Spy Now, Pay Later

by Diane Henders

  As he crossed the gym and bent to pick up his clipboard and paperwork, I caught Jill surveying his rear view with unconcealed appreciation. And what a view it was. Germain’s broad shoulders and rippling muscles were deliciously displayed by his snug T-shirt and gym shorts, his dark good looks undiminished even by the harsh gym lights. Jill shot me a mischievous wink, and I grinned back.

  “Okay, who’s up first?” Germain asked.

  “You go ahead, Aydan,” Jill said. “I was so busy yakking I haven’t changed yet.” She vanished into the change room.

  I drew a deep breath and stepped up to the starting line of the obstacle course, shaking out my arms and legs.

  “You’ll nail it this time, Aydan,” Germain encouraged. “Do you want me to call your lap times again?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” I sucked in a breath and started to run.

  Steady pace. Up and down the stairs. Over the obstacles. Controlled fall.

  Germain shouted encouragement from the sidelines.

  Steady run…

  Four laps in, Jill’s voice joined Germain’s. “Go, Aydan, you’re kicking it! Way to go!”

  Five laps. Sweat dampened my T-shirt but I was on pace.

  Sixth and final lap. Still on pace. My muscles strained, my breathing accelerating into deep panting.

  “Go, Aydan! Go, go! Thirty seconds left! Kill that push-pull!”

  I staggered up to the apparatus. Seventy pounds. Six times.

  Five. Four. Three…

  “Go! Go!”

  I threw myself into the pads, sweat slicking the grips. Two.

  One…

  “You did it!”

  I barely heard Germain’s triumphant cry as I flopped to the floor, my heart pistoning while I gasped for air.

  “Are you okay?” Jill’s worried face hovered above me.

  I hauled myself into a crouch, propping my elbows on my knees. “…Yeah…” I panted a couple more breaths before shooting a glance at Germain. “How long… before the… carry?”

  “Two minutes. Just breathe, Aydan. You’re doing fine.”

  I nodded and concentrated on slowing my breathing. Two minutes. Lots of time to recover. I’d been practicing for this…

  I was still breathing hard when Germain spoke again. “Okay, go do it, Aydan.”

  I wobbled over to the eighty-pound sack.

  Only eighty pounds. And I only had to carry it fifty feet. I’d been lugging hundred-pound concrete patio blocks. I could do this.

  I squatted and hoisted the sack into my arms. Fuck, since when was this eighty pounds? It felt like a couple hundred.

  Shut up and walk.

  Muscles straining, I put one foot in front of the other.

  Jill’s and Germain’s shouts of encouragement faded into the thunder of my pulse. The sack slipped and I clenched it tighter. Squeezing the air out of my lungs…

  I panted shallow breaths, my vision hazing red, a coppery tang drying my mouth.

  Still walking.

  One foot in front of the other…

  Across the finish line.

  The sack fell from my arms and I collapsed on top of it, sucking air.

  “Nice work, Aydan!” Germain jogged over to beam down at me. “You nailed it! You just became the oldest female agent to pass the physical fitness qualification! Congratulations!”

  I let out a heartfelt groan between gasps. “That’ll look… fucking great… on my tombstone.”

  He laughed and offered me a hand up.

  After a moment, I convinced my limp-noodle arm to raise and accept it.

  My victory march back to the bleachers probably looked more like a drunk staggering home after an all-night bender, but I made it. Slumping onto one of the benches, I leaned back to observe the next victim.

  Jill’s lush curves were accented by modest shorts and a tank top, her shining bob pulled into a clip at the back of her head. Her eyes sparkled as though she was looking forward to the challenge, and she grinned at Germain as she toed the start line.

  At his nod, she swung into an easy run, tackling the stairs and obstacles while I shouted as much encouragement as my still-winded condition allowed. Germain joined in occasionally, but in between cheers he watched Jill’s voluptuous figure as if mesmerized.

  And she was well worth watching. Those soft curves hid a dynamo.

  Almost before I realized it, she was powering through the last of the push-pull sequence. I offered a few feeble cheers, but she clearly didn’t need them.

  At her last pull, Germain clicked the stopwatch, his face alight. “Right on, Jill!” He offered her a jubilant high-five. “That was a joy to watch! Two minutes to the weight carry.”

  She grinned and wiped the sweat from her forehead, panting.

  I had never seen Germain ogle any woman, not even Jack-the-Gorgeous, but I could have sworn he was surreptitiously enjoying Jill’s heaving chest.

  I sat up a little straighter, amusement tickling me while I watched them exchange a few bantering words. Apparently he had a weak spot for curvy brunettes.

  “Two minutes is up.”

  Jill nodded and squatted beside the sack. Then she hoisted it onto her shoulders and rose to walk slowly but steadily to the finish line.

  I joined Germain’s applause. Shit, she’d made that look easy. Maybe I could get her to teach me how to do that fireman’s-carry thing.

  Then again, she was just in better shape than I was. I sighed and tried to comfort myself with the knowledge that she was probably about a decade younger, too. Pushing the big five-oh wasn’t exactly the kind of activity that improved my fitness level.

  Germain’s voice broke into my reflections. “Do you want to do the firearms qualification now, or go straight to the hand-to-hand?”

  “I’ve already done my firearms,” Jill said. “So if it’s okay with you, Aydan, I’d like to do my hand-to-hand and then I can get cleaned up and go join Tammy and Brock’s session upstairs.”

  I tried not to grimace. Other than the flush in her cheeks and the sweat stains on her tank top, she looked completely recovered.

  “Sure,” I said. “Go ahead.”

  At least then I’d have an idea what I’d be up against…

  Germain led the way to a large square of mats laid out on the floor, and the two of them faced each other in the centre. Some prearranged signal must have been exchanged, because they suddenly launched at each other.

  Jaw sagging, I watched while they fought. Sometimes standing to circle each other warily, other times rolling and grappling on the mats, neither seemed to be gaining the upper hand.

  It didn’t have the ferocity of a real fight, though. Both combatants were smiling except for the times when a whoosh of breath indicated a successful strike. At last, Germain pinned Jill to the mat and she tapped out with a groan.

  He rolled to his feet and offered her a hand up. She accepted it and they stood panting and grinning at each other, looking for all the world like a couple who’d just rolled out of bed after a particularly satisfying bout of sex.

  Jill shook her hair out of its clip and ruffled it as if to dry the sweat, still grinning at Germain. “Well, thanks. Guess I’ll get going.”

  “Thank you. Always good to have a worthy opponent.” Germain ran a hand through his crisp black curls and offered her a half-bow and a heart-melting smile.

  When she turned away, his gaze followed her all the way to the change room before returning to me.

  “You’re up, Aydan,” he said cheerfully.

  Heart pounding, I dragged myself to my feet. My mind circled while I plodded over to the mats. Maybe I could miraculously pull something off?

  Not a fucking chance.

  Come on, think of something! Arnie’s life was at stake.

  Maybe if I faked an injury…?

  “Are you ready?” Germain shot me a puzzled frown as I stood across from him on the mats, my arms dangling uselessly.

  Of course he expected me to engage him the way Jill had. />
  And I didn’t have a clue how to do that.

  “Aydan?” His keen gaze searched my face, his voice softening. “Are you having a problem?”

  The words burst out before I could stop them. “I can’t do this.”

  He abandoned his stance to step closer. “I know how hard it is to fight again after you’ve killed somebody, but this is safe,” he murmured. “I know you can do this. Let’s just start with some easy sparring.” He stepped back into his stance. “Just relax. It’ll be fine.”

  Goddamn it, I didn’t deserve his sympathy. Tears prickled my eyes and I blinked hard.

  “I can’t, Carl.” My voice came out rough and angry. “I can’t fight you because I don’t know how. I didn’t kill that guy with martial arts, it was just a freak accident. I’m just a bookkeeper.”

  “Aydan…” He dropped his arms and eyed me helplessly. “What do you want me to do here?”

  “Just beat me up and get it over with.” My voice cracked and I jerked my chin up, cursing my weakness.

  His face twisted. “While you just stand there and take it? I don’t think so.”

  Weariness overcame me and I sank to the mat. “Then fail me and call it a day.”

  I buried my face in my hands. Fail me the way I’d failed Arnie.

  Only I deserved it. He didn’t.

  The mat creaked as Germain crouched beside me. His hand warmed my shoulder. “I’m not going to fail you. Hand-to-hand isn’t even a core requirement. If your cover is that deep, you need to talk to Stemp about it. He can be a bit of a jerk sometimes, but he’d never jeopardize an agent’s cover.”

  Slow hope straightened my spine. Germain was right. I might still be able to pull this out of the fire.

  All I had to do was stop trying to tell the truth…

  I drew a deep breath and faced Germain. “Thanks, Carl, I didn’t think of that.” I squeezed his hand and rose. “You might have just saved a couple of lives.”

  He gave me a half-smile. “I thought it might be something like that.” His brow furrowed. “So are you going to take your firearms qualification?”

  I straightened, my belly warming with renewed optimism. “Hell, yeah.”

  Chapter 18

  “That’s a relief.” I grinned at Germain’s thumbs-up as I emerged from the firing range. “I’ve been worrying that Stemp would change his mind about letting me keep my gun after I failed the first time.” I hung the protective earmuffs on a peg and pulled out my earplugs.

  “How many times did you have to suck his cock to get that deal?” The rough voice made me spin to face my unknown adversary, my heart kicking my chest while my hand flew instinctively to my holster.

  Germain’s restraining hand landed on my shoulder. “Is that how you passed your last qualification, Holt?”

  The hard-looking blond man flushed, his hands clenching into knots at his sides. “Look who’s talking, you fucking brown-noser. You’ve got your tongue so far up Stemp’s ass it’s pathetic.” His fists jerked as if he was fighting to control them as he took a threatening step forward, his voice rising. “You think you’re such a fucking golden boy with your fucking squeaky-clean record and all your fucking black belts! Do you go up to Stemp’s office after hours for a nice long suck on his cock? Or maybe you like getting it up the ass!”

  His face twisted to sneer at Germain’s hand, still gripping my shoulder. “What, are you sharing pussy with Stemp?” He snapped his steel-blue gaze back to me while I stood flabbergasted by the ugliness pouring out of his lips. “That’s it, baby, fuck your way to the top,” he spat. “Come and see me later and I’ll give you a little boost.” He hoisted a hand into his crotch and thrust his hips at me, his lips snarling in a parody of a grin. “Believe me, it’ll be better than anything you’re getting from him.”

  Germain’s grip tightened and he spoke before I could. “That’s enough.” Through the red haze of anger, I dimly felt the insistent pressure of his hand steering me toward the door. “Come on, Aydan, I’ll walk you up to Stemp’s office and you can file a sexual harassment complaint.”

  Holt’s face twisted, flecks of spit spraying from his lips as he bellowed, “Yeah, that’s it! Take your fucking whore and go crying to Stemp, you fucking pansy-ass…”

  The torrent of hate was cut off by the closing door as Germain half-dragged me into the corridor. “Walk away,” he urged, his grip propelling me down the hallway. “Just walk away.”

  “What… who… what the hell was that?” I sputtered. “Who the hell pissed in his cornflakes?”

  “I did.” Apparently deciding I wasn’t going to do anything rash, Germain relaxed his hold but he didn’t slow his stride. I hurried to keep up as he spoke again. “I shouldn’t have reacted to him, and I’m sorry you got caught in that. Holt isn’t… wasn’t a bad agent, but an op went south on him last summer and he had some pretty bad trauma. He tried to come back too soon and I had to fail him on his hand-to-hand. That’s when we discovered he’d also developed severe anger-management issues.”

  “I’ll say.” Reaction set in, and I leaned trembling against the wall beside the time-delay chamber. “Holy shit. That was downright scary.”

  “He’s actually doing better. He’s only attacking with words now. He lost it completely during the combat qualification and I had to lay a pretty serious beating on him just in self-defence. That’s why he’s got such a hate on for me. Stemp put him on a desk job and confiscated his weapon, so he can only shoot under supervision in the range until Dr. Rawling okays him for duty.”

  “They actually let him handle a weapon?”

  Germain grimaced. “He’s usually not that bad.”

  We stepped into the chamber and I drew a deep shaky breath, mentally counting down the time delay. I twitched when Germain spoke again. “He’ll probably apologize to both of us later. He really is trying hard, but it likely set him off when you said you’d gotten to keep your gun even though you’d failed the qualification. And then I sent him over the edge with my smart-ass comment.”

  “I guess I can understand why it would piss him off that Stemp hadn’t confiscated my gun. I wouldn’t have said anything if I’d known he was there, but I was wearing my earplugs and I had my back to the door…” The lock released and I sprang into the lobby, sucking in a frantic breath of freedom.

  Germain eyed me with concern. “You’d better sit down for a minute. You’re shaking like a leaf.”

  “I’m okay.” I drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It’s just that damn coffin-chamber. It always freaks me out.”

  “All right, if you’re sure.” He gestured toward the stairs. “Let’s go and talk to Stemp and you can file that complaint.”

  I plodded forward on shaking legs. “If you say he’s really trying and he’s getting better, I won’t file a formal complaint. But I think Stemp needs to know. And Dr. Rawling.”

  He relaxed into a smile. “You’re a good person, Aydan.”

  When I tapped on his office door, Stemp looked up from his computer. “Come. Sit. How did the qualifications go?” His eyes sharpened as Germain swung the door shut behind us before taking his seat.

  “Passed with flying colours,” Germain said easily, pushing the evaluation sheets across the desk.

  Stemp glanced over them before his gaze flicked up to pin me to the chair. “This is physical fitness and firearms. Was there a problem with the hand-to-hand?”

  “Um… not really…” I squirmed under his scrutiny. “Actually, before we get to that, I just wanted to mention that we had a bit of a run-in with, um…” I turned to Germain. “…Holt? What’s his first name?”

  “Greg Holt.” Germain squared his shoulders. “It was mostly my fault. I provoked him.”

  Stemp’s reptilian gaze flattened. “What happened?”

  “We just had words,” I said quickly. “But he seemed really angry. More so than what was warranted under the circumstances. I thought you should know.”

  “Do you want to file a
complaint?”

  “No.”

  Stemp eyed me for a moment longer. “Very well. Noted. What about the hand-to-hand?”

  I drew a deep breath. “I can’t do it.”

  “Can’t? Or won’t?” Stemp shot a narrow look at Germain. “Did you do any evaluation at all?”

  Germain gave him an impassive cop face. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I can’t evaluate combat skills if someone just stands there and lets me hit them.”

  Any other human being would have betrayed some of the irritation Stemp had to be feeling.

  He didn’t even blink. “Thank you, Germain. Dismissed.”

  Germain rose and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Stemp contemplated me in silence for a long moment before speaking. “Explanation.”

  My heart lurched into my throat to vibrate there.

  I held his gaze until I was certain my voice would come out level. “A couple of weeks ago I asked you to redact the records when I killed Helmand Senior. Now I’m asking you to redact the part of Kane’s report that conflicts with mine in regards to the killing of that enemy agent. And I’m asking you to cancel my hand-to-hand combat requalification. There can’t be a record of me having any martial arts skills whatsoever. It’s essential to my cover.”

  Stemp leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “If you persist in displaying your martial arts skills for all to see, it’s pointless for me to redact records.”

  I wrung the arm of the chair as a substitute for wringing his neck, and kept my voice even. “I didn’t display any martial arts. Kane was mistaken.”

  “Kelly.” This time I could actually hear a hint of frustration in his tone. “Kane is our top agent, and a master in several disciplines of martial arts. If he says he saw you use martial arts, I’m strongly inclined to believe him. Particularly when the autopsy corroborates his report.”

  “For fucksakes-” I clenched my teeth and backpedaled, trying for reasonable tones. “Okay, but it wasn’t in public. There were no witnesses. I’ve worked with Kane for a long time and I trust him. Now I’m trusting you to protect my cover.”

  His silence expanded to occupy the entire room, closing around my throat while I stared at him. The thought of Arnie behind bars made my stomach twist. Stemp had to do this.