How Spy I Am

by Diane Henders

  Jesus, idiot, get the hell back to the trees and-

  A booming bark was the only warning I got. The sweat congealed on my body as I spun to meet the security guard coming from the wrong fucking direction, the sneaky bastard.

  My trank gun was already in my hand, my finger convulsing on the trigger. The guard collapsed without a sound. As if in slow motion, I watched the dog’s leash slipping through his lax fingers.

  Too slowly, my gun moved to aim at the dog, already airborne with toothy jaws gaping. Too slowly, the trigger moved under my finger.

  I had exactly enough time to register the tiny flat sound of the trank gun’s report before a German Shepherd missile slammed into my chest.

  I struggled back to consciousness, groaning at the crushing pain. Something hairy and foul-tasting filled my mouth and I jerked back, gasping and spitting. The icy surface beneath me sucked every vestige of warmth from my back.

  My dark surroundings spun for a moment. When the world righted itself, I realized I was lying next to the door at the back of the building. I spat out dog hair and shoved the dog’s inert body off me, easing the pain where its weight had crushed my binoculars against my chest. The guard still lay where he’d fallen.

  Slow comprehension dawned. A few months ago Kane had explained how the trank guns worked, and I stifled a hysterical giggle when I realized I’d fired from such close range I’d been caught in the burst of short-acting aerosolized anaesthetic released at the dart’s impact.

  Lucky the longer-acting trank inside the dart had found its mark, or I’d have been counting tooth marks in my hide. I struggled to my feet and staggered back into the windbreak on shaking legs.

  Huddling next to my faithful tree, my mind careened from one possibility to the next. I had three trank darts left. I didn’t know how long I’d been unconscious, but I probably only had about ten minutes or so before the guard woke up. I could trank him and the dog again, but sooner or later somebody would come looking for them.

  I had to get into the damn building now, dammit!

  …Or did I?

  No way. That would be too easy…

  Without much hope, I slithered down to sit on the ground, leaning against the tree trunk just in case, and reached for the familiar void of virtual reality.

  My pessimism was confirmed when nothing happened. Of course they’d have the network contained inside the building with shielding. I blew out a trembling sigh, hauled myself to my feet, and brushed the snow off my butt. Only one option left.

  And it sucked shit.

  As I went by the sleeping guard, I used up another precious trank dart to make sure he’d stay quiet for at least another twenty minutes.

  Two darts left, and two magazines of real, lethal bullets for my Glock. I hoped I wouldn’t have to use them.

  Hurrying along the side of the building, I hugged the wall, panting shallowly through my mouth. This was probably the stupidest thing I’d ever done, but I didn’t have any choices left.

  At the corner, I peeked around into the brightly-lit yard. The vehicles were still there, the small house was still dark, and nothing moved. The main door mocked me from its position directly under the light. But it had a narrow window in it.

  I shot another fearful look around me, bit my lip, and ducked around the corner into the light. My back crawled while I scuttled over to the door. God, talk about conspicuous. My black leather would show up against the white steel like a cockroach in a bathtub.

  I crossed my fingers and bobbed my head up to peer into the window. A fast scan showed no movement, and I jerked the door open and slid through before my better judgement could kick in.

  A distant murmur of voices made me dodge into the nearest darkened doorway, heart pounding.

  “That you, Murren?”

  The raised male voice stabbed fear into my veins. Jesus, of course they’d have a security system. The door monitor must have chimed, just like my security system at home.

  “Hey, Murren!” A pause. “I don’t know. I’ll check. Be right back. Don’t start without me.” The voice was closer now as the speaker apparently approached the front door.

  I shot a panicked stare around the dim room. Just an office. No place to hide except under the desk. The first place he’d look if he started searching.

  Shit, shit, shit!

  I darted back to open and close the door, activating the door chime again before dashing back to dive into the footwell of the desk. I huddled there, easing my trank gun free.

  Idiot! There would be three Knights. I only had two darts left. Why the hell had I shot the damn guard again?

  Footsteps stopped in the corridor outside. I heard the door open and close as if the searcher had leaned outside to look around. I clamped a hand over my mouth to stifle my terrified panting.

  The footfalls receded along with the voice. “I don’t see anybody. He must’ve gone out again.”

  The voice faded to a mumble, and my hide-and-seek instincts from childhood sprang alive. I crept out of the shelter of the desk and scurried for the door. I’d always had my best success following the seeker. They rarely thought to look behind them.

  I peeked around the corner just in time to see the back of a stout white-haired man as he disappeared into the third doorway on the left. The other rooms along the hallway were in darkness, and at the end of the corridor I glimpsed a large open space. Probably the lab.

  I was sneaking along the corridor when his querulous voice rose above the murmur. “How should I know? I’m a scientist, not a security guard. Check it yourself if you’re so worried. Or page Murren.”

  I dodged frantically into the nearest doorway to flatten myself behind the half-open door, hardly breathing. Shit, this was the part where they called the security guard and got no answer.

  Right on cue, a second voice spoke, sounding puzzled. “He’s not answering.”

  “We’ve been breached! I told you we should’ve hired more than one security guard!” The thin, high-pitched voice quavered with age or fear, I wasn’t sure which.

  “Calm down, Plissol. You’re such a worrywart. I checked. Nobody was there.”

  “Because they’ve already killed the guard and sneaked in!” The thin voice rose. “I told you this was a stupid idea. We should never have sold Sam out. Now we’re all going to die and for what? A few lousy dollars that we’re too old to enjoy anyway-”

  “Shut up, Frank!” The third voice was deeper and more resonant, carrying with such clarity I twitched with the feeling the speaker was standing right outside the door.

  The organ-like tones continued, “Nobody’s here. We’re not going to die. It’s a hell of a lot more than a few dollars, and I, for one, plan to live the high life for a very long time. The guard’s probably having a smoke and couldn’t be bothered answering his radio. Those rent-a-cops are useless. I don’t know why we bother with them. We’ve had this installation for nearly forty years with no problem.”

  “But things have changed. Now we’re dealing with criminals-”

  “Who’ll want to protect us, not kill us,” the deep voice interrupted. “Our information is gold to them. We’re safer than we’ve ever been.”

  “There’s somebody here, I know it!” Plissol wasn’t giving up.

  “Fine!” The first speaker’s voice suddenly amplified as if he’d turned toward the doorway. “Let’s all go and search the place, and then maybe Plissol can relax and we can get on with tonight’s mission. Come on.”

  His statement was greeted by grumbling in two-part harmony, but the increasing volume told me they were approaching.

  I stopped breathing entirely, scouring the contents of the tiny room for a hiding place and finding none. A few boxes of copy paper were stacked against one wall, and a copier hummed quietly across from me. Not even enough space to squeeze behind it.

  Petrified, I watched through the crack behind the door as the stout white-haired man stumped past in the hallway, followed by a tall, thin, bald man. A few se
conds later, I identified Plissol as the short, slight man trailing them when he spoke again in his fearful quaver. “I don’t agree with this so-called mission tonight, either. We’ll attract far too much attention…”

  As he passed, I recognized my chance. I was trying to force my trembling legs to move when the stout man’s voice rose as if he’d turned back to speak to Plissol. “We won’t attract any attention at all, because nobody will ever know it’s us. And when we’re done, there won’t be anyone left who can identify us.”

  I froze again, blackness pulsing at the edges of my vision until I managed a few shallow breaths.

  “Except our mages,” Plissol muttered. “And Sam’s still out there somewhere.”

  “Our mages are safe and sound. They won’t be talking to anybody. And Sam isn’t going to talk. He won’t take a chance on going to jail. We can eliminate him at our leisure. Now can we please go back to our mission?”

  “No.” Plissol’s thin voice sounded frightened but determined. “I think there’s somebody in here, and I think something’s happened to the guard.”

  The voice faded as the speaker apparently turned away again. “Fine. Let’s get this over with so we can get down to business.”

  I waited a few more rapid heartbeats before peeping out the door to see Plissol disappearing around the corner. I made a silent dash in the opposite direction, praying the lab would be unoccupied.

  Luck was with me. It was deserted, computer screens glowing softly in the dim ambient lighting. Behind the desks and workbenches, a couple of rows of pallets marched off into the darkness, their boxes stacked head-high. I fled for their comparative safety and dodged behind the middle row.

  I hooked my fingers over the top of the boxes and dug my toes into the shrink-wrapped cracks between them to scramble atop the row, wincing at the noise and at the realization that I was undoubtedly leaving deep obvious dents in the cardboard. At least the boxes were solid enough to hold my weight.

  I flopped down on top of the dusty stack, gasping as quietly as possible. My waist pouch dug into my stomach, and I released its catch and set it in front of me while I lay prone, straining my ears to hear over my thumping heart.

  A faint rumble of voices drifted from the front of the building, but they’d apparently searched the front offices and decided they were secure. After several minutes of waiting, I began to relax when I realized they weren’t going to search the back areas.

  Thank heaven for arrogant brainiac scientists. If they’d been spies, I wouldn’t have had a chance.

  I crept forward on my stomach to get a view of the lab. The equipment might have meant something to Spider or Kasper, but it just looked like a bunch of computer stuff to me. Although over in the corner, on the workbench…

  I carefully freed my binoculars and peered through them. A jumble of silvery metallic frames came into focus, and I sucked in a breath as the dark mound beside them resolved itself into a pattern of regular brown and black markings. I was looking at the frames and skins for the animatronic goose models I’d seen when I was in their network.

  Squirming backward again, my waist holster caught on one of the box flaps, and I sat up cautiously to detach it. Curiosity made me peel back the flap a little farther to peek into the box.

  My hands began to tremble as I eased the flap back into place. I sat very, very still.

  I’d only seen plastic explosive in movies, where it looked like grey modelling clay. The contents of the box beneath me sure looked a hell of a lot like grey modelling clay wrapped in clear plastic.

  I was sitting on enough C4 to blow my ass to hell in a fine red mist.

  I swallowed panic. Plastic explosive needed a detonator, didn’t it? It was perfectly stable otherwise, wasn’t it?

  Of course it was. I’d climbed up these boxes, jamming my toes into the cardboard, and nothing had happened. They wouldn’t store it piled up like this if it wasn’t safe. And surely all these boxes weren’t C4. A quick glance down the row assured me I was right. There were only a couple of pallets like this one.

  Hurray. Because that made me feel so much better about sitting atop a mountain of plastic explosive.

  I eased myself down to prone position again, shaking from head to toe.

  Ocean waves. Stay calm. I was in no more danger than I had been before. Breathe. Focus on the mission.

  I laid my head gently on the box, careful to turn my face to the side so I wouldn’t inhale a lungful of dust. So far, so good. I’d found the Knights. I’d found the weapons. Robert was nowhere to be seen, so there was still a chance he wasn’t involved with the Knights.

  Only one thing left to do before I got the hell out.

  I closed my eyes and stepped into their virtual reality network.

  Chapter 49

  Inside the virtual corridors I floated invisibly, contemplating the blank doors of sim rooms. Surely they wouldn’t be running any sims tonight. But I’d already scoured their data files earlier in the day without finding any information about their plans.

  What the hell kind of scientists were they, anyway, making plans without documenting them in the network? Assholes.

  I swallowed fear cleverly disguised as irritation and floated up to the first door. I’d have to check each sim. A vivid memory of doing exactly the same thing in Harchman’s network months ago made me contain a virtual shudder.

  If only I’d ignored the call of duty and refused to go to Harchman’s, I could’ve lived happily ever after. No spying, no decrypting, no porn star alter ego, none of the horrible memories that haunted my dreams…

  I shook my invisible self and willed a tiny window to peek into the first sim.

  As I’d surmised, the sims were deserted, and I made my way rapidly through them all, cursing the wasted time. At the last door, I turned away to seep through their firewall and into their data stream.

  It was considerably more active than the sims. I zigzagged back and forth, chasing stream after stream of data packets, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.

  At last, I sniffed out the last few packets. My nonexistent heart clenched in my virtual chest.

  Oh shit, no!

  No wonder there was so much activity. Seven flocks of flapping bombs take a lot of guidance.

  Cold horror filled me when I cross-referenced the GPS coordinates and the targets popped up one by one. My farm. Sirius Dynamics. Kane’s office. I only recognized two of several other addresses. Kane’s and Spider’s homes were both targeted. I didn’t take time to guess at the rest.

  They were going to blow up half the town, and most of my friends with it. And I had about ten minutes to stop them.

  I gulped down terror, snatched at the data packets, and went to work.

  I was on the verge of sending a detonation signal when a sudden thought stopped me. If I blew up the geese simultaneously in the air, the Knights would know their network had been hacked. They’d know damn well I was the only person who could do it, and since the network was contained in the building, they’d know I was here. They’d find me and kill me, send out more geese, and it would all be over.

  If I guided the geese to fly randomly into the ground, there was no telling who might be harmed when they hit.

  Vibrating frantically in the data stream, I felt the seconds ticking away like kicks to my chest while I racked my brain for an idea. At last, inspiration struck.

  I could send new destination coordinates. The Knights might not notice right away. And even if they did discover the geese were coming right back at them, resetting the coordinates would keep them occupied long enough for me to drop out of the network and contact Stemp.

  One quick phone call, and then I could pop back into the network and keep the Knights distracted with what looked like more guidance malfunctions. As soon as Stemp’s team arrived, I could harmlessly explode the geese in the air.

  Congratulating myself on my clever solution, I zipped in to look up the GPS coordinates, and called the geese home. I was heading
for the exit portal when the network blazed into red-hot hell.

  Agony ground my bones to powder, my screams only a faint echo in the torment. My body flailed and twisted in a useless struggle to escape the suffering. Boiling colours seared my brain like technicolour lightning.

  At last, the pain abated enough for me to hear my own raw screams trail off into whimpering. Long moments later, I slowly uncurled to squint up at the four men and one dog peering down at me. The guard’s gun was trained shakily on me.

  Shit. Guess they hadn’t stopped searching after all.

  “I didn’t do anything to her, I swear!” The guard’s eyes were round in his pale young face. “The dog grabbed her ankle, that’s all.”

  I groaned. The dog’s teeth. A pain stimulus to drag me out of the network and into my usual hell.

  I couldn’t summon up any panic. My head felt dangerously close to exploding, and my body throbbed as though I’d been stomped by a team of giants. After a moment’s garbled thought, I revised that evaluation. My body felt as though I’d fallen about six feet onto a concrete floor. That would definitely do it.

  The tall bald man stooped and snatched my trank gun from my waist holster to train it on me.

  “Th-that’s the gun she shot me with,” the young guard stammered. As if remembering his own sagging weapon, he pointed it in my general direction again. I suppressed a flinch, hoping his shaking hand wouldn’t pull the trigger accidentally.

  “Yes, she’s a dangerous terrorist,” Baldy said smoothly. “Go and sit over there while we question her.”

  The guard backed away, fumbling one-handed at his radio. “I have to call this in…”

  “Don’t!” The heavy-set man’s bark made the young man jump, and I couldn’t help twitching when his gun jerked. The man’s voice slid into soothing tones. “Just let us talk to her first, and then you’ll be able to give your office a full report. You need to pull yourself together anyway before you call it in.”