How Spy I Am

by Diane Henders

  With agonizing slowness, I gathered my scattered self and crept homeward.

  At last, I collected my accumulated data and hovered outside Sirius’s external firewall.

  Stay calm. Stay professional. He’ll get over it. Eventually.

  I hoped.

  I swallowed hard and slipped back into the file room, letting my avatar pop into visibility before I could change my mind.

  “Aydan, dammit, what the hell were you thinking? Where the hell were you?” Kane’s yell blasted me from close range, and I flinched before I could stop myself.

  “Gathering data, where do you think?” I swallowed the quiver in my voice and kept my tone cool and unemotional. “Spider, I’ve dumped some good stuff for you on the main server. I’m coming out now.”

  Kane’s big hand closed around my wrist, his grip frighteningly strong. I kept myself from jerking back with a supreme effort of will.

  “Don’t ever do that again,” he said quietly.

  “Or what?” I bit down defensive anger and kept my voice as soft as his. “I did exactly as you told me. Don’t give me an order if you don’t want me to follow it.”

  I turned toward the portal. He could let go of my arm or he could make a big scene. Up to him.

  He let go.

  The usual pain crashed through my head when I stepped out, and I wasn’t surprised when I didn’t feel Kane’s hands massaging my temples. I doubled over on the couch, clutching my head and savagely venting my pain and anger and disappointment in the foulest obscenities I could muster.

  When I finally straightened, I regarded the ring of shocked faces with bitter satisfaction.

  “Uh… Aydan… are you, uh… okay?” Spider quavered.

  “Fine.”

  I turned to appraise Kane’s black expression. Now was probably not the time to ask him for any favours. Strike him off my list of people to ask about Sirius’s recruitment program.

  Jack was eyeing him from the other side. “Let me take you to lunch,” she offered.

  Kane scowled. “I have to go and work out.” He stalked out, and after a moment of silence, I rose to hurry to the ladies’ room.

  When I emerged from the cubicle, Jack was leaning against the counter, her smooth forehead puckered with concern.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Fine. My back teeth were floating after four hours, that’s all.”

  “What’s going on with you and John?” she asked without preamble.

  “Nothing. I think he’s just hung over and grouchy.”

  “Oh.” She gave me a sidelong glance while I washed my hands. “Does he… do that often?”

  “I’ve never seen him like that before. I don’t know what his deal is today.”

  “Oh.” She made as if to speak again, but closed her mouth instead, her full lips tightening. As I made the two-point dropshot with my balled-up paper towel and turned for the door, her sultry voice stopped me. “Do you… um, would you like to go to lunch?”

  I suppressed a sigh. She probably wanted to talk about Kane. That’s all I needed right now.

  Fine. Silver linings. Maybe I could encourage her. Maybe a romp in the sack with a gorgeous woman would knock the chip off his shoulder.

  “Sure.” I massaged the ache in my forehead. “Let’s go.”

  I settled into my usual corner at the Melted Spoon and regarded my grilled sandwich without interest. Normally its savoury aroma would make my mouth water, but Kane’s bad mood seemed to be catching. I forced my expression into something I hoped was pleasantness when Jack slid into the chair opposite me, apparently oblivious to the male stares that had followed her progress across the cafe.

  She took an enthusiastic bite of her sandwich. “The food here is so excellent. It never ceases to amaze me how a small town can support such high-quality eateries.”

  “Yeah, we’re lucky.” I took a bite of my own sandwich. God, this was going to be a long lunch.

  We chewed in silence for a few moments. Jack seemed to be struggling with a need to say something, and finally I couldn’t take it anymore.

  “What’s bothering you?” I asked.

  She gave me a startled glance, her blue eyes wide. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say it’s obvious, but you look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

  A flattering pink flush stained her cheeks. Of course it was flattering. Jeez. She could wear ratty sweatpants with curlers in her hair, and she’d still be gorgeous.

  “Actually, I…” Her gaze fluttered down to her plate while her flush deepened. “You’re going to think this is silly.”

  Oh, yeah, here we go. This is the part where she confesses she’s madly in love with Kane and wants my advice on how to snare him…

  I kept the resignation out of my voice and managed gentle encouragement. “Try me.”

  “I just…” She looked up and her words tumbled out, her eyes sparkling. “I just wanted to tell you I’m so excited to be working with you. I’ve read every scrap of information about your project and all your mission reports and I’m thrilled to be on your team…” She broke off, blushing furiously as my mouth dropped open. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to sound so…”

  “It’s okay,” I assured her quickly. “You didn’t, I mean… that just wasn’t quite what I expected.” I gathered my scattered wits. “Thanks, I’m really glad to have you on my team, too.”

  She cast a glance around the nearly-empty cafe and leaned closer. “What’s it like to be a secret agent? How can you keep putting yourself in danger over and over? Your mission reports read like a movie.” She paused only long enough to draw a breath. “Escaping burning buildings, and car chases and shootouts, and being kidnapped and beaten and tortured…”

  I held up a hand to stem the flow. “I’m not an agent, I’m just an asset, and as soon as Stemp finds a way to replace me, he’ll kill me. As to what it’s like…” I gave her a half-shrug. “I have a lot of nightmares.”

  Jack sagged back into her chair, her colour draining away. “He’s going to kill you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What… How can you…” She snapped upright. “That’s criminal! After all you’ve done! How can you just sit there and say that like you’re talking about the weather?”

  “That’s what the weather’s like in my world.” A sudden thought hit me. “Hey, Jack, you said you read up on my project?”

  “Yes, of course, I read all of Sam’s research and all the internal files… But… How can you just…” She still looked taken aback, but her blue gaze sharpened. “Can I help you with something?”

  “Maybe you can. Can you tell me what I’m supposed to be doing in the network?”

  The faint wrinkle appeared between her brows again. “You don’t… know… what you’re doing?”

  I laughed. “No, I know what I’m doing, I’m just wondering why Sirius wanted to recruit me in the first place. I got the impression my ability to decrypt and sneak around in networks came as a surprise to Stemp. Unless he was faking it, the twisty bastard,” I added thoughtfully.

  “You really don’t like him, do you?”

  “Let’s just say we’ve locked horns in the past. There’s not much trust on either side.”

  “I think you’re wrong about that,” she said seriously. “I think he trusts you as much as any of his other agents.”

  I let that sink in for a moment. “Which is no farther than he can throw any of us.”

  She gave me one of her radiant smiles. “Occupational hazard.”

  “I guess.”

  “Anyway, to answer your question,” she said briskly, “You’re right, your abilities were a complete surprise to everyone. Sam expected you to have certain special abilities that nobody else has, but decryption and invisible network intrusion weren’t on the list. You were put on the recruitment list at an early age because Sam knew from his tests that you’d be a super-user.”

  I stared at her. �
��Which means what, exactly?”

  “What do you know about Project Wetware?”

  “Absolutely fuck-all. Sorry,” I added as Jack twitched. “I don’t know anything about it. I’ve never even heard of it.”

  “Oh. Well, in that case, I’ll give you the short and sweet version.” She smiled. “You might as well eat while I’m talking.”

  I glanced down at my forgotten sandwich, my heart pounding. Finally, I was going to find out what had shaped my entire life. What Robert had died for…

  I stopped that habitual train of thought with the brakes of remembrance. What he’d pretended to die for. Totally different thing.

  I picked up the sandwich to take a half-hearted nibble, trying to hide my shaking hands.

  “Project Wetware was Sam’s brainchild in the early sixties,” Jack began, her tones taking on the comfortable cadence of a lecturing professor. “As you undoubtedly know, the computer age was in its infancy then. The technology was bulky and primitive, and there were substantial limitations on processing power and storage capabilities.”

  I nodded encouragement and took another bite.

  “Sam was part of a group of researchers at MIT. Their theory was that the human brain was a far faster and more efficient processor than anything that could ever be created from inorganic materials. Over several years they developed a theoretical model that would allow them to hook up to human brainwaves, using the brain as a central processing unit. The theory was so promising that they were given funding to begin widespread testing for the specific qualities they’d identified as optimum for their human subjects.”

  She stopped to take a bite of her sandwich, and I frowned at her. “So I was supposed to be a human computer? But why would the U.S. government fund testing in Canada?”

  Jack nodded, swallowed, and continued. “Yes, you were; and they didn’t. By the time the funding came through, Sam had moved back to Canada and set up Sirius Dynamics, so development took place on both sides of the border. The Canadian government picked up the tab for Sam’s work here in Canada while his counterparts in the States were funded through the U.S. government.”

  “Sam owns Sirius Dynamics?”

  “The civilian research branch, yes.” She paused for another bite. “The true wetware system using a human brain as a central processor didn’t develop as planned. By the early 1970s, they completed the initial stage of development, which allowed them to access a traditional network via a brainwave-driven interface. The interface was quite primitive compared to what we have now, but it opened the door to some very exciting possibilities in the area of virtual reality. The original Project Wetware was and is still under development, but it took second place to the virtual reality sims.”

  She smiled. “And that’s when Sam got really motivated to recruit you. That’s when they discovered super-users.”

  “Which means?”

  “When a super-user is inside a virtual reality simulation, the whole sim has more power. Anybody who’s in the sim can manipulate the constructs more easily, sustain much more detailed sims, and perform operations that are an order of magnitude more complex than anything that can be done without you present. Without a super-user, we have to create constructs externally and we can only manipulate them within a very limited functional range.”

  “So I’m like a turbocharger for the sim.”

  She chuckled. “Exactly.”

  “So that’s why they wanted me, but it wasn’t important enough to conscript me.”

  “Government red tape.” Jack shrugged irritably. “When you depend on government funding, you can grow old and die waiting. I completed my doctoral thesis over a decade ago, and I only received funding for my project a couple of years ago.”

  She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “You may not like Stemp, but he gets the job done. When he took over as director and found out about my project, I had funding within two months.”

  I couldn’t suppress a cynical snort. “Yeah, as long as it’s something he can use for spying, he’s right on it.”

  “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.” She met my eyes levelly. “He’s dedicated to our national security, and it’s long past time we had someone who’s willing to make the tough decisions.”

  “Like setting up a nice little Aydan barbeque with his fucking butane torch,” I snapped before I could stop myself.

  Jack paled as her gaze followed my hand’s unconscious motion to the dressing on my arm. I aborted the gesture and internally cursed myself for speaking too freely.

  “Never mind,” I added. “Forget I said that.”

  She laid the remains of her sandwich down as if it suddenly revolted her. “He did that to you?” she asked softly.

  “No, he just gave the order. And I don’t think he intended it to go that far. Forget it. You’re probably right, he’s just doing what he has to do.”

  “And you’ll let him kill you, too.” Her blue eyes clouded, and she reached across the table to squeeze my hand. “Because you believe it’s the right thing for our country. Oh, Aydan.”

  I withdrew my hand uncomfortably to reach for my tea. “Yeah, well, anyway. I wondered what this whole project was all about, and it makes a lot more sense now. Thanks.”

  I leaned back in my chair to sip my tea. A human turbocharger for their sims. So I boosted their processing power, so what? It seemed like such a small thing for Stemp to kill for.

  No, that wasn’t it. Stemp hadn’t killed… shit, tried to kill Robert because he wanted me for the network. He’d given the order because Robert was about to betray national security. And now, knowing Robert was still alive, I had to admit I understood Stemp’s motivation. How dangerous was a spy like Robert, on the loose with classified knowledge in his head?

  I hid my shudder and stood. “Guess we’d better get back. Thanks again, Jack, I really appreciate the crash course in Project Wetware.”

  “You’re welcome.” She beamed and rose to drop the remains of her sandwich in the garbage on the way out. “Do you… would you like to do this again sometime?”

  “Sure.”

  “How about tomorrow?”

  “…uh.”

  “I’ve been dying for some really spicy homemade curry, and my kids won’t touch it. They’re with my ex this week, and I was going to make some for lunch tomorrow. Do you like curry?”

  My mouth watered. “Homemade curry? Sold! What time do you want me?”

  Her face lit up. “I’m always up at the crack of dawn, so how about an early lunch? Say eleven?”

  “Perfect, I can hardly wait.”

  I had just settled onto the sofa in my office when Kane appeared in the doorway, accompanied by a whiff of shampoo. We all eyed him warily as he seated himself, but it seemed the dangerous animal of the morning was dormant, at least temporarily.

  “Ready?” Spider asked cautiously. His eyes flicked in Kane’s direction before returning to me.

  I shot a glance at Kane and received a nod, his cop face impenetrable.

  In the void of virtual reality, I was faintly disappointed when he popped into existence looking exactly as he did in real life. Whatever had driven him in the morning seemed firmly under his control now. I was turning to face him when the sim turned syrupy around me.

  This time I knew exactly what was happening when my avatar began its slow, forced march down the virtual corridor.

  The first shock of terror morphed into pure red rage and I flung the full force of my metaphoric inferno against the ghost’s control. An instant later I was free, my shriek of defiance rising above the roar of the flames.

  “FUCK YOU, KASPER!”

  The sim dissolved into agony before oblivion swallowed me whole.

  Chapter 24

  I woke to the smell of gunpowder and a babble of voices. Exclamations of dismay and recrimination, the shuffle of moving chairs and feet, and underpinning the chaos, a quavering male voice muttered a steady litany, “Fuck-shit-fuck-shit-fuck-shit-fuck-shit-fuck-shit-�
��”

  I pried an eye open just as Stemp’s voice rose over the rest. “The situation is under control. Everyone back to work.” I caught a glimpse of him as he regarded the milling bodies with uncharacteristic frustration. “Never mind,” he barked. “Everyone go home. Take the afternoon off with pay.”

  That got their attention. The crowd began to thin out until only the young researcher remained rocking on his knees beside a bullet hole in the wall, his face as white as the paint while he chanted vulgarities.

  As I gradually registered my surroundings, I realized Kane was holding my head and shoulders in his lap, gently massaging my temples. I groaned, and Stemp watched me emotionlessly while I struggled upright.

  “I presume you’re all right,” he said.

  I followed his glance to the small tranquilizer dart lying on the coffee table beside me and sighed. “Fine.”

  “Very well.” Stemp shot a look around the room at Smith, Kane, Jack, and Spider. “Good work, all of you.”

  The young researcher’s head jerked up. “Good work?” he squeaked. “He nearly shot me. I nearly died. I was right on the other side of the wall… Fuck-shit-fuck…”

  Stemp crossed the room in a couple of strides and seized his arm, pulling him to his feet. “You’re fine,” he snapped. “Go home. Take the afternoon off.”

  He propelled the young man out the door and “Fuck-shit-fuck-shit…” receded down the hall.

  I blew out a long breath and turned to meet Kane’s steady gaze. “So?” I inquired.

  “A minor misunderstanding,” he said expressionlessly.

  “Uh-huh. What happened?”

  Kane seemed disinclined to explain, so I turned to Spider’s white face.

  “We, um…” Spider took a deep breath and tried again. “We saw the ghost. In Jack’s brainwave tracings. Jack yelled for me to shut down the sim and I was doing that when you caught fire in the sim, and then Smith shot your physical body with the trank so you wouldn’t suffer but Kane got the wrong idea and thought he was trying to kill you so he pulled his gun and Jack grabbed his arm and…” Spider stopped to suck in a breath.