The Spies That Bind

by Diane Henders

  After a moment I retrieved my jaw from my lap.

  Stemp, the quintessential chessmaster. And the fiercely protective father. If his daughter were missing, he would stop at nothing to find her. In fact, I was reasonably certain he’d murdered at least one man to protect the secret of her existence. He understood better than anyone what a father would do to protect his child.

  If Kane neglected his official duties to interfere with a kidnapping case outside his jurisdiction, he’d be subject to disciplinary action. And if he injured or killed somebody outside the bounds of one of his assigned cases, he could be dishonourably discharged, losing the pension and benefits accrued over his long years of service. But since he had already resigned…

  “You’re a fucking genius,” I said.

  Stemp’s emotionless façade dissolved into a completely unexpected bark of laughter, his eyes warming to amber and crinkling at the corners. He sobered rapidly, but his eyes still twinkled. “I was certain you were going to call me a dickhead.”

  I managed a feeble chuckle. “Not this time. But don’t get complacent; the whole week’s still ahead of us.”

  “Indeed.” He leaned forward, solemn again. “I’ve informed the chain of command that Kane is taking personal leave, which does not excuse him from compliance with orders. Nor will it hold up under scrutiny, since Kane hasn’t completed the necessary paperwork to apply for leave, either.”

  “Right. Thank you for covering for him.” I met his gaze uncomfortably. “I’m, um… I’m sorry for all those times I called you a dickhead. You aren’t. At least not most of the time… um…”

  “Perhaps you should stop now,” Stemp advised dryly, but humour warmed his eyes. “Apology accepted; and unnecessary. Sometimes I am a dickhead. Which leads me to my next point…”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the axe to fall.

  Silence hung in the room like a sodden blanket.

  “You can open your eyes,” he said. “It’s not that bad.” I was pretty sure I heard a smile in his voice, but by the time I cautiously opened my eyes again he was deadpan as usual. He hesitated. “Or perhaps it is that bad. My parents are here. Visiting me.”

  “Oh. Uh…” I blinked, trying to catch up to the non sequitur. “Wha… Uh, that’s nice. How are they?”

  “They are well. Thank you for asking. They are…” He hesitated again, and despite his legendary composure, I was pretty sure he was squirming inside. “They are asking after you. Mother has issued…” He actually gulped, heightening my sense of the world gone awry. “…an invitation,” he finished, sounding as though he’d much prefer to be facing a firing squad. “A dinner invitation. Are you available to attend at my home tomorrow night?”

  Chapter 12

  I tried not to gape like a lobotomized goldfish, but I was pretty sure I wasn’t succeeding. My mind reeled, clutching at random thoughts in an attempt to stabilize itself. Wait, do goldfish even have frontal lobes…?

  Stemp sat waiting, completely expressionless, and I jerked my thoughts back under control. “Uh…” My voice came out in a croak, and I hurriedly cleared my throat and plastered on the closest thing to a smile I could fabricate on short notice. “Thank you, that’s, um… very nice. I’d love to come. It’ll be great to see your mom and dad again. What time? And what can I bring?”

  A faint flush climbed his neck.

  Stemp the Unflappable. Blushing. My world cartwheeled out of control.

  “Eighteen hundred. And it’s not necessary for you to bring anything. Though if you’d like to bring a guest, Mother was particularly hoping to see Helmand again…” I could have sworn I saw pleading in his eyes, and I knew damn well it wasn’t desperate hope that Hellhound would come.

  Oh, sweet Lord, I could just imagine showing up with Hellhound in tow. His usual moniker for Stemp was ‘Asshat’, and he’d undoubtedly find some not-so-subtle way express his antipathy. A sudden mental image of Hellhound bellying up to the table in his repulsive Al Hamlin disguise nearly choked me.

  I banished the horrific thought and fumbled for an answer. “Um… Arnie won’t be able to come; he’s out at Rocky Mountain House with John…” Inspiration struck and I straightened with hope. “Would it be all right if I invited Lola Ives? You know, Spider’s fiancée’s grandmother? I’m sure she and your mom and dad would like each other.”

  And Lola was an excellent conversationalist, reducing the chances that Stemp and I would have to suffer through any more awkward social interaction than absolutely necessary.

  “Yes, of course I remember Mrs. Ives. That’s an excellent idea,” Stemp agreed with visible relief. “Please invite her, though she won’t know me. I made sure she only saw the bomb squad when we rescued her last winter, so please perform the appropriate introductions tomorrow evening.”

  He leaned forward. “One more thing,” he said evenly. “Under no circumstances are you to divulge any details of my work here to my parents. As far as they know I am a middle manager for Sirius’s oil and gas research division, and I shall consider it a security breach subject to full disciplinary action if you give them any reason to doubt that. Is that clear?”

  “Got it,” I agreed, hiding the unpleasant chill that trickled down my spine.

  “Good.” He leaned back in his chair, his usual impassive expression descending like a merciful curtain. “Please excuse the digression. Let’s get back to business.”

  I drew a breath of relief. After that excruciating exchange, even the possibility of being assigned to a deadly mission didn’t seem too alarming. Hell, if I played my cards right, I might even manage to get dead in time to avoid Stemp’s dinner party…

  “When do you think Kane will return for his debriefing?” Stemp’s question interrupted my thoughts.

  “Um... I don’t know.” I hesitated. “If they find Daniel…”

  My throat tightened. If they found Daniel alive, the answer would likely be quite a bit different than if they found him dead.

  “Sooner would be better,” Stemp said slowly, as if choosing his words with care. “Since I don’t have his official written resignation, there is some latitude, but… that… is a double-edged sword.”

  I grasped his meaning without difficulty. As soon as the date of Kane’s resignation was officially recorded, he’d be in trouble if he didn’t complete his debriefing immediately. But the longer he delayed his official resignation date, the greater the chance that he might lose his pension and benefits if he did something rash…

  I sighed, massaging the tension winding up in the back of my neck. “I’ll talk to him. But I honestly don’t think he cares right now.”

  “Understood.” Stemp nodded, and I was pretty sure he really did understand. “I hope you’ll be able to convince him to deal with it promptly.” He glanced at his computer screen, then turned it to face me. “This is Frederick Labelle. Is he the man from your party?”

  I nodded, and he continued, “The analysts have completed their preliminary report. I’ll forward a copy to you, but so far there’s nothing definitive. Officially, he owns an investment brokerage in full compliance with all tax laws and financial regulations. But if he’s a former associate of Parr’s, he’s bound to be smart about covering his tracks.”

  The unwelcome reminder of my current situation made my heart sink. “So, an investment broker…” I ventured. “Probably money-laundering, then?”

  At least that sounded safer than gun-running…

  Stemp leaned back in his chair. “Perhaps. But he also operates a customs brokerage so arms smuggling is also a possibility.”

  “Great,” I muttered.

  Stemp’s expressionless façade dissolved into wolfish grin. “Indeed. I’ve been hoping Parr’s former clientele would note the mention of Arlene Widdenback’s name at his trial. Combined with your convincing portrayal of an arms dealer when you turned his underlings, you are perfectly positioned to gain their business. Take your time and develop a relationship with Labelle. If he is in fact the
first of Parr’s former clientele to come searching for a new associate, we want to make sure he goes away satisfied and spreads the word. The more fish we can reel in with this bait, the better.”

  I licked dry lips. “That, uh… sounds like a long-term assignment.”

  “Yes. You will become Arlene Widdenback the arms dealer for the foreseeable future. Your initial objective is to get Labelle to trust you enough to initiate negotiations.”

  “But… I’m not ready to go back in the field,” I ventured cautiously.

  “Why not?” Stemp’s gaze dissected me. “Dr. Rawling informs me that he is satisfied with your progress. According to him, you’re sleeping well and your anxiety attacks have ceased. You’ve successfully completed the anger management program. What is preventing you from returning to active duty?”

  “Um…” I swallowed hard to keep the tremor of fear out of my voice. “Sheer cowardice…?”

  Stemp’s steely gaze softened. “Hardly. Even if I hadn’t read your psych evaluation, your mission reports prove your courage. So… what is the issue?”

  “I just… I can’t, okay?” I stared at him, willing him to give in.

  “So…” His eyebrow raised a fraction. “Am I to understand that you have been perhaps… less than forthcoming with Dr. Rawling?”

  My nails were digging into my palms, and I loosened the fists I hadn’t realized I’d clenched. “Maybe I tend to, um… underreport… a bit… sometimes…” I admitted, my cold lips barely forming the words.

  “He surmised as much,” Stemp replied. He studied me in silence for a moment. “Aydan, he can’t help you if you won’t let him,” he said with surprising gentleness.

  “I realize that.” My words came out stiffer than I’d intended, and Stemp’s posture stiffened in return.

  “I could order you to cooperate fully with him,” he said slowly, “But I know that would be futile, so I will offer you a choice. Go back to Dr. Rawling and cooperate fully and completely. Or report for your requalification testing tomorrow at zero-nine-hundred.” His eyes narrowed. “And don’t bother intentionally failing the tests. I’ve been monitoring your usage of the gym and firing range and I know you’re capable of passing. Report to my office immediately afterward.”

  He leaned back in his chair as if everything had been resolved to his satisfaction. “This situation with Labelle is unlikely to escalate quickly,” he added. “So that will free you up for other short-term assignments. I need a courier to carry a classified weapon prototype between here and the secured facility in Calgary on Friday. Ordinarily I’d assign Helmand, but I know he’d quit if I tried to force him to abandon Kane. I can’t afford to lose my top weapons specialist as well.”

  “What if I quit, too?” My voice was steady, but cold waves of fear pounded in my belly.

  “That would be… unwise.” The complete lack of inflection in his tone sent a shiver down my spine. His flat gaze reminded me all over again of a rattlesnake coiled to strike.

  Shit, was this even the same man who had laughed aloud and invited me to dinner only a few minutes ago?

  “Fucking possessed,” I muttered under my breath. If his head started spinning in circles I was so out of here…

  His head didn’t spin. “I beg your pardon?” he inquired in chilly tones.

  “Um…” I squared my shoulders and locked my gaze on those snake-like eyes. “Would you please explain why it would be so… unwise?”

  For a moment I thought he was going to start a pissing match, but then his posture eased. “Well, certainly it’s your choice,” he said reluctantly. “But knowing you the way I do, I suspect you would find the consequences… undesirable.”

  He massaged the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “As long as you were our only way to do digital surveillance and decryption, the Department was, to some extent, at your mercy. Since Ms. Mellor has come to work for us, that is no longer the case. However, the chain of command believes your skills as an agent mitigate the risk of exposing you and your highly classified knowledge to potential capture by hostile forces.”

  A few beats of silence gave me enough time to come to the conclusion he voiced only a moment later: “If you don’t prove your worth by reeling in Labelle, the only logical course of action is to relegate you permanently to the secured facility along with Ms. Mellor. If you chose to continue decrypting for us while there, that would be most beneficial, but even if you did not, you would nevertheless remain incarcerated in the interests of national security, and for your own safety.”

  Claustrophobic terror surged up to choke me.

  Jail.

  Life sentence with no chance of parole.

  With every ounce of control I possessed I held my voice level, though it came out a little shriller than I wanted. “And what happens when I’m too old for active duty? You’ll lock me up sooner or later regardless.”

  He eyed me levelly. “There are many roles available for covert operatives that don’t require physical prowess. And mature women are often viewed as non-threatening and above suspicion, so you would likely find yourself much in demand.”

  “Great.” The word stuck in my throat, and I coughed to clear it. My voice came out harsh nonetheless. “Nice to know my life path has been decided.”

  With sympathy in his eyes, Stemp turned his palms up in a ‘take what you can get’ gesture.

  A blistering tirade burned the back of my throat, but I closed my teeth on it.

  Not his fault.

  “Thank you for the explanation,” I gritted. “I’ll call Labelle this afternoon and requalify tomorrow morning. When and where should I pick up the weapon on Friday, and where will I be delivering it?”

  If Stemp felt any triumph at my acquiescence, he didn’t show it. “You’ll pick up the prototype at the Weapons lab Friday at ten hundred hours. The Calgary facility will expect delivery no later than seventeen hundred. I’ll provide detailed instructions on Friday at zero-nine.”

  I frowned. “Why such a long time lapse? It’s only a two-hour drive.”

  He gave one of his inscrutable looks. “It should be an uneventful trip. However, if necessary, the extra time will allow you to deal with any… unforeseen issues that may arise.”

  Swallowing hard, I nodded. I’d lulled myself into a false sense of security, believing that the true function of Sirius Dynamics was well hidden from the rest of the world. Stupid. If someone had figured out that our innocent petroleum research facility actually housed classified technology, they might be simply biding their time until they could intercept an unwary courier.

  Like me.

  And if Labelle thought I was a ruthless arms dealer, he might expect me to be carrying secret weapons…

  Shit and double-shit…

  Stemp was still speaking, and I dragged my attention back to him.

  “Report to the lab this morning for a preliminary briefing with Dr. Chow. He’ll be the primary resource for your cover as an arms dealer. Send requests through the usual channels if you require the services of the analysts, and if you need any network surveillance or decryptions, you may requisition them directly from Brock until Webb returns from vacation.”

  He must have detected a flicker of my distaste for Tyler Brock, because he added, “We would prefer to use Brock and Mellor for the bulk of the surveillance and decryption, but if for some reason you need to enter the network yourself I’ll stand in for your support team on an interim basis.”

  The unspoken addendum, ‘…but you’d better have a good reason to waste both our time that way’ hung in the air, and I nodded.

  “Questions?” he inquired. Fighting a sense of impending doom, I shook my head wordlessly, and he added, “Dismissed.”

  Chapter 13

  I dragged myself to my feet and stumbled out of Stemp’s office. The ladies’ room offered a refuge and I staggered inside and locked myself into a cubicle, where I collapsed onto the toilet seat and hunched over with my arms wrapped around myself.

  There
had to be a way out of this. There just had to be.

  No matter how I twisted and turned inside the logic-trap, I couldn’t find an escape route. If I quit, they’d lock me up. If I ran away I’d have to run forever, and they’d likely still find me… and then they’d lock me up. But as an agent I’d be in constant danger. At best, I’d suffer the kind of trauma that had driven me to Dr. Rawling’s office in the first place. At worst, I’d be captured, tortured, and ultimately killed after the bad guys extracted all my classified knowledge.

  My mind raced in circles, my heart rate accelerating.

  Trapped…

  I straightened. “No, fuck this!” I said aloud, then winced at the sound of my voice bouncing off the hard tiled surfaces around me.

  Drawing a deep breath, I brought my thoughts under control. Just the way Dr. Rawling had coached me. Think it through.

  No need to panic. If shit happened, I’d deal with it. But I wouldn’t let worry spoil my peace of mind. Not anymore.

  And no more bumbling through missions and hoping for the best. If this had to be my new career, I’d damn well get good at it.

  My pulse slowed while I drew a few more calming yoga breaths. Then I emerged from the cubicle, washed my hands, and headed back to Stemp’s office.

  When I tapped on his door frame he looked up with a faint frown. “Something else?”

  “Yes.” I invited myself into his office and emulated Kane’s parade rest in front of his desk. “I need some training courses.”

  He leaned back in his chair, his frown deepening. “What kind of training courses?”

  Hell, I should have looked this up on the internet before I came barging in here. Were there even spy-training courses?

  I threw out the first semi-coherent thought that came to mind. “I need to rebuild my confidence. I want to start with the basics and work up.”