A Spy For a Spy

by Diane Henders

  “I see no reason why anything should as long as you carry out your mission.” He stepped around me without a change of expression. “Let’s go.”

  I strode toward my office, ignoring Stemp beside me and trying to arrange my face into something approaching normalcy.

  I might as well have saved myself the effort. When I turned the corner into my office, the sight of Doytchevsky made my lips draw back in an instinctive snarl. I groaned and dropped my head to massage my temples, hoping nobody had noticed.

  “Do you have a headache?” Jack inquired. “Would you like some ibuprofen? I have some in my purse.”

  “Thanks, Jack, I’ve got some of my own.” I managed a smile as I sank onto my small sofa. “And I hope it won’t be a long session today anyway. I have an idea.”

  “Good, because I couldn’t match up any car rental records,” Spider said. The despondent note in his usually chipper voice made me give him another look.

  “Are you okay, Spider?” I studied him with concern.

  “Yeah.” He didn’t meet my eyes. “I’m just tired because I’m moving back into my house. It’s a lot of work.”

  “Your house is finally ready! It must be great to get back into it after all this time.”

  Jack looked confused, and I elaborated. “Spider’s house burned down this past summer.” I didn’t add that we’d both almost burned with it.

  “Yeah, the house is great,” Spider mumbled. “What’s your idea?”

  I hesitated, worry nagging at me. Something was very wrong in Spider’s world. But now wasn’t the time or place to find out what it was. I blew out a breath.

  “Stalking Sherman in the network is risky. Every time we connect, there’s a chance I won’t be able to hide my presence. And even if I can get an IP address, it doesn’t help us if they’re on the other side of the country.”

  “I presume you have a solution besides aimless whining,” Doytchevsky interrupted.

  Asshole.

  “Yes.” I smothered my irritation and carried on. “Sherman faked his death because he was afraid the other Knights would retaliate after he warned Sam about their betrayal. So he’s been lying low and avoiding the Knights’ internal communication system. But now he knows all the other Knights are dead. Maybe he’ll feel safe enough to try to contact Sam through their old system.”

  I focused my eyes midway between Stemp and Doytchevsky, hoping my animosity wasn’t too visible. “I think it’s time for Sam to leave a message.”

  Stemp nodded slowly. “That could work. Can you fake the message?”

  “I think so. But that would mean we’d have to admit… well, ‘Sam’ would have to admit that he knew Sherman had faked his death.”

  “And Kraus would only have that knowledge if he’d encountered them in the network.” Stemp completed my thought. “But you said you had hidden all trace of your contact.”

  “Yeah.” I slouched against the cushions. “So I guess I could say… well, ‘Sam’ could say he’d found a way to shield my mind.”

  “That could work,” Doytchevsky said. “Sherman will want to know how Kraus did it. We can reel him in by offering to exchange technology. Trade their wireless network generator for Kraus’s shielding technique.”

  Stemp nodded. “Very well. Kelly, whenever you’re ready.”

  This time I managed to project myself into virtual reality without swords or dragons. When Stemp’s avatar appeared beside me, I turned and strode down the virtual hallway to my familiar file repository. Inside, I sat and took his hand, vanishing into the internet before I could let my revulsion show.

  It took me a while to find the Knights’ secret communication system, hidden within its shell-game of shifting IP addresses. Floating outside their firewall at last, I summoned my courage, wishing my current form was capable of taking a few deep calming breaths.

  Gathering myself, I dove for the firewall.

  And missed.

  The maelstrom ripped me into millions of data bits tumbling helplessly in the vicious undertow. Flinging panicky tendrils of myself in all directions, I managed to gain enough of a grip to pull myself free.

  Bit by bit, I extricated and reassembled myself, trying to ignore the terrified pounding of a heart I didn’t even possess. Huddling into my consciousness, I hovered in the data flow outside the firewall.

  The anchor of Stemp’s presence was long gone, and I bit down on panic. Spider and Jack would know what was happening. They would remember from last time. Spider would find a way to call me home. I wasn’t lost.

  I’d be fine.

  Calming the frantic oscillation of my data bits, I regrouped. I had done this before. I could do it again. Nothing bad would happen.

  Just keep believing that.

  I turned to face the firewall again, its deceptively benign presence mocking me.

  Body-surfing. Think about body-surfing.

  Before I could chicken out, I flung myself forward again.

  The serenity of the data flow inside their firewall was so blessedly welcome I would have emitted a sob of relief if I’d had a voice. Drawing my consciousness together, I floated for several moments in the placid currents, recovering.

  When I had regained a semblance of calm, I turned my invisible presence toward their messaging system. Preoccupied with composing my lure, I jerked to a halt when I realized it already held a message.

  From Sherman. For Sam.

  If I had been capable of grinning, I would have. I left a short reply and turned for home.

  I surged through their firewall and floated uncertainly at the edge of the internet’s vastness, feeling very small. Afraid to venture too far without an anchor, I hitched my consciousness to the firewall’s IP and stretched outward. Sniffing down tunnels in search of a familiar trail, I cursed the constantly-shifting connections and withdrew to the comparative safety of the firewall.

  Its IP address changed beneath me. Goddammit, now I had to figure out where I was again. And even if I knew where I was, I didn’t know if I could find the Sirius servers, concealed even more effectively than the Knights’ system.

  After several more fruitless forays into the maze of connections, the fear that had been nibbling the edges of my consciousness developed larger, sharper teeth. I pulled my consciousness closer, fending off panic.

  Surely Spider would be searching for me by now. But what would he be searching for?

  Stretching into the public tunnels again, I sniffed for ‘Aydan Kelly’, but found no welcome stream of searches. Besides, Spider wouldn’t use my real name.

  Why the hell hadn’t I remembered this would happen? I should have arranged everything with Spider in advance. Dammit, I should have known better.

  I diverted my mind from useless recriminations. Just focus. The last time we’d tried this, we had agreed on camels as a search term.

  Come on, Spider, talk to me.

  Far too damn many people searched for camels on the internet. Clinging to calm, I began the painstaking task of following up each data request.

  At last, almost at the limit of my perception, a stream of data packets whizzed by. Camels.

  Then another. Camels.

  Relief swelling in my heart, I relinquished my hold on the Knights’ server and dove into the data flow, following the camel trail home.

  When I materialized in the virtual file repository inside Sirius’s network, Stemp greeted me expressionlessly. “Welcome back, Kelly.”

  I tried to hold onto my hatred for him, but my smile of relief and triumph broke through despite me. “Thanks.” I turned and hurried for the portal.

  Back in the reality of my office, I ground out some perfunctory profanity until the pain receded from my head. As soon as I could focus my eyes again, I straightened, unable to suppress my grin.

  “Thanks for the camels, Spider.”

  “No problem.”

  Slightly dampened by his monotone response, I turned to Stemp. “Sherman beat us to it. He’s already trying to conta
ct Sam.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He just said ‘Are you safe? Can we meet?’ So I told him I’m fine and asked him when and where.”

  “Idiot!” Doytchevsky exploded. Everyone stared at him, and he quickly converted his enraged expression to haughty disdain. “Everybody knows you don’t let him choose the location. You want to maintain control of the situation on your own turf.”

  Heat climbed my cheeks and I bit down a rude retort. He was a jerk, but he was also right, goddammit.

  “Well, it’s a start.” I rose, holding my temper firmly in check. “I’m going to grab a snack, and then I’ll go back and check for an answer in a little while. Maybe I can suggest a location then.”

  The others stood, too, and began to move toward the door.

  Stemp’s voice stopped me. “Kelly, we need to discuss your travel expenses.”

  I turned to face his impassive façade with distaste. “It’s hardly worth it, is it?”

  “I beg to differ. While I appreciate your dedication to your cover…” I could have sworn I detected a sour tilt to his mouth, but he kept talking and I couldn’t be sure. “…this department does not have an unlimited budget. In the future, clear your expenses with me before proceeding.”

  All my hostility came rushing back. My lingering humiliation and pounding headache did nothing to mitigate it.

  “Fuck, you’ve got to be kidding me! I buy one lousy hamburger, and I do mean lousy, a piece of pizza, a roll of tape and a newspaper, and you’re climbing up my ass for expenses?”

  Oops.

  Probably shouldn’t have blurted that out in front of an audience. Spider and Jack and Doytchevsky stood bunched near the doorway, watching avidly.

  Stemp stiffened. “And new clothing and shoes and fine dining and a penthouse suite and sex shows and VIP tickets to male strippers and your latest videos…” He infused the word with biting contempt.

  I stood gaping at him. “What… the… What the hell are you talking about?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Don’t insult my intelligence. It’s all over the internet.”

  My knees decided to take a vacation and I dropped onto the sofa. “Oh, God. Please don’t tell me…”

  I trailed off at the flash of fierce exultation in Doytchevsky’s face. An instant later it vanished behind his usual bland expression, but I realized the horrible truth.

  I dragged my gaze up to Stemp’s implacable face. “Show me.”

  Chapter 27

  Too soon, I realized the full extent of my own stupidity. Nothing like setting myself up to watch porn with my boss and co-workers. Particularly when the porn starred me.

  It started innocuously enough, with some news blurbs about Arlene Cherry in Las Vegas. There were a few photos of Lola, Nichele, and me coming out of the penthouse elevators in our dresses and high heels, including an unfortunate picture of my ass as I scrambled into the limo. Luckily the blue dress covered the subject. But just.

  Another shot showed me fleeing the trade show, the mostly-naked men posing and smiling in the background.

  Then the video footage started. My mouth dropped open.

  A few minutes later, my face was hot enough to singe my eyebrows. Spider stared at the ceiling, blushing so furiously his face was almost purple. Jack turned away to fiddle in her purse, Doytchevsky grinned, and Stemp remained utterly deadpan.

  “Turn it off!” I recoiled from the screen of Spider’s laptop. “That’s fucking disgusting.”

  “Well, it’s definitely fu-” Doytchevsky cut off his snide comment as I whirled, my fist clenching on the need to punch that smile off his face and right down his throat.

  I controlled myself with an effort and turned to Stemp, willing the hot blood away from my cheeks. “I didn’t do any of that! I did do a pole-dancing class…”

  For which I intended to smack either Nichele or myself; maybe both...

  “…But I had all my clothes on. The dress and shoes were borrowed, my friend paid for the meals and the penthouse and the Chippendales, I had a free ticket to the trade show, and I absolutely did not do anything even remotely like that with that Chippendales guy!”

  I faced Stemp with all the poise I could muster. “You don’t seriously think I could do that in a public place without getting arrested, do you?”

  “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,” Doytchevsky murmured.

  “Shut up, you prick! You-”

  Stemp interrupted before I could really get going. “How do you explain it, then?”

  I shot Doytchevsky a venomous look. “Obviously somebody was following me around with a camera and they altered the video afterward. God knows there’s enough Arlene Cherry crap already out there, they could have faked this easily enough.” A thought struck me. “And a couple of the women in that class hardly had any clothes on to start with. All they’d have to do was transplant my face onto one of them and edit out their underwear...”

  I stood and wrapped the remaining shreds of my dignity around me. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I didn’t do any of that shit, and my total expenses come to about twenty bucks. So bite me.”

  I strode for the door, keeping my back straight, chin high.

  Stemp spoiled my not-so-grand exit. “In my office, Kelly.”

  I blew out a sigh and trudged down the hallway.

  With his door closed safely behind us, Stemp and I faced each other in silence. I tensed when his hand dipped into his desk drawer, but he was only extracting one of Sirius’s portable bug detectors. He systematically scanned his entire office before speaking.

  “Doytchevsky?”

  I grimaced. “Probably. He was following me around with his camera, and he has the computer skills to fake the video. And I don’t know who else would do that.”

  “Why would he?”

  “I haven’t a clue. It’s a hell of a lot of effort if all he wanted to do was piss me off. And he didn’t try to manipulate me with it. I didn’t even know he’d done it until you told me.” I tried not to look too accusing. “How did you find it?”

  He eyed me as if debating whether to take offense at my implication that he spent his days surfing the net for porn. When he spoke, his voice was as emotionless as ever.

  “Webb’s facial recognition algorithm flagged it.”

  I winced. “Poor Spider.”

  A hint of humour tugged briefly at the corner of Stemp’s mouth. “Perhaps I should assign one of the other analysts to that duty.”

  “No thanks. I don’t want anybody else looking at that shit. At least I know Spider isn’t getting off on it.”

  One of these days I’d kill Stemp for this porn-star cover. Put a richly-deserved bullet right between his eyes…

  Or not. I quickly modified the thought. After my revelation in the car, the idea of shooting someone in cold blood made my skin crawl. Okay, fine, I wouldn’t really kill him, but I’d make him suffer…

  “…what?” I refocused when I realized he’d spoken.

  “I said this works well. Free reinforcement for your cover identity.”

  I scowled. “Excuse me if I don’t do a dance of joy.”

  “You’re excused. And by the way, thank you for keeping your expenses down.” Stemp surveyed me across the desk. “You do realize we expect an agent to expense three reasonably-priced meals per day. It’s not necessary to starve yourself.”

  Christ, I couldn’t get used to him flip-flopping between a human being and a total asshole.

  “Fine, then I’ll bill you for the french fries, too,” I retorted.

  He actually laughed.

  A moment later, his impersonal mask descended again. “Why didn’t you specify a location to Sherman?”

  “I didn’t think of it.” I dropped my gaze to study the telephone squatting in solitary splendour on his barren desk. When he made no comment, irritation prickled my already-smarting ego. “I’m just a bookkeeper, for shit’s sake. I didn’t know any better.”

  “Ah. Yes.”
/>   His dry tone jerked my gaze up to search his face for derision, but his expression was as impenetrable as always. He changed the subject.

  “Doytchevsky’s foray into X-rated video concerns me. If he has an agent’s background, he could be a considerable threat as a sexual predator. Has he said or done anything to make you think you might be a target?”

  “No.” I grimaced. “I’m pretty sure he hates my guts. I seriously doubt he’s forming any unhealthy attachments.”

  Stemp eyed me in silence for a moment. “I wasn’t talking about attraction. If he hates you enough to act on it, sexual violence is an easy way to make you suffer.”

  I swallowed my instinctive surge of fear. “Thanks for reminding me.”

  When I emerged into the hall, Spider detached himself from the doorway of the lunchroom as if he’d been waiting for me.

  “Hey, Aydan, I’m going over to the Melted Spoon. Do you want to walk with me?” His voice still held a minor key, and I hurried to accept the invitation, renewed worry tightening my throat.

  A few minutes later we were picking our way along the icy sidewalk. I spared a glance away from my footing to peer up at his lanky six-foot-two.

  “Spider, what’s wrong?”

  “I, um… I heard some stuff…” He hesitated, and my heart sank.

  “What kind of stuff?”

  “About… um, about Kane. And you.”

  “What did you hear?”

  He stopped and turned to face me, his hazel eyes dark with unhappiness. “I heard he, um…” He blushed. “…Sexually assaulted you and now he’s being court-martialled and he’ll go to jail.” His words tumbled out. “Aydan, is it true? All the rumours say that’s what it is.”

  “Spider…”

  I hesitated, wondering how much to tell him, and his lips quivered. My heart twisting, I stared up at his miserable countenance. He practically worshipped Kane. Hell, just about everybody did. And Kane was worthy of their respect and admiration, dammit.

  “But… I thought he… I thought you liked each other…” Spider sounded like a lost child.

  Sympathy overwhelmed my good sense. “It’s not true, Spider. Kane and I are on a mission and we have to pretend that’s what’s happening, but it’s not true. Kane would never do that.”