I would feel nothing.
Walking toward the building, I wasn’t surprised when Doytchevsky stepped out from between two cars to confront me. Nor was I angry. Nor afraid.
Nothing.
I eyed him, calculating. Too many witnesses. Better leave it until later, when my story of self-defence wouldn’t be contradicted.
“What do you want?” My voice was completely emotionless.
The icy observer in the back of my mind noted the flicker of uncertainty in his face.
Yeah, something’s changed, buddy. But you won’t have to worry about it for long.
“You’re going to feed Sherman an alternate location without telling Stemp. Same day, an hour earlier, different place.” He spoke with his usual supercilious sneer, but he was off balance. I could smell it. The scent of my prey.
“Where.”
He spouted an address and I recited it back to him, letting my gaze bore through him like the bullets I would soon fire.
When he nodded confirmation, I turned away.
“Remember the stakes.” He spoke from behind me. “You’ll do exactly as I say and tell nobody.”
“I remember.”
Seated in my office, I watched Doytchevsky out of the corner of my eye.
Soon.
Stemp strode in and began the briefing with his usual briskness. “Kraus cooperated. I filed a copy of their codebook in the repository in case we need it in the future, but Webb has already decoded Sherman’s message. ‘Office’ refers to a vacant commercial office space they hold in Calgary; Webb was correct about the date; and the remaining letters in the message are security codes required for access.” He paused. “And also an encoded instruction to bring you to the meeting. I don’t know why he wants you, but it helps us. With you there, I won’t have to place another agent on the inside. When he sees you, he’ll think all is going according to plan and we should be able to take him completely by surprise. We just need you to reply to Sherman’s message accepting the meeting.”
“Okay.” I closed my eyes and summoned up the virtual corridors of the network. Seated in the file repository, I took Stemp’s outstretched hand, feeling none of my earlier animosity.
Numbness was better. Easier.
The turbulent journey into the Knights’ server shook me, but the fear was distant. I stood apart from myself, recognizing the shivery adrenaline burn without judging it. Allowing myself a virtual shrug, I assembled Doytchevsky’s altered information into a message and floated it into the data stream as carelessly as a child’s paper boat.
It didn’t matter. In just a few hours, Doytchevsky would be dead and everyone would be safe. Lots of time to tell Stemp afterward.
I navigated the convoluted route back to Sirius’s network safely encased in my cool protective shell. When Stemp rose, his eyes asking a question, I said simply, “It’s done”.
Some routine decryptions let me relax into the mindless work of transcription for the rest of the afternoon. Pain skewered my brain when I stepped through the portal at last, and my mouth framed the usual profane complaints while my mind ticked over its checklist.
I’d grab a bite to eat first. Low blood sugar made my hands shake, and I’d rather keep this tidy. Besides, I wanted to give Doytchevsky time to get home for the evening. No need to chase him when I knew where he lived.
Should I shoot him in the apartment or drive him out into the country first? My black humour seized on the joke. Shoot him in the apartment. Ha. I’d shoot him in the heart. And the head. Double-tap.
“Aydan?”
“…huh?”
I jerked my attention back to my office where Spider hovered in front me, looking apologetic.
“Sorry, you looked like you were really deep in thought and I hate to disturb you,” he said. “But can you give me the network key so I can take it down to the secured area? I want to get going.” He blushed. “Linda and I have plans tonight. We’re celebrating moving into my house.”
“Oh!” I blinked, realizing everyone else had left while I wallowed in my unholy reverie. “Sorry.” I unclenched my fist from around the tiny network key and handed it to him, absently returning his cheerful wave as he left.
Linda and Spider… why did that remind me of something? And what was it…? I backtracked through my afternoon and the memory returned with a jolt.
Christ, how could I have forgotten my exchange with ‘Paul’? I sprang up from the sofa to hurry for Stemp’s office.
When I tapped at his door, he beckoned me in and I swung the door shut behind me. Without waiting for an invitation, I took a seat and dipped into my waist pouch for Paul’s card.
When I passed it across the desk to Stemp, he studied it for a moment before raising an eyebrow in my direction. “Should I know who Paul Hibbert is?”
“I’m pretty sure he’s working with Fuzzy Bunny.”
Stemp’s eyes sharpened. “Details.”
I laid out the encounter from beginning to end, reciting the events as if by rote while the killer in my brain sat back, biding her time. “I guess the good news is that my cover is secure,” I added. “I’m pretty sure he bought the whole thing. What do you want me to do?”
Stemp smiled. “Well done, Kelly. At this time, I think it’s best to leave things exactly as they are. Get in touch with Mr. Hibbert and reiterate that you’re not interested in working with them and that you don’t have any items of value. If he is from Fuzzy Bunny, he should believe you since their search of your house came up empty. Offering to work with them would prolong contact and increase the risk of breaching your cover. It will be better if they simply lose interest in Arlene Widdenback.”
“Okay. I’ll call him tonight.” I retrieved the card and left, my mind already returning to the details of planning a murder.
My legs carried me through the lobby and my mouth exchanged pleasantries with the security guard while I signed out. My hands were steady when I paid for a greasy burger at the takeout place. The good food at Eddy’s would be an unnecessary distraction.
I ate without tasting. Maybe I’d better force him into my car and drive him out into the country. If a stray bullet went through the wall, one of the other residents might get hurt. That would be bad.
The burger sat like a stone in my stomach when I rose, but no queasiness rocked it. My hands and feet felt light and tingly and my mind floated somewhere above and to the left of my skull, guiding my movements by remote control.
Then I was climbing the stairs to Doytchevsky’s apartment, my hand resting cold and inert on my gun, dead flesh animated by a frozen heart.
Outside his door, my fist rose to knock without hesitation. A buzzing like angry bees echoed in my skull.
Abrupt awareness of every sensation in my body. The pressure of my feet on the floor, cloth whispering against my skin, blood surging through arteries and veins.
The door opened and I knew no more.
Chapter 31
Something bad had happened.
I knew it with every fibre of my being before my brain could even formulate the thought. Somebody groaned.
Close.
Too close.
Another groan. I belatedly connected the sound with the sensation in my throat.
When I dragged my eyes open, nothing made sense. My cheek pressed against something rough. Two large, blurry objects stood planted inches from my nose and I blinked, trying to bring them into focus.
Slowly remembering that everything was blurry at that range without my reading glasses, I turned my attention to more distant objects. A strange sensation nagged at the edges of my mind.
A moment later, the nagging resolved itself into two distinct and unpleasant realities.
Hands bound.
Pain.
I gasped, jerking my face off the carpet to stare up past the two blurry objects that were Doytchevsky’s feet and legs, up into his smiling face.
“Good, you’re awake. Stupid woman. Did you seriously think I’d open the do
or unarmed? Stand up.”
Fueled by a surge of adrenaline, I snapped a gaze around the room in a single lightning assessment.
Hands pinned tightly behind my back. Probably a nylon tie by the way it was cutting into my wrists. Lying on the floor of Doytchevsky’s bedroom. Fully clothed, thank God.
“Stand up.”
A jerk on my wrists yanked my hands painfully up behind me and I heaved onto my knees, then rocked precariously onto my feet, clenching my teeth on another groan.
“Step back.” Another yank, and I staggered backward, unsuccessfully trying to ease the burning pull in my shoulders.
“Good. Now we’re going to talk.” Doytchevsky gave me one of his vicious smiles. “Look around you.”
I looked, my heart lurching into my throat to drum a choking rhythm.
All the wares he had purchased at Lola’s shop lay displayed on his bed.
I reached for the safety of numbness and met his eyes. “So what?”
As if I hadn’t spoken, he smiled again and gestured with the cord in his hand. “This is one of my favourite restraints. It’s so simple and yet so effective. The rope goes up over the closet rod to pull your hands up behind you. If I pull hard enough, it will tear all the muscles in your upper arms and dislocate both your shoulders.” He shrugged. “Mind you, the closet rod isn’t high enough to do that unless you fall, but I can certainly cause you a great deal of pain by raising your hands only a few inches.”
As if to illustrate, he pulled harder. A grunt leaked out from between my teeth and I rose to my tiptoes, trying to ease the pressure on my shoulders. I twisted my hands in the bindings, ignoring the slicing pain of the ties on my wrists. My fingers groped for a knot on the taut rope.
His lips twisted into a sneer. “Don’t bother. It’s tied at the top. I’m not an amateur. Unlike you.”
“What do you want?” I ground out. “I did what you asked.”
“And then you tried to shoot me.”
My joints screamed agony when the tension on my arms increased again, leaving me panting shallowly and straining on the tips of my toes while he tied off the rope to the leg of his bed. Cold sweat prickled my body, my pulse thudding behind my eyes.
He straightened, smiling. “There. That’s better. Now I have both hands free.” He picked up a dark hood from the bed, pulling it over his head to obscure his face. His eyes glittered through the slits. “You see, trying to shoot me was very naughty, and now you have to be punished.”
“I wasn’t trying to shoot you,” I lied desperately, averting my eyes from the short whip he picked up from the bed. “I was coming to give you a report.”
He laughed. “Oh, good one. A report. As in a gunshot. Aren’t you clever.”
“I wasn’t trying to be- agh!” The whip cut across my thigh, making me cry out at the shock of pain.
“You’d better think twice before you do anything to me.” My voice came out dead level, the terrified screaming of my other self muffled by the silence of my protective shell. “I’m not going to shut up about this, so you’ll have to kill me. And Stemp’s going to notice if I suddenly go missing.”
“You think you’re untouchable?” The whip hissed through the air, slashing a red-hot line higher on my leg. I yelped and jerked involuntarily, my shoulders cramping in agony.
He pushed his head close to mine. “You’re not. I will punish you. And you will beg for more. Thanks to the current popularity of bondage sex, everyone will believe Arlene Cherry has released a new video.” He jerked his head in the direction of a camera and tripod in the corner, its recording light glowing like a satanic eye in the half-light. “I can edit the video so this looks consensual. So it looks like you asked for it. Begged for it. Every mark on your body will be accounted for.”
The whip whistled and struck high on my thigh with a crack, electric pain flaring from crotch to knee. Despite my effort to stay silent, a cry wrenched out between my teeth.
He chuckled. “It’s surprising how sounds of pain sound so similar to those of pleasure.” He stepped away to adjust the camera. “First I’ll strip you naked. Cut your clothes off piece by piece. Then I’ll whip you. Thoroughly. I think you’ll be shocked at how much pain I can inflict.” He shrugged. “Then perhaps I’ll get creative.”
I steadfastly refused to look at the contents of the bed, pushing the terror down deeper and locking it away.
Feel nothing.
He could hurt my body, but he couldn’t break me. There was nothing inside me that hadn’t been broken a long, long time ago.
The hooded figure stepped toward me, knife in hand.
“You’re afraid, aren’t you?” he said softly. “Tell me you’re afraid.”
“So are you.” The words came out of my mouth before I even realized I was thinking them. “You want revenge for your wife and your best friend, but you know neither of them would want you to do this. You know they’d both be sickened by it. Sickened by you.”
“Shut up!”
My deadened voice continued as if announcing a particularly uninteresting weather report, my mouth speaking the words even while my mind cowered in helpless terror. “You’re a ruthless bastard and a killer, but you don’t really want to do this. You’ve made your point. I know you’re serious, and I’ll cooperate. Now you need to let me go so you can get to the man you really want to hurt.”
His hand shot out to clench my throat. “As you once said to me, I’ll do whatever I have to do.” Blood pounded in my ears, blackness hazing the edges of my vision. His voice receded, each word dropping softly into my darkening pool of consciousness. “Never believe otherwise.”
I jerked back, his fingers gouging hot channels across my neck, pain searing my shoulders.
He grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my face close to his. “If you say one word, if I even think you might be considering telling anyone, I’ll put your little granny right where you are now. And I will do whatever is necessary.”
Almost too fast for my eye to follow, he stepped away, the knife flashing toward the rope as he drew his trank gun again.
Cold.
I was cold.
Long spasms of shivering amplified the burning ache in my shoulders. My thigh throbbed with slow, hot pulses of pain.
I dragged my eyes open, muzzily taking stock of my dark surroundings. After a moment of slow incomprehension, I realized I was staring at the roof liner of my car with my seat reclined. A feeble effort to turn my head allowed me to identify the dark alley where I’d parked behind Doytchevsky’s apartment.
Another effort to drag my head around. Keys in the ignition. Pouch secured around my waist. Gun in my holster.
Reaching for the keys was an exercise in torment, the strained muscles of my shoulders screaming protest. When the engine caught, I let my arm drop and my eyelids fall shut.
When I opened my eyes again, the car was still running, the heater blasting, but my shivering hadn’t abated. Groaning, I forced myself to brave the pain and pulled my seat upright again.
I drew in a slow, quaking breath, fighting the tremors. Not daring to examine my emotions, I shoved them back into their prison and barred their door.
My cynical inner commentator snickered.
Oh, goody. I’d learned another valuable spy-skill. If you’re planning to shoot a spy, don’t knock on his front door. Duh.
Swearing and whimpering, I dragged my aching arms back into action and put the car in gear.
My swearing ratcheted up a notch when I turned in the lane at my farm. Tom’s big half-ton and Hellhound’s SUV were both parked in front of my house.
Shit, shit, shit.
I pulled into the garage and let the door roll down behind me, pushing my mind into planning mode.
I was pretty sure Tom wouldn’t start a fight with Hellhound unless he thought Hellhound was actively threatening me. And Hellhound would definitely finish a fight, but he wouldn’t start one.
That meant they were probably working together, c
leaning and tidying. My mind cringed away from the thought of them wading through the detritus of my life. It was my stuff, dammit. It was private.
I shook off my unreasonable feelings.
They were trying to help. It wasn’t an invasion. Just deal with it.
My best strategy would be to plead exhaustion. Tom would leave without protest, and Hellhound… I considered for a moment. He’d leave if I asked him to. He usually stayed at the Silverside Hotel when he was in town anyway. He’d understand if I said I needed space.
I unzipped my waist pouch to stow my keys and groaned. One more thing I’d forgotten. Paul’s card.
Fine. Deal with it right now.
I extracted my phone and dialled. After a couple of rings, a male voice spoke on the other end of the line. “Ms. Widdenback. Good to hear from you.”
“Yeah. Look, I just wanted to tell you thanks but no thanks. I’ve been through all Aydan’s stuff and there’s nothing here worth the kind of money you’re offering.”
A pause.
“You’re a tough negotiator, Ms. Widdenback. All right. Seventy-five thousand dollars.”
I bolstered my sagging jaw with my free hand. Shit. Now I understood why people sold secrets despite the risk.
“No, you don’t get it. I don’t have anything.”
Another pause.
“It would be a small electronic device.”
Sheer perversity made me goad him. Well, that and an increasing desire to confirm that they wanted what I thought they wanted.
“Aydan had a CD player. You mean like that?”
“No. A small chip. Like the little memory cards for digital cameras.”
Weariness overcame me. Fine, they were after the fob. Old news. Time to end this.
“Aydan didn’t have anything like that.”
“Fine. One hundred thousand, and that’s our final offer.”
I sighed and let my head drop forward to rest on the steering wheel. “I’d love to oblige, but I really don’t have what you want.”
A Spy For a Spy Page 23
