The Spy Is Cast

by Diane Henders

  “All right. But if I don’t make it in half an hour, go without me.”

  “This is Hellhound we’re talking about. You know that won’t happen.”

  He sighed. “I know. He never did follow orders. Let’s hope he doesn’t need to.”

  “Good luck.”

  “You, too.”

  His hands slid up my shoulders to touch my face, and I might have felt his lips brush my forehead before he released me to float alone in the void. I dragged my shrinking attention back to the room. I’d thought it couldn’t get worse, but I’d been wrong. I breathed carefully through my mouth, trying not to throw up.

  Suddenly, one of the men blinked out of existence. I quickly filled in a construct in his place. Then the other was gone, and Kane’s construct flickered, too, while I desperately tried to maintain three separate entities at the same time. This was harder than I’d expected.

  Then the full horror of the situation hit me. I was going to have to torture Kane.

  Ghastly time crawled by. I’d seen enough already to let my expectations of the two men fulfill themselves. I tried to detach myself, like watching a sickening movie, knowing what would happen but powerless to stop observing it. Even though I knew the constructs could neither think nor feel, making the action play out was an abomination. Slow hell unfolded before me.

  At last, I felt the blip I’d prayed for. With a gasp, I folded virtual reality and stepped out the portal.

  I couldn’t stop myself. Cries escaped me while I clawed at my head, trying to dislodge the memories and the pain. When a powerful grip pinned my hands, I battered my head desperately against the nearest firm surface. A few moments later I realized the firm surface was Hellhound, calling my name while he tried to restrain me.

  My stomach heaved, and I jerked away from him to vomit in the ditch. Two shivering sobs wrenched out before I clamped down with the last remnants of my self-control. I took a couple of deep, trembling breaths, then spat and wiped my face.

  When I looked up, Kane and Hellhound were both kneeling beside me. The sight of Kane’s undamaged face and body almost undid me again, and I sucked in an unsteady breath.

  “Thank God,” I croaked. “Let’s go.”

  Hellhound helped me up and buckled my helmet onto my head before mounting up, and Kane half-lifted me onto the Harley. I clung to Hellhound’s warm bulk as if I was drowning, my helmet pressed against the snarling dog on his broad back. Then we were flying down the road, and I let the warm sweet breeze wash everything away.

  Chapter 22

  I held on blindly and mindlessly until the bike came to a stop. Detached, I took in Germain’s grinning face as he pounded Kane’s back. I wobbled off the back of the Harley and pulled off my helmet, standing stupidly for a few seconds before placing the helmet on the ground and staggering toward the trees.

  I was a few yards into the forest when Hellhound appeared beside me, holding out a small carton of orange juice. “Think ya need this, darlin’.”

  “Thanks.” I took it, not looking at him. “I need to be alone for a while.”

  “Where ya goin’?”

  “West.” I kept walking, staring straight ahead.

  He walked with me a few more steps, but I couldn’t turn to him. He stopped, and I stumbled away.

  I blundered straight through the undergrowth, not even trying to follow game trails. At last, I came upon a dense stand of spruce, their heavy boughs sagging almost to the ground. I crept into the gloom beneath them and curled into a ball, letting the sobs begin.

  Much later, I sat up slowly. Everything ached. I found a tissue in my pocket and cleaned my face as best I could. Thankful for the orange juice, I sipped slowly and let the acidic sweetness wash away the bitter taste of bile. My trembling gradually subsided, and I drew my first steady breath in a long time.

  I leaned back against the trunk of the spruce, arms wrapped around my drawn-up knees. My primal self took comfort from the dim concealment, and I sat in silent stillness. The pungent spruce scent filled my nose, and a squirrel chattered somewhere in the forest. The breeze sighed through the tops of the trees. I narrowed my vision, concentrating on the fine details of the spruce needles and twigs and moss, clearing my mind and letting time slip away.

  Animal-like, I sensed the vibration of the ground before I heard the raspy voice call out my name. I wasn’t ready to be found yet.

  I stayed silent and motionless.

  A few minutes later, Hellhound tramped into view, and I watched through the screen of boughs as he scanned the woods. The worry in his face made me sigh.

  The next time he called, I answered.

  His head snapped around, searching for the source of the sound. Then he spotted me and advanced slowly, squatting outside my hiding place. “Can I come in, darlin’?”

  “Come on in and pull up some dirt.”

  He shoved the branches aside and took a seat on the carpet of spruce needles beside me, leaning his back against the tree trunk. “Ya okay?”

  “I’ll live.” I spoke quickly to drown out the response in my head. No, I’m not okay. I’ll never be okay again.

  “Kane said ya saw some bad shit. D’ya wanna talk about it?”

  “No. Not ever.” My voice wavered, and I shut up.

  He took my hand and stroked it gently, and we sat in silence for a while. Finally, Hellhound turned to me. “They need ya back at the trailer. When you’re ready.”

  “Okay.” I crawled out from under the tree and stood, brushing off spruce needles.

  He followed me out. “We’ll get some food into ya. That’ll help.”

  I hunched over as my gut clenched. “I don’t think I can.”

  He folded me into his arms, and I closed my eyes and huddled against him. The nausea slowly faded as his warmth surrounded me.

  “Come on, darlin’. Just take it slow.” He shepherded me toward the RV, his comforting arm around my shoulders.

  The walking helped. When we reached the edge of the forest, I turned to him. “Thanks. Again,” I said awkwardly.

  Hellhound surveyed my face seriously for a moment before giving me a preposterous leer. “Your debt’s mountin’ up again, darlin’. Ya better start payin’ me back in bed soon, or you’re gonna hafta marry me.”

  I laughed out loud at our private joke, my knotted stomach easing. “God forbid!”

  As we approached, Kane stepped out of the RV. I blinked rapidly and scrubbed my hands through my hair. Those memories weren’t real. This was real.

  I felt Hellhound’s gaze on me, but I threw my shoulders back and walked steadily toward the trailer. Everything in the real world was all right. The rest was only a nightmare. I knew how to deal with nightmares.

  Kane met us at the door and gazed down at me with concern. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine. Are you all right?”

  “Fine. Thanks to you.”

  I gave him a smile through stiff lips. “You’re welcome. Did you call it in? Did they arrest everybody over there?”

  “No.”

  “But…” A look at his troubled eyes made my protest wither on my lips.

  He sighed. “We need more information. Evidence.”

  “But they killed that prisoner! I saw them kill him! They tortured you! What are you waiting for?” I demanded.

  His hand flew up, shushing me. “I called Stemp,” he responded. His eyes flicked in Hellhound’s direction, and I knew he couldn’t tell me anything more. “We can’t take them down yet. I’m sorry,” he added as I opened my mouth to argue again.

  I shut my mouth and stepped up into the RV.

  Germain glanced up from the laptop as I came in, Kane and Hellhound behind me. “Aydan! Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I just needed some time.”

  His normally smiling eyes were worried. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Do you feel up to going through this database now?”

  “Sure. What do I need to do?”

  “First she’s gotta eat,” Hellhoun
d said firmly.

  “Right, of course,” Germain said. “Sorry.”

  “I’m gonna work my gourmet cookin’ magic again,” Hellhound joked. “What d’ya wanna eat, darlin’, Salisbury steak or beef stew?”

  “I’ll take the stew, if that’s okay,” I told him. “Are you using the water system in here?”

  Kane nodded. “The plumbing is all working. And the tap water’s drinkable. Go ahead.”

  “Thanks.” I stepped into the tiny bathroom.

  Embarrassment flooded me when I caught sight of myself in the mirror. My face was streaked with dirt and tear tracks, and my eyes were red and puffy. No wonder the guys were treating me so carefully. Damn. I’d really hoped to keep my meltdown private.

  I splashed cool water on my face and patted it dry, taking my time. The sun shone through the pebbled glass in the small window, and I assessed the lines etched in my face by its unforgiving glare. I looked like I’d aged ten years.

  Hell, I felt like I’d aged a hundred. Ten was a heck of a deal. I pulled my folding hairbrush out of my waist pouch and brushed the last of the spruce needles out of my hair before stepping back into the living area.

  A steaming paper bowl of stew waited for me on the table, and the microwave dinged as I arrived. I took my place and Hellhound squeezed in opposite me with his meal, fresh from the microwave. Kane fired it up again, and both he and Germain wedged themselves onto the dinette benches as well while they waited.

  I eyed the three big men and laughed, trying to reassure both them and myself I wasn’t about to burst into tears again. “I’m pretty sure the designers of this vehicle didn’t have you guys in mind.”

  Germain grinned ruefully across the table, his shoulder jammed against Hellhound’s. “Usually we eat in shifts. This is a little too much togetherness.”

  Kane’s shoulder was pressing against mine, too. I revelled in the sensation of his undamaged body next to me.

  My stomach gradually settled while I picked at the stew. We all ate in silence for a while before Kane turned to me, leaning back slightly in the cramped quarters. “Do you feel up to debriefing now?”

  “Sure.”

  Hellhound shrugged. “Guess it’s time for me to go for a walk.” Germain got up so he could squeeze out of the dinette, and he left, closing the door behind him. Germain sat again. We regarded each other in silence.

  Germain cleared his throat. “I already filled Kane in on what you told us about the prisoner you saw in the sim earlier,” he said to me. He turned to Kane. “What happened after you and Aydan got separated?"

  Kane frowned. “It was strange. I ran off in the opposite direction to Aydan and made as much noise as possible. But when they caught me… it was like they didn’t know what to do. I expected to get kicked around a bit, but they called the dogs off right away, and asked me quite civilly what I was doing on private property.”

  He shovelled in the last of his meal and continued. “So I said I’d been taking a walk in the woods. Told them I didn’t realize it was private property, said I was sorry and I’d leave. And I think the one guard was actually going to let me go.” He rubbed at his chin, looking perplexed.

  “But then the other one called it in, and their dispatcher told them to bring me up to the house. I pretended to be surprised it was Harchman’s place, told them I’d been at his party Saturday night, and they were very polite. They certainly didn’t seem to be on high alert.”

  Germain’s brows drew together. “Maybe they hadn’t been briefed yet? But the day was half over. And they should have had their instructions before they went out.”

  Kane shrugged. “When we got onto the building site, two men met us. They told the guards they’d take me up to see Harchman. The guards handed me over, and that’s when everything went to hell.”

  He got up, collecting our empty dishes and tossing them in the garbage. “Aydan, did you get enough to eat?”

  “Yes, thanks. But I could sure use a drink. I don’t suppose you have any beer.”

  They both laughed. “If we’d known you were coming, we’d have stocked up,” Germain teased.

  I gave a dramatic sigh. “I guess I’ll have to drink water, then.”

  Kane chuckled as he filled a glass and brought it over for me. “So anyway,” he picked up the thread as he sat down. “As soon as the guards were out of sight, they hit me with a stun gun. Dragged me into the guest house, but again, it was weird. There was a guard at the door, but they made up some cock and bull story about heatstroke when they dragged me past. Like he didn’t know what was going on. The one outside the room was one of theirs for sure, though. They tied me to the chair and took us all straight into the sim. I missed the transition entirely. I didn’t figure it out until they hung me up. I’d scoped out the guest rooms on Saturday, and I was pretty sure none of them had chains hanging from the ceiling. That’s where Aydan found me.”

  I shuddered involuntarily, my mouth going dry. I sipped slowly at the water, staring at the table.

  “Aydan, what happened from your end?” Germain asked.

  I swallowed hard and cleared my throat before answering. My voice emerged hoarsely, and I took another sip of water. “Arnie and I parked by the side of the road and I went in as planned. Found the right sim. Went in and got Kane invisible while we figured out what to do. Came back out and told Arnie to coordinate with you, then went back in again. I held Kane’s construct while he went out. Created constructs of the other two when they disappeared from the sim. I…”

  My throat closed up completely, and I stopped, sipping some more water. I took a deep breath. “I maintained the sim until I got the signal. Then I got out,” I said steadily to the table.

  There was a short silence, and I didn’t look up.

  “How do you think they identified you?” Germain asked Kane.

  “They’d noticed Aydan’s disguise popping up in the network during the party,” Kane replied. “So they knew they’d had a breach, and they were on the lookout for any party guests who had been acting suspiciously. I was noticeable because I showed up on their security cameras a few too many times when I was checking out the outbuildings.”

  He shrugged. “I knew I was on camera at the time, but I’d been hoping there were enough other guests milling around that it wouldn’t matter. I probably would have gotten away with it if they hadn’t caught me in the woods today.”

  “What did they want?”

  “They knew I was working with an accomplice, because they couldn’t find a person that matched Aydan’s disguise in any of their security footage from the party. They wanted to know who my partner was, who I was working for, and how we’d gotten into the network. I just kept telling them I didn’t know what they were talking about, and I was just a guest at the party.”

  I finally looked up, and he smiled at me. “The really good news in all this is that you’re still in the clear. They obviously aren’t looking for you. And now that I’ve escaped and taken out three of their men, they’ll be looking for me very enthusiastically indeed.”

  “Good news for me, not for you,” I told him.

  “At this point, I’ll take any good news I can get.”

  Germain broke in, frowning. “So how did you get away?”

  “The two men who were working me over actually came into the physical guest room to enter the sim,” Kane explained. “So all our bodies were there. When Aydan took over the sim, I dropped back out of the network. I got free and took them out while they were still in the sim. I popped the guard and dragged his body back into the room. Then I went out of the guest house, thanked the doorman and told him I was feeling much better, and walked up past the house like I owned the place. They didn’t even have extra patrols on in the woods.”

  “That’s the strangest thing I’ve ever heard,” Germain said. “That doesn’t sound like Fuzzy Bunny.”

  “I think Harchman’s an idiot,” I agreed. “He showed me right into the security control centre. He told me about the
patrols in the woods. And he sure wasn’t doing anything productive in the sim network earlier.”

  “What?” Kane swivelled to face me. “You saw Harchman in a sim? What was he doing?”

  I felt my face heat up. “He was, um, having a moment. Reliving a moment. With certain modifications. Apparently I made an impression at the party.”

  “Oh.” He thought about that for a moment, and then changed the subject. “Is there anything else you can tell us about the prisoner who was executed? Did you hear any of the questions they were asking? Was there any way to identify him? Any distinguishing marks?”

  “No.” I swallowed nausea again. “There wasn’t much left by the time I got there.”

  “Damn. So we’re no further ahead. We still don’t know who those captives are -”

  “Or were,” I interrupted quietly, the sound of the gunshot echoing in mind.

  Kane gave me a sympathetic glance. “Or what Harchman wants from them,” he continued. “In retrospect, maybe I should have just stayed there. As long as I was telling them under torture that I didn’t know what they were talking about, they weren’t sure they had the right man. They still don’t know that, but now they know I’m out here and I’m dangerous.”

  “If you’d been in there any longer, they would’ve killed you,” I snapped. “They killed that prisoner without a second thought, and they weren’t stopping with you. If you died in the sim, they’d just call the ambulance and pretend you’d had a heart attack. There’d be no evidence to the contrary on your physical body. You would have had to blow your cover anyway and leave the sim just to survive.”

  “Right,” Germain agreed. “And taking on three assailants while tied to a chair is a bit of a stretch even for you. Your chances of escape on your own would have been slim. This was better all around.”

  Kane lifted a shoulder in assent. “Probably true.”

  “But why can’t you just go in and arrest them all and question them?” I burst out. “Why…”

  “Stemp wants to know the full extent of the network, and he wants to know who the captives are and what questions they’re being asked,” Kane said. “If we rush in now, we’ll lose the chance to gather valuable intel.”