A Spy For a Spy

by Diane Henders

  The damn thing was still in my change purse. I’d completely forgotten about it. Again.

  He didn’t need to know that.

  “I have it in my waist pouch now.” I leaned over, clenching my teeth on a groan as I straightened and fished out the tiny device to hand it over. After a moment, I added, “What blew up in the front of the shop?”

  Stemp smiled. “Perhaps we can get some answers.” He picked up the phone and dialled an extension. “Bring Helmand.”

  Several minutes later, a rap at the door made Stemp glance up. “Come.”

  The door swung open to reveal Hellhound with an armed escort, but I was glad to see Hellhound’s wrists weren’t bound anymore. He strode into the room and took up parade rest beside my chair, ignoring Stemp and nodding to General Briggs. Briggs returned the nod with a ghost of a smile.

  Stemp seemed unfazed by the slight. He shot a glance at the guard. “Dismissed.” The man withdrew, closing the door behind him, and Stemp added, “Helmand. Report.”

  Hellhound eyed him for a moment, his legs planted like stone pillars. “I knew Aydan was in trouble,” he rasped. “I called Kane an’ pushed him into helpin’. It’s my fault he broke orders.”

  “Save it for the court-martial,” Stemp said, and Hellhound shot him a murderous glare before continuing.

  “I followed Aydan onto the highway an’ stopped her. She signalled me that she was being followed an’ bugged. I doubled back an’ met Kane an’ we used Kane’s truck to tail ‘em into Calgary to the pottery shop. Saw Aydan drive into the back of the bay, an’ then some guy rang the bell an’ she came out front by herself, so we just sat tight. Didn’t wanna fuck it up if she had somethin’ goin’ down.”

  He shot me a glance and continued. “Then some old fart showed up an’ pulled a gun on her an’ they went in the back. That’s when we figured she was in trouble, so Kane broke in the front door an’ made noise to draw ‘em out while I doubled around to cover the back. He told me to stay outside an’ if I heard gunfire, to call it in. I heard fuck-all. So then I didn’t know what to do.”

  “John got tranked,” I said. “It was my fault. I stood there like an idiot blocking his shot and Doytchevsky got him.”

  Stemp ignored me. “Go on, Helmand.”

  “I went around to the front an’ saw all the busted dishes, but everythin’ was too quiet inside. So I called Dave and got him to bring his rig over an’ drive it through the front a’ the shop while I shot out the lock an’ came in the back.”

  Light dawned. “That’s why that first shot seemed to come out of nowhere. And I thought the crash was an earthquake or something.”

  Hellhound spared me a grin. “Nah. Just Dave.”

  Stemp’s dry voice intruded. “And where did you get the gun? You don’t have a restricted weapons license.”

  Hellhound’s parade rest stiffened, his chin rising as he stared over Stemp’s head. “Found it.”

  “You found it.” Stemp’s dryness rivalled the Sahara.

  “Yeah. Didn’t wanna leave it in case some kid picked it up an’ got hurt.”

  “How selfless.”

  “Yeah.” Hellhound stared at the wall, stone-faced. “An’ then this guy pulled a gun on me. Hadta fire in self-defence.”

  “I see.” Stemp’s snakelike features swivelled to face me. “Did you see a gun lying outside the bay when you came in?”

  I shrugged and met his eyes without a qualm. “I was driving, so I wouldn’t have seen it. Arnie must have picked it up, because I was at his house when he packed to come here and I didn’t see a gun then.”

  Which was true. I had been in the bathroom when he was packing.

  “If he says he found it, I believe him,” I added.

  In fact, I knew it was the truth. He had ‘found’ it. Just not outside the door to the pottery shop.

  Stemp studied us in silence for a few moments. Hellhound’s impassive face could have stopped a truck. I was pretty sure my expression was equally unenlightening, since I couldn’t summon up any emotion other than exhausted detachment.

  “And what about Kane’s gun?” Stemp asked. “He surrendered his firearm as part of his suspension. So he was carrying an illegal weapon.”

  Hellhound didn’t flinch. “I never saw a gun in his hand. Far’s I know, he didn’t have one.”

  “Is that so?”

  Hellhound didn’t deign to answer, and Stemp turned to me instead. “Except that Kelly’s report already stated that Kane had a gun.”

  I gave him a blank stare. “He had something in his hand that looked like a gun. It was probably fake. That would explain why he didn’t fire. It all happened so fast and I only caught a glimpse of it before Doytchevsky picked it up. I couldn’t state with any certainty whether it was or wasn’t a real gun.”

  Behind Stemp, General Briggs’s lips twitched. He smoothed a hand over his chin, wiping away the expression, but the twinkle in his steel-blue eyes gave him away.

  “I see.” I was pretty sure there was amusement in Stemp’s eyes, too. “Very well.” He lifted the phone to his ear. “Bring Shore.”

  When Dave’s guard waved him into the room, he glanced at its occupants, paling slightly before copying Hellhound’s stance on the other side of my chair.

  “Mr. Shore.” Stemp surveyed him emotionlessly. “We meet again.”

  “Yeah.” Dave shot a sidelong glance at me before pressing his lips shut and emulating Hellhound’s distant stare.

  “Tell us what happened.”

  Dave’s jaw worked for a few moments as if he was chewing on his words. “Hellhound called. Said Aydan needed me. Bobtailed over. Waited for Hellhound’s signal and then backed my tractor into the shop.”

  Stemp raised an eyebrow. “Bobtailed?”

  Dave nodded. “Drove the highway tractor. Left the trailer at a truck stop.”

  “Do you have a gun?”

  “Nope.”

  “Did you see Kane or Helmand carrying a gun?”

  “Nope.”

  “Did you see anything else?”

  “Nope.”

  Briggs’s lips twitched again. Dave stared into the distance.

  Stemp tried again. “What else can you tell us?”

  Dave gave me another sidelong glance. “I showed up, backed into the building. That’s it. Can I go now?”

  Stemp leaned back in his chair. “What’s the hurry?”

  Dave’s jaw muscles rippled again and he gave me an imploring look.

  I reached out to touch his clenched fist. “It’s okay, Dave, you can say whatever you need to say.”

  His hand closed around mine. “Aydan, I left Nichele holed up at the truck stop motel. These guys won’t let me call her. Did I…” He swallowed, his grip tightening. “Is she still in danger? I gotta get back to her!”

  The fear in his eyes made even my deadened heart squeeze in sympathy. “She’s safe, Dave. It’s over. You saved her.”

  He slumped, the lines of tension melting from his face. “Shit, I mean, crap, thank God! Jeez, Aydan, it’s been killing me thinking I might’ve…” He broke off. “Can I call her now?”

  This time General Briggs didn’t bother to hide his smile. “Go and call her. You can use your cell phone in the main lobby.”

  “Thanks.” Dave hurried out.

  Stemp eyed me. “What was that all about?”

  “I was afraid Doytchevsky would use Nichele as leverage the way he used Lola. I told Dave to keep her safe.”

  “I see.” Stemp nodded at Hellhound. “Dismissed. Close the door.”

  When the latch clicked behind him, I turned to face Briggs and Stemp. “What about Kane?”

  Stemp’s dispassionate mask descended again. “He suffered a superficial gunshot wound to his leg. He was treated and remanded to the brig. He’ll remain in custody until his court-martial.”

  Don’t feel. Don’t let the pain in.

  “And the sexual harassment issue?”

  “Because of Kane’s recorded confes
sion, he’ll also have to stand trial for rape. Sexual harassment is the least of his worries.”

  “It’s all bullshit, and you know it.” My voice was completely flat.

  “So you say.” Stemp passed a hand over his face, suddenly looking as tired as I felt. “You’ll have your chance to testify.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  I could feel something after all. A slow, deep current of burning rage. Swelling up between my ribs, turning my spine to stone and searing my heart into ashes.

  “Tomorrow.” The word boiled from my lips like white-hot lava. I fixed Stemp with a deadly glare, my voice sizzling with menace. “You will arrange a hearing tomorrow. This ends tomorrow.”

  Briggs’s hand drifted casually toward his sidearm. I held Stemp’s gaze. “Do it. You know he deserves to have this over and done.”

  He eyed me, letting my anger roll impotently against his impervious façade. “You aren’t threatening me, are you Kelly?”

  “No. I’m telling you.”

  Stemp laughed suddenly, leaning back in his chair. He glanced over at General Briggs. “How many strings can you pull?”

  A small smile. “Quite a few.”

  Stemp sobered, facing me again. “We’ll do our best.”

  “Thank you.”

  Briggs rose, his piercing gaze assessing me. “Do you still plan to shoot the director’s face off?”

  I looked at Stemp’s bland expression, my anger cooling to a leaden lump between my aching ribs. Fatigue washed over me, and I eased out a long and painful breath.

  “Not today.”

  Stemp’s lips quirked. “Good enough. Pick up your weapon at Stores on your way out. Dismissed.”

  Chapter 39

  Hellhound detached himself from the wall beside Stemp’s office when I staggered out into the hallway. “Darlin’, when did ya eat last?” His arm encircled me and I leaned into his strength.

  “About six this morning.”

  “Shit!” His arm tightened around me and I whimpered an involuntary protest at the pain.

  “Shit, sorry, darlin’.” He loosened his grip, hovering anxiously. “Just sit down right here. I’ll go an’ get ya somethin’.”

  “No, I’m fine, I’m not going to sit here. I can make it to the end of the hall.”

  “Okay...” He trod slowly beside me while I plodded down the hall and into the staff lounge. “Sit,” he commanded. “Tell me what to get ya.”

  I slumped onto one of the sofas, too tired to argue. “There are some little cartons of orange juice in the fridge and some cereal bars in the cupboard.”

  He was back in a moment, pushing the straw into the orange juice and handing it over before sinking onto the sofa beside me.

  I hunched over to rest my elbows on my knees and ducked my head to sip. The acidic sweetness lashed my tastebuds and I gulped eagerly. When I raised my head, Hellhound was frowning again.

  “You’re hurtin’ even worse than last night, aren’t ya? Ya can’t even lift your arms.”

  “I’m fine.” The lie issued easily from my lips. Just like old times.

  His frown deepened. “Aydan…” He paused. “Look, I know this ain’t the time for a heart to heart, but ya promised ya wouldn’t lie to me an’ I know you’re lyin’ about that. What d’ya think I’m gonna do, laugh ‘cause you’re hurtin’?”

  I hunched my shoulders against the sting of memory and took another gulp of juice, avoiding his eyes.

  “Aw shit, Aydan.” His arm settled around my shoulders and his lips brushed my hair. “That fuckin’ asshole ex-husband a’ yours liked it, didn’t he? He liked to see ya hurtin’.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and tucked the fraying edges of my emotions back in. “I don’t think so. I think he was just so unhappy himself that he couldn’t see-”

  “Bullshit.” His voice was flat with anger. “He could see.”

  “I really don’t want to talk about this. Would you open that cereal bar for me, please?”

  He yanked the wrapper off and crushed it in his fist, handing me the bar without speaking. I shrank into myself.

  They act sweet until you begin to trust them and that’s when it starts. The cold, angry silences, the vicious words, the eternal walking on eggshells. Never again.

  “Aw, darlin’, I’m sorry.” Arnie’s voice was a soft rasp.

  “Forget it.” I took a savage bite of the cereal bar and spoke through the too-big mouthful. “It’s no big deal.”

  “It is a big deal, Aydan. It’s a really fuckin’ big deal to me.”

  I groaned, gulped my mouthful, and chased it with another swig of orange juice before turning to face him. “Why? Why is it such a big fucking deal?”

  “’Cause it’s like I just hit ya an’ I’m standin’ here watchin’ ya bleed. Just like my fuckin’ asshole ol’ man.”

  “Oh, Arnie, no. I’m sorry.” I reached to touch his cheek, trying not to grimace when I lifted my arm. “You’re not. You’re nothing like your da… old man.”

  He cupped his hand over mine and turned his head to kiss my palm, whiskers tickling the sensitive skin. “It’s okay, darlin’, I don’t want ya to apologize. I just want ya to trust me a bit, okay? I ain’t tryin’ to hurt ya.”

  I leaned into his gentle embrace. “I know.”

  A moment later he spoke again. “So how’re ya really feelin’?” I could hear the smile in his voice.

  I groaned and slumped against his shoulder. “Everything I own hurts like a fucking bitch from hell.”

  “Yeah, I figured. Come on, darlin’. Let’s get ya somethin’ decent to eat an’ get ya home.”

  I let him help me carefully to my feet. Reality crushed me a few moments later.

  “Shit, my car’s in Calgary.”

  “It’s okay, darlin’, I got the SUV here an’ I’m stayin’ with ya tonight even if ya try an’ kick me out.”

  I leaned gratefully against him. “I won’t kick you out.”

  Dave rose smiling from one of the chairs when we came through the security doors into the lobby. “Long time, no see.”

  “Yeah, a whole ten minutes.” I plastered on a convincing smile and surveyed him. “Have you lost weight?”

  “Yeah, few pounds.” He grinned. “Nichele’s been making me eat healthy, and I started working out a bit.”

  “Well, you look great.”

  He did. Nichele was obviously a good influence. His wild hair had been tamed by a crisp cut that flattered its waves, and he wore a new collared T-shirt with well-fitting jeans.

  “Speaking of Nichele, did you talk to her?” I asked.

  “Yeah, she’s fine. She’s gonna get a cab home and I’ll go there when I get back to Calgary.” A flush climbed his neck and he gave me a bashful smile. “We’re gonna give it another try.”

  “That’s great, Dave.”

  Knowing Nichele’s track record with relationships, I wasn’t sure how great it would be in reality, but who knew? Stranger things had happened.

  I changed the subject to his first love. “Is your truck okay?”

  “Should be. I backed in so the fifth-wheel did all the damage.” Anxiety tinged his voice. “Sure hope it doesn’t make the news. Don’t want people thinking I can’t back up without running into a building. Pulled out right away, but somebody might’ve seen me.”

  I squeezed his hand. “I’ll talk to Stemp. If anybody saw it, we’ll figure out a way to make it go away.”

  “Thanks, Aydan.” A ringtone sounded from his pocket, and he withdrew his phone to check the display. “Gotta go. Called one of my buddies in Drumheller and he’s picking me up.”

  I hugged him, trying to hide how much it hurt to raise my arms. “Thanks, Dave. You saved my life again.”

  He patted my back and pulled away, flushing scarlet. “No big deal,” he mumbled. “Any time you need me, you just call. So long.”

  He hurried out, and Hellhound smiled down at me. “Let’s get somethin’ to e
at. Wanna go to Eddy’s?”

  No music. Music makes you feel. I couldn’t afford to feel right now.

  “Not tonight. Let’s go to Fiorenza’s and get Italian instead.”

  By the time we parked in front of my house, my dull exhaustion had been augmented by the stupor of a full belly and a warm vehicle. I dragged myself out of my slump against the door when Hellhound turned to me.

  “Come on, darlin’. Just a few more stairs an’ you’re home.”

  I nodded silent acquiescence and got out to trudge into the house. Inside, my answering machine blinked insistently. I tried to sleepwalk past it, but Arnie stopped me.

  “Prob’ly better check your messages.”

  I sighed. “Yeah.”

  When I pressed the button, Tom’s voice made me groan. “Aydan, please call me as soon as you get this. It’s urgent. Thanks.”

  “Shit.” I sank onto a kitchen chair and stared at the phone. “I forgot I’d have to explain all this to him. I’ll have to call Stemp and see if he has a cover story.”

  I had one of the secured phones in my hand before paranoia penetrated my fog of indifference. I might not have any useful secret agent skills, but there was no need to make stupid mistakes. Extracting my illicit bug detector from its hiding place, I scanned my whole house before dialling, just to be sure.

  When Stemp answered on the first ring, I spared a moment to wonder if he ever took a vacation. On call, twenty-four/seven. What a life. And he had pulled in all the department resources to save Lola. Maybe I should cut him some slack.

  A few minutes on the phone established a usable cover story, and I hung up with a sigh. Without giving myself time to think about it, I dialled Tom’s number.

  He picked up immediately, apparently watching the call display. “Aydan?”

  “Hi, Tom. I got your message, and the police told me what you did. Thanks.”

  “I’m glad I could help. Are you all right? What happened? The police wouldn’t tell me anything except that Lola was safe.”

  “It’s a long story...”

  God, how much more bullshit would he believe?