Spy Now, Pay Later

by Diane Henders

  I shook off my paranoia. It couldn’t have been gunshots. Not loud or sharp enough. But what the hell was it?

  I was heading toward my office to check the surveillance cameras when the sound of my doorbell made me jump. Torn, I hesitated in the hallway.

  Maybe it was Hibbert with his knife and blowtorch. An involuntary shudder shook me.

  But probably not. He’d be kicking the shit out of my door and yelling. Unless he was dropping off another horrible ‘gift’…

  I swore and hurried to the door to peek out the fisheye lens.

  Nothing moved, but there was a bulky dark object draped over my porch railing. It sure as hell hadn’t been there earlier.

  I couldn’t make out its details in the distortion of the fisheye. Fuck, what had Hibbert left me this time?

  Stomach clenching, I hurried to my office and powered on the surveillance screen.

  “SHIT!”

  I dashed for the door. Panting more from terror than exertion, I skidded to a halt, my clumsy fingers fumbling the deadbolt.

  Come on, come on…

  Crouching to present a smaller target, I flung the inside door open.

  Oh, God, oh, God, please…

  I cracked the screen door to duckwalk sideways onto my porch, my gun tucked beside my leg.

  I nearly tripped over a large pistol with an illegal silencer lying on my doormat. Barely glancing at it, I scooped it up left-handed, my heart battering my chest while I stared at my latest gift.

  The man slumped over my railing was clearly dead. Only the duct tape binding his hands and feet to the spindles had kept his body from falling. Gunshot wounds had ripped open his knees, hips, crotch, and torso, but the mess of tissue that replaced half his head gave away the end of the story. My porch was slick with blood, the snow beyond darkly spattered.

  My heart clenched with fierce relief at the sight of blood-drenched slacks and dress shoes. Not Kane’s dark denim or Hellhound’s well-worn jeans. Thank God.

  So who was this poor corpse?

  More to the point, who had brought him here, turned him into a corpse, and then left their gun behind?

  Heart pounding, my back to the wall, I sidled toward the door.

  I didn’t make it.

  Chapter 16

  “Looks like you’ve got a problem.”

  I started violently as a huge man clad in disposable coveralls stepped out of the shadow by my garage. He smiled, his gloved hands held away from his body in a conciliatory gesture.

  I made a split-second decision. Be Arlene Widdenback.

  I jerked up the silenced gun to aim with my left hand, hoping the sudden movement would focus his attention on it while I tucked my own weapon back into its concealed holster. The heavy pistol wavered dangerously in my awkward one-handed grip, and he raised his hands to shoulder height.

  “Hey, take it easy,” he chided. “I’m a friend. I can help you.”

  “Bullshit.” I straightened out of my crouch and waved the gun at him in a classic novice-shooter move. “Don’t come any closer or I’ll shoot.”

  We both knew it was a useless threat. The pistol’s slide was fully extended and locked, the magazine’s carrier clearly visible in the empty chamber. Completely out of ammo. But he didn’t need to know I knew that.

  He smiled again, a flash of shark-like teeth below dead-flat eyes. “Calm down. You just killed a guy, I can see you’re a little upset…”

  “I didn’t kill him! I don’t even know him!”

  “Sure you do.” Shark teeth again. “Real well, as a matter of fact.”

  An icy fist of terror crushed the blood from my heart. Was that an Armani suit?

  Oh, God, not Dave, don’t let it be Dave…

  “Who…?” My question ghosted out on a tiny whiff of vapour in the cold air, the gun trembling violently in my hand.

  “Check it out.” Sharkface waved an expansive hand at the body. “Go on, you’re gonna love this.”

  My trembling legs dragged me the few steps to stand beside the body. Clenching my teeth, I reached out a shaking hand to turn the ravaged head.

  A glimpse of the remaining parts of the face made me stumble back, staring.

  “What… the…” I slumped against the railing, still goggling at the corpse. I shook myself and tried again. “Why the hell did you shoot Hibbert? On my front step?”

  Sharkface grinned. “I didn’t. You did. He came to your house and you blew him away just like you told Mr. Parr you would. And now you’re going to do exactly what I tell you.”

  I jerked my chin up in a show of defiance. “I don’t think so. I’m going to call the cops.”

  “You might not want to do that.”

  I pretended to freeze at the hard edge in his voice, but my heart hammered so hard I didn’t have to fake my stammer. “Wh-why?”

  “Think about it.” He abandoned his pretense of caution and lowered his hands, smirking when I waved the gun at him again. “You punched his lights out in front of a hundred witnesses at the Christmas party. You told the security people he assaulted you. I have witnesses that heard him threaten you and saw him attack you. And you just told Mr. Parr you were planning to kill him. That’s what they call ‘motive’.”

  He jerked his chin at the gun in my hand, his smile broadening. “Your fingerprints are on the gun that killed him. I have a guy who’ll swear he sold it to you. And don’t even think about calling it self-defense. You tortured him before you shot him. Some pretty nasty work with a knife and a blowtorch. And then you shot him in the cock, pumped eight more rounds into him, and then let him suffer some more before you finally blew his head off.”

  He waved a hand at the blood-splattered snow. “That shit doesn’t go away. Even if you clean it up, they can see the residue with special lights. You’ve got chunks missing from your railing from the bullets, and I made sure to go through some of his soft spots so there are bullets covered with his blood and tissue buried in your yard. If you want to go to jail for a very long time, sweetheart, you just go ahead and call the cops right now.”

  Christ, Parr was brilliant. Eliminate Hibbert, who was becoming a liability, and force Arlene Widdenback to cooperate at the same time.

  Sharkface apparently took my silence for frozen fear. He shrugged. “Or, you can let me help you. I can make this all go away.”

  “What’s in it for you?” I snapped.

  “Me? Nothing.” He shrugged. “I don’t give a shit if you go down.” His eyes sharpened. “If you make yourself enough of a nuisance that you need to be removed…” He nodded in the direction of the corpse. “…that would be fun. I like my work.”

  The winter air bit through my jeans and sweatshirt, and I couldn’t suppress my shivering any longer.

  His soulless smile widened. “But this is a simple business transaction. Hibbert was bothering you. We solved your problem. Now you say ‘thank you very much, Mr. Parr, what can I do for you in return?’”

  Nailed! Finally, direct evidence of Parr’s shady side.

  “Yeah, so he c-can hold this over my head f-forever. F-fuck that.” I tried to sound defiant and scared instead of triumphant. Incipient hypothermia definitely helped.

  “Honey, you don’t have a choice. Mr. Parr owns everybody. Now, put the gun down and let me vanish that body.” Sharkface started forward and I made a show of jerking the trigger and looking terrified when the gun didn’t fire.

  “Now you’re just pissing me off.” He strode up the steps and I cowered away from his looming bulk as he grabbed my free hand and clamped it over the slide before yanking the gun out of my hands.

  My fingerprints on the action. This guy was a pro.

  “Pick up the brasses.” He jabbed a gloved finger at the empty cartridges scattered on my porch and turned away to release Hibbert’s body.

  I stooped hurriedly to hide my wolfish grin.

  A pro, but a cocky one. Fatal mistake to underestimate me, asshole. I could shoot you right now while you stand there with yo
ur big stupid back turned.

  But I wouldn’t.

  Adrenaline pounded in my veins, a heady mix of fear and excitement that heated my blood and froze my fingers. I didn’t have to fake the trembling of my hands while I fumbled to pick up the empty cartridges.

  “Give them to me.”

  I straightened to drop the brasses onto his outstretched palm, leaning away as if in terror.

  He grinned and dumped them into his pocket. “Jesus, you’re a dumb bitch. Fingerprints on the brasses, too. You’re making this too damn easy.” He withdrew a folded polyethylene tarp from the backpack he wore and shoved it into my hands. “Spread this on the snow under the railing.”

  I did as directed, and he hoisted Hibbert’s body effortlessly over the rail. It thudded into a boneless heap on the tarp and an involuntary squeak of revulsion escaped me.

  Sharkface chuckled, a cold merciless sound. “See, that’s why you don’t want to make a nuisance of yourself. Straighten him out and roll him up.”

  I shook my head frantically and hunched over to make gagging noises, and Sharkface laughed. “That’s it, honey, give ‘em some more evidence.” He strolled down the stairs to pat me on the ass. “Go on, puke it up.”

  I jerked away, wrapping my arms around myself and glaring. He ignored me to crouch beside the body, straightening its arms and legs to roll it neatly into the tarp before hoisting the bundle smoothly to his shoulders.

  I backed away, pulse pounding. Shit, he could give Kane a run for his money in size and strength. Hopefully not in martial arts, though…

  Sharkface jerked his chin at my gory porch. “Better clean that up, sweet-ass. See you later.”

  “W-wait, you said you were g-going to make this g-go away,” I whined.

  “I’m making this…” he shrugged, hefting the body on his shoulders. “…go away. Nighty-night, sweet-ass. See you in your dreams.”

  He strode down my lane into the darkness and a few minutes later I heard the slam of a vehicle door from the direction of my gate. While the engine receded into silence, I stood staring at the slaughterhouse that used to be my front porch. The aftershocks of adrenaline rocked me into violent trembling.

  Shit, if anybody drove into my yard now…

  Shit, shit, double-shit!

  Teeth chattering, I hurried for my garage. Its warmth seemed to emphasize my chill, and I quivered over to my car to check my bug detector before dialling my last secured phone.

  “Stemp.” He was right on top of it as usual. Thank God.

  “Did you catch all that on the cameras?” I demanded.

  “Yes. Who was the victim? We couldn’t get a positive ID.”

  “Hibbert.” I let that sink in, imagining Stemp’s thoughtful expression.

  “Interesting,” he said after a moment.

  “Yeah. And Sharkface made it clear Parr was behind it. We’ve got him.” Fierce triumph vibrated my voice.

  “Yes… an excellent development,” Stemp said slowly. “Now you’ll be in a much better position to gather information.”

  My elation trickled away. Shit. Of course it wasn’t good enough to get Parr on a single murder and extortion charge.

  I wrapped my free arm around myself, still shivering. “Let’s hope so. Do you have a cleanup crew available? I need to get this mopped up fast in case I have visitors.”

  “Parr may have you under surveillance. Better if you do the cleanup yourself.”

  After a moment of miserable contemplation, I sighed. “I liked the good old days better, when you used to send out helicopters full of armed men whenever anybody threatened me.”

  “The good old days were never as good as everyone remembers them.” His dry tone might have been humour or censure, I couldn’t tell. “I’ll expect a full report tomorrow after your requalification tests,” he added, and the line went dead in my ear, leaving me to whine my self-pity into the unsympathetic phone.

  By the time I tottered back into the house and gathered my bucket and rubber gloves, the blood had frozen. Heartily cursing Parr, Sharkface, Hibbert, Fuzzy Bunny, and everyone related to them, I went to work with the frost scraper from my car, scooping the crystalline red goo into my bucket and ferrying it to the bathroom to flush it.

  After removing as much as I could, I trotted back and forth to sluice everything with hot water, scrubbing away the remaining stains and splatters. Then it was time to shovel up the bloodstained snow and flush it, too.

  At last I straightened slowly, clutching my aching back.

  My cleanup wasn’t nearly good enough to hide a murder if the police actually investigated, but it was good enough to pass casual inspection. And it was snowing lightly. That would cover any remaining splotches and dribbles.

  Note to self: Never shoot anybody unless there’s a cleanup crew handy. No wonder Kane and Germain preferred hand-to-hand.

  That thought made me groan aloud. In about nine hours, Germain was going to kick the shit out of me.

  Utterly spent, I plodded back into the house and did a nosedive into bed.

  Exhaustion and despair made a surprisingly good soporific. When my alarm blared at seven, I slapped it into silence and lay blinking in the darkness for a few moments. It hadn’t exactly been a restful sleep, but at least I hadn’t screamed myself awake every hour.

  Slightly encouraged, I staggered into the shower before heading to the kitchen for a breakfast I hoped would sustain me through the qualification tests.

  At least this time I knew what to expect. I was pretty sure I could do the physical fitness portion. And I was almost certain I’d pass the firearms qualification.

  But hand-to-hand…

  A chill chased itself down my spine and I straightened, squaring my shoulders. Okay, so I was going to get beaten up today. Badly.

  But once I was down, Germain wouldn’t keep hitting me. Just a bit of pain and then it would be over. A lot less scary than the beatings I’d taken at the hands of men who truly wanted to hurt me.

  The large hairy lump in my throat seemed unconvinced by that reasoning. I gulped it down along with a mouthful of toast and peanut butter, and my stomach turned it over distastefully before agreeing to let the toast stay. The hairy lump returned posthaste.

  I sank my head into my hands and groaned. If it was only a beating at the hands of a friend, it wouldn’t be so bad. But the physical pain would be nothing compared to the knowledge that I had doomed Arnie to prison.

  My remaining minutes ticked away in deepening despair, and at last I trudged out to my car, defeated.

  Chapter 17

  Standing in front of the heavy steel door of the secured area, I scraped up every mote of courage I owned.

  Okay. I could do this.

  Not a big deal. Nice fresh air down there. Not trapped.

  I’d done it dozens of times. I’d be fine…

  “Good morning, Aydan!”

  A little yelp escaped me and I spun to face Jill’s fading smile.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” She eyed me with concern. “Are you okay?”

  “F-fine…” I drew a deep breath and massaged my heart back into place. “It’s okay, I was just… lost in thought. Good morning.”

  She hefted the gym bag she carried. “Looks like we’re here for the same thing.”

  “Uh…?” My sluggish brain made the connection and I loosened my white-knuckled grip on my own bag. “Oh. Yeah. You’re doing a requalification, too?”

  “Uh-huh.” She shot me one of her sparkling smiles. “Let’s go do it!”

  “Um… you go ahead. I’ll be down in a minute…” A flicker in her expression prompted me to add, “I’m claustrophobic. The time-delay chamber really freaks me out, so I’d rather be alone in it.”

  “Oh. That must suck.” Her smile came back. “Well, see you down there, then.” She leaned in for the retinal scan and a moment later the chamber swallowed her.

  Like being buried alive…

  Stop it.

  I sh
oved my face into scanner range and stepped into the chamber before I could run screaming.

  Taking a couple of rapid steps forward, I activated the next retinal scan and then stood in front of the locked door with my eyes closed, both hands clenched on my gym bag. Only thirty seconds. I could do this.

  The warm, stagnant air still bore a trace of Jill’s light cologne. It pressed against my face, slowly smothering me…

  My eyes flew open, but the sight of the too-low ceiling made me gasp a panicky breath. I clamped my eyes shut again.

  Stop it.

  Nice easy yoga breaths. There was lots of air. Only a few seconds left…

  I felt for the door handle without opening my eyes.

  The muffled click of the lock release made me wrench the door open, catapulting myself into the narrow concrete stairwell.

  Stairway to hell…

  I abandoned dignity and half-ran, half-fell down the stairs to yank open the door at the bottom. Bounding through it, I sidestepped hard and clapped my back against the wall, squeezing my eyes shut.

  Lots of cool fresh air moving across my face. Not trapped. Don’t think about the tons of concrete and steel overhead…

  Shut up.

  Don’t think, just breathe.

  Breathe…

  The previous night’s anger roused like a dormant dragon waking in my belly.

  Fuck this goddamn shit. There were more than enough people out there trying to scare me. Not going to do it to myself anymore.

  Snapping my eyes open, I jerked upright and strode down the hall, spine straight and arms swinging despite the pounding of my heart.

  Deep in my belly, I felt my dragon smile.

  My dragon blanched a bit when I entered the gym, but I ignored its cowardice and waved an artificially cheerful greeting to Germain and Jill as I headed for the changing room. A few minutes and a stern mental lecture later, I emerged to find them still in animated conversation.

  At the sound of the door, Germain glanced over as though he’d forgotten I was there. His smile lines crinkled. “Okay, let’s get this show on the road.”