How Spy I Am

by Diane Henders

  “It was dangerous and stupid,” he snapped.

  I froze him with a look at my watch. “I’m losing patience. Talk, or it’s all over.”

  “Fine.” He blew out a breath through his nose. “The keep-alive signal was reactivated Tuesday night. I started the communication carrier, but he must not be in a secure location. I got no response.”

  What… the… fuck was he talking about?

  I stared at him, trying to formulate my next question. Or response. Or whatever it was he wanted.

  “Wh… When was your last keep-alive?” I fumbled.

  “Last October. Almost a year ago to the day.” He shot me a significant glance. “A year and a half after his official death.”

  “Why wouldn’t he have contacted me?” I mumbled, mostly to myself.

  “I don’t know. Something must have happened. One week after the keep-alive stopped, I dropped the package as agreed. He should have taken you right afterward. But then it resumed, so I waited for further instructions.”

  His mouth twisted as though he’d bitten into a lemon. “And after we both put our lives on the line for you, you show up right in the middle of Sirius Dynamics. How could you be so stupid?”

  “You can stop calling me stupid now,” I snapped. “What did you expect me to do?”

  He frowned at me for a few moments before his expression inexplicably softened. “I suppose you’re right,” he said. “You didn’t know me personally and you believed he was dead. I was starting to wonder, too, to be honest.”

  My mind whirled in utter confusion, and I didn’t dare ask any more questions that would reveal my complete cluelessness. Maybe I could come at it obliquely. I seized on the sympathetic shift in his demeanor.

  “How long did you… have you known Robert?” I asked.

  His gaze focused on the wall above my head, and a faint smile played on his lips. “Nearly thirty years. We were both on our very first op when I was assigned as his contact in Moscow. We nearly killed each other through sheer inexperience. Stupid kids. We thought we were the greatest spies in the world.”

  I held my breath. When he didn’t continue, I prompted cautiously. “But you became friends?”

  “Yes. It took many years, many ops. But when you put your life in another’s hands often enough…” He chuckled. “I suppose I really can’t blame you for using my name. Robert used to find it tremendously amusing to refer to me as Kasper the Friendly Ghost.”

  I laughed. “That’s Robert’s corny sense of humour.”

  A gentle smile transformed his face, his eyes still focused years in the past. “Those were good years. Irina was alive then…” He trailed off.

  Who the hell was Irina?

  “So…” I felt my way forward with another open-ended question. “What made you decide…?”

  He snapped his gaze back to look me in the eye. “I had Irina, Robert had you. He didn’t know about the nights at first, but after Irina died I had to tell him. That’s when we decided we had to save you.”

  Christ, he still wasn’t making any sense. “How did Irina die?” I asked gently.

  He sank his head into his hands. “She took her own life. The schizophrenia was getting worse, but they kept pushing her. I couldn’t let Robert go through what I’d suffered, so I told him the truth.”

  He straightened, his face twisting. “And now here you are,” he spat. “All that risk and sacrifice for nothing.” He stood and gave me a cold stare. “Let me know if he contacts you.”

  I returned an uncertain nod, and he pushed through the crowd to vanish out the door.

  I was staring into space when Darlene slid the basket of wings in front of me. “Thanks,” I muttered, my brain still fully engaged with Smith’s revelations. Or obscurities, to be more accurate.

  I mechanically began to eat while I pondered.

  Robert was alive. I couldn’t believe it.

  Well, yes, actually, I guessed I had to believe it. I didn’t have much choice.

  I could have sworn he had no pulse or respiration when the ambulance arrived, but I hadn’t exactly been at my best. If the ambulance attendants had been spies, they could have revived him, faked the resuscitation attempts, and let him escape. But they would have had to know about Kane’s drug in order to give the correct antidote. Could they have been double agents?

  My mind boggled at the sheer magnitude of the coverup. Ambulance attendants, emergency room staff, medical examiner, crematorium staff, how many people had been involved? And who were they working for?

  And if Robert had been loyal to the good guys then, who was he working for now? Had he been a double agent all along?

  And did that make Smith a good guy or a bad guy?

  Robert. My mind circled back again, unable to leave it alone.

  If he was still alive, if he still loved me…

  How could we go back to what we’d had, after nearly three years apart? Would he be hurt that I hadn’t remained faithful to him? But why the hell would I wait? It was nearly three damn years. He’d made me believe he was dead. Lied to me. Abandoned me.

  And, dammit, I’d moved on. I didn’t want to be married, to him or to anybody. Especially not to a spy whose life was a web of lies and secrets.

  I pitched a denuded chicken bone into the basket. Eddy was watching me again, and I rubbed the frown out of my forehead and dragged my attention back to the stage.

  The musicians were winding up their set, and Hellhound beckoned the others into a brief conference that was inaudible over the hum of conversation in the bar. Then he perched on his stool again and pulled the microphone close.

  At the sound of the lead-in, my heart sank. I’d always liked the Eagles, but I really didn’t need to hear ‘Desperado’ right now. I pushed back my chair to leave as Hellhound leaned into the mike to sing, but he held me with his eyes and I sat helpless until he finished the song.

  At last, the sound of his guitar died away and his rough-edged voice sang the last word, caressing the silence with so much tenderness I lurched to my feet and stumbled blindly out of the bar.

  I was leaning against the wall staring at the parking lot when Hellhound came out and ambled over to lounge against the wall beside me.

  After a while, I turned to face him. “Why did you sing that?”

  “Thought ya needed to hear it.”

  I hid my irritation in a noncommittal grunt. “Mm. Well, I’m going in. My chicken wings are getting cold.”

  He spoke as I heaved myself away from the wall. “Aydan, just hang on a second.” I turned reluctantly and he met my eyes. “Listen, I know ya love Kane but ya don’t wanna take a chance on gettin’ hurt.”

  “No, I just don’t want to make all the compromises a relationship needs. I like being on my own. Same as you.”

  He shook his head. “It ain’t the same. I got reasons-”

  “Which you obviously think are better than mine,” I interrupted.

  “It’s different for me,” he said.

  When I planted my fists on my hips and glared at him, he sighed. “Fine, ya wanna know the truth? Ya know I like bein’ on my own. But even if I didn’t, my cat’s the only fam’ly I’m ever gonna have. I ain’t gonna take a chance on followin’ in the ol’ man’s footsteps.”

  His raw honesty wrenched my heart. “Oh, Arnie, you wouldn’t! You’d never hit your family.” I wrapped my arms around him, wishing there was a way to heal his unseen scars. His arms closed around me in return, and I held him close before pulling back to meet his eyes. “You’re nothing like your da- …old man.”

  He gave me a half-smile. “Thanks, darlin’. But we ain’t talkin’ about me. Listen, I know ya been through some bad shit, but no lies now.” He stroked my hair, his level gaze compelling me to truthfulness. “D’ya really not wanna be with Kane? Or are ya just too scared to try?”

  “Arnie, let it go, okay? I’m trying to protect him.”

  “How d’ya figure?” he demanded. “Tell me how you’re protectin’ him
by shuttin’ him out.”

  I closed my eyes momentarily to dispel the memories before speaking to his chest. “I can’t give him what he wants. If I don’t end it, he’ll just keep giving and hoping until he’s got nothing left. It’s even worse than getting hit. Your body can heal, but starving for scraps of love kills your soul.” I met his eyes. “I won’t do that to him.”

  We gazed each other for a long moment.

  “Aw, darlin’,” he rasped, and folded me into his arms. I laid my head against his shoulder, and we held each other in silence.

  After a moment, Hellhound straightened. “Well, ain’t we a pair a’ fuckups?”

  I blew out a short laugh. “Yeah. That’s why we’re so good together.”

  “Aydan…” He drew back. “Ya know I don’t wanna get between you an’ Kane…”

  I cut him off with a sigh. “Arnie, there’s nothing to get between. How many times do I need to say it?”

  “Until I believe it, I guess.” He held up a restraining hand as I opened my mouth to argue. “Darlin’, I just gotta say this one thing, an’ then I’m gonna butt out. Ya say ya can’t love him, an’ maybe you’re right, but listen. You’re as tough as they come. All the times ya took a shit-kickin’, I only ever saw ya cry your eyes out once.”

  He cupped my cheek in a gentle palm. “An’ that was when ya thought you’d lost Kane for good.” His lips brushed my forehead. “Just somethin’ to think about.”

  I leaned my head against his chest. “There was another time you didn’t see,” I murmured. I raised my gaze to his. “It was when I thought I’d lost you.” I touched his dear, ugly face where the bruises were finally beginning to fade to a dirty yellowish-brown. “Just something to think about.”

  He stared down at me for a couple of long seconds while I hoped I hadn’t activated his well-developed flight response. Then he smiled and his arms tightened around me.

  “Lucky I know ya ain’t lookin’ for commitment,” he rasped. “Or I’d be runnin’ like hell right about now.”

  I grinned up at him. “Chickenshit.”

  “Look who’s talkin’.”

  Back inside the bar, I nibbled at my remaining cold chicken wings while I tried to immerse myself in the blues. The musicians were as good as ever and the crowd was getting louder. My mind relentlessly turned my scant facts over and over while the shouts of good-natured abuse among the rowdy cluster of men at the bar scraped my already-chafed nerves raw.

  I was just about to signal Darlene for my bill when three of the noisiest drinkers separated themselves from the group to stumble purposefully in my direction.

  I eased to a more alert position, ready to move fast if necessary.

  “Hey,” the tall string-bean slurred cheerfully. “Don’t I know you?”

  “Nope, ‘fraid not,” I said, trying for pleasant but dismissive.

  His short, pudgy companion elbowed him with a juicy snicker. “You just don’t know her with her clothes on. I told you, that’s Arlene Cherry, dummy.”

  “No, sorry, you’ve got the wrong person,” I said firmly, standing up to edge away.

  Stringbean closed in a pace, peering down with a delighted grin. “Wow, howdy, Miss Cherry, I sure am a fan!”

  “Sorry, I’m not Arlene Cherry. I have to go…”

  Too late. The third man chimed in, droplets of spit spraying from his loose lips. “’S’not ‘Rlene Sherry,” he hiccupped. “Tits’r too shmall.”

  “Is so,” Pudge argued. “You can’t tell under that sweatshirt. She’s probably got ‘em strapped down or something.”

  “Hey, now,” Stringbean protested. “That ain’t no way to talk in front of a lady. Miss Cherry, you just ignore these boys, they ain’t got no class.”

  “F…fuck clash,” Spitbucket slurred, drooling an unattractive string of saliva over his lower lip with the fricative consonant. “She’sh a f…fuckin’ porn shtar. She f… fucks for a livin’. Hey honey, sh…show me your titsh.” He lurched forward, hand outstretched, just as Stringbean stepped toward him, his face darkening.

  Spitbucket attempted a dodge and tripped over his own feet. His momentum pitched him forward, slamming his palm with unerring and unfortunate accuracy onto my left boob.

  I let out a yell at the impact, slapping his hand away and shoving at him to deflect his fall when he continued to topple forward. Seconds later, my back was jammed against the table in an attempt to avoid the action when Stringbean folded Spitbucket in half with a fist to the gut. Pudge made an ill-advised attempt to separate them, and in seconds all three men’s fists were swinging.

  Some other members of their group hurried to intervene, but an unlucky backhand from one of the fighters made contact with a face, and the erstwhile peacemakers dove into the fray, bellowing.

  I did a quick shimmy sideways, collecting a couple of minor bruises while I squeezed around the yelling, flailing tangle of bodies. I had almost made it clear when the volume and pitch of the battle changed suddenly behind me.

  I whipped around in time to see Kane and Hellhound wading into the melee while Eddy slipped out from behind the bar carrying a short but business-like wooden bat. Several brawlers backed off fast and melted into the crowd. Two others rushed Hellhound from opposite sides, fists windmilling, but he simply took a step back and seized a collar in each fist, augmenting their forward momentum with a jerk of his powerful arms. Their foreheads slammed together and they collapsed like rag dolls at his feet.

  Three misguided fools tackled Kane, who dropped them in their tracks with lightning-fast blows, his face reflecting no more concern than if he’d swatted some particularly annoying gnats.

  Eddy slowed to a halt, staring open-mouthed while his unused bat sank to half-mast. The sudden silence in the bar surged into an excited hum as Kane and Hellhound stepped over the groaning bodies to my side.

  Hellhound slid an arm around me. “Ya okay, darlin’?”

  “Fine. Thanks.” I looked up at Kane, who was still wearing his cop face. “Where did you come from?” I asked. “I didn’t even see you.”

  “I was over in the corner. I came in when you were outside a few minutes ago.” He gave me an unreadable look. “If you’re all right, I’ll start doing my RCMP act here.” He jerked a contemptuous thumb over his shoulder at the one-time brawlers, who were slowly dragging themselves into varying approximations of sitting.

  “I’m fine. Don’t charge the tall guy, he was trying to help me.” I peered around Kane, but Stringbean had vanished. He must have been part of the smarter retreating contingent, and I was glad. He’d seemed like a decent guy. “Never mind, he’s gone anyway,” I added.

  Kane nodded and turned away.

  “Well, darlin’, had enough excitement for one night?” Hellhound inquired.

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  Little did he know how exciting my evening had really been.

  “Kane’s going to have some explaining to do,” I muttered to Hellhound. “He told Eddy he was an energy consultant.”

  “No big deal. He’ll just say he’s RCMP workin’ undercover.” He caught my eye meaningfully. “An’ he is. Technically.”

  “True.” I fumbled in my waist pouch with a trembling hand and dug out a twenty. I caught Eddy’s eye as he worked with Kane to sort out the bodies, and he nodded when I tucked the money next to the cash register at the bar.

  I turned back to Hellhound. “Thanks for rescuing me, but what if one of those guys had landed a punch on your face? You’re nowhere near healed. I can’t even imagine how much that would hurt.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, prob’ly woulda pissed me off pretty good. Lucky for them they didn’t. Come on, I’ll walk ya to your car.”

  Chapter 21

  At home, I wandered restlessly through the house, waiting for the last of the adrenaline to dissipate and trying to put together pieces that didn’t form any kind of recognizable picture. Not for the first time, I wished I had Hellhound’s photographic memory. I didn’t dare write anyt
hing down.

  So Smith had known Sirius was trying to recruit me. Why would a Russian agent know about Sirius’s programs? Unless Robert had told him, but that didn’t add up because Smith had said ‘Robert didn’t know at first’.

  But Robert had known about Sirius’s recruitment plans right from the start. So what had Smith told him that he hadn’t already known?

  And then there was ‘I had Irina, Robert had you…’

  Irina suffered from schizophrenia and killed herself. Wait, who had mentioned schizophrenia recently?

  Smith, that’s who. After the ghost showed up in the network. And he had looked inexplicably concerned.

  I stared at my wide-eyed reflection in the hall mirror. Kasper the Friendly Ghost? I thought Robert’s joke had been that ‘ghost’ meant ‘spy’. But could Smith actually be the ghost in the network? Could he somehow invade my brain? That sure as hell hadn’t felt friendly. Surely Robert wouldn’t joke about something like that. Would he?

  I stumbled down the hallway, unable to keep still while my mind worked furiously.

  Shit, I’d been right. Smith hadn’t been concerned for me. He’d been worried because he’d been caught trying to control me.

  Or maybe he was just remembering how his girlfriend died. His girlfriend, who had apparently done what I did…

  My heart kicked my ribs, adrenaline surging. The Russians had a brainwave-driven network, too! And they’d been using it long before I ever started. That’s what Robert hadn’t known.

  Shit, what did that really mean? And why was Smith here in Canada at Sirius now? Was he still working for the Russians? Or somebody else? Using me instead of Irina to gather information so he could relay it to enemies unknown?

  I stood frozen for a long moment in the middle of my living room, my pulse thundering in my ears before I jerked into action, snatching up the phone.

  The receiver was clenched in my hand, my finger poised over the buttons before reason reasserted itself. Who was I going to call? And what was I going to say?

  I couldn’t say anything to Stemp without revealing the fact that Robert was still alive, and as soon as I did, he was as good as dead. I had to talk to Robert first.