trailed off, frowning. “Hmmm. Where should I send his data?”

  “Um… to my cell phone?”

  “I could send his texts… and probably his audio…” He hesitated. “Video would be too large… I mean, I’ll compress it and set a low sample rate but if the data bursts are too big…”

  I held up a restraining hand. “Let me know when you figure it out.”

  He stared into space for a few more moments. “I’ll send you his texts directly,” he decided. “And the rest I’ll FTP up to the cloud and you can access it there.”

  “Just tell me what to do.”

  A short time later my phone was set up to get any text Brock sent or received, and I had access to the FTP site that would contain all the other data.

  “I should have everything ready in a couple of hours,” Spider said. “I mean, the actual hack will only take me a few minutes, but I want to make sure I’ve got everything set up so it’ll be undetectable unless he specifically looks for it.”

  “Awesome!” I stood, relief and triumph easing my fatigue.

  He gave me a hopeful look. “Do you need anything else? What are you going to do now?”

  “I guess…” I suppressed a shudder. “I guess my next move is to see if I can find out more from Weasel.” I didn’t bother to mention my information-gathering method, and fortunately Spider didn’t ask.

  “Okay,” he said. “Let me know if you need anything more from me.”

  “Thanks, Spider, I will.”

  The trip home seemed longer than usual. When I pulled into my garage at last, I dragged myself out of the car with my eyes half-closed and stumbled directly to my air mattress. Falling onto it, I let the dark dreams take me…

  I jerked awake, my heart pounding.

  It wasn’t a nightmare that had woken me.

  It was a sound.

  Hand on my trank pistol, I lay still, straining my ears.

  The sound came again.

  My cell phone vibrating.

  I snatched it up with trembling hands. Of course, the analysts hadn’t seen me going into my house, so they’d text me if anybody was prowling inside the perimeter of my surveillance cameras.

  Squinting at the screen, I whooshed out a breathy giggle of relief. Not the analysts at all. Spider must have finished his hack, because I was looking at the first of Brock’s texts.

  My screen began to fill up, the phone vibrating again and again.

  Inane conversation with his friends, and their banal replies.

  Then he started complaining. As I watched the lengthening string of whining and insulting remarks about me, Spider, Stemp, Jack, and apparently nearly everybody he worked with at Sirius, I realized my mistake.

  He could go on half the night, and probably would. And every time he sent or received a text, m
y phone would vibrate.

  I groaned and buried my head in the pillow.

  My phone continued to vibrate regularly and I dragged myself up again. The poor thing was going to shake itself apart. Not to mention drain my battery.

  I didn’t dare call or text Spider because none of those channels were secure. And I didn’t want to drive all the way back into town at…

  A glance at the phone’s time display made me wince. God, after midnight. Spider had probably gone to bed. Waking him would be rude, and anyway, by the time I made the round trip it would be the wee hours of the morning and I was already exhausted.

  Fuck it.

  I hauled myself off the mattress and staggered over to my car, where I plugged the phone into the charger and left it lying on the seat where it could vibrate to its heart’s content.

  Dragging myself back to my air mattress, I fell onto it only to lie staring wide-eyed into the darkness. I could still hear the phone vibrating faintly.

  What if Brock was making arrangements with another assassin? It would make sense for him to do it in the middle of the night. What if I fell asleep and missed the transaction, only to wake up to the news of Spider’s murder?

  Oh, God, I couldn’t even think about that.

  Or what if I missed a text from the surveillance analysts, leaving me lying here unaware in the darkness while a murderer prowled outside? My mattress wasn’t visible from the windows and surely nobody would think to look for me in the garage in the middle of the night, but…

  Shut up.

  Brock wasn’t a murderer. Spider and I both agreed on that, and the security at Sirius was as close to perfect as the brightest minds in the Department could achieve.

  And so what if an assassin prowled outside? Even if he did think to look in the garage, I’d hear him coming. The sound of a window breaking or any of the overhead doors rolling up would wake the dead, and in the profound silence of the country night I’d easily hear the sound of anyone trying to pick the lock on the man-door. With my pistol inches away from my hand, I’d be fine.

  Really.

  I’d be fine…

  After a nightmare-ridden sleep I finally gave up around six A.M. and hurried over to retrieve my phone from my car. At least it was silent now, but it took me nearly half an hour to catch up on all of Brock’s texts.

  His shitty attitude made me dislike him even more, but at least I didn’t find anything that sounded like negotiations with a killer-for-hire.

  I replaced the phone in my waist pouch and trudged outdoors, hoping the morning air would drive some of the fogginess from my brain. The pearl-grey sky promised rain to come, and I sucked in deep breaths of the cool humid breeze while keeping a wary eye out for early-morning assassins.

  My stomach growled, and I eyed the house longingly. Inside were toast and peanut butter and a hot shower, if I was brave enough to claim them.

  I rubbed gritty eyes and combed my fingers through my tangled hair.

  Or I could go and use the showers in the changing room at Sirius Dynamics and graze on cereal bars in the lunchroom.

  But the changing rooms were underground in the secured area. I’d have to overcome my claustrophobia if I wanted a shower.

  And if Brock was my mysterious enemy, not even the secured area was safe. His clearances would easily get him in. And hell, even if he wasn’t actually the one trying to kill or capture me, he’d probably find some way to prank me. In my current exhausted and frazzled state, that wouldn’t end well for Brock.

  I shuffled my feet, weighing the options. Shower at Sirius and possibly kill Brock? Or shower at home and possibly get killed myself?

  Neither option appealed, but I needed clean clothes. And I really, really needed the toilet.

  I growled and headed for the house.

  Inside, I rushed through another awkward Glock-clutching shower before heading for the kitchen. Phone in one hand, pistol in the other, I jittered back and forth while I waited for the toaster.

  When it popped up, the sudden noise and movement nearly made me pump a bullet into it.

  Jesus, idiot, tranquilize. Don’t kill. And especially, don’t kill the toaster.

  I swore softly and slid my Glock into my ankle holster, leaving the trank pistol in easy grabbing distance at my waist.

  Perched on the edge of my chair, I gobbled the first slice of toast without incident but few minutes later my shaking fingers dropped the second one peanut-butter-side-down on the table. By the time I cleaned up the mess and shoved the remains of the sorry-looking slice into my mouth, my nerves were stretched to breaking.

  “Lucky nobody phoned,” I growled as I slung on my jacket and made for the door. “I’d probably have shit my pants. And great,” I added as I locked the door behind me. “Now I’m talking to myself, too.”

  A moment later I realized that not only was I talking to myself, but the surveillance analysts were also watching me talk to myself.

  With a tremendous effort I resisted the urge to beat my head against my nice new steel door, and headed for my car.

  Chapter 27

  When I got to the second floor at Sirius Dynamics, I was surprised to hear the click of computer keys emanating from Spider’s office. I went over and tapped on the open door.

  He looked up from his computer, his eyes bloodshot in a pale face. “Oh, hi, Aydan. Come on in. You’re early this morning.”

  “Yeah.” I frowned. “So are you. Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” He sighed. “Well, kind of okay, I guess. I just couldn’t sleep, worrying about Tammy. Linda’s still at work so I decided to come in early instead of hanging around the house by myself.”

  He looked so dejected that I rounded the desk and dropped my arm around his shoulders in a quick hug. “I’m sorry this is so hard on you. I wish we could figure something out.”

  “Oh, Aydan, we have to!” he said tremulously and flung his arms around me.

  A flash of movement at the door made me glance up in time to see Brock’s thin features twist into a sardonic smile. “How sweet. The cougar and her cub. I hope Linda won’t mind sharing you, Webb. Or doesn’t she know?”

  Spider jerked to his feet so fast he nearly wrenched my arm from its socket. Fists clenched, cheeks white with fury, he advanced on Brock with blazing eyes.

  I sprang forward to lay a restraining hand on his arm.

  “You… sick… filthy-minded…” Spider couldn’t seem to find the words, but his intent was clear. “If you even…”

  “Take a breath, Spider,” I advised, dragging him to a halt and thanking my lucky stars for his toothpick physique.

  Spider glared at Brock. “Aydan’s my friend. But you wouldn’t understand that, would you? You wouldn’t know friendship if it bit you in the butt! And you stay away from Linda or I’ll-”

  “So,” I interrupted before Spider could complete the threat. I sent a narrow-eyed glare at Brock. “What do you know about the guy who tried to kill me?”

  “Huh?”

  Either he was an excellent actor, or he didn’t have a clue what I was talking about. He stared at me, openmouthed.

  “N-Nothing,” he stammered. Then his eyes narrowed. “You’re just blowing smoke,” he said scornfully. “Trying to distract me from the fact that your surveillance cameras showed you coming home early this morning wearing the same clothes you wore yesterday. Who were you banging last night? Eddy again? Or Kane this time?” His malicious gaze darted meaningfully between Spider and me. “Or, wait,” he added with poisonous sweetness. “Linda was on night shift last night, wasn’t she?”

  Spider spluttered something unintelligible and lunged, and I found myself in the ironic position of trying to prevent him from doing something I deeply desired to do myself.

  “Spider, stop!” I rapped out in the most commanding tone I could muster while struggling to keep him from charging headlong at Brock.

  “What’s going on here?” Kane’s authoritative baritone made Spider stop fighting for an
instant, and I used the opportunity to secure my hold on his arms.

  I gave Kane my best smile. “Good morning, John. Could you please escort Brock to his office? He seems to have lost his way.”

  Kane frowned, assessing the scene at a glance before turning to jerk his chin at Brock. “Let’s go.”

  Brock sniffed and tossed his head. “I’m not going anywhere. I have as much right to be here as anybody else. Just because I walked in on your sordid little affair…”

  Spider lunged at him again, nearly dragging me off my feet, and Kane clamped a large hand around Brock’s upper arm.

  “Move it, Brock,” he snapped. “Now.”

  Brock shot Spider and me a hate-filled look. “You’re going to regret this,” he snarled and made an unsuccessful attempt to jerk his arm free of Kane’s grasp. He rounded on Kane. “And you’ll be sorry, too. You think you’re God’s gift to agents, but you can’t-”

  “Actually, I can.” Kane shifted his grip to Brock’s collar, seized the seat of his pants, and carried him down the hall, superbly indifferent to his ineffectual flailing and high-pitched protests.

  Spider blinked, his jaw dropping as the tension drained from his body. After a moment of silence he said, “When I grow up I want to be Kane.”

  I laughed and released my hold on his arms. “Me, too.”

  A door slammed, followed by thumping and muffled yells.

  Spider and I exchanged a wide-eyed glance before lunging for the door, but we both skidded to a halt when Kane reappeared in the doorway. The muted thumping and shouting continued.

  I let out a breath. “I thought you were beating him up,” I said to Kane.

  “No.” A thin smile quirked his mouth and he opened his fist to display a door handle. The shaft was bent and sheared off, the torn metal glinting dangerously in his palm.