How Spy I Am Page 4

  The deafening rattle of bowling pins and machinery made me stuff my fingers in my ears while we trekked through the dark corridor behind the lanes. At the opposite side of the building, Richardson produced a key and unlocked the door to an electrical room. He pulled me inside, and the closing door mercifully muffled the din.

  We assessed each other from close range for a moment, and my pulse rate picked up. Small room. Too close.

  The backward step I’d intended to take turned into a skittish hop when he reached for me. He stepped away instantly, his hands jerking back. “Sorry. I just need to get past you to that panel.”

  “Okay…” I hoped he didn’t notice me hyperventilating while I sidestepped, trying to maintain maximum personal space.

  After we had circled each other, Richardson pressed a series of breakers on the panel and leaned forward for a retinal scan.

  Stay calm. Same old, same old. I could do this.

  A section of wall swung away and I stepped into the cramped time-delay chamber holding my breath. When the door closed behind us, I let the air out slowly. I hid my quaking knees as best I could while he triggered the retinal scan at the next door.

  He glanced over. “Aydan, don’t worry. I promise, I won’t hurt you,” he assured me. “You’re safe. We’re just going into the secured area under Sirius Dynamics to meet Stemp.”

  I took another deep breath and held my voice steady. “Thanks, Mark, I know. I’m just really claustrophobic. This time delay chamber always freaks me out.”

  “Oh.” Relief softened his face. “I’m sorry this is hard for you, but I’m glad you’re not afraid of me.”

  “No, I trust you,” I lied.

  An eternal thirty seconds later, the latch released with a muffled click and Richardson swung the door open to reveal concrete stairs. I drew in a long breath, trying to ignore the sensation of dark water closing over my head while I walked down.

  A short trip down a deserted white corridor brought us to a featureless white door. My back crawled as Richardson opened the door and gestured me ahead of him.

  I took a couple of long strides to face Stemp where he sat behind a desk.

  “What?” I demanded. “What the hell’s going on?”

  “Please sit,” Stemp said dispassionately.

  I squelched the urge to lunge over his desk and yell. Been there, done that, and it hadn’t turned out well last time. I dropped into the vacant chair, trying not to look and feel like a petulant teenager. Slowly releasing the fist that had clenched in spite of me, I tried for a poker face while I stared at Stemp.

  The silence lengthened, and I cracked first. “I was told Kane is on vacation. When did that happen?”

  “Kane has been on active duty 24/7 for the past ten months. He was overdue for a break, and he has a great deal of unused leave time banked.”

  “And…” The word came out sounding almost like a growl.

  Stemp’s snakelike eyes never flickered. “And he will be on leave until further notice.”

  “Involuntary leave.” This time, I didn’t try to conceal the growl.

  Stemp shrugged. “That is none of your concern.”

  “Wrong,” I snapped. “My team. My concern.”

  “Very well.” Stemp appraised me for a moment before flicking his gaze at Richardson. “You’re dismissed. You never saw Ms. Kelly.”

  Richardson withdrew, and Stemp regarded me briefly before extending his hand across his desk. “Your weapon, please.”

  “Why, are you afraid I’ll shoot you?”

  Stemp’s expressionless facade never wavered. “Let’s just say I’ve had reason to question your emotional stability in the past.”

  I felt my face twist into a snarl. “Yeah, well, I’m fresh out of husbands for you to kill, so you’re probably pretty safe.”

  “Nevertheless.” He curled his fingers in a ‘give’ gesture. “If you please.”

  I gritted my teeth and slid my Glock out of its holster, fighting down a combination of fury and fear. It must be bad if he was taking precautions like this. Really, really bad.

  I laid the gun on the desk, ignoring his outstretched hand. “Don’t touch it,” I barked when he reached to pick it up.

  One corner of his mouth twitched with what might have been the tiniest of smiles, and he sat back in his chair, steepling his hands in front of him. “You’re a quick study.”

  “Skip the pleasantries. Tell me.”

  He eyed me for another moment before he spoke. “Kane has been relieved of duty. He has become personally involved with you, and his judgement is unreliable. He will be reassigned to a different operation once I’m convinced he’s fit for duty again.”

  As I gaped at him, he slid a file folder across the desk. “Your car has been destroyed in an accident, and you have been reported killed in the same accident. You may select another car from the choices in this folder, and you’ll be assigned your new cover identity by end of day. You will be relocated to a safe house…”

  A tidal wave of shock reduced the rest of his words to garbled static.

  Chapter 5

  I sat stunned for a couple of long seconds while the shards of my shattered life tumbled and came to rest in silent chaos.

  “What…? You… you…” My breathless stammer resolved itself just below a scream. “What?”

  “I thought I had been abundantly clear,” Stemp said. “Would you like me to repeat myself?”

  “Wha…? No! Fuck! You wrecked my car? You told everybody I died? You… you…”

  I locked my hands onto the arms of the chair, willing myself not to snatch up my gun and shoot him where he sat. My mind shrieked and gibbered.

  My beloved farm. My friends. My car. My bookkeeping business. My identity. Everything I loved, torn away and discarded with callous indifference.

  A wave of dizziness reminded me breathing was not optional.

  An instant later, the shock transmuted into blind rage. A fine red haze threatened to obscure Stemp’s face, and a creaking from the vicinity of the chair arms could have been the chair or the bones of my clenched fingers.

  “You.” The word rattled dryly in my throat like boulders fracturing in an avalanche. I swallowed and tried again, achieving a sound slightly more similar to a human voice. “You. Have made. A serious. Mistake.”

  Stemp shrugged. “I did what was necessary. What should have been done seven months ago. You will be able to live and work in safety, and our operations will be secure.”

  “Your operations will be dead in the water,” I snarled. “I want my car back. I want my life back. I want my handler back. And until I have those things, I will do nothing. No decryptions. No surveillance in enemy networks. Nothing. Sweet fuck-all.”

  “You know that’s not true,” Stemp replied calmly. “Your behaviour has been observed and documented since March. Your psyche profile indicates that your sense of honour and duty will compel you to continue working for us. So skip the theatrics, pick out a car, and go and meet your new team.”

  New team. Oh, God. Oh, shit.

  I drew in a long, slow breath.

  After a moment, Stemp raised an eyebrow. “Ms. Kelly, it’s time for you to go. This interview is over.”

  “Actually, no, it’s not,” I countered. “Let’s talk for a minute.”

  He shot me a look, clearly mistrusting my pleasant tone. Smart man.

  “This is not a conversation,” he said flatly.

  I finally succeeded in loosening my grip on the chair, and I let the ache in my knuckles anchor me in the churning sea of rage and rising panic.

  “You’re right, it’s not,” I agreed, holding my voice determinedly steady.

  He sighed. “You’re not going to issue another ultimatum, are you? You know very well it won’t work.”

  I forced myself to lean back in the chair. “Oh, yes, I’m definitely going to issue another ultimatum. But first we’re going to talk about Kane. You have no right to screw him over. You’re the one who ordered
him to fake an attraction to me. Now you’re punishing him for obeying.”

  “The operative word here is ‘fake’,” Stemp said. “He admitted he let his personal feelings for you get in the way when he allowed you to escape last week. Today he exhibited a serious error in judgement in allowing you to leave. When a top agent starts to make mistakes like that, it’s a clear sign he’s been compromised.”

  I snorted. “No, it’s a sign he knows his asset well enough to be very convincing. If he’d tried to stop me today, he’d have had a fight on his hands. Not the kind of thing you want to do if you’re supposedly in love.”

  I stopped to swallow a queasy sensation. God, please let him be faking that. I continued with more confidence than I felt.

  “You’ll notice he admitted…” I made air quotes around the word, “…his so-called personal feelings in yesterday’s debriefing. Hell of a funny place for a declaration of love, don’t you think? If you were fooled, it’s a testament to his abilities, not an indication he’s been compromised.”

  Stemp levelled a reptilian gaze across the desk. “He knew last week his cover was blown. If he was faking his feelings for you, he would have abandoned the charade then.”

  “Did you rescind the order?” I demanded.

  “No.”

  “Duh.”

  He twitched a shoulder. “I can tell he’s not faking.”

  “Yeah, because you’re such a good judge of character,” I snapped. “You’ve misjudged Kane, and you’ve misjudged me. I’m not doing any more work for you until I get what I want.”

  “We have reason to believe an agent has been captured and is being tortured,” Stemp said. “We need you to decrypt some files so we can retrieve him as quickly as possible.”

  My guts twisted while the gruesome memories writhed and bled.

  I forced my face into a neutral expression and propped my feet on the edge of Stemp’s desk, tipping my chair onto its back legs. “You’re full of shit.”

  “No. That agent is suffering horribly. You’re the only one who can save him.”

  I gulped down the guilt. He was lying. He had to be.

  “Oh well.” I did my best indifferent tone. “I’m very sorry to hear that. I hope you write a nice letter to his mother when you finally retrieve what’s left of the body.”

  We locked eyes.

  “So you’re refusing to cooperate,” he said after a long moment.

  “Damn skippy.”

  Stemp sighed. “Then your usefulness is at an end.”

  Suddenly I was looking into the barrel of his gun.

  I rode out the burning rush of adrenaline with a long sigh of my own. “Put it away, Stemp. You know damn well you won’t kill me.”

  “I wouldn’t have before. Now, I have several very good reasons to kill you.”

  “Okay.” I linked my hands behind my head and left my feet on his desk. “So kill me. I’ve got nothing left to lose.”

  In the silence, I could hear the faint ticking of my ancient wristwatch. Maybe the last thing I’d ever hear. Stemp’s gaze was as unwavering as his gun, and I was pretty sure he wanted to shoot me just as much or more than I wanted to shoot him. I was also pretty sure he wouldn’t do it.

  But I wasn’t positive. My heart thudded so loudly I was afraid he’d hear it and realize how shit-scared I really was.

  About a year later, he slapped his gun down onto the desk, and I managed to reduce my involuntary jerk to a twitch.

  He blew out an irritable breath. “Why can’t you be afraid to die like a normal human being?”

  I shrugged and sat up, letting my chair tip forward onto four legs so it didn’t topple over from the force of my tremors.

  “Why should I be afraid to die? Are you?” I was pleased my voice was still steady, and I hid the quivering of my hands by lacing my fingers together in my lap.

  Stemp actually allowed a frown to form. “Not particularly. It comes with…” His frown deepened. “…the territory,” he finished quietly. Suddenly his gun was in his hand again. “Who are you working for?” he demanded.

  I hissed pent-up tension through my teeth. “Fuck off with the gun, would you? You keep messing around like that and you’ll end up shooting me by accident.”

  “Answer the question. You must be deep undercover. Who are you working for?”

  “Christ, not you, too! I’m working for my own business as a bookkeeper at the moment. If you’re smart, and if you give me what I want, I’ll be working for you again. That’s it.”

  “You’re lying. You’re an agent. And a good one, too. It’s the only way to explain your reactions.” Stemp’s poker face was firmly in place again, his gun steady. “What do you mean, ‘not me, too’?” He eyed me narrowly.

  Shit. Shouldn’t have said that.

  “You know damn well I’m on your side,” I snapped. “You’ve tested me often enough.”

  “True…” His gaze never left my face, his eyes as expressionless as the bore of the gun still trained on me. He contemplated me for a few long moments. “Kane knew,” he said at last. “That’s what you meant. Kane knew about your other undercover op, and he didn’t report it to me.”

  Fear trickled coldly under my skin. If Stemp thought Kane had concealed a potential security breach along with his personal feelings for me, I might not be the only one calling in dead.

  “I’m not an agent! Kane asked me if I was undercover, and I told him the same thing. He believes me.”

  I resisted the urge to cross my fingers when I spoke the last sentence. I was actually pretty damn sure he didn’t believe me, but I thought he trusted me. I hoped.

  “Please move your chair back to the middle of the room,” Stemp directed. “Stay seated. If you make any other move, I will shoot you, no questions asked.”

  This time I believed him. Pulse racing, I hitched the chair backward across the carpet. Smoothly and carefully.

  Stemp one-handed the gun and picked up the phone receiver. “Get me Kane.”

  We sat in silence, and I held back grudging respect. Even in his one-handed grip, his gun was rock-steady. When he spoke again, I had to suppress a start, my nerves stretched almost to breaking.

  “Kane. How long have you known about Ms. Kelly’s other undercover activities?”

  My stomach twisted into slow knots while he listened without comment, and I imagined Kane providing his usual concise, thorough report.

  Stemp spoke at last. “I see. Very well.” He hung up without a goodbye, and I determinedly ignored the need to gulp at the large, hairy lump apparently lodged in my throat.

  Still watching me steadily, he lifted the receiver again. “Send Dr. Travers over with the polygraph.”

  Again we waited. I racked my brain for some convincing argument but came up empty. I bit my tongue to keep from babbling and sat still.

  My nose began to itch.

  I refused to move or break eye contact.

  Around the time I was ready to rocket out of my chair shrieking and pawing at my nose, the door clicked open behind me. Stemp’s eyes darted toward it for a bare instant, and I nearly gasped relief as I rubbed the itch away.

  In the next moment, my estimation of Stemp rose another notch when he returned his impassive gaze to me instead of staring at the unreasonably gorgeous woman who’d just entered. I was sure any other man would have gaped helplessly, or passed out entirely when the blood flow got diverted from his brain.

  “This is Dr. Honey Travers,” Stemp said. “Dr. Travers, Aydan Kelly.”

  Honey. Of course her name would be Honey. A leggy, thirty-something natural blonde with vividly blue eyes, pouty lips, and cheekbones to make a supermodel weep with envy. Her white lab coat did nothing to conceal the kind of figure that makes men stumble into furniture.

  “It’s so nice to meet you, Ms. Kelly,” she said.

  Yeah, sure, she had the sultry voice that could launch a thousand 1-900 numbers, too.

  “May I call you Aydan?” she inquired.


  I swallowed an unaccustomed sensation of inferiority and found my voice. “Of course. It’s nice to meet you, too, Hon… uh, Dr. Travers.”

  “Please call me Jack,” she said. Her small grimace made her look, if anything, even more beautiful. “Honey is my given name, but I prefer my middle name, Jacqueline.”

  Yeah, I could understand that. I wondered if Stemp had mentioned her first name to be correct, or if he just liked calling her Honey.

  She shot a quizzical glance at Stemp’s gun, still trained on me. “Is that necessary?”

  “I intend to find out,” Stemp replied. “Please prepare Ms. Kelly for her polygraph test.”

  A perfectly arched eyebrow lifted. “Director, you do realize this is still experimental technology, don’t you?”

  “Yes, of course,” Stemp snapped. “Get on with it.”

  A faint line appeared on her flawless forehead, but she placed her small attaché case on the other chair and opened it without comment.

  Relief battled fear while I watched her tinker with various switches and dials inside the case. At last, I’d be able to lay everyone’s suspicions to rest. I hoped.

  God, what if it malfunctioned? What if it said I was lying?

  I took a long, slow breath, trying to stay calm.

  Shit, what if fear screwed up its readings? What if…

  Dr. Travers advanced on me holding a band festooned with electrical wires, and I tried to hide my nervousness.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “This is just a device to measure your brainwaves.”

  “Uh.” I shot a look at Stemp. “What is Dr. Travers’s security clearance?”

  “Dr. Travers is aware of your project.”

  “Oh.” I wasn’t sure whether to relax or not.

  She smiled as she secured the band around my head. “This is very similar to Dr. Kraus’s instrumentation. You won’t feel a thing.”

  “How accurate is it?” I asked.

  She turned back to her readouts. “Ready whenever you are, Director. You may begin questioning now.”

  Chapter 6

  Stemp leaned forward in his chair. “You will answer yes or no,” he said. “Is your name Aydan Kelly?”

  “Yes.” My heart thudded ridiculously. Shit, I was telling the truth. Why was I reacting like I’d just told the lie of the century?