Friends In Spy Places

by Diane Henders

  “Rice, check it,” Peters snapped, and the young cop gave me one more suspicious glance before hurrying away. “When did you actually see them last?” she asked me.

  My guts twisted at her inference.

  Kane wouldn’t lie to me.

  Okay; he would. But not about something like this. And he’d never kidnap Daniel.

  Would he?

  What if the stress of living with Alicia had finally gotten too much and he’d decided to take Daniel and run? Dammit, I should have asked how things were going with him instead of dumping out my own problems.

  Selfish bitch.

  I yanked my mind back to Peters. “We parted outside Fiorenza’s around seven last night. I walked to Sirius Dynamics because John was taking Daniel directly to the hospital…”

  “So you’re saying John drove away from Fiorenza’s alone with Daniel,” Peters clarified worriedly.

  “In the direction of the hospital,” I insisted. “Daniel was vomiting. I seriously doubt John would seize that moment to abduct him.”

  “Did you see whether John handled Daniel’s food?”

  My heart sank. “Well… yeah. He cut up Daniel’s pizza for him. And he handled a milk glass after Daniel accidentally tipped it over.”

  Peters stiffened. “Did you call his home phone or his cell phone this morning?”

  “His home phone. They were definitely here this morning.”

  She hissed out a breath between her teeth. “Or he forwarded the home number to his cellphone to buy time while he vanished with Daniel.”

  “I really don’t think so,” I said, hoping desperately that it was true. “John sounded awful. He was throwing up. He said he felt like he’d been poisoned…” The fear rose again, dark and deadly at the edges of my mind. “I’m sure they’re at the hospital,” I repeated, but I didn’t sound sure at all.

  “Hey!” Rice’s jubilant shout from the cruiser snapped both our heads in that direction. “Found them!” The young cop was beaming. “They’re at the hospital!”

  “Thank God,” Peters muttered, her posture easing.

  “Are they all right?” I called.

  Rice jogged over, his step light. “Kane brought Daniel into Emergency this morning around nine-thirty. They’re rehydrating him, and he’s on the mend. Kane is still sick but he refuses to leave Daniel’s side. He had his cell phone turned off to comply with the hospital regulations, so he didn’t know anybody was trying to call him.”

  “False alarm,” Peters said as a smile spread across her face. “And I can’t even be angry with his ex for dragging us out here. After having her son kidnapped once, I can only imagine how frightened she must have been. I’m sorry to have bothered you, Aydan. Thanks for your help.”

  Relief was making my knees wobble. “No problem.” I drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Thanks for not strip-searching me.”

  Peters laughed. “We really do have to stop meeting like this.” She raised a hand in farewell and strode off to her cruiser, followed by Rice.

  I half-sat, half-fell into the driver’s seat of my car and laid my head back, trembling. “Arnie? Are you still there?”

  “Yeah.” His voice rasped out of the speaker. “What the hell’s happenin’?”

  I explained, and when I was finished he blew out a long low whistle.

  “Christ, what a clusterfuck. Glad everythin’s okay.” He let out a breath. “Guess I’ll slow down then, ’fore I get the mother of all speedin’ tickets.”

  “You’re driving already?”

  “Hell, yeah.” His chuckled sounded a little less humorous than usual. “I was haulin’ ass before the cop even got to your car.”

  My heart squeezed. “I’m sorry you were so worried. But everything’s okay. You don’t need to come now.”

  “Yeah, I do,” he countered. “I ain’t leavin’ ya to face the mother-bitch all by yourself. I know ya, darlin’, an’ I bet you’re already thinkin’ maybe the whole damn thing was somehow your fault. It wasn’t your fault thirty years ago, it ain’t your fault now, an’ I sure as hell ain’t gonna sit around down here knowin’ she’s mind-fuckin’ ya up there.”

  “Thanks, Arnie, but I have to deal with her. Orders. There’s really nothing you can do here.”

  “I can be on your side. An’ I can give ya a reality check if she starts playin’ mind games.” He hesitated. “But… it’s okay if ya don’t want me there; I can just-”

  “I want you,” I interrupted. “Of course I want you. But I don’t want you to drop everything to come and rescue me again.”

  Hellhound’s voice softened. “I ain’t rescuin’ ya. I know ya can handle any shit that happens. But it never hurts to have a friend around to cover your back, right?”

  I lowered my voice to a seductive purr. “And cover my front.”

  He chuckled. “It’s a tough job, but somebody’s gotta do it. Hey, wanna get a late lunch at Eddy’s? I’ll be there around one.”

  “Around one? That’s only an hour and a quarter from now! Shit, how fast were you driving?”

  “If ya don’t wanna know, don’t ask.”

  I shook my head even though he couldn’t see me. “See you soon. Drive carefully. At the speed limit!” I added severely.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I was still quivering from the adrenaline overdose when I parked in the Sirius Dynamics lot five minutes later. My stomach growled, reminding me that breakfast had been far too long ago. I growled back, irritable with ravelled nerves and hunger.

  My anger rose as I strode across the parking lot. I managed to sign in at the security wicket without biting Leo’s head off, but my boots pounded an aggressive beat as I strode down the hall toward Stemp’s office. This time that fucking bastard was going to tell me everything he knew about me and my family. And while he was at it, he could damn well explain why he’d sicced the RCMP on me.

  When I marched into his office without knocking and stood glowering at him, Stemp greeted me with an infinitesimal eyebrow raise.

  I snapped, “You knew all along that Nora was my mother!”

  Stemp leaned back in his chair, his face revealing a flash of weariness before his usual impenetrable façade closed down. “Please close the door.”

  I spun on my heel and complied, rage making my breath come as hard as if I’d been running. Returning to my rigid stance in front of his desk, I glared at him in silence.

  “Please have a seat,” he said mildly.

  “I’ll stand.” The words ground out between my teeth.

  “Very well.” His emotionless amber gaze flicked over my face, a cool appraisal that did nothing to soothe my temper. “You are angry,” he observed.

  “No shit, Sherlock!”

  He sighed. “I would be, too, if I were in your place.”

  His empathy was so unexpected that my anger vanished. Its absence left hollow exhaustion behind, and I dropped into the chair.

  “Why?” My voice came out flat and tired. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “To what end?” Stemp regarded me with an expression that looked a lot like compassion. “What if I had told you that she was alive, and that she had chosen to cut all ties with you? That knowledge would only have brought you pain.”

  “But at least I wouldn’t have been blindsided.”

  He shrugged. “I did not expect her to ever make contact with you.”

  Pain twisted my heart, sharper than it should have been, and I held my expression impassive with all my will.

  I might have fooled a civilian, but not a former agent of Stemp’s calibre. “I did not mean that as a judgement of your worthiness,” he said quietly. “Her actions are a reflection of her own character, not yours.”

  My throat went tight. Dammit, I could have handled his indifference, or even anger. But kindness?

  Dammit.

  I swallowed hard. “I… um… thanks.” I sucked in an unsteady breath and changed the subject. “So you talked to the RCMP about me this morning?”<
br />
  “Yes. I confirmed that you had an ironclad alibi between nineteen thirty yesterday and zero four hundred this morning. I told them I was unsure of your current whereabouts, but they declined my offer to summon you until such time as they had searched Kane’s house. I presume they found you?”

  “Actually I found them, when I went over to John’s place.”

  “And was the situation satisfactorily resolved?” Stemp’s words were dispassionate, but I read the concern behind his mask. His secret daughter overseas was around the same age as Daniel.

  “Yes, everything’s fine,” I assured him. “Daniel got the stomach flu last night so they stayed at John’s house instead of driving back to Calgary; and this morning John took Daniel to the hospital, so that’s why he wasn’t answering his phone. Alicia just panicked.”

  “Understandable, given that Daniel was kidnapped less than six months ago.”

  “Yeah. I can’t even imagine what that must have been like for her.” I shuddered. “God, I’m glad I never had kids.”

  A moment later I realized how heartless that must sound to a man who had been forced to live half a world away from his daughter for the entire seven years of her life.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” I began, but Stemp raised a dismissive hand and changed the subject.

  “Since you are here… I received a report from the analysts this morning. Rebecca Stile was hospitalized in London around zero two hundred our time, which was zero nine hundred over there. Although her vital signs are strong, she is in an unexplained coma. She is being monitored in the intensive care unit, and her parents in Halifax have been notified. They are currently en route to London.”

  Guilt turned my stomach to lead. “Oh, God, I didn’t even think of Rebecca this morning. And her poor parents; they must be going through hell. Is Spider in yet? We need to-”

  “You do not ‘need to’,” Stemp interrupted. “You will not be entering the network today. Ms. Stile’s condition is stable, but yours…” He raked a gaze from my finely trembling hands to my bloodshot eyes, which sported bags big enough to store a spare sandwich or two. “How much sleep did you get last night?”

  “Um…”

  “The truth,” he added. “If necessary, I will hook you up to the lie detector.” His hard level gaze made it clear that he wasn’t kidding.

  “It’s a long story…” I began, scrambling for ways to evade the question.

  “It is not a long story,” Stemp countered. “It is a simple question requiring a single-word answer. How many hours of sleep did you get last night?” His eyes narrowed. “Actual sleep. Excluding time spent lying awake or fighting nightmares.”

  Shit, had Spider ratted me out?

  “Um, I don’t know, exactly,” I equivocated. “I slept for a while at Spider’s place, and then I got a ride home and went straight to bed until it was time to leave for my meeting with Nora-”

  “How many hours of actual sleep?” Stemp repeated. “Take the time to count them up. I’ll wait.”

  Cornered, I lashed out. “I got as much as I got, okay? If I hadn’t had to suck up to Nora this morning, I’d have gotten more. I’ll catch up on my sleep tonight. My meeting with Nora was interesting, by the way. I think she’s hiding something.”

  “As are you,” Stemp said with exaggerated patience. “How many hours of sleep did you get?”

  “Oh, for chrissake!” I flopped back in the chair like a petulant teenager.

  Stemp remained unmoved, watching me with the predatory stillness of a snake sizing up its prey.

  “Okay, fine,” I said into the lengthening silence. “We got to Spider’s place a little before four AM. I had breakfast with Linda around six-thirty-”

  “True, but incomplete,” Stemp interrupted. “Webb said that you did not, in fact, sleep in his house. I questioned him at length.”

  My irritation returned full force. “Seriously? You interrogated Spider about my sleeping habits? Don’t you have better things to do?”

  Stemp’s impassive mask dissolved into impatience. “Yes, I do. And you are wasting my precious time. Now. How… many… hours?”

  A chill chased down my backbone. If Stemp’s legendary patience was wearing thin, I was in deep shit.

  “Um…” I did some rapid mental math. “About three and a half. What’s the big deal? I’ve been sleep-deprived lots of times before and I’ve always gotten the job done.”

  “It is important because I want you to have at least eight hours of quality sleep before risking another collision with Rebecca Stile in the internet.” Stemp eyed me narrowly. “And, more to the point, it’s important because your psych clearance for active duty has just been rescinded.”

  Chapter 23

  A deluge of ice-cold adrenaline raised my voice to a squawk. “What? But Rawling already approved my clearance! He can’t rescind it, he’s on holidays! Why would he…”

  Stemp cut off my babbling. “He granted your clearance on the condition that you got a good night’s sleep. You did not. Therefore your clearance is rescinded until such time as you do.”

  Oh, God, could they lock me up just because I was tired? Was this some creative way to chuck me in the secure facility and bury me forever?

  My faulty emotional wiring short-circuited fear into rage. “That’s bullshit!” I lunged to my feet. “It wasn’t like I chose to get waylaid in the internet last night! What did Rawling expect me to do, just let Rebecca Stile wander off with all our classified intel because…” I assumed a bitterly sarcastic child-like voice. “…it’s getting late and I have to go home to beddy-byes now?”

  “You could have followed your Director’s orders and gotten adequate sleep after you emerged from the network,” Stemp observed coolly.

  “No, I fucking couldn’t!” I glared at him, jamming my fists against my hips as an inadequate substitute for punching him. “Because my Director had just given me shit for discouraging Nora. I didn’t get out of the network until nearly four AM, I had an appointment with Nora at ten AM, and there’s no math in this universe where ten minus four equals eight! And if I’d called Nora and postponed our meeting and she’d gotten discouraged and left, you’d have been chewing my ass for that, too!”

  “Kelly.” Any hint of compassion was gone from his voice. “Sit.”

  Fear choked me all over again. My freedom was in his hands. Pissing him off had been colossally stupid.

  I dropped back into the chair, largely because my trembling knees wouldn’t hold my weight any longer. “Sorry,” I whispered.

  Stemp studied me without speaking. Was he making mental arrangements for my transfer to the secure facility? Or was he only bringing his own temper under control?

  Or maybe he was just waiting to see if I’d crack. Dammit, what did he want from me?

  Fighting the urge to babble confessions and pleas, I pressed my lips together and sat in silence.

  The silence stretched, and my bratty inner child dug in her heels. Go ahead and try to wait me out, asshole. I settled deeper in the chair, schooling my breath to a slow easy rhythm and easing the tension out of my muscles.

  To my surprise, Stemp spoke a moment later. “I apologize if it seemed to you that I was ‘chewing your ass’.” His precise diction made the phrase sound ridiculously vulgar. “That was not my intention. I was merely informing you that your active-duty clearance is rescinded until such time as you achieve eight consecutive hours of sleep. Dr. Rawling did not rescind your clearance personally. Adequate sleep was a written condition of his approval; and as your director, it is my responsibility to ensure that all conditions are met.”

  Shit, now I was embarrassed as well as scared.

  “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I overreacted.”

  “Yes, you did,” Stemp said mildly. “Why?”

  I shrugged and attempted a self-deprecating smile. “Because I’m very tired?”

  His lips quirked. “Ah.” He sobered, inspecting me with such intensity that I had to suppress a
squirm of discomfort.

  “You only react with anger when you feel threatened,” he observed clinically. Before I could respond, he added, “Why would you feel threatened by a temporary and easily-remedied suspension of your active-duty status?”

  Terror froze my insides. Oh God, he was realizing how fucked up I was. They’d lock me up and throw away the key.

  I catapulted beyond panic to icy calm. If he wasn’t already thinking of locking me up, I sure as hell wouldn’t put it into his mind by naming my fear aloud.

  My shoulders rose in an easy shrug and my voice came out tinged with wry humour. “It might be a teeny bit important to me to find out whether my mother is a flawed but well-meaning person who truly loves me, or a treasonous killer who’s lying her ass off.”

  The corner of Stemp’s mouth tugged upward. “Plausible.” The hint of a smile vanished as if it had never existed and he studied me again.

  Trying to see inside my mind.

  He had only said it was plausible. He hadn’t said he believed me.

  If he demanded to know what else was bothering me, should I lie? But what if he put me on the lie detector? Would it be better to just admit I was still desperately and irreversibly claustrophobic and terrified of imprisonment, and throw myself on his mercy?

  But regardless of any sympathy he might have for me, he would never compromise his duty…

  When Stemp spoke, I held myself very still so I wouldn’t flinch.

  “Very well. When you can truthfully…” His eyes narrowed to emphasize the word. “…report a minimum of eight consecutive hours of restful sleep, I will restore your active-duty status.” His expression softened. “Why don’t you go home now? Mother is expecting you for dinner at seventeen hundred hours, but you could rest between now and then.”