Friends In Spy Places
Page 6
Shit, shit, shit. I had thought talking about Nora was a minefield, but it hadn’t occurred to me that Rawling would broach a much more dangerous topic.
I heard his next words as if from a great distance.
“Let’s talk about John Kane.”
Chapter 7
“Okay.” I offered Dr. Rawling a smile that I hoped would look disarmingly relaxed. “What would you like to know about John?”
Braced against the tornado of thoughts whipping around inside my brain, I clung to the most important: Ian had said I was an excellent liar.
Lies, don’t fail me now.
“Well, let’s start with how you feel about him personally.” Rawling leaned back on the sofa, comfortably crossing his legs and holding me captive with his pleasant little smile.
“Okay,” I repeated, and prevented myself from sucking in a deep breath before I took the plunge. “John and I are good friends. He’s… he was an excellent agent, and I trust him with my life.”
Rawling nodded, his too-perceptive gaze pinning me to my chair. “So you respect him as an agent. And how do you feel about him personally?”
He knew, the bastard.
Well, fine. Just say it.
“As I said, we’re good friends. We’re also occasional lovers,” I added as matter-of-factly as I could.
“And do you foresee your relationship becoming more serious in the future?”
Somehow I managed not to twitch. “Um… define ‘serious’.”
He did, of course. “A deepening commitment leading to an ongoing or permanent relationship such as cohabitation or marriage.”
“No.” The word popped out of my mouth almost before he’d finished speaking.
“No?” Rawling parroted as though he couldn’t quite believe what I’d just said.
“No,” I repeated firmly. “John and I agree, that type of relationship isn’t in the foreseeable future for us. Particularly not now that his son Daniel is part of his life. Neither of us is willing to expose Daniel to the risks that come with being an agent. That’s why John quit the Department. And I can’t quit.” My voice came out hollow in spite of my effort to conceal my feelings.
Dr. Rawling leaned forward as though I’d revealed something significant. “Why do you feel you can’t quit?” he inquired mildly.
“The reason is classified.” Despite my best attempt at a poker face, my lips twisted in a wry grimace. “My only options are to keep working for the Department until it kills me, or rot in prison for the rest of my life.”
“Those seem like very black and white choices…”
No shit. But explaining that I was an unstoppable cyber-spy was far above his security clearance.
He was still talking. “Let’s explore-”
“Those are my only two options,” I interrupted before he could get started. “Ask Stemp. He’s the one who laid them out for me last year.”
“I see.” Rawling eased back on the sofa, his eyes sharpening. “Is this because of something in your past…?” He let the question dangle delicately.
I went for brutal bluntness. “If you’re asking whether I committed some crime or indiscretion and Stemp’s using it as leverage to force me to work for the Department, the answer is no. The reasons have to do with my work, which, as you might recall, is classified.”
Oops, snarky.
I gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. It’s a sore point. I don’t really want to be doing what I do, but I don’t have a choice.”
“No need to apologize.” Rawling returned to the original topic. “So your career is keeping you and John apart.”
Fuck this shit.
“No, I’m keeping us apart,” I snapped. “Contrary to popular belief, not all women are desperate to get married. John and I are good friends who sometimes have sex, and that’s all I want from him. Do you have any questions that are relevant to my mission?”
Snarky again. This time I didn’t apologize.
“It sounds as though your relationship with John might be a sore point, too. Let’s talk about that.” Rawling gave me one of his little smiles, making me clamp down on the desire to lunge out of my chair and rip his lips off.
“No need.” By some miracle, my voice came out calm and reasonable. “That’s not why I was short with you. My relationship with John is fine, but I’m feeling impatient because I don’t see the point of your questions about it.”
How’s that for touchy-feely, dipshit?
I went on, “This morning I discovered some intel with potentially life-threatening consequences, so I’m impatient to get to it. I need to talk to Nora, and Stemp won’t let me do that until you sign off on my psych evaluation.”
“So the intel you discovered is related to the investigation of your mother.” Rawling gave me a searching look. “Are you prepared to recruit John back to the Department, too?”
Holding steady eye contact with him, I said, “Stemp told me to talk to John about coming back, and that’s what I’ll do. I have no control over what John ultimately decides.”
“And how would you feel about him returning to work with the Department? Considering the potential complications if things should change in your personal relationship?”
Finally, the real point of his questions. Protecting the Department’s interests, as always.
I gave him my best fake-genuine smile. “When John and I were both agents, we agreed that lives could depend on our ability to work together regardless of our personal feelings, and we’re both committed to making sure we can do that. Nothing would change if he came back to the Department.”
“So you don’t feel strongly about his decision one way or the other?” Rawling inquired.
“No, I don’t have a preference. I want what’s best for John, but he’s the only one who can decide what that is. I’ll support his decision no matter what.”
“That’s good to hear.” Rawling gave me another kind little smile.
He was probably a very nice man.
I probably shouldn’t be fantasizing about pulling out my tranquilizer pistol and shooting him so I could escape.
“Do you have any other concerns you’d like to discuss?” he asked, as though I’d been eagerly spilling my guts instead of pretending not to begrudge the tidbits of information he’d squeezed out of me.
“Nothing I can think of at the moment. But I’ll be sure to give you a call if anything comes up.” I topped off that heap of bullshit with a plastic smile.
Rawling eyed me as though he’d caught a whiff, and I exerted all my will to stay relaxed and smiling.
Come on, buddy, say we’re done. I promise not to let the crazy leak out on anybody if you’ll just let me the hell out of here…
“All right, Aydan,” he said as though he’d read my mind. “I’ll sign off your evaluation as long as you get a good night’s sleep tonight. If you find yourself struggling in any way…” He gave me a look that would have made me twitch if I hadn’t been projecting ‘normal and sane’ for all I was worth. “…with nightmares or anxiety…” he went on. “…insomnia, intrusive thoughts or feelings, self-medicating with food or alcohol…”
Christ, did he have to list all the things that made up my usual existence?
“…please call me immediately,” Dr. Rawling finished. “I’m here to help you; and please don’t feel as though you shouldn’t bother me while I’m on vacation. I’ll be staying in town for the holidays; and your mental and emotional health is my top priority.”
“Thank you.” I tried not to let my relief show, but I was pretty sure my smile betrayed me. “That’s very kind of you.” Squashing the urge to leap out of the chair and sprint out the door, I rose unhurriedly. “I hope you have a wonderful vacation.”
“I hope you are able to enjoy time with your loved ones, too,” he said as he stood to walk me to the door. “I know your job often makes personal time scarce. As a civilian, I appreciate all the sacrifices you and the other agents make to keep us safe. Thank you.”
&n
bsp; He gave me another warm smile.
“You’re welcome,” I mumbled, and strode away before the weight of guilt could buckle my knees.
Using all my self-control, I made it to the ladies’ room without actually breaking into a run. Inside, I shut myself into a cubicle and did a whole-body shudder, shaking off the feeling of being naked under a magnifying glass.
I’d done it. I hadn’t had to tell any direct lies about insomnia or claustrophobia; and the topics of commitment and children and dependent relationships hadn’t come up at all.
I was safe. Just breathe…
After taking a few more minutes to regain my composure, I glanced at my wristwatch. Only a quarter to two. I had enough time to file my reports and then slip into the network for a bit of research.
I washed my hands and headed for the door.
Back in my office, I dialled Stemp’s number. When he answered, I said, “Hi, it’s Aydan. I’m sorry to bother you again, but I wanted you to know that I saw Dr. Rawling and he cleared me for duty. I’m still at Sirius Dynamics and I want to go into the virtual reality network to do some research on Nora and Howard Coleman. Will you have time to post my clearance this afternoon?”
“Already done,” Stemp replied crisply. “You have full access.”
“You’re amazing.” The words popped out uncensored and I winced in embarrassment. Then I straightened my spine, shaking off the reaction. I couldn’t take my words back; and anyway, he was pretty damn amazing. I probably should have told him that long ago.
I could hear the smile in his voice. “Thank you. I’ll assign Webb to anchor you.”
“That’s okay, I don’t want to drag him back to the office,” I demurred, but Stemp overrode me.
“He is on his way already. Holt is nearing a deal with Grandin and expects to begin interrogation soon, so Webb will be available to assist you until Holt begins relaying intel. You are not to enter the network without supervision. That’s an order.”
“Okay, I’ll wait for Spider,” I agreed, secretly relieved that I wouldn’t have to make the descent to the subterranean secured area to retrieve my network key, nor brave the vastness of the internet alone. “Oh, and I’ll be seeing Kane this afternoon, so I’ll talk to him then,” I added, hoping to forestall any questions. “And I’ll call Nora and set up a meeting for tomorrow. That should give me time to finish my research before I see her.”
There. Competent and mission-ready. No need to ask any probing questions…
I held my breath.
“Very well,” Stemp said. “Thank you.”
He disconnected and I let out my breath in a whoosh. So far, so good.
I fired up my computer, updated my reports, and then switched to the dossier on Nora.
Hmm. Mommy Dearest was a shopaholic. Her credit cards were nearly maxed out, showing frequent large purchases at Harrods, Chanel, and other fancy places. Her bank account hovered near overdraft and she had no savings; although the analysts noted they were still checking for offshore accounts. Her paycheques kept the creditors satisfied, but barely. No wonder she was still working at age seventy-two.
Switching to the surveillance logs, I discovered that she hadn’t done much since arriving in Silverside. Besides her calls to and from Stemp, there was no other activity on her hotel phone. She hadn’t used her cell phone, and her email showed only one communication with the UK branch of Sirius Dynamics. She had requested an archived copy of the corporate financial records dating back to before Sam had died, so she was probably using her downtime in the hotel room to get up to speed with her new responsibilities as owner. Most likely hoping to find some cash in Sam’s estate to pay her bills; or buy more designer shit.
I sighed. Why couldn’t she have been emailing people and offering them national secrets? Then I could have simply arrested her and erased her from my life.
But the financial records might be interesting, whenever they arrived. I calculated the time difference between Silverside and London. If somebody responded to Nora on Monday morning at nine AM London time, it would be two AM tonight…
Spider strode by in the hall, whistling.
“Hey, Spider!” I called.
He backtracked to poke his head through the doorway. “Oh, hi! I didn’t expect you to be here. I thought you’d be home sleeping.”
“I wish.” Eyeing him with envy, I added, “You look all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”
“Yes, I got a few hours of sleep and I’m ready to go.” He smiled, as fresh and cheery as ever.
Oh, to be twenty-seven again. I held in a sigh and put on an answering smile. “I’m glad, ’cause I’m about to sidetrack you. I just got off the phone with Stemp and he said I could borrow you for a while, until Holt has new information for you.”
“Sure.” Spider came inside and dropped into my guest chair. “What do you need?”
“I want to go into the virtual reality network for a while. I’ve got some snooping to do.”
“Okay…” he said slowly. “But why don’t you get Brock and Tammy to do that for you? That’s their job; and it doesn’t hurt Tammy the way it hurts you.”
I sighed. “I know, but I have to check a few things that I don’t want to share with anybody else just yet.”
“Is this about your mom?” Spider hesitated, his cheeks turning pink. “I mean, should I even call her that? I don’t want to be rude, but… I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I found out my mom had faked her death and just… left and never came back.” His colour deepened. “I’m sorry, that sounded really awful and I didn’t mean to rub it in, but… are you okay? If you want to talk or anything, I’m here.”
His sweet awkwardness warmed the cold knot that had constricted my heart since Nora had dropped her motherhood bombshell on me.
“Thanks, Spider.” I gave him a smile. “I’m not really going to know how I feel until I’ve finished investigating. But if we could just call her ‘Nora’ for now, that would be more comfortable than ‘Mom’.”
“Okay, no problem. When do you want to start?”
“Right now, if that’s okay with you. I’m probably going to head home around two-thirty, so I’ve only got about half an hour.”
“Sure.” He sprang up. “I’ll be right back with your network key.”
Several minutes later I was slouched comfortably in the corner of the small sofa in my office, clutching the tiny electronic cube that gave me access to the brainwave-driven network as well as all the digital secrets of the world.
I gave Spider a nod and closed my eyes to concentrate. The white void of virtual reality materialized around me. Visualizing my familiar system of corridors, I walked my avatar toward the Sirius Dynamics file repository.
“Have you got me, Spider?” I asked the virtual ceiling.
“Yes, I’ve got you anchored with my software. Go ahead whenever you’re ready,” he assured me. “And if I lose you, I’ll send out searches for…” He hesitated. “…um, how about ‘unified string theory’?”
“I don’t even know what that is, but it’ll be fine. Just as long as you don’t ever call me home with a search for ‘cameltoe’ again,” I teased.
“That was so embarrassing!” His voice quivered and I could imagine his blush. “I honestly never meant to do that, I was just so frantic and it came up in the auto-search and I just hit ‘enter’…”
“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean to,” I reassured him, feeling guilty over his discomfort. “You were brilliant to get me back that time, and I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I just have a weird sense of humour.”
“You kind of do,” he agreed, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “But you always make me laugh. So we’re okay with ‘unified string theory’?”
“Yep. And if I’m not back in half an hour, give me a pull, okay?”
“I will. Happy hunting.”
Instead of replying, I faded into invisibility and slipped through the simulation into the busy data streams of the network.
But maybe Sam had left something encrypted here at Sirius. Spider had probably already scoured our network, but it wouldn’t hurt for me to look.
And if I could find any of Sam’s communications with Nora I might be able to find out whether he had told her I could invisibly breach any network security and break any encryption.
Okay, Sam, you traitorous bastard; let’s see if you left me any breadcrumbs.
I dissolved into the file structure, extending questing tendrils in all directions.
Chapter 8
With my senses alert for the taste/feel/smell of Nora Taylor, Sam Kraus, or Nola Kelly, I slipped inside Sirius’s archive server.
And found my own name.
I hesitated.
There was a lot of data. According to Canada’s privacy legislation I was fully entitled to read everything the Department knew about me, but it seemed wrong somehow. And eavesdroppers never hear anything good about themselves…
If I could have drawn a deep breath in my bodiless form, I would have.
Screw it.
I plunged in.
It was all there. Everything about Sam’s work, right back to his original Wetware project back in the 1960s; when he was trying to find a way to use the human brain instead of silicone-based computer processing; then on to the mid-1970s when Project Wetware had diverged into the earliest concept of brainwave-driven networks.
There was a list of eight women’s names, including mine. All red-haired, brown-eyed, and conceived during the three-day window between October 29 and November 2, 1963: The eight women in the world believed to be the only candidates whose minds would supercharge the virtual reality simulations.
There was no mention of the darker side of Sam and the other seven Knights of Sirius. No hint that they had been using us, their ‘mages’, to harvest top-secret information from all the countries of the world.
But copious notes showed Sam’s obsessive desire to recruit me to Sirius Dynamics, and he recorded increasingly frequent visits to our family farm ‘to monitor Aydan’s development’.