How Spy I Am

by Diane Henders

  The memory hadn’t improved with age. The face contorted with agony and terror. The legs dangling uselessly from the shattered pelvis. The sight and smell of the mangled, protruding viscera. The hands that clawed desperately for aid, or at least merciful oblivion. The unending raw-throated screams…

  I sat up in my real-world chair in time to see Sam vomit into the garbage can. The smell of fresh puke did nothing to soothe my clenched gut. Kane’s face was set in grim lines, and Dr. Cartwright’s eyes were wide and dark above cheeks as white as his hair.

  I unclenched my aching fists and rubbed sweaty, shaking palms against my jeans.

  “Well, that was fun,” I croaked. I cleared my throat and tried again while Sam subsided into dry heaves. “How many times will we have to do this?”

  “I… don’t know…” Dr. Cartwright’s voice was a dry whisper. “How much more… is there?”

  “Shit.” I sank my head into my hands to rub my throbbing temples.

  “Oh. Oh dear.” When I looked up, the doctor was rising unsteadily. “I’ll be back momentarily.” He left the room, grasping at the desk, doorknob, and door frame as if for support.

  Sam unfolded to totter after him, still clutching the wastebasket, leaving Kane and Betty and me together in the silence.

  I got up to stroke the too-bright coppery hair off the pale forehead. “Poor Betty,” I murmured. “I’m so sorry.” Her impassive stare made me wrap my arms around the aching knot in my chest.

  When Kane’s arms closed around me from behind, I leaned into him, taking comfort from his big, hard-muscled warmth. We stood together for a while, wordlessly regarding the latest innocent person I’d harmed.

  When Sam and the doctor returned, they still looked pale.

  “Do we really have to keep doing this?” I asked. “Shouldn’t we give her a break?”

  “One more session,” Dr. Cartwright said without conviction. “I’ve discussed the case with one of my colleagues in psychology, and we agree that Betty’s current state is likely a form of post-traumatic stress syndrome, caused by sudden exposure to a deluge of your,” he swallowed. “…extremely stressful experiences. We should be able to treat her with benzodiazepines and therapy, but it would be helpful to understand exactly what experiences she’s dealing with.”

  “But wouldn’t it be better for me to just tell you instead of putting her through it again? And why is she having such an extreme reaction? I mean, yeah, those memories are…” I searched for the right word for a moment before giving up and taking a deep breath instead. “…but I’ve dealt with them. If she absorbed all my experiences, she should be dealing with them the same way, shouldn’t she?”

  “No,” Dr. Cartwright said reluctantly. “Only the data of the memory would be transferred, not the emotions attached to it. Emotions are a complex psychophysiological reaction generated within the brain. So depending on your past experiences and your own… wiring, if you will… you may experience an intense emotional reaction to an event that wouldn’t affect Betty in the least, and vice versa. And the memories with the most emotional weight are the ones that tend to persist.”

  “So she’s just reliving my worst memories over and over.” I thought about that for a second. “I guess that makes sense. I didn’t react to Betty’s memories because nothing bad has ever happened to her, I mean, other than her husband dying in that construction accident, but nothing outside my range of experience…”

  I trailed off and sat up straighter as another thought occurred to me. “Oh, that makes sense then.” At Sam’s questioning look, I explained, “That’s why I was so upset about Betty’s granddaughter right after we collided.”

  Sam gave me an understanding look. “You don’t have children of your own. So the fulfillment of your yearning for that experience had a tremendous impact on you.”

  “Um.” I squirmed a little at the sight of his compassionate expression. “Not exactly. Actually, I kind of freaked out. The thought of any kind of dependent relationship makes me want to run for the hills. It’s like claustrophobia or something.”

  “Oh.” He looked taken aback. “But… you were so concerned about Cassandra…”

  “You don’t abandon a child. No matter what. You just don’t.” I eyed his uncomprehending expression with frustration. “Forget it. My point is, just let me tell you the rest of my shit, and then Betty doesn’t have to go through it all again.”

  Dr. Cartwright spoke up. “It would be more useful for you to go into the sim. Dr. Kraus and I believe we can manipulate the sim externally to mitigate its effect on Betty.”

  I blew out a sigh of resignation. “Okay. Let’s do it then.”

  In the void once more, I approached Betty’s avatar cautiously. “Betty…”

  Sudden stickiness slowed my movements, and rage seared my veins.

  “NO FUCKING WAY!” My voice was a hellish shriek as I slammed all my fear and anger and guilt and pain into a fireball of destruction.

  Annihilate that fucking ghost. Utterly and forever.

  When I opened my eyes in physical reality again, Sam was hunched trembling on his knees, struggling for breath. Dr. Cartwright lay crumpled motionless on the floor.

  Kane bolted from his chair, already beside Dr. Cartwright before I fully realized what was happening. As Kane started chest compressions, I dove for the door, yelling for Candy to call an ambulance.

  In the subsequent pandemonium, I stayed out of the way while paramedics strapped Dr. Cartwright into a stretcher and whisked him away. Sam had regained some colour, and I overheard him convincing another paramedic that he didn’t require medical attention.

  I started toward him, but he gave me an unreadable look before his gaze slid away to the corner of the room. He hurried away from the insistent paramedic, vanishing down the hallway.

  When the last ambulance left, Kane assessed my shaking hands. “Let’s go and get you something to eat,” he said.

  “I can’t. Not right away.” I shook myself, trying to relax my knotted muscles. “I need to go for a run or something.”

  Kane gave me a wry smile. “Let’s make it a walk. I don’t want to have to pick you up off the ground.”

  “Good point.”

  As we crossed the lobby, Candy called out from behind us, hurrying breathlessly from another corridor.

  “Wait, Ms. Widdenback, hold up. I have an urgent message for you, just came in a minute ago.”

  Shit, now what?

  I turned to take the slip of paper from her, tension winding up in my shoulders again. I peered at the cryptic message for a few moments, frowning. I turned the slip over, but there was nothing else.

  “What is this?” I asked. “Who is it from?”

  Candy returned my puzzled frown. “He said you’d know.”

  My stomach squeezed into a hard lump. Shit, shit, shit!

  I forced a nonchalant laugh. “I must be more tired than I thought. Thanks, Candy, you’re right, I do know, of course.”

  “Oh, goody, I’m glad I didn’t mess up,” she said solemnly. “I’m just so discombobulated. Isn’t that just terrible about Dr. Cartwright? He’s such a nice man. I hope he’ll be all right.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I’ll keep him in my prayers for sure. See y’all tomorrow, then.”

  “Tomorrow?” I casually stuffed the message into my pocket while I shot a glance up at Kane’s frown. “Are we supposed to come back?”

  “Yes, Dr. Kraus says he’ll still need you tomorrow,” Candy confirmed.

  “Okay. See you then.”

  I turned and made for the door before anything else could go wrong.

  On the sidewalk, Kane eyed me expressionlessly. “Who is the message from, and how did he know where to find you?”

  I drew in a shallow breath, trying to calm my pounding pulse. “I don’t know.”

  Kane frowned down at me. “You don’t know who it’s from?”

  “I know who it’s from. I don’t know how he knew I was here.”<
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  Kane stepped protectively between me and the street, and we simultaneously checked out the quiet neighbourhood. The few pedestrians paid us no attention, and I didn’t spot anybody sitting in the parked cars. When I looked up at Kane, I could see his gaze picking out spaces between the buildings and sweeping the rooftops.

  “Let’s go,” he said abruptly, and hustled me into the car.

  He drove a circuitous route for nearly half an hour without speaking, his gaze flicking between the surrounding traffic, the rear-view mirror, and the sky. I watched traffic, too, but didn’t spot any vehicle that seemed to be keeping up with us.

  At length, Kane blew out a short breath and shot me a glance. “See anything?”

  “No.”

  “Me neither. Who was the message from?”

  I stared out the windshield. Here we go again.

  “I can’t tell you.”

  In my peripheral vision, I saw his hand clench on the steering wheel.

  When he spoke, it was in his controlled cop voice. “Aydan, it’s my responsibility to keep you safe. I need to know about any and all potential threats. Someone who knows about your movements to and from a classified facility definitely qualifies as a potential threat.”

  “I don’t think you have to worry about this.”

  Robert already knew about Sirius as well as the Russian program. If he’d known about them, it wasn’t surprising that he knew about this installation in Macon, too.

  Kane’s voice interrupted my thoughts. The controlled cop voice had developed an edge. “You don’t think I need to worry. Do you have any idea how much that worries me?”

  I went for firm and decisive. “John, please don’t worry. I’ll deal with this.”

  “What was in the message?” He sounded much too calm.

  “I can’t tell you.”

  The car jerked to a halt in front of the B & B. “Dammit, Aydan!” he barked, but I was already halfway out of the car.

  I jogged up the walk and slipped through the front door just as he caught up with me. Shock immobilized me and Kane bumped into me with a muffled grunt, his hand flying out to steady me as I stumbled forward into the room.

  “Hello, honey-lambs.” Lurene greeted us with aplomb, tucking her enormous breasts back into their snug orange prison as she slid off the desk where she had perched in front of Winston. He offered another of his mute, friendly nods and leaned around Lurene to see the computer screen.

  “S-sorry,” I stammered, completely flustered. “Um, sorry, I’ll just…” I scurried down the hallway and locked myself into my room.

  I dove onto the bed and clamped the pillow over my head with a groan. Didn’t need to see that.

  Ohmigod, Kane was so pissed. And Betty was so traumatized and Dr. Cartwright hadn’t been moving at all when they loaded him into the ambulance and Robert had somehow managed to follow me into the States…

  I let out a moan that turned into a whimper while I pounded a fist into the mattress. Goddammit, could this day get any worse?

  Chapter 32

  I woke to long shadows and a persistent tapping at my door.

  “Arlene.” Kane’s voice drifted in from the corridor. “Time to go for supper.”

  I bolted upright, staring at my watch. Six o’clock. Shit, I hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

  “Just a minute,” I mumbled as Kane tapped again. I scrounged in my pocket and extracted the scrap of paper with a shaking hand. An address, ‘21:00’, and a single word: ‘alone’.

  How the hell was I supposed to get the keys from Kane, slip away from him, and find this address? I had no way of knowing where it was or how long it would take me to get there.

  I yawned hugely and stumbled to the bathroom. Hairbrush in hand, I stood in front of the mirror absently contemplating the pillow-crease in my cheek while my mind wrestled with logistics.

  Okay, one thing at a time. If I had the car, I could use the GPS to find the address. So all I had to do was steal the keys and escape from a highly-trained and experienced secret agent.

  Hell, no problem. I could do that twice before dinner.

  Not.

  I groaned and turned to thud my forehead against the door.

  When it suddenly swung open, I lurched forward off balance, snatching my gun out of its holster in sheer panic. I stopped the motion at the same time Kane’s hand shot out to clamp around my wrist.

  “Jesus Christ!” I gasped. “Don’t fucking do that! What the hell were you thinking?”

  “Sorry.” He released my wrist slowly. “I’ve been knocking on your door and calling you, but you didn’t answer. I was afraid you were vanishing out the window. Again.” He glanced at the open bathroom window before returning his hard gaze to me. “You wouldn’t do that, would you?”

  It sounded more like a threat than a question, and residual adrenaline made me bristle before I could stop myself.

  “I said ‘Just a minute’. And opening a window wasn’t a crime last time I checked,” I snarled. “And if you ever, and I mean ever break in on me while I’m sitting on the can, I will not hesitate to shoot you. Got it?”

  I jammed my gun back into its holster and pushed past him to retrieve my sweatshirt. While I jerked it on over my head and yanked the brush through my hair, he stood with his back to me, rigid as carved stone.

  “What’s your problem?” I snapped.

  His voice was mild and quiet. “Please don’t threaten me.”

  Something in his tone chased a shiver of primal fear down my spine, and my faulty emotional wiring instantly translated it to fury. “Or what?” I ground out.

  He stood silently, his shoulders seeming to expand in the narrow doorway.

  “Oh, there you are, honey-pie,” Lurene carolled from the doorway.

  Kane turned, his face pleasantly composed, his posture relaxed.

  Damn, I wished I could learn that trick.

  “Here’s the address for that restaurant I was telling you about.” Lurene wobbled over on too-high heels to press a small piece of paper into Kane’s hand. “I just know you’ll love it. Don’t you forget to have the pecan pie. It’s the best in Macon!”

  Kane accepted the paper with a smile and thanked her, causing a great fluttering of eyelashes and jewellery-encrusted hands. As she turned away her heel caught on the carpet, and Kane quickly reached to steady her.

  “Oooh, thank you!” Her attempt at a coo sounded more like a rusted gate hinge. She wrapped both hands around Kane’s bulging bicep, peeking up at him through heavily-mascaraed lashes. “You know, big boy, you could be a movie star yourself. Couldn’t he?” She shot me a coy look while her hand slid over his chest.

  My mean streak surfaced. “Oh, he’s already in the industry. They call him Big John the Wonder Horse.” The words popped out before I could stop them, and I clapped my hand over my mouth in horror.

  Kane was going to kill me. Right here on the spot. In front of a witness.

  “Ooooh…” Lurene’s eyes and hand travelled southward.

  Kane’s smile remained in place, but I caught the dangerous glint in those storm-grey eyes. “Don’t tell anybody,” he said as he gently caught her hand in the guise of escorting her to the door. “I’m in confidential contract negotiations, so it’s all very hush-hush. Thank you for the restaurant recommendation. Arlene and I have to get going now.”

  When he turned back to me, Lurene caught my eye from behind him. She flashed me her carnivorous grin and fanned herself briefly before strolling away, her balance impeccable on those high heels.

  After a moment, Kane spoke into the thick silence. “We should go.”

  The silence persisted until we were seated in the upscale restaurant. I bit my tongue to keep from babbling inanities and studied the menu as if cramming for an exam. When I had it memorized, I laid it down and let my gaze travel across the polished tables, candles, and fresh flowers, trying to relax into the soft music and subdued murmur of well-bred voices.

  I drew a breath of relief
when the waiter arrived, but Kane spoke before I could. “We’ll have a bottle of the Sauvignon Blanc,” he said, and lapsed into silence again as the waiter retreated.

  I considered arguing his high-handedness, but picking a fight and storming out would be childish, and after all, he’d ordered my favourite. I squelched my temper with an effort.

  When the waiter returned with the bottle, Kane actually allowed me to order my meal all by myself, and I sipped gratefully at the wine after the waiter had faded away again.

  Kane’s voice made me twitch. “So. Big John the Wonder Horse.”

  “Uh.” I glanced up to meet his level gaze and looked away quickly. “Sorry, um…”

  “You named me after a giant silicone penis. The one Lola keeps on display at Up & Coming.”

  “Um…” I chanced another quick peek at his face. “So, um… you’re flattered, right?”

  He didn’t smile. “Is that why Lola calls me Big John?”

  “No! Well, yeah, probably… I mean…” I shook myself and gulped a mouthful of wine before meeting his eyes. “I swear I had nothing to do with that. Lola called you that long before we ever…”

  “So you never discussed me with Lola.” The dangerous glint was back.

  “No!”

  “You’re lying again, aren’t you?”

  I thumped my head against the back of the seat, wondering if it was actually possible to beat myself unconscious. Probably not a good time to find out.

  “No! I mean, yes, I discussed you with Lola, but not that way. She was bugging me about making a move on you, and I told her I wouldn’t. That’s it.”

  “So her nickname for me is sheer coincidence.”

  “Well, no, of course not. I mean…” I stopped myself halfway through a gesture toward his lap. “She saw you in your motorcycle chaps. Those things just…”