“This is where the original bench was. And I don’t think I can stand up just yet.”
“Is it all right if we go somewhere else?”
“No.”
“All right.” He lowered himself to the ground, propping his arms behind him and stretching out his legs.
We sat in silence for a while.
Finally, Kane spoke again. “What did I see, back in the forest?” he asked mildly.
“Dream. Memory. Some of each.”
I studied my scuffed running shoes. The bloodstain was back.
“Which was which?”
A gust of wind tossed my hair and tangled it in the needles of the spruce tree that leaned over the bench. I concentrated on freeing it, avoiding the question.
“I think I understand why you told Hellhound to ride safe.”
I chanced a look in Kane’s direction. He was still sitting relaxed on the ground, watching me.
“What happened?” he asked quietly.
I sighed. “The biker pulled out to pass me. Not a lot of room, but he could have made it. Drunk driver pulled out from behind an oncoming car. The biker tried to cut back in and overcorrected. High-sided. Landed right on top of the fencepost.”
I fell silent. The fresh bloodstain spread slowly across the toe of my shoe, glistening brilliant crimson. I suppressed a shudder.
“Were you injured?”
“Minor stuff by comparison. Pinned by a compound fracture in my left leg, traction for six weeks. Some soft-tissue injuries.”
“What happened to the drunk?”
“Those assholes never get hurt. And this was before they toughened up the drunk driving laws. Nobody died, so...” I looked up in time to see his look of incredulity. “Yeah, the biker survived. That poor bastard was conscious the whole time.” A shudder rocked my body. Raw-throated cries of agony echoed through the mountains, getting louder...
I breathed, concentrating on the lake, and the sound faded away.
“And the cage?” he asked.
“Just a dream. Thanks for yelling at me, by the way. I forgot I could change things here. I usually just have to wake up screaming.”
“Do you dream it that often?”
“Not since I divorced my first husband,” I said lightly. I glanced over. He wasn’t smiling. I sighed again. “I only have that dream when I feel trapped or helpless in some part of my life. I’m claustrophobic, so it’s just my subconscious mind’s way of expressing anxiety.”
“What are you feeling anxious about?”
“Gee, I don’t know, where should I start? Carjackers, gunmen, home invasions, and now you want to put me in jail.” My voice wavered on the last word, and faint bars appeared around me again. I took a deep, steadying breath and looked out over the valley.
“I don’t even know what I did,” I added.
“And yet, here we are,” Kane said.
I glared at him. “Would you stop being so goddamn cryptic?”
He gazed at me, silent.
I knotted my fists in my hair and tugged a couple of handfuls. “Why am I even talking to you? I’m crazy, and this is a delusion. You’re only going to tell me what I already know myself, because you’re a figment of my deranged mind. I don’t know why you keep showing up, though. Must be my fear of captivity. You’re just another metaphor for a cage. Go away.”
I waved a banishing hand at him, but he stayed, watching me. I leaned back and closed my eyes to block him out.
“I’m not a figment of your imagination.”
“Yes, you are. Go away.”
“All right, suppose I am your metaphor for captivity. Talk to me. If you resolve your issues with me, maybe I’ll go away. Convince me you’re not guilty.”
I opened my eyes to give him another glare. “You know I can’t do that. It’s logically impossible to prove a negative.”
“Well, at least let’s go somewhere warmer to talk about it. It’s chilly up here.”
I conjured a warm jacket for myself out of thin air. “Problem solved.”
“All right, problem solved,” he echoed.
I glanced over. He was reclining on a sandy beach, the wavelets of a misty blue lake lapping in front of him while the sun beat down. Vertigo swirled through me when I glanced from his reality to my own, the beach and the mountain peak, side by side. I closed my eyes momentarily, recovering.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“Shuswap Lake.”
“Oooh, I love the Shuswap,” I breathed. My mountain peak faded into the other half of the beach. I slipped off my jacket and wadded it under my head for a pillow, letting the sun-warmed sand bake my back.
A few seconds later, I bolted upright. “Wait a minute! You altered my reality! How did you do that?”
“I altered my reality. Yours stayed the same until you saw the wisdom of my choice,” he said smugly.
I stuck out my tongue at him. If you can’t win an argument, always take the high road.
He looked startled, and then laughed. “Let’s talk.”
I flopped back down and stared at the sky. “So talk.”
“As I said earlier, there are some things about you that don’t add up,” he began. “I’d like to know more so I can fill in some blanks.”
“You’re inside my head. You already know everything I know,” I said peevishly.
“Humour me.”
“Fine. What do you want to know?”
“Why do you always sit with your back to the wall and scan a room?”
“Habit. I don’t like being in a position where people can sneak up on me.”
“Who would sneak up on you?”
“I don’t know! That’s the whole point. I just hate having my back exposed.”
“Why?”
I blew out a frustrated breath. “When I was younger, I used to go to some tough bars. I never knew who would come in, or when I might want to leave in a hurry. I always sat where I could see everything and I always knew where all the exits were. I just never lost the habit.”
“Why not?”
“Because, that’s why. Same reason you don’t forget how to ride a bike. Once you’ve done it, you do it forevermore. Or maybe I have trust issues. So sue me.”
“Is that where you learned to fight?”
I grinned. “No, I learned that in Grade One. I was always in trouble for beating up the bigger kids.”
He grinned back. “Why does that not surprise me? Tough school?”
“Not at all. It was a very nice school in a very nice small town filled with mostly nice people. I just had a powder-keg temper and a serious aversion to bullies. Still do.”
“Those moves you put on Hellhound didn’t look like Grade One.”
“No, I took a few Tai Chi classes at one of the community centres ‘way back when. One of the things they emphasized was using your attacker’s momentum to help you instead of trying to use brute force to oppose someone. And I watched a few self-defence videos on the internet.”
“Why did you move to Silverside?” His voice remained pleasant and conversational, but I knew there was nothing casual about these questions. He wasn’t the least bit interested in my Grade One escapades. He was a cop working on a case.
I squirmed a little on the warm sand and suppressed the urge to tell him it was none of his damn business.
I hissed a long breath of resignation. “I’m a country girl. I’ve lived in the city all my adult life, and hated it for most of that time. My husband was a city boy with a city job. Being with him made it worth living in the city. When he died, there was nothing holding me there.”
“But why Silverside in particular?”
“Pure chance.”
He frowned. “Really.”
“Really.”
“So here’s another thing that’s been bothering me. Why are you in such good shape?” Something in his voice made me glance over at him. He was eyeing my body, not my face.
I looked down at myself. I had changed into a skimpy
bikini, and I was pleased to see I’d lost those stubborn pounds. My abs were softly defined in the mellow light, and the jiggly bits were nowhere to be seen. Gotta love insanity. I stretched and flexed luxuriously, just because he was watching.
“Did you do the wardrobe change, or did I?” I asked.
His voice had a husky edge. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who can change your clothes. They’re part of your reality.”
Now that was a sexy voice. Mmmmhmmm, very nice indeed.
I concentrated briefly. “Yep, you’re right. I just tried to put you in a Speedo.”
He looked down at himself. “That would be emb-” He shook his head slightly, apparently regrouping. “Getting back to the point. Most women your age couldn’t run across a parking lot. They struggle to carry grocery bags. You’re hanging from rooftops and fighting bikers.”
The stereotype flooded me with irritation. “Listen, buddy, you obviously haven’t been to my gym. There are little old ladies there who blow me off the running track. There are all kinds of super-fit middle-aged women running marathons and doing triathlons and winning bodybuilding contests.”
He sighed. “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. What I meant was, it’s just one more unusual thing about you. And too many unusual things in one place make me suspicious.”
“Well shit, if I’d known it was a crime to stay fit I’d have sat on my ass eating potato chips all day long until I weighed four hundred pounds,” I snarled.
“And how do you explain your escape planning skills and your blasé attitude toward gunshot wounds?”
I threw up my hands. “I’m a bookkeeper! I plan things! I’m anal about details! And I’m lousy at being a good little victim. You wanted to know why the bullet hole in the corpse didn’t upset me too much, well now you know. It was clean and merciful compared to what that poor biker went through. And as far as that so-called gunshot wound on my leg, I’ve hurt myself worse than that doing home renovations.”
I glared at him. “I’ve explained everything. I can’t prove to you I’m not a spy.” I flopped back onto the sand. “I guess you’ll just hang around in my head and torment me forever. At least as a metaphor, you’re better than the cage.”
“I’m not a metaphor. I’m not in your head. You’re not insane. I’m the real John Kane, and we’re really having this conversation.”
“Prove it.”
“How can I prove it?”
“Tell me something I can’t possibly know, and that I wouldn’t be able to imagine.”
He sat in silence. I stared at the sky some more.
“Hellhound crochets afghans in his spare time,” he said.
I jerked upright, staring at him. “Bullshit!”
“No word of a lie.”
“No, you’re just messing with me.”
“Seriously.” Kane grinned. “He broke his leg in a training accident right after we joined the army and ended up in traction for six weeks. He was bored, hitting on this pretty nurse, and he figured he could make time with her if he asked her to teach him to crochet. It worked, too.”
“And he still crochets because...?”
“It gets him in touch with his feminine side.”
I gaped at him. “Now that is a truly scary thought.”
“Actually, I am messing with you on that one. Hellhound doesn’t have a feminine side. He says he still uses crocheting as a ploy to get the chicks.”
“Thank God,” I sighed. “The thought of Hellhound’s feminine side was just...” My voice died in my throat.
Hellhound minced toward us in high heels and a white Marilyn Monroe halter dress, the light fabric contrasting appallingly with his full beard and hairy, tattooed body.
He came to a stop in front of us, simpering while the dress blew up around his legs and he held the front down á la Marilyn. Then he winked. Gave us his trademark leer.
And turned and mooned us.
“Aaaaagh!” I shrieked, shielding my face with both hands. “My eyes! I’m blind! Make it go away!” I flopped back and caught a glimpse of Kane, who was prostrate on the sand, laughing helplessly.
“You!” I pounced on him, belabouring him with my jacket while he feebly defended himself, tears of mirth rolling down his cheeks. “I’m scarred for life because of you! That was all you! That was... that was horrible!” I collapsed in laughter beside him.
He gasped for air, wiping his eyes. “It wasn’t me! That dress... I would never... in a million years... Admit it, you did that.”
“Well, I did feel a sense of impending doom,” I conceded, giggling. “But the rest of it had to be you! I had no way of knowing he had a tattoo there. And I would never have imagined it in such... such detail!”
He propped himself weakly on one elbow. “All right, that part was me. I’ve seen him moon so many people over the years… that’s how he earned his first demotion.” We laughed some more. “It’s all about expectations,” he added.
We lay on the sand a few minutes more, recovering. Then I turned to face him. “Okay, then, if it’s really you, tell me this. I have a right to know what I’m being charged with. Exactly what did I do? Exactly when, date and time?”
“You hacked into a secured, classified government network. The first time was this past Thursday at 12:30 in the afternoon.”
“That’s impossible. I was flat on my back in a puddle of ice water then.”
He sat up slowly, watching me. “I have the data record.”
I sat up, too. “It couldn’t have been me. I was lying on the sidewalk. You saw the ambulance records yourself.”
“It was you,” he insisted. “Maybe you slipped and fell as you left the building and you’re trying to use the ambulance as an alibi, but it was definitely you. You saw the record yourself.”
I stared at him, wheels turning in my mind. “I’ve never even been inside the building before today. Review your security tapes if you don’t believe me.”
Pieces fitted together slowly. I was so close to figuring this all out...
Expectations. Expectations create reality. The data record. Which was a video of what had been happening in my head. The data record was evidence that I’d hacked into the network. This beach was all in my head.
My mouth dropped open. “This is virtual reality! This is the network you’re talking about! Isn’t it? I’m accessing the network right now!” Suddenly, it all made sense.
“Oh thank God, I’m not insane!”
A slightly frantic giggle escaped me. “I’m not insane. This is all logical and rational, we’re together in a networked virtual reality simulation that’s being generated by our own brainwaves. I didn’t know this was even possible. This is so cool!”
I stopped as I recalled the conversation in the meeting room. “And so classified...” I added slowly.
I turned to Kane. “Your network security sucks.”
Chapter 14
Kane rested his arms on his bent knees, frowning. “So it would seem. How did you get in?”
“I don’t know. I just... did. Honestly, I wasn’t even in the building. There was no login, no password, nothing, not even a ‘No Trespassing’ sign. All of a sudden, I was just... here... inside... and there was this guy. I didn’t have any idea I wasn’t safely inside my own skull. I’m never going to have a personal thought again, ever.”
I rubbed my burning face and changed the subject. “Next thing I knew, I was flat out on the sidewalk. So how does it work? Why isn’t there any security? If this is all inside my mind, what’s my body doing right now, back in the boardroom?”
“To answer your last question first, your body is sitting in the boardroom, staring off into space. So is mine.”
“That explains the guy with the vacant stare as we came in. He was accessing the network.”
“Probably,” Kane agreed. “As far as your other questions go, it’s complicated, and it’s classified. I can’t tell you anything without clearing it with my C.O. You already know too much for my
taste.”
I eyed him uneasily. “That statement is usually followed by ‘now I have to kill you’.”
The corner of Kane’s mouth quirked up. “You’ve been watching too many movies. This is Canada. Now I have to make you sign a non-disclosure agreement.”
“I love Canada,” I said with feeling.
He looked at his watch. “Time to go. I have to check in with the higher-ups before I do anything further, and our meeting is in half an hour.” He stood.
I rose, too. “Great, how do we get out? It’s been fun and all, but...”
“You mean you don’t know how to end the session?”
“Hell, no! I didn’t even know I was in a session. If I’d known how to end it, I wouldn’t have been doing the funky chicken in that goddamn cage!”
He stood silent for a moment, probably deciding how much he could tell me without putting his neck in a noose with his superiors. “There’s a portal,” he said finally.
“Aha!” I exclaimed. “When he brought me to hospital, Connor said he’d found me in a portal. Which makes sense, because I didn’t move far from where I’d appeared the first time.” I felt a flush climbing my cheeks again and continued hurriedly. “So how do you find the portal from the inside?”
“Can’t you see it?”
“I don’t even know what I’m looking for. Hold on.” I waved a dismissive hand at our lakefront vista. Now that I knew I could control it with my mind, the hand gesture probably wasn’t necessary, but it seemed to help. Whiteness surrounded us.
I turned in a circle, studying the void and seeing, appropriately enough, nothing.
“Hmmph.” I waved my hand again and the whiteness resolved itself into the Star Trek holodeck in its inactive state. “There we go,” I said, pointing to the door. “Am I right?”
“Trekkies,” Kane said with resignation. “Are you sure you’re not a computer geek, too?”
“I was,” I said, ignoring his sharp glance. I walked over to the door and pressed the control pad beside it. The door swooshed open, and I stepped through it into the boardroom.
An instant of disorientation shook me as my point of view switched from looking into the boardroom to sitting at the table. Pain lanced through my brain again.
Never Say Spy (The Never Say Spy Series Book 1) Page 9
