Once Burned, Twice Spy

by Diane Henders

  “Aydan…” Jack gave me a helpless look before turning to Stemp. “Director, is paranoia a symptom of ketamine reaction?”

  “Paranoia can be a symptom of guilt.” Stemp’s cold amber gaze drilled through to my soul. “And it’s frequently a sign of a top agent,” he added with an almost-imperceptible softening of the hard lines around his mouth. “There is no need to alter your response, Agent Kelly. Let’s try a different question. Do you know who put the dart in your pocket?”

  “No…” The word crept tentatively out of my mouth, but the light flashed solid green nonetheless. Holt looked disappointed, the bastard.

  “Do you have any reliable recollection of the events after the smoke cleared?”

  “No.”

  Green light.

  “Very well,” Stemp said. “Dr. Travers, please transfer the apparatus to Helmand.”

  After questioning Hellhound thoroughly and receiving a series of green lights, Stemp called in each member of our team and questioned each of them in turn.

  After the last question had been asked and answered with green lights all the way, Stemp let out a small breath and leaned back in his chair.

  “Thank you for your cooperation,” he said to all of us. “It is unfortunate that you were all concentrating on Dr. Mitchell’s presentation at the time of the incident; but it is understandable given the drama of the presentation.”

  “Kelly should have been paying more attention,” Holt muttered. “It’s unprofessional to get distracted like that.”

  Stemp gave him a cool look. “Kelly’s attention is irrelevant. Even if she had directly observed and remembered the attack, her testimony wouldn’t alter this situation.”

  Holt grunted but didn’t argue.

  “I still say they faked that presentation,” Reggie said. “And I’m sure it was choreographed to coincide with the attack on Aydan.”

  “Perhaps; but unfortunately we have no way to ascertain that,” Stemp said, weariness edging his voice. “Despite their insistence that we ‘get to the bottom of this’…” He said the words with a sour twist to his mouth. “…the U.S. delegates refuse to accept the validity of our lie detector. And they and the U.K. delegates have invoked their diplomatic immunity and refuse to be questioned.”

  “That’s bullshit!” Reggie exclaimed. “We know damn well Grandin shot Kelly and threw that smoke bomb. He was the only other person in the area that matches the trajectory for both the dart and the smoke bomb, and Kelly’s already passed the lie detector.”

  “Yes. Nevertheless, our hands are tied…” A tap on the door interrupted Stemp, and he called, “Come.”

  Dr. Roth slipped into the room, closing the door behind her.

  “Your findings?” Stemp asked.

  “I examined Dr. Pino’s leg,” she said. “The bandage is covering a wound that Dr. Pino claims was caused when he tripped on a curb this morning.”

  Stemp eyed her levelly. “And do you believe him?”

  She exhaled a small breath through her nose. “I would say his story is extremely unlikely. His leg is gashed and the bruising is localized immediately around the wound. He has no other bruises or abrasions on his hands or knees. I would say it’s more likely that he was struck by a metal object with a blunt edge.”

  “Perhaps the open sights of a pistol?” Stemp inquired dryly. “Like the one Agent Grandin carries?”

  “Possibly. There were also three other anomalies that aroused my suspicions. Firstly, the blood pattern on the inside of the bandage corresponded to the shape of the wound, but the bandage was not soaked through with blood; and the pattern of dried blood on the outside of the bandage was reversed relative to the wound.”

  “So they slapped the bandage over it to get some blood on the outside and then turned it over so the blood would show,” Holt deduced. “They were deliberately making it look disgusting so nobody would touch it.”

  “Yes, I believe so,” Dr. Roth agreed. “That theory also explains the second anomaly, which was that the outside of the bandage was so dirty. If it had only been applied this morning it would have been protected by his pants, preventing any soil from accumulating on it. I suspect the dirt was deliberately applied.”

  “And the third anomaly?” Stemp inquired.

  “Two edges of the bandage were looser than the other two and the skin beneath the tape on those edges showed signs of irritation, as though the corner of the bandage had been recently peeled up and then reapplied.”

  “So he hid something under there,” Holt said triumphantly. “And then got rid of it. Probably went to the john and flushed it as soon as he had a chance. What do you want to bet it was the metal powder?”

  “Prob’ly not,” Hellhound disagreed. “Nobody left the room ’til they went through the metal scanner. It woulda showed up there.”

  “Huh. Okay,” Holt allowed. “Maybe Grandin’s missing pen? Taken apart into two halves so it would fit under the bandage?”

  “A take-down dart pen; made out of plastic so it wouldn’t show up on the metal scanner. That would work,” I agreed. “But why would they go to so much trouble to frame me? And especially in such a ham-fisted way? They had to know I’d deny the whole thing; and Grandin is the only other person who could have done it.”

  “That…” Stemp said heavily, “…is the million-dollar question. But framing you was clearly their goal. The United States government has already requested your extradition, and Dirk, the FBI agent, is pressuring us to remand you into his custody.”

  “What?” Sheer terror turned my squawk of outrage into a squeak.

  “Needless to say, we will not surrender you to Dirk,” Stemp said. “Particularly since your testimony has been corroborated by the lie detector. And in turn, we have requested Grandin’s extradition to Canada for questioning.”

  “Okay…” I said, but I wasn’t reassured. Stemp didn’t have the final say in any of this. The chain of command had already ignored his advice and capitulated when the States had requested my presence in the first place. There was no reason to believe they’d grow a collective spine now.

  Or maybe the whole chain of command was conspiring against me…

  Another panic attack quivered at the edges of my mind, making my heart vibrate inside my rib cage.

  I drew a long breath and let it out slowly. I could handle panic attacks. My brain was all better now.

  …But I was trapped underground and people wanted to arrest me and throw me in jail for the rest of my life…

  Shut up.

  I breathed some more.

  Stemp was still talking, and I focused on his words again. “…Holt, Helmand, and the Weapons team will return to Silverside in the helicopter along with Drs. Roth and Travers. Dr. Chow and Drs. West…” He nodded to Reggie, Melinda, and Murray. “Your luggage has already been transferred to Holt’s vehicle, and he will escort you to the helipad. Kelly and I will return in the Hummer. Helmand, I have requisitioned a vehicle from the motor pool so you can return to Calgary to retrieve your own vehicle and go home after completing the weapons chain of custody transfer in Silverside.”

  “Hang on,” Hellhound objected. “Why can’t Aydan fly back with us? A Griffon’ll take ten troops plus crew so there oughta be lotsa room.”

  “Ordinarily there would be,” Stemp agreed without expression. “However, Dr. Gardner and the Australian weapons director and their agent will be flying with you to Silverside, to assist our team in researching the technology presented by the U.S. That forms the maximum personnel payload.”

  I shot a sidelong glance at Reggie. Quality time with Katie. This could be good…

  His face was as impassive as Stemp’s, but his shoulders were bunched and his right thumb tapped compulsively across the tip of his index finger, third finger, ring finger, and pinky; repeating the action over and over as though reassuring himself that his fingers were all there.

  Shit. That wasn’t good.

  “But you’re comin’ straight back to Silverside
, right?” Hellhound persisted, eyeing Stemp suspiciously.

  “Not directly,” Stemp admitted with a glance at his wristwatch. “I have a short personal errand and we will require a meal, after which we will return to Silverside. Our ETA is twenty-two hundred hours.”

  I did the math. It was only five-thirty. Unless the roads were still really bad, that meant his ‘short personal errand’ was going to take around two and a half hours.

  He was up to something.

  “Are the roads still bad?” I inquired, keeping my tone casual.

  “Normal winter driving conditions,” Stemp said crisply. “The snow ceased late this morning and the highway has been plowed and sanded.” His eyelid flickered almost imperceptibly as he spoke.

  My next question froze on my tongue.

  Was that a secret signal for me to back off, or an involuntary twitch caused by a lie?

  I knew the answer before my mind had even fully formed the question. Stemp had been a top agent before he took over as director. There was no way he’d exhibit such a blatant tell if he was lying.

  So he was signalling me to drop it.

  But why the secrecy? Whom did he mistrust?

  My gaze slid to Holt’s steely eyes, heroic posture, and smug expression. He was loving every minute of this. Riding in on his white horse to rescue me from yet another botched mission…

  Hellhound interrupted my thoughts by speaking my doubts aloud. “Two an’ a half hours ain’t a ‘short errand’.” The icy look he received from Stemp would have quelled a lesser man, but Hellhound continued without flinching. “How do we know ya ain’t gonna hand Aydan over to the fuckin’ FBI as soon as we’re all gone an’ there’s nobody to stop ya?”

  “I give you my word that I will not ‘hand over’ Agent Kelly,” Stemp said. “You have your orders. You are all dismissed.” He rose. “Kelly, we’ll leave immediately.”

  Hellhound rose, too, glowering down at Stemp. “Nothin’ had better happen to Aydan,” he said in a tone like the ominous subsonic rumble before a thunderclap.

  “That is my goal,” Stemp replied, unruffled. “Kelly, if you please…?” He inclined his head toward the door.

  I swallowed hard. This could be an ambush. Once I was separated from all the people who cared about me, Stemp could eliminate me without any witnesses. And I knew without a doubt that he was capable of killing me no matter how well-armed and well-prepared I was.

  But despite my fearful speculations, my body was already standing up and my face was radiating a reassuring smile at Hellhound.

  “Thanks, Arnie. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Talk to you soon.” My voice sounded calm and confident.

  What the hell? Did I really trust Stemp that much? Or had he somehow hypnotized me? Or maybe there had been something else mixed with that ketamine. Some drug that made me gullible and pliant…

  My feet were walking me toward the door as if they didn’t have a care in the world. I paused in the doorway. “Have a safe trip back.”

  “You, too…” Hellhound said doubtfully, his fist flexing as though he was debating whether to drag me away from Stemp by main force.

  The good side of Reggie’s face registered worry, too; but I wasn’t sure whether it was for me or himself. “See you later,” he said absently.

  I gave him a nod and smile and let Stemp usher me out.

  Was I nuts?

  Chapter 21

  Stemp wasted no time in hustling me through the bullpen, stopping only long enough to retrieve my personal possessions from the guard who had been supervising them since they’d been confiscated in the morning. My small heap of belongings was the last one remaining, and the guard looked relieved when I checked off the final item on the inventory list.

  Grandin hovered nearby, his gaze sharp and acquisitive while I holstered the trank pistol and twitched my pant leg down over it. Behind him, Dirk surveyed us without expression.

  As I slid my Glock into the concealed holster at my waist, Grandin spoke to Stemp. “I hope you realize you’re procuring weapons for a dangerous criminal.”

  Dirk frowned at Grandin. “The evidence against her is inconclusive.”

  Grandin ignored him and jabbed an aggressive finger at Stemp. “When she’s convicted of international terrorism, you’ll be charged, too, as an accessory.”

  Stemp gave him a look that would have made an ordinary man suddenly remember an urgent task elsewhere. “It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

  “She’s a danger to everyone!” Grandin said loudly enough to address the remaining people in the room. “What if she opens fire on us all?”

  A warm deep voice spoke from behind me. “Since she hasn’t shot you yet in spite of all the aggro you’ve caused, I suspect we’re all quite safe.”

  I turned to face Ian Rand’s smile. Sparks kindled in his striking green eyes as he leaned into my personal space. “I hear you’ve been cleared,” he murmured. “I hope that means you’ll be allowed some personal time.”

  I flicked a glance over at Stemp’s deadpan face. If I hadn’t known him so well, I might have missed the tiny edge of tension in his posture.

  Impatience. He was in a rush to get out of here.

  Why?

  Should I hurry up?

  Or should I refuse to go anywhere with him?

  “Um, sorry,” I said. “Gotta go.”

  Ian straightened, frowning. “You can’t be serious.”

  “She is quite serious,” Stemp confirmed. “Agent Kelly, let’s go.”

  “Duty is a hard taskmaster,” Ian said regretfully. “However… if you should happen to find yourself with a few spare moments…” He scribbled a phone number on a scrap of paper and tucked it into my hand. “I’ll be at the Palliser until Saturday. And…” His voice deepened seductively. “…the room service is excellent.”

  Heat surged into my cheeks. Jeez, did he have to make his play right in front of Stemp?

  As Ian arched an inviting eyebrow at me, I caught the flash of seriousness in his eyes.

  Dammit, he wasn’t coming onto me; he was trying to tell me something. I suddenly remembered our truncated conversation of the previous evening. He had been saying, ‘Nora was the one who…’ when Reggie had interrupted us.

  The one who what?

  Was Nora involved in the attack on me, too? My heart clenched at the sight of her motherly figure hovering behind Ian. She was smiling, but she didn’t look relaxed.

  And even though her desire to speak with me had apparently been pressing enough for her to bring up with my chain of command, she still hadn’t made any effort to pull me aside for a conversation.

  What the hell was going on?

  I pitched my voice to a provocative tone as I tilted a little closer to Ian. “I’ll keep that in mind. ’Bye for now.” Pocketing the scrap of paper, I turned back to Stemp and together we headed for the door.

  Our trip through security and out to the Hummer was accomplished in silence. As I slung my deflated duffel bag into the cargo bay, Stemp inclined his chin at it.

  “What is in there?” A tiny twitch of humour softened the corner of his mouth. “Besides the breathing filters that cast suspicion on you so effectively?”

  I gave him a sharp look, but he seemed genuinely interested. Not a gibe. I unzipped the bag and showed him. “I requisitioned a P90 and some ammo in case we were attacked on the road. I had bulletproof vests for everybody, but they wore them into the building this morning so mine’s the only one left. I’d brought the breathing filters just in case, but I really didn’t know what might happen. I also had field dressings and eyewash kits and protective goggles that never got used; but everybody focused on the incriminating stuff.”

  “You were well-prepared,” Stemp agreed, and the approval in his voice warmed me.

  We got into the vehicle and left the parking garage without speaking again.

  Once on the street, Stemp drove a complicated pattern through the downtown traffic. I didn’t ask why. Standard proto
col didn’t require evasive precautions when leaving a secured facility; but that facility didn’t feel very secure to me anymore. I suspected Stemp felt the same.

  Twenty minutes later he drove out of downtown and parked in a convenience store lot. Reaching into his pocket, he activated a bug detector.

  It flashed red.

  My throat went dry despite the knowledge that the locator beacon on the Hummer would trigger it.

  Stemp remained expressionless. When he got out of the driver’s seat, I hopped out of the passenger side and hurried around the back of the vehicle to meet him. With the bug detector cupped in his palm, he moved to the rear bumper and reached underneath. A moment later the bug detector flashed green and I released a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

  Stemp methodically circled the Hummer again, watching the bug detector. When it registered solid green all the way around, he nodded satisfaction as he halted beside the passenger door and opened it for me.

  Drawing a secured phone from his pocket, Stemp punched the speed dial. “Stemp here,” he said crisply into the phone. “I have temporarily deactivated the locator beacon on H367B for a bug check. I will reactivate in less than twenty minutes.”

  Warning bells clamoured in my brain, and I hesitated. Why would he want to conceal our location from the Department?

  He punched the disconnect button and tossed the phone into the garbage bin next to us. Then he gave me a small frown and inclined his head toward the open passenger door as though he couldn’t believe I wanted to stand around in the freezing cold when I could be warm inside the vehicle.

  “Please get in,” he said.

  I swallowed hard, my fingers itching for my Glock.

  This was the part where I got back in the Hummer, and then he killed me and drove to some undisclosed location to secretly dump my body.

  “Um… why did you deactivate the locator?” I asked.

  Comprehension flared in his gaze and I tensed for his attack. He’d likely snap my neck. My body would topple silently into the vehicle and nobody would notice…