Spy Away Home (The Never Say Spy Series Book 10) Page 5

  “Yes, Nicholas Parr was convicted along with the members you identified in your sting four months ago,” Stemp confirmed. “All the officers and directors of Fuzzy Bunny are currently imprisoned except Parr’s wife, and charges are mounting against all of them except her as the investigation continues.” He raised a restraining hand as I leaned forward to pounce on the clue. “The unidentified fingerprints are not Eleanor Parr’s,” he added, dashing my hopes. “Hers were collected during the investigation.”

  “So was she innocent?”

  “Yes. She came from an old-money family with a long tradition of integrity and philanthropy, and no matter how deeply we dug we found no indication that she had any knowledge of her husband’s criminal activities. It seems Parr married her for her connections, to lend legitimacy and credibility to his operation.”

  Recalling Eleanor Parr’s blonde elegance and gracious kindness, I let out a breath. “Well, she seemed really nice when I met her. I can’t imagine how she must have felt finding out her husband was a criminal mastermind.”

  “She refused to believe it,” Stemp replied. “Even after he was arrested and convicted she stood by him. Right up until his death she was trying to launch an appeal.”

  “His death?” I gaped at Stemp. “He’s dead? When? How?”

  “He and his enforcer Kevin Barnett were killed in prison by their former underlings six weeks ago.”

  “Holy shit.” I digested that for a moment, relief easing my shoulders. “Well, I guess that probably means Parr’s not behind this. But poor Eleanor. What a shitty thing to have to deal with.” I heaved a sigh and returned to the point. “Is there any chance of finding out who the fourth set of prints belongs to?”

  Stemp’s shoulders rose in a fractional shrug. “It likely wouldn’t help. The unidentified prints were the oldest. All the others overlapped them.”

  “Shit. Whose were on top?”

  “Mallard’s. And Parr’s overlapped Hibbert’s.”

  I propped my chin in my hand. “So the photo went up the food chain before ending with Mallard. Our unidentified guy handled it first six months ago…”

  Stemp’s eyes narrowed. “What makes you say six months?”

  I shrugged. “The picture shows me getting out of a red Subaru Legacy, and I only had that car for a couple of days before it got blown up at the end of October.”

  “Ah.” Stemp nodded. “That was around the time Hibbert first contacted you. So perhaps the photo was given to him so he could identify you when he followed you to Las Vegas.”

  “Right, so his prints were next. Then the photo went from him to Parr, and then to Mallard…” I trailed off. “Could Parr have hired Mallard from jail before he died?”

  “Unlikely. The analysts checked the prison records and Mallard wasn’t there at the same time as Parr, nor did he visit.”

  I grimaced. “Yeah, and Parr wouldn’t hire an idiot like Mallard anyway. If he was going to hire a contract killer, he’d get a professional.”

  And a professional undoubtedly would have succeeded. I hid a shiver.

  “Probably true.” Stemp frowned. “It’s possible that someone in the lower echelons of the organization eluded us and acquired the photo, though if they did they were careful not to leave fingerprints. Perhaps they’re seeking revenge. Or perhaps they’re hoping to take over Fuzzy Bunny’s previous arms deals and they simply want to eliminate the competition. It would be helpful if we could establish a motive.”

  “Yeah.” I massaged the growing ache in my forehead. “My neighbour says there’s been an SUV hanging around my place for the past few months. He didn’t have a make or license number, but once I get Mallard’s contact list I’ll run a cross-reference in the database just in case one of his buddies drives a silver SUV.” I swallowed the taut sensation in my throat. “At least we know whoever’s after me doesn’t have much of a budget if they’re hiring guys like Mallard. If I don’t come up with anything from Mallard’s phone data I guess I’ll just have to wait until his boss figures out Mallard didn’t finish the job and sends somebody else.”

  Stemp eyed me with a trace of something that might have been concern. I looked again, but the flicker of expression was already gone.

  “True,” he agreed. “Meanwhile, I’ve passed the case details on to the RCMP and the Calgary city police. They’ll carry on with the investigation, checking Mallard’s known associates and so on.”

  He paused, measuring me with his gaze.

  “Your mandatory post-mission psych evaluation is scheduled for Wednesday at ten hundred,” he said. “I didn’t expect you to be involved in anything of this magnitude so soon. I recommend you move to one of our safe houses until your evaluation is completed and Dr. Rawling approves you for active duty.”

  Shit, the psych evaluation. The only way I’d pass was if I lied my ass off. And even that might not work anymore. Despite my best efforts Dr. Rawling was getting to know me too well.

  But, oh God, not a safe house. Imprisoned in a small space all day, every day. The blinds drawn, never going outside, no breath of wind or warmth of sunshine…

  My heart accelerated to a rapid drumming. “Well, let’s not rush into the safe house thing,” I said evenly. “Any dumb shit who’d hire a guy like Mallard is bound to make mistakes. We should be able to figure out who’s behind this pretty quickly.”

  “Perhaps.” Stemp’s gaze bored into my skull as if to examine my quivering brain. “Or perhaps they’ll hire someone better and be successful next time.”

  “I’m taking precautions,” I said hurriedly. “May I keep the night vision gear and the trank pistol I had in B.C.? I was going to turn them in today, but it would really help if I could keep them for a while.”

  “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t simply tranquilize you right now…”

  A trank pistol appeared in his hand. Goddamn, the bastard was fast.

  “…and ship you to a safe house to be restrained there until this is resolved,” he finished.

  “I’ll give you two reasons,” I said promptly. “Number one, I wouldn’t cooperate at the safe house and you know what a pain in the ass I am when you’re trying to restrain me…” I gave him a narrow-eyed glare, and the corner of his mouth quirked. “…And number two, if Mallard’s employer sends another loser, it’ll be easier to triangulate back to them,” I finished.

  That sounded weak even to my own ears. Stemp was right; they might send somebody more competent next time, and Stemp needed me alive…

  “Oh, and number three,” I added hurriedly. “Back in December you said you needed me to work on Tammy Mellor’s project as soon as possible. It’s probably even more urgent by now, and I wouldn’t be able to work on it from a safe house.”

  “True,” Stemp conceded. He gave me a long inspection over the sights of the trank pistol while I held my breath. “Tell me,” he said in a conversational tone, “Are you making any progress in your claustrophobia therapy with Dr. Rawling?”

  Bastard. No doubt he already knew the answer to that question.

  I brazened it out as best I could. “I’m sorry, I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

  “It’s relevant because if one of my valuable agents is suffering from a phobia that causes her to take unreasonable risks…” He paused and gave me a significant look over the pistol sights. “…then it’s my responsibility to remove her from active duty until she can function effectively again. If you’re avoiding the safe house simply because you fear captivity…”

  Too right about that, but I couldn’t let him see it. Lucky he believed I was a competent agent instead of a chickenshit bookkeeper…

  I pulled myself upright in the chair and feigned indignation. “You seriously think I can’t hold my own against some two-bit thug? I’ve faced far better men than him and come out on top. And whoever sent him after me has to be small-time, too, or they’d have hired somebody better. We can just let them make another move. If I’ve got the trank gun I can capture instead
of kill, and we can question the next guy.”

  “Why did I know you’d say that?” Stemp asked, deadpan.

  I held my expression as impassive as his. “Lucky guess.”

  “Indeed.”

  The trank gun disappeared as quickly as it had materialized and I drew a breath of relief.

  He leaned back in his chair and regarded me over steepled fingers. “We’ll revisit this issue after your evaluation on Wednesday. So. The situation with Tammy Mellor needs to be resolved as soon as possible. Have you come up with any ideas?”

  Chapter 6

  I tried to stifle my snotty rejoinder but it popped out anyway. “No, I was a little busy getting my ass shot up to save your parents.”

  “Yes.” Stemp inclined his head graciously. “And I’m truly grateful. However, I’m under significant pressure to find a resolution to the problem Ms. Mellor poses.”

  He made a carefully controlled gesture that in any other man would have been arm-waving frustration. “Despite frequent reminders of the importance of confidentiality, Ms. Mellor’s constant babble has proved uncontrollable. Dr. Rawling says that although she has normal intellect, she is functioning at the developmental level of the eight-year-old she was when she was taken from her family. She is fundamentally incapable of exercising the level of discretion required to protect our classified operations.”

  He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose as if to tamp down a headache and went on, “Agent Francis and her team are so worn down with the constant struggle to handle Ms. Mellor that Francis has requested a transfer. Twice. In the past two months. The only reason Ms. Mellor is not currently incarcerated to protect both herself and national security is because I promised you the chance to attempt to remove the classified information from Ms. Mellor’s mind. I had originally intended to keep that proposal strictly between you and me, but since Ms. Mellor has proven so…”

  He hesitated as if searching for the right word, still massaging the bridge of his nose. “…intractable…” he continued after a moment, “…it has become obvious that drastic action is required. The chain of command wanted to incarcerate Ms. Mellor immediately, but when I raised the possibility of simply editing her memories they reluctantly agreed to wait until you returned from B.C. to give you that chance.”

  I held my temper under careful control. I had already blasted him with my outrage over that idea. Blowing up again wouldn’t solve anything.

  “I already told you I wouldn’t tamper with her memories without her knowledge and consent, even if I was certain I could do it without harming her,” I said evenly.

  “So you said,” Stemp agreed. “But I have exhausted all other avenues so I am forced to give you an ultimatum. I leave it up to you to decide whether having Ms. Mellor incarcerated is less offensive to your sensibilities than subtly altering her memories. If you can propose an alternative solution I will be pleased to consider it, but if you haven’t provided a solution by the end of next week, Ms. Mellor will be transferred to a secure facility where she will remain for the rest of her life.”

  ‘Dickhead’ sprang to my lips but I managed to bite it back. I held my voice level. “I may need more time if I have to deal with assassins popping up all over the place.”

  Stemp allowed himself a tiny exhalation. “There will always be reasons to postpone this. The chain of command has made its decision. The deadline stands.”

  Profanity boiled at the back of my throat and I pressed my lips together to prevent it from erupting. We’d already had this conversation. I knew what a potential disaster Tammy Mellor’s loose lips represented. And Stemp, for all his irritating qualities, had stood up to the chain of command to give Tammy a last chance for freedom.

  A chance that depended solely on me.

  God help poor Tammy.

  My voice came out slightly seared by the heat of the words I was holding back. “I’ll do my best.”

  Stemp gave me a tired smile. “I knew you would.” His expressionless façade returned and he spoke with his usual clipped efficiency. “I have briefed Webb and Dr. Travers and assigned them to assist you in any way possible. No one else besides the chain of command is aware we’re considering this action, though Kane will be briefed and will join your team when he returns from his leave on Monday. You, Webb, and Dr. Travers will observe Ms. Mellor’s session this morning and as frequently as necessary thereafter to complete your research and recommendations.”

  His flat amber gaze pinned me with the weight of his authority. “You will not, under any circumstances, enter the network while Ms. Mellor is in it. We can’t risk the data transfer if your minds accidentally collide in the network.” He raised a hand to forestall my objection and went on, “I know Webb’s solution worked the last time you tried it, but we have more at stake now. With only a week remaining until the deadline, it doesn’t make sense to risk a potential security breach. If you choose to do so, you may attempt to edit Ms. Mellor’s memories on the last day before she is transferred.”

  A few months ago I would have sourly observed that he was only making sure his own secrets were safely protected inside my brain. But I had a few potentially disastrous secrets of my own, and after what I’d learned about his parents only a few days ago, I was right on board with his paranoia.

  Hell, why did people keep trusting me with their secrets?

  Stemp was still talking. “…furthermore, you will not enter the virtual reality network at all for any reason until Dr. Rawling approves it, and even then not unless Kane is available to accompany you. You have been exposed to a far greater frequency of active missions than we consider optimal, and until Dr. Rawling is convinced of your psychological stability we won’t risk the chance that you might accidentally harm yourself or others in virtual reality. You may access the network only via a desktop computer with a physical interface.” His gaze bored into me. “Is that understood?”

  I nodded dumbly. Not going to protest that. God, with the nightmares I’d had last night, I likely wouldn’t even make it inside the virtual portal before my subconscious conjured up some fatal scenario.

  Stemp returned my nod, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at my meek acquiescence. “Very well then.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “The team will be assembling now, so you should begin as soon as possible. I have another item I wish to discuss with you, but it can wait until this afternoon. Dismissed.”

  I rose slowly, the weight of a woman’s freedom bowing my shoulders, and trailed out of his office.

  When I ducked into Spider’s office a few minutes later, he looked up from the electronic gadget he was fiddling with, relief easing his face.

  “Aydan…” he began.

  The sound of approaching voices made him snap his mouth shut, wariness closing down his expression.

  “Let’s grab lunch later,” he said.

  “Okay…” I eyed him with concern, but he rose and headed for the door without saying another word.

  I followed him into the hall in time to get caught in a wave of Tammy Mellor’s prattle. Her round face was alight behind her dark glasses and one small plump hand deftly skimmed her white cane across the carpet while the other clutched the arm of Jill Francis, the hapless agent assigned as her handler.

  “…but I just love strawberry jam, don’t you, Jilly-bean?” Tammy babbled, barely pausing for breath before continuing, “My Terry loved strawberry jam, too, but you know it’s funny, he just hated raspberry jam. Isn’t that funny, Jilly-bean? When I was a little girl and I could still see, I knew they were both red berries but I can hardly even remember red now, but my Terry always used to tell me what colours things were even if I couldn’t see them and I miss him so much, it was such a tragedy when he died-”

  “Hey, Tammy,” Jill interrupted in a voice so falsely animated I thought it might crack. “Spider’s here and guess what? Aydan Kelly’s with him! Hi, Spider; hi, Aydan!” She stepped forward to grip my hand in welcome. “It’s great to see you,” she added quietly. “
We should go for drinks sometime soon.”

  Her voluptuous figure was tastefully accented with a fashionable sweater and scarf as usual and her makeup was as flattering and impeccably applied as always. But the vivacious sparkle I remembered from four months ago had vanished, and her usually warm smile looked strained.

  I squeezed her hand. “It’s great to see you, too. And drinks sound good. When do you want to-”

  “How about tonight?”

  I noted the desperate light in her eyes. “Sure,” I agreed, and her shoulders sagged in relief.

  “Aydan, how are you? I’m so glad you’re back!” After an unprecedented ten-second silence, Tammy was back in full cry as she pressed forward, reaching toward me. I took her hand and submitted to her usual pat-down of my arms, face, and hair.

  “Did you have a nice trip?” she bubbled. “Oh, I hope you did, and I hope we get to go into the network together today, I’ve been so looking forward to meeting your mind in the network. My Terry promised if I ever went into the network with another mage I’d get to see her memories, so I can hardly wait to see all your memories-”

  Knowing it was futile to wait for a break in the deluge of words, I interrupted as gently as I could. “I’m sorry, Tammy, but Stemp said I’m not allowed to go into the network for at least a couple of weeks.”

  “Oh.”

  Disappointment clouded her features and my heart smote me. I could only imagine what it must be like to cling to the hope that she might someday see again, if only through another’s eyes.

  Her smile came back. “That’s okay, I can wait. If Charles says that’s the way it has to be, I’m sure he has a good reason. He’s such a nice man and he’s been so wonderful to me, I just can’t tell you how grateful I am to him that he’s given me such a nice apartment and such an interesting job and introduced me to a wonderful friend like my Jilly-bean…” She beamed in Jill’s direction and Jill winced, her gaze sliding away down the hall.

  “Oh, and here’s Brock, too,” Jill said without intonation.