Spy Now, Pay Later

by Diane Henders

  Up on tiptoe to ease the pain in my arm, I bared my teeth in a feral snarl. The dumb fuck thought I was left-handed and helpless in his grip.

  Surprise, asshole.

  Just as I grabbed for my trank gun, Sharkface’s weight slammed into me.

  The ground rushed up, fading into nothingness before I met it.

  Chapter 39

  I woke to the movement of a vehicle and a male voice. “…she’s still out of it. Where can ya meet us?”

  An inarticulate mumble of relief escaped me when I recognized Hellhound’s distinctive rasp.

  “Hang on, she’s wakin’ up,” he said. “Aydan? Can ya hear me?”

  “Yuh…” I dragged open my leaden eyelids just long enough to catch a blurred glimpse of the inside of Hellhound’s SUV. My eyes fell shut again while my thick tongue slurred, “Whadda… fu…”

  “Don’t worry, darlin’, ya just breathed in the trank gas. You’ll be okay in a few minutes. I got Germain on the line an’ he’s gonna meet us.” I tried to nod and achieved a spastic twitch while he spoke to Germain again. “Okay. See ya in ten.”

  My eyes opened more easily the next time, and I fumbled for the seat control with clumsy fingers. As I raised the seat from its reclined position, Hellhound shot me a quick smile from behind the wheel. “Hey, darlin’. How ya doin’?”

  “Better.” I blinked and shook my head, fighting the foggy feeling. “What happened? Please tell me I didn’t shoot myself with my own trank gun.”

  He laughed, but sobered quickly. “Nah. I saw him grab ya an’ waited to see what you’d do, but when he locked your arm an’ started pushin’ ya to the truck I took the shot. Hope I didn’t fuck anythin’ up.”

  “No, I was just about to shoot him anyway…” My sluggish brain ground into gear, accompanied by a surge of adrenaline that made my stomach lurch into my throat. I clutched Hellhound’s sleeve. “Arnie, they’ve got John!”

  “Shit!” His hands clenched on the wheel. “What’s your plan?”

  “I don’t know…” My voice rose in a frantic squeak and I clamped my lips together before the hysteria could spill out.

  Panicking won’t help. Think.

  I had to find out where they were holding him.

  “What did you do with Sharkface?” I snapped.

  “He’s takin’ a little nap in the back.” Hellhound jerked a thumb toward the rear of the SUV. “I nailed him twice so he’s gonna be out at least another twenty minutes.”

  “Okay.” I settled tensely into the seat. “We’ll question him. Maybe he knows where they’re holding John. Where are we meeting Germain?”

  “Weasel’s place.”

  “Is that a good idea?”

  “Only one I got.” He grimaced. “I’m hopin’ Weasel ain’t there. But if he is, he’ll keep his mouth shut. He likes ya, an’ he ain’t gonna cross me.”

  I sighed. “Good thinking. At least this way you won’t get caught with an unconscious guy in the back of your SUV.”

  I subsided, my hands worrying at the seatbelt while my mind ricocheted through useless plans. Kane could be anywhere, and I didn’t have a clue how to find him…

  But I could get help with that.

  I yanked out a secured phone and punched the speed dial before activating the speaker so Hellhound could listen. This time it only rang twice before Dermott picked up.

  “It’s Kelly,” I snapped. “Barnett said they have Kane. I’m meeting Germain in a few minutes and we’ll question Barnett. Instructions?”

  “Shit!” A series of muffled pops on the other end sounded like cracking knuckles. “We’re up to our asses with Interpol and Stemp right now. Two tac teams are tied up with those busts tonight and I’m completely out of resources. Get Germain to back you up if he can, but otherwise you’ll have to handle it on your own.”

  “I need Spider to trace Kane’s burner phone.”

  “I’ll transfer you now.” The line went dead for a few moments before Spider’s tremulous voice spoke in my ear.

  “Aydan? Dermott said they have Kane…” His voice cracked. “What can I do to help?”

  “Anything you can think of that might help us locate him. Can you trace the burner phone he used last night?”

  “Yes, but it’ll take a while. I’ll have to call you back. Hang on…” The muffled clatter of computer keys sounded in the background. After a moment he spoke again. “Dermott can’t spare any resources but I’m sending police officers to Dawn White’s home and work addresses. If she’s there, they’ll ask her when she last saw Kane and hold her so you can question her.” His gulp was audible, and his voice trembled when he spoke again. “I’ll get the police to watch for Kane’s or White’s vehicles, and I’ll call you right away if they spot anything. Hang onto that burner phone and I’ll call you back on it as soon as I can.” He swallowed again. “I know you’ll find him.”

  My heart twisted. “I’ll find him.”

  I had to. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t.

  I hung up and eyed Hellhound’s grim profile. “Can you think of anything else we can do?”

  “Not ‘til we hear back from Webb. But maybe Germain’ll have some ideas.”

  I nodded, gnawing the inside of my cheek. Thank God Germain was meeting us and he could take over. If this was left up to my blundering attempts, I’d probably end up killing us all.

  As if reading my mind, Hellhound glanced over. “Don’t worry, darlin’, we’ll find him. You an’ me an’ Germain, we’ll kick some serious ass. Just take it easy an’ let the last a’ that trank wear off. Ya can’t do anythin’ else right now.”

  I massaged my throbbing temples. “Why did I get knocked out by the aerosolized trank? I thought that only happened if I shot somebody point-blank indoors.”

  “Ya gotta be more’n three feet away on a calm day, just like bein’ inside. An’ I hit him twice, one right after the other, so there was extra knockout gas.”

  My brain got up to speed at last and I gave him a sharp appraisal, taking in his white fatigues patterned with random splotches of gray and beige.

  Winter camo. And a couple hundred yards might not be a big deal for a marksman with a good rifle and bullets, but it was a hell of a shot for trank darts.

  “Weapons specialist,” I said slowly. “So that’s it. You’re a sniper.”

  He stiffened. “Ya didn’t hear it from me.”

  “But…” I ground the heel of my hand into the frown lines between my eyebrows. “Then why did Stemp say you didn’t have a restricted weapons license when we were debriefing a couple of months ago?”

  Hellhound shrugged, watching the road with intense concentration. “Why does Stemp do anythin’?”

  “Him and his goddamn ‘need-to-know’.” I shook my head. “God, he’s twisty.”

  That thought made my guts clench even more. He was a twisty bastard. What if Dermott was right? What if Stemp had been playing me all along? And what if Stemp was the one who had sold Kane out?

  Those thoughts marinated in my stomach acid while we drove in silence. When Hellhound gave me a sidelong glance for the third time before returning his gaze resolutely to the road, I turned to face him.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He scowled at the windshield, the bunching of his shoulders visible even under his parka. “Hell, this ain’t the time, but…” He hesitated, his face taut. “But it’s buggin’ the shit outta me, an’ I gotta know.”

  My stress level ratcheted up to ‘impending coronary’. I held my voice calm and level with all my will. “What is it?”

  “I…” He thumped a fist on the steering wheel, still scowling. “Shit, Aydan, I was kinda hopin’ you’d never find out what I really do, but I guess in some stupid fucked-up way I was tryin’ to tell ya when I sent ya over to my place a coupla weeks ago knowin’ you’d find my gear…” He trailed off, not looking at me.

  After a few moments I prompted, “I don’t know where you’re going with this. What’s bothering you?”
>
  He shot me a defiant look. “I’m a professional killer. Been a sniper with Special Forces for damn near thirty years. I told ya I was a fuckin’ sick bastard, but ya didn’t really get it ‘til now, did ya?” He turned back to stare at the road. “Go ahead an’ dump me if ya want. I won’t blame ya if ya do.”

  “What?” I gaped at his rigid profile. “Of course I’m not going to dump you! Why the hell would I do that? We’re friends.” I reached over to fondle his thigh, trying to lighten the mood. “And how dumb would I be to dump a guy who figures three orgasms is just a good start?”

  He didn’t smile. “Maybe we were friends, but that was before ya knew I’m a stone-cold killer. Aydan, I pick guys off in cold blood an’ then go for a beer afterwards. It’s just a day’s work for me. I’m seriously fucked up.”

  “Arnie…” I groped for a rebuttal and found none. I blew out a breath. “Okay, you’re right. You’re a little fucked up.” His hands clenched on the wheel and I stroked his bone-white knuckles and continued, “And that’s okay. I can’t fit into a normal life anymore, either. I’ve killed seven people in the past nine months. And you saw me shoot Doytchevsky’s face off. I’m as fucked up as you.”

  Hellhound barked out a harsh laugh. “Ya don’t wanna know my body count. An’ ya never killed in cold blood. Those guys deserved it after what they did to ya.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Arnie,” I said gently. “I love you for who you are, not for what you do in the line of duty. I’m keeping you unless you kick my ass out the door.”

  He braked for a red light and sat staring through the windshield, utterly still. After a moment, he cleared his throat and his voice came out in a cracked whisper. “Did ya just use the L-word?”

  Oh, shit.

  I summoned up a grin and shoved gently on his shoulder. “Yeah. Lo-o-ove. What are you going to do about it, you big chickenshit?”

  The corner of his mouth twitched into a cautious smile. “If ya say anythin’ about commitment or livin’ together, I’m gonna bail outta the truck right now an’ run all the way to Tijuana.”

  “That’s good. Because if you say anything about commitment or moving in, I’m going to bail out of the truck right now and run all the way to Tuktoyaktuk.”

  The light changed and he relaxed as we pulled away. “Bad choice, darlin’. It’s fuckin’ cold up there. Always head south if you’re gonna run. Beaches an’ palm trees beat the hell outta snow.”

  I let out the breath I’d been holding. “I’ll keep that in mind.” After a moment, I added, “So is that all that was bothering you?”

  He tossed me a quick sheepish smile before returning his gaze to the road. “Yeah. But I hadta know, darlin’. It’s been eatin’ at me for a helluva long time, an’ I just never had the guts to say it.”

  “Well, now you know.” I leaned over to plant a kiss on his cheek. “If in doubt, trust me.”

  He laughed. “Says the chick with trust issues.”

  I grinned. “Do as I say, not as I do.”

  We both sobered and I went back to my futile worrying, but the silence between us was easy and I took small comfort from the warmth of his hand cupping my knee while he drove.

  A few minutes later we pulled into a parking lot behind an industrial cinderblock building and Hellhound stopped in front of a large overhead door.

  I sighed. “God, I hope he’s not here.” Hellhound nodded and began to get out of the SUV but I stopped him. “Hang on. I’ll cover you.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “That little shit ain’t gonna hurt me. An’ ya know ya can’t shoot him anyway, darlin’.”

  “But if he takes a swing at you with his tire iron, I’ll trank him into oblivion.”

  “Ya know ya can’t. Classified weapon. I’ll be fine.”

  I growled frustration as we both got out, and Hellhound strode over to punch a code into the keypad beside the overhead door. It rolled up to reveal a darkened bay.

  Hellhound’s shoulders relaxed. “Good. He ain’t here. An’ he doesn’t hafta know we were ever here, either.” He pulled out his phone and sent a brief text before climbing back into the driver’s seat to pull into the bay.

  He had just gotten out of the SUV when a rust-dotted silver Sunfire rounded the corner and drove straight for the still-open door. I tensed, but Hellhound waved a welcoming hand. A moment later a gush of relief weakened my knees when I recognized Germain behind the wheel.

  As soon as he pulled in, I punched the button to roll the door down and turned on the overhead lights.

  Germain parked and got out, casting an appraising glance around the grimy space strewn with car parts and automotive tools. “Chop shop?” he inquired.

  Hellhound shrugged. “Never asked.”

  Germain nodded. “Okay, neither did I. What have we got?”

  “Fuzzy Bunny has John,” I blurted. “Spider’s tracking the coordinates of his burner phone and he’ll call me back as soon as he has them. And we have Kevin Barnett, so we can question him.”

  Germain’s jaw clenched. “Dammit! How soon can we question Barnett?”

  “I figure five or ten minutes.” Hellhound popped the rear hatch of his SUV, revealing Sharkface’s considerable bulk folded awkwardly into the cargo bay. “Say hello to Sleepin’ Beauty.”

  Germain raised an eyebrow. “Okay. Bring me up to speed.”

  I briefed him rapidly, and when I finished he nodded. “All right. How do you want to proceed?”

  “I was hoping you’d take over.” I gave him an imploring look. “You know what you’re doing, and I’m just a-”

  Germain waved me into silence. “Bookkeeper, I know. Don’t worry, you can drop your cover with me. I know you can handle this, and I’m at a critical point with my own op. I’ve got less than an hour before I have to show up there again. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

  Fear sank cold fangs into my heart. Now Kane’s life depended on an idiot civilian bookkeeper. This was exactly why I’d tried to get Stemp to demote me…

  My guts froze into a solid block of ice.

  Oh my God.

  Stemp, the chessmaster. He had known I wasn’t a real agent all along. And he had manoeuvred everyone into position, tying up the best agents on other jobs and using me to hide his escape with the weapon. And he had known I’d botch Kane’s rescue and probably get myself killed into the bargain, eliminating the risk to his daughter once and for all…

  Oh God. God help us all.

  “Aydan?” Germain’s voice penetrated my icy horror.

  No, dammit, if I was Kane’s only hope, I’d bloody well find a way.

  I straightened. “Okay. First we question Barnett. Carl, are you up for a little game of Good Cop, Bad Cop?”

  Germain nodded. “Sure. Which one am I?”

  “You’re the good cop. No, wait; you’re the only cop. I’m going to hang onto my Arlene Widdenback cover for now…” I hesitated, digging my fingertips into my knotted neck muscles. “You can tell him you’re arresting him for murdering Hibbert and for extortion, and offer him a break if he tells us where they’re holding Kane. Or any other information that might help us.”

  “What d’ya want me to do?” Hellhound asked.

  “You can play the hired muscle, but don’t let him see you unless it’s necessary. And you should probably change clothes.”

  Hellhound nodded and peeled off his camo. “He oughta be wakin’ up any minute, but he ain’t goin’ anywhere. I put restraints on him.”

  A groan from Sharkface made us all snap to attention. Hellhound faded into the gloom at the front of the bay, and I mouthed, “Showtime”.

  Chapter 40

  Striding over to Hellhound’s SUV, I delivered a smart slap to the back of Sharkface’s head. “Wake up!”

  “Don’t leave a mark on him,” Germain cautioned. “I don’t want to have to explain anything.”

  Sharkface groaned again and half-opened his eyes. “Wha… fuck…?” A moment later he tried to move and his eyes flew op
en all the way as he jerked against his bonds. “Wha’ fuck?”

  I grinned down at him, letting my pent-up animosity sharpen my teeth. “Wakey-wakey, asshole. Rise and shine.” Just for the hell of it I smacked him in the head again, putting some shoulder behind it.

  “Cut it out, Arlene!” Germain stepped forward to grab my wrist. “I told you, I don’t want any marks on him for the arrest report.”

  “Wha’? ’Rest?” Barnett’s face turned burgundy and he fought the restraints in earnest, grunting and sweating.

  “Yes. You’re under arrest for the murder of Paul Hibbert,” Germain said calmly. “Also for blackmail and extortion. And I’m sure we’ll discover a lot of other charges as we continue to investigate. You have the right to legal representation…”

  Germain raised his voice to finish the recitation of rights over Sharkface’s bellowed insults and obscenities, which culminated in ‘Fuck you!’ His words were crystal-clear, and I filed that information away for future reference. Even with a double dose of tranquilizer, he recovered fast.

  “No, thanks, you’re not my type,” Germain snapped. “But I’m sure you can find a bum-buddy in jail. Unless you decide to help us. Then I might be able to swing a deal for you.”

  “What deal?”

  Germain shrugged. “Depends on how cooperative you are.”

  “Whaddaya want?”

  “Kane,” I snarled. “I’ve got some unfinished business with him. Tell me where he is.”

  Sharkface sneered. “I don’t answer to you, bitch.”

  “You will if you’re smart,” Germain said. “Now tell us where Kane is.”

  “I don’t know. And you’re full of shit. You’re no cop, and if you are, you know damn well I don’t have to tell you anything.”

  “I’m a cop all right.” Germain flashed his badge. “And you’re right, you don’t have to tell me anything, but if you do I might be able to help you get off with a lighter sentence.”

  “Bite me. And if you’re really a cop, let me call my lawyer.”

  “If you tell us where Kane is, you may not even need your lawyer.”

  “I told you I don’t know.”