“After all, he had legitimate reason to fear for his life,” he persisted. “You threatened to kill him and you physically accosted him. What would you have done if you were in his shoes?”
Probably a bad idea to answer that question.
“I wouldn’t have hurt him,” I said instead. “If he had fought back I wouldn’t have just stood there and let him beat me up, but I wouldn’t have beaten him to a pulp, either. I can tell the difference between a legitimate threat and an annoyance even if I’ve been taken by surprise. It’s no different than the shooting simulation exercises. If a target pops up and startles me I aim at it, but I don’t fire unless it’s a valid target. Metaphorically speaking, I took aim at Brock this morning but I didn’t fire. And I wouldn’t have unless he was actually a threat.”
The doctor gave me one of his treacherously mild smiles. “That’s an excellent example, though it’s important to note that in the shooting simulation you know it’s a simulation. You know none of the targets are capable of hurting or killing you so there’s a reduced perception of threat.”
“True,” I admitted. “But have you ever done one of those simulations? There’s a hell of a lot of adrenaline pumping through you.”
“No, I haven’t.” He gave me another gentle smile. “I have never fired a gun so I would undoubtedly not do well in the simulation. But getting back to you: Do you think it’s possible that you might have a heightened perception of threat at the moment?”
I clamped my teeth on my tongue to prevent myself from snapping ‘Ya think, Sherlock?’
I held my voice calm and level. “Heightened, yes, but I wouldn’t say it’s disproportionate to the threat, considering that somebody is actively trying to kill me.”
He nodded as though we were in complete agreement and asked, “Do you think perhaps your heightened threat perception might cause you to overreact in non-lethal situations?”
Bastard. He’d cornered me.
My heart lurched into my throat and lodged there in an unwieldy lump. I had already admitted I’d overreacted. How the hell could I answer his question without buying myself a ticket to safe-house prison?
With a gargantuan effort I kept my hands from clenching into fists and kept my voice even. “I think we’ve already agreed that this morning was an overreaction in the larger sense. But as you know, that’s a normal reaction for me. Ever since I was a kid I’ve always gotten angry when I’m hurt and scared. So no; I wouldn’t say my reactions in non-lethal situations have really changed.”
He nodded, his little half-smile as unreadable as ever. “Aydan,” he said in his pleasant non-confrontational tone. “I feel as though you’re trying to avoid going to the safe house.”
No shit. And never mind how he felt; Stemp had probably told him exactly that. No point in denying it.
“Yes, that’s true,” I said, trying not to sound grudging.
“Why is that, Aydan?”
Go for just the right mix of honesty…
I leaned back in my chair, holding onto my relaxed posture for dear life. “Well, as you know I’m not fond of being…” I almost said ‘trapped’, but substituted a more moderate phrase at the last instant. “…closed in.” I couldn’t quite prevent the convulsive swallow that accompanied the thought, dammit.
“…but it’s not just that,” I went on determinedly. “You’re aware of the situation with Tammy, of course…”
Dr. Rawling nodded and I went on, mindful that he wasn’t privy to classified information. “Stemp believes I can help with that, but I only have a week before the deadline. I can’t tell you the details but it’s something only I can do, and if I fail there will be life-changing consequences for Tammy. And Stemp and I both believe that this situation with the assassins can be resolved more quickly if I stay in their sights.”
“And do you think the consequences to Tammy would be so severe that it’s worth risking your life to prevent them?”
“Hell, yes!” The words popped out before I had a chance to think them through, but even in retrospect it was the truth. The thought of sweet child-like Tammy spending the rest of her life imprisoned made my spine stiffen with determination. I wouldn’t let them do that to her, dammit.
He nodded his usual accepting little nod, and our interview continued with some general discussion of Brock and the team before seguing into the standard post-mission psych evaluation. I fielded the questions as best I could, nudging the truth into more attractive shapes whenever possible.
Finally Dr. Rawling studied me in silence and I held my breath. I was pretty sure I had gamed the post-mission questions well enough. And after counselling Tammy for the past several months, he must feel some empathy and concern for her. If I had made the consequences to her sound dire enough…
“All right, Aydan,” Dr. Rawling said at last. “I’ll clear you for modified duty only. No new missions, but I’ll give you a chance to deal with the current situation. If anything changes we’ll discuss this again, and certainly if you have any concerns or if you’d just like to talk…”
He trailed off as if realizing the unlikeliness of that. “I want to see you again first thing next week,” he added. “Will Monday at two-thirty work?”
I agreed and vacated his office as rapidly as it was possible to do without actually breaking into a run.
Chapter 10
Another fruitless hour of brainstorming with Spider and Jack accomplished nothing except to wind the tension in my neck and shoulders even tighter. Jack looked at her wristwatch so often that her anxiety transferred itself to me, and when four-thirty finally arrived she sprang to her feet as though she had been jabbed by something in her chair.
“Well, we’d better get going,” she said in an unconvincing imitation of nonchalance. “The day-home operator gets antsy if I don’t pick up the children by a quarter to five.”
My heart thumped a little faster and I rose, too. “Okay, I’ll swing by the Melted Spoon and pick up our drinks, and I’ll meet you at the park. What can I get you?”
“Oh…” She blinked as though a beverage was the last thing on her mind. “Um… a skim-milk vanilla latte with no sugar. Thanks, Aydan.” She gave me a faux-cheery smile. “See you in a little while.”
“See you,” I replied, but she had already hurried out.
Spider turned a worried face toward me. “Something’s wrong, I’m sure of it. Jack hasn’t been herself for the past month. I’ve asked her about it but she always says everything’s fine.”
I hissed air out between my teeth. “It doesn’t look good, does it? I hope it’s nothing serious.”
“I hope not, too.” He knotted his fingers together anxiously. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“I will, Spider. Thanks. I better get going.” I gave him a grimace that was supposed to be a smile and hurried out.
When I arrived at the small park, Jack was already seated on a bench while her son and daughter, easily identifiable by their bright blonde hair, scampered on the playground.
Pulling my truck to a stop in the parking lot, I cast a nervous glance at the trees that surrounded the park. Twice before, clandestine activities in those trees had nearly cost my life. If a gunman was hidden in the woods today, my third time might prove unlucky.
My pulse sped up while I calculated angles and sight lines and escape routes. If somebody started shooting at me, Jack and her kids would be caught in the crossfire.
Childish squeals of delight floated to my ears through my open window. Brendan swarmed up the climbing frame like a towheaded chimpanzee while little Ivy twisted up the chains of her swing until her feet left the ground. The unwinding chains spun her around and around, her mouth open in peals of silvery laughter, flaxen ringlets flying.
God, if anything happened to them…
The thought of small bodies motionless in pools of blood made my stomach lurch into my throat. I gulped down the bile and scrubbed both hands violently over my face.
Do
n’t think about it.
Don’t let it happen.
Jack spotted the truck and waved, and with a curse I bent to transfer my Glock from my ankle holster to the waistband of my jeans for quicker access. The trank pistol went in beside it, turning the jeans into an uncomfortable tourniquet. I pulled my sweatshirt down over them, still muttering profanities. Should’ve worn my waist holster today, dammit. And brought my shoulder rig.
But I needed both weapons within easy reach. I’d prefer to leave any attacker tranquilized and alive for questioning, but if the children were endangered, I’d need the greater range and accuracy of the Glock.
Gripping the cardboard takeout tray and my courage with equal firmness, I deserted the safety of the truck and headed for the bench. At least if he was aiming at me from the trees beside the lot, his shooting line wouldn’t cross the playground…
I shook off the thought.
Get real. There wasn’t a shooter in the trees. Nobody could have known I’d go to the park after work today. I hadn’t even known myself.
But if somebody had followed me…
Just settle down. In a town the size of Silverside I would have noticed a tail. God knew I’d been paranoid enough about watching for one.
“Hi again,” Jack said as I approached, and I returned the greeting and handed her the latte before perching on the bench beside her with one more uneasy survey of the trees.
Jack turned a worried face toward me. “Aydan, I’m sorry to bother you the first day you’re back to work, but there’s something I need to tell you.”
I took a gulp of my chamomile tea in an attempt to swallow the spiky ball of tension in my throat. “Okay, what is it?”
She glanced around and leaned toward me as if afraid to be overheard. “Did you know Charles is up for review this coming Thursday?”
“Ch…?” I bit off my incredulous question. So it was ‘Charles’ now instead of ‘Stemp’. That didn’t bode well.
“Um, yeah, he told me,” I replied.
“This is bad, Aydan.”
“Yeah, I know…”
I trailed off, wondering why she looked so upset. Losing Stemp would be a disaster to clandestine operations, but it likely wouldn’t affect the research department. I gulped. Oh sweet Lord, please tell me she’s not secretly in love with Stemp…
She leaned nearer. “Dermott would be his replacement.” Dermott’s name came out in a hiss, and I suddenly recalled how much Jack disliked him. And vice versa.
“Oh.” I eyed her with concern. “Yeah. That would be bad, wouldn’t it?”
“You don’t know the half of it.” She glanced around again. “Are you involved with the Spring Thing?”
“Uh… what?” I frowned, struggling to catch up with the sudden change of topic.
“The Spring Thing. You do know what the Spring Thing is…?”
I held up a hand to forestall an explanation. “Yeah, I know. I was going to see if I could ride on the Sirius Dynamics float.”
“Don’t,” she said darkly. “Take my advice: Stay far, far away.”
“Um… okay… but…” I did another nervous inventory of the surrounding trees, wishing she’d get on with it. “I don’t know what that has to do with Stemp,” I said, trying not to sound impatient.
“Every year the social committee decides on a theme for the float,” she explained. “Spider and I usually serve on the social committee along with a few other researchers. We form the core group from year to year, and often agents who are on administrative leave will join just for a break from the monotony. This year Jill has joined us, along with another agent, Greg Holt. Do you know him?”
I nodded and she went on, “And…” Her nose wrinkled fastidiously. “Tyler Brock.”
“Ew. You have my sympathy.”
“Yes, well, he’s certainly been an annoyance, but that’s not the problem.” Jack frowned. “Greg Holt has been… um… offering me a great deal of attention…”
I read between the lines. Jack’s radiant blonde beauty and jaw-dropping figure would bring any red-blooded man to his knees. Holt was clearly no exception.
“…which is really quite… unfortunate,” Jack went on. “He’s not particularly… er… well, you know I don’t date agents. And in any case he’s really not my type.”
Recalling Holt’s craggy features, lantern jaw, and volatile temper, I nodded again and sipped my tea.
“But…” Jack blushed. “I’m rather ashamed to say I’ve been pumping him nevertheless.”
Tea shot out my nose. Groping frantically for a napkin, I choked, “I beg your pardon?”
“Pumping him for information,” Jack qualified with icy primness, but mischief sparkled in her eyes.
“That wasn’t nice,” I admonished, blotting the wet spots on my sweatshirt.
“No, but it was fun.” She grinned, but sobered immediately. “But what I’ve discovered isn’t funny at all. Holt hates Charles. Apparently there was friction between them when Charles put him on administrative leave originally. Then Dermott reinstated Holt briefly, but as soon as Charles returned he pulled Holt from active duty again.”
“Yeah, I knew about that. I was glad he did. Holt’s a good agent but he had major anger issues after a mission went bad on him. He wasn’t ready for active duty, but he and Dermott are buddies.”
“Oh. Good, so you understand the dynamic.” Jack nodded, frowning. “So here’s where it gets bad. Remember when Dermott fired Spider for refusing to control Tammy in the network? And then he had to eat crow and re-hire Spider? And then Charles promoted Spider and complimented him for his good work?”
I nodded along with her points, knowing she wouldn’t be hurried through her step-by-step analysis. Usually I admired her scientific mind, but today I could barely throttle a scream of impatience.
“So…” Jack eyed me worriedly. “According to Holt, if Dermott takes over the director’s position there are going to be, as he puts it, ‘shakeups’. Aydan, Dermott will reinstate Holt despite Dr. Rawling’s recommendations. But that’s not the worst of it. He’ll fire Spider and promote Brock to team lead.”
“Oh, shit!”
“Exactly.” Jack rubbed her temples as if fighting off a headache. “So you see why I couldn’t say anything in front of Spider, but this has been driving me to distraction ever since I found out about it a month ago. I’ve been trying to drum up support for Charles wherever I can, but…” Her shoulders rose and fell in a despairing shrug. “He doesn’t make himself popular. He just does the best job he can and lets the chips fall where they may.”
She turned an imploring face toward me. “Aydan, I know you don’t like Charles, but will you support him?”
“Of course. I told him I would as soon as he mentioned the peer review. Dermott would be a bloody disaster.”
“Oh thank heaven!” Jack fell back against the bench. “I was so afraid… as one of the top agents your recommendation carries a lot of weight. I was…” She drew a breath. “Do you think John Kane will support him, too?”
I choked down my dismay at the thought of being considered a top agent and assured her, “I’m pretty sure he will. He doesn’t like Stemp much either, but he wouldn’t let his personal feelings take precedence over the good of the Department.”
“Oh, thank goodness.” She took a sip of her latte as if seeking strength, her hand trembling slightly. “I spoke with Carl Germain before he shipped out to his current mission and he supports Charles. Jill does, too.” She let out a breath. “Most of the top agents do. Thank goodness you’re all so dedicated to results that you can put aside personal differences.”
“Uh… yeah…” I eyed her. “Look, Jack, I know you don’t like Dermott, and this thing about Spider is really bad, but I’m getting the feeling it’s a little more than that.”
She flushed. “Well, yes. It is a little more than that. I admire Charles a great deal. More to the point, I admire the way he approves my research budget so promptly every year. If Dermott t
akes over, I really don’t believe he has enough strength of character to put aside our personal differences. There’s a very good chance that I’d be demoted or fired, too.”
I stared down a long bleak future of Brock’s petulance, Holt’s unpredictable rages, and Dermott’s bluster, all without the expertise and camaraderie of the two best friends I had at Sirius Dynamics. I swallowed hard.
After a short silence I offered, “I could shoot Dermott.”
Jack’s horrified expression completely destroyed my attempt at remaining deadpan and I laughed aloud.
“That wasn’t nice,” she snapped.
“No, but it was fun.” My amusement ebbed rapidly and I sighed and slouched back in the bench. “Well, if all the top agents are rooting for Stemp, there’s probably nothing to worry about. His track record is excellent. As long as he hasn’t antagonized anybody up the chain of command…” I trailed off at the sight of her expression. “Oh, shit, has he?”
Jack hunched her shoulders miserably. “Potentially. There were some very ruffled feathers when he left the country with that top-secret weapon back at Christmas without informing any of his superiors. They settled down when he broke that giant case with Interpol as a result, but… some of those army types take a very hard-line stance.”
I shuddered in agreement, remembering a certain hearing with Kane’s military chain of command. “So… what can we do, besides worry about it?”
Jack sighed. “Nothing I know of. But I’m worrying as hard as I can. I was hoping you’d be able to think of something.”
I suppressed a groan. “I don’t know what I can do, but I’ll try.”
Chapter 11
With my new doors safely stowed in the back of my truck, I pulled into the parking lot at Blue Eddy’s Saloon at a quarter to seven and turned off the ignition with a sigh.
I had already driven by once to scope out the nearby roofs and alleys for potential access points for an assassin. I hadn’t seen anything threatening, but what did I know? I needed Kane’s ability to effortlessly assess every detail of a site in a single glance.
Spy Away Home (The Never Say Spy Series Book 10) Page 8
