Friends In Spy Places

by Diane Henders

  “Sure, ’long’s it doesn’t end up in a murder investigation.”

  “It won’t.”

  By the time Hellhound turned the corner into the parking lot, I had Armstrong’s head wrapped in dark cloth.

  “Back in,” I said. “I want to dump him in the park, and I don’t want to carry him any farther than we have to.”

  He complied, and after a rapid survey to make sure we were unobserved, we hauled Armstrong’s limp body out of the vehicle and lugged him a few yards into the darkness under the trees.

  “There, behind those evergreens,” I panted.

  We dumped our burden into the snow and stood in silence while I caught my breath.

  “So what’s the plan?” Hellhound asked.

  “I just want him to wake up cold and uncomfortable.” Leaning into Hellhound, I grinned up at him. “Not curled up on a nice warm mattress that smells like fresh sex.”

  He chuckled. “Got it.”

  “Then I’m going to ask him a few questions, and with any luck, scare the piss out of him…”

  “Another good reason not to have him on my mattress,” Hellhound put in.

  “Very true.” I sighed. “It might not work. I won’t hurt him. I’m just hoping he’ll be scared enough to talk when we get him into Sirius. We’ll take him through the secret bowling alley entrance directly into the secured area, and keep him blindfolded the whole time so he doesn’t know who we are or where he is. Once he’s in the interrogation room I’ll trank him again so I can get him shackled to the table with the lie detector set up, and then we can take the blindfold off so I can see his expression while I question him from the observation booth.”

  “Okay.” Hellhound consulted his watch, the small glow bright in the darkness. “He’s gonna be out for another ten minutes or so. I’ll put everythin’ back to normal in the shaggin’ wagon…” He grinned. “Unless ya wanna take another ride.”

  “That was a ride to remember.” I gave a pleasurable shiver and reached up to kiss him. “Both rides. But it seems to me you still owe me an orgasm.”

  “Oh, yeah?” His wristwatch’s backlight had blinked off, but I could hear the grin in his voice. “How d’ya figure?”

  “You bet me an orgasm that Dipshit here wouldn’t make his move until after midnight.”

  “Guess what, darlin’. Ya gotta pay up.” He turned the backlight on again and held out his wrist. “One AM.”

  “What?” I stared at the glowing evidence. “But it was only ten-thirty… Shit, I fell asleep.”

  “Yep.” He dropped a kiss on my lips. “Ya needed it.”

  “I did; I just didn’t expect to get it.” The unintentional double entendre made me smile. “Thanks. For all of it.”

  “My pleasure. Literally.” He chuckled. “This time; an’ next time when I collect on our bet.”

  “Brace yourself,” I warned him. “I owe you a really good one.”

  “No such thing as a bad one.” He turned toward the Forester. “Back in a few minutes.”

  Right on schedule, Armstrong regained consciousness. Hellhound and I waited until his twitching and mumbling changed to frantic panting as he fought the restraints. I handed my small flashlight to Hellhound and kicked Armstrong in the shoulder. Not too hard.

  Pitching my voice deeper, I snapped, “Shut up.”

  He yelped. “Who… what… where am I? Who are you?”

  “I said shut up!” This time I kicked him in the ass.

  It felt good.

  A black urge swelled. Stop holding back. Unleash all my fear and fury and frustration on his eminently deserving body…

  Hellhound stood silently beside me, featureless in the darkness. The shape of my conscience.

  I didn’t kick Armstrong.

  “Why were you sabotaging Lola’s shop?” I demanded.

  “I didn’t! I wasn’t even there, you’ve got the wrong guy-”

  Rage seized me and I snatched my Glock from its holster. As Hellhound’s hand flew out to stop me, I grabbed it and placed it lightly on top of my gun.

  Aiming safely at the ground with my finger well clear of the trigger, I jacked the slide noisily. “That little lie is going to cost you a knee.”

  As I had hoped, Hellhound caught the ejected cartridge.

  “NO! Shit-sorry-okay-yeah-I-was-there-I-did-it! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Armstrong blubbered.

  “That’s more like it.” I reholstered my weapon and pocketed the cartridge Hellhound handed me. “So let’s try this again. Who sent you?”

  “Nobody…”

  “You really don’t like your knees, do you?” I growled.

  “Nobody-sent-me-I-did-it-all-myself-I’m-sorry-it’s-the-truth-honest!” Armstrong thrashed on the ground, attempting to squirm away. Without speaking, Hellhound placed his large boot on Armstrong’s neck. The man squeaked and went still, whimpering, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean anything by it!”

  “You fucking well did mean it. You set a tripwire. Why?” I accompanied the question with another kick to his ass, holding back with every ounce of restraint I possessed.

  “I just wanted to teach her a lesson! That interfering old cunt! She fucked up my marriage…”

  “I heard you fucked up your own marriage.”

  “Her and her fucking old-fart CRAPS cronies took pictures! I could have talked my way out of it like always, if they hadn’t taken those goddamn pictures! It’s all their fault!”

  Comprehension hit me like a two-hundred-pound sack of shit.

  Because that’s what Armstrong was. And that’s how much shit I was in right now.

  “And you iced Pearl’s sidewalk, and she fell and broke her ankle,” I said. “And you put a mouse in Eddy’s kitchen because he hosts the CRAPS meetings…”

  And Tom… Of course. Tom had said ‘I’m late’ when we’d met him outside Eddy’s. He was on his way to the CRAPS meeting. It was exactly the kind of civic-minded group he’d join.

  “…and you left a trap outside Tom’s door and shot up his sign,” I finished.

  Armstrong’s voice took on a whine. “Okay, yeah, so I did a few things to the other CRAPS idiots, too, but I just wanted to scare them, I didn’t mean any harm…”

  “You fucking sack of shit!” I kicked him again, and this time I wasn’t gentle. While he was still flinching and snivelling, I cut the restraints on his ankles and snapped, “On your feet!”

  Hellhound removed his boot from Armstrong’s neck and Armstrong stumbled awkwardly to his feet, fruitlessly fighting the bonds that pinned his hands behind his back.

  “We’re going for a walk,” I said. “If you say anything, or if you try to run, or if you do anything at all except shut up and walk, I’m going to kill you so slowly and painfully that you’ll wish you’d wrapped that tripwire around your own neck and pulled it tight. If you do exactly what I say, I’ll let you live. Got it?”

  “I got it, I got it, I’ll do what you say-”

  “Shut up. Walk.”

  Hellhound and I each took an elbow and escorted him back to the Forester. I got in the back with Armstrong, and Hellhound handed back my flashlight before sliding into the driver’s seat to pilot us to the bowling alley.

  Our trip to the secured area was silent except for Armstrong’s snivelling and the ever-increasing voice in the back of my brain screaming, ‘You are completely fucked!’

  I ignored it as best I could.

  Standing in the soundproof observation room, I stared glumly at the video monitor. Armstrong slumped in the interrogation room, unconscious from the latest dose of tranquilizer I’d administered, shackled to the table and hooked up to the lie detector.

  “I’m fucked,” I said.

  Hellhound frowned. “Why? We got him. We’ll get a confession an’ call the cops, an’ Lola’s gonna be fine.”

  “Except that it has nothing to do with me.” I sank into one of the chairs with a groan. “I just wasted Department resources and a whole shitpile of time barking up the wrong tre
e and ignoring my real missions.” I slumped forward and thumped my forehead against my fists. “And I forgot to call Nora after my nine o’clock briefing. She was going to wait up for my call. She’ll be totally pissed, I won’t get anything more from her, and Dermott is going to fry me. I’m going to prison for the rest of my fucking life.”

  Panic squeezed my chest.

  Run.

  Run now!

  “But, darlin’,” Hellhound began.

  “He’s awake.” I nodded at the monitor, which showed Armstrong jerking frantically at the shackles. “Time to ask the questions.”

  I flipped on the voice filter and pressed the intercom button. “Armstrong.”

  He twitched, staring wildly around the featureless interrogation room. “What? Where am I? What is this place?”

  “Shut up and answer my questions with yes or no.”

  He nodded, his eyes white with fear.

  “Is your name Bob Armstrong?”

  “Yes.”

  The green light confirmed the truth.

  “Have you ever used any other name?”

  “No.”

  Green light.

  “Were you targeting CRAPS members to get revenge?”

  “Y-Yes…”

  Green light.

  “Were you working with anybody else?” I held my breath.

  “No.”

  Green light. Shit.

  “Did anybody else prompt you, or pay you, or encourage you to do this?”

  “No…” He stared around the room, sweat trickling down his temples.

  “So it was all your own idea.”

  He gulped. “Y-Yes.”

  More green lights. Fuckity-fuck.

  “Have you ever heard of Arlene Widdenback?”

  “No.”

  Green light. Hellhound and I exchanged an unhappy look.

  “Have you ever heard of Aydan Kelly?”

  “She’s Nora Taylor’s daughter.”

  It wasn’t a yes or no so the light didn’t flash, but I didn’t need clarification of that particular statement.

  “So you know Nora Taylor?”

  “No…”

  The red light flashed.

  “Try again, asshole,” I snarled.

  “Okay-yes-I-met-her but I don’t know her,” he babbled. “She’s just this old broad I met at the hotel, I was trying to charm her into buying my dinner and drinks but she stiffed me, that’s all, I swear!”

  My heart plummeted.

  “Had you ever met Nora Taylor before you met her at the hotel?”

  “No.”

  “Did you have any reason to communicate with her other than to try to con her out of a meal and drinks?”

  “No.”

  “Did she ever ask you to do anything for her?”

  “I drove her to the hospital to visit a friend.”

  “Was that all she ever asked you for?”

  “Just my car keys.”

  “Did she ever ask you for anything else besides your car keys and a ride to the hospital? Yes or no.”

  “No.” He was beginning to sound puzzled.

  Green lights all the way. Oh God.

  Clinging to the ever-diminishing hope that I might still be able to save my own ass, I asked, “What did she tell you about her daughter?”

  “Wh-which one?”

  I couldn’t quite prevent my wince, and Hellhound reached over to squeeze my hand.

  “Rebecca,” I said on impulse.

  “N-nothing much; she’s a nice girl, they get along great, that’s about it.”

  “Did she talk about Rebecca’s work?”

  “No.”

  Green light.

  Dammit, I was getting nowhere. “What did she tell you about Rebecca?” I barked. “I want to know every… fucking… thing!”

  Armstrong flinched. “I don’t know anything, honest! She just said she has a daughter in England who’s really nice and that’s all she said, she only mentioned her because she was comparing her to what a bitch her other daughter is!”

  Hellhound winced on my behalf and squeezed my hand again, but this time I didn’t even twitch. Cold purpose filled me.

  “Is that the truth?” I asked.

  “Yes!”

  The green light flashed.

  “So Aydan Kelly is a bitch,” I said. “What else did Nora tell you about her?”

  Armstrong sat up like a student who finally knows the right answer. “Nora had to go into witness protection when Aydan was a teenager, and finally after thirty years she got out and contacted Aydan, and Aydan’s being a total bitch about it. Always making these nasty remarks, and blaming Nora for leaving when Nora was only trying to protect her all along. Nora’s still trying to get along with her but it’s not going well and she’s getting sick of it. I said she should just go back to England and to hell with the bitch, but Nora doesn’t want to quit on her just yet. I don’t know why. If my kid treated me like that I’d kick him in the ass.”

  He didn’t know it, but he was kicking me in the guts.

  Unable to let it go, I asked, “So why do you think Nora’s sticking around?”

  Armstrong shrugged. “She loves her kid, I guess.”

  I was about to shrivel up and blow away in a tornado of guilt when he added, “Or she wants something.”

  “What?” I snapped. “What does she want?”

  He tensed, staring anxiously around the room. “I don’t know, I’m just guessing! Money, maybe. She said something about getting security for her retirement, but she said it like she was joking.”

  Security for her retirement. Maybe the kind of security that comes from selling classified intel gathered unwittingly by her daughter?

  “What exactly did she say?” I demanded. “What were her exact words?”

  “I don’t know, I don’t remember!” Armstrong jerked at the shackles, sweat beading his forehead. “Come on, let me go! She’s just some old lady, she’s nobody to me! I swear I don’t know anything else about her or her kids!”

  “Is that the truth?”

  “YES!”

  The green light flashed.

  “So you’re only staying at the hotel because your wife kicked you out.”

  “Yes!”

  “You’re only being nice to Nora because you’re hoping to get a free meal.”

  “Yes!”

  “And you threatened Lola and iced Pearl’s sidewalk and planted a mouse in Eddy’s kitchen and left the trap at Tom’s door and shot up his sign, only to get revenge on CRAPS,” I said, feeling doom descending on me.

  “Yes!”

  Green lights all the way.

  I turned off the intercom and collapsed forward to beat my forehead against the table in time with my words.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

  Chapter 45

  Our return trip through the bowling alley had the grim silence of a death march.

  Back in the park, I escorted the blindfolded Armstrong out behind the evergreens again. “I’ll be watching you,” I snarled. “If you say anything to anybody about this, ever; or if you cheat in your business or miss an alimony payment or even step a toe out of line in any way; I’m going to pay you a visit and cut you into pieces small enough to feed a goldfish. Got it?”

  “G-Got it.”

  “Good.” I broke open a trank dart in front of his face. He collapsed after one inhalation and I hurriedly removed his restraints and blindfold, holding my breath. Leaving him crumpled in the snow, I returned to the Forester.

  “Sure ya wanna leave him out here?” Hellhound broke his silence at last. “He could get frostbite an’ hypothermia if he’s down for twenty minutes.”

  “I just gave him a sniff of aerosolized trank. He’ll be awake in five.”

  “Then we better scram. Meet ya in the Sirius parkin’ lot.”

  I slid into my car and followed his taillights.

  A few minutes later I parked at Sirius and shivered over to the Forester. Gratefully climbin
g into the warm passenger seat, I let out a long sigh.

  “So, ya gonna call the cops on him?” Hellhound asked.

  “I can’t. I’d love to see him charged, but we don’t have any actual evidence except his confession, and the lie detector is classified so we can’t release the footage. And even if we did give it to the police, they’d never get a conviction in a civilian court because we didn’t follow due process and we can’t even testify without blowing our covers.” I sighed. “I put the fear of God into him and that’ll have to do.”

  “Well, at least Lola an’ her buddies are gonna be safe.” Hellhound squeezed my hand. “Ya did good, darlin’. It ain’t your fault it turned out the way it did. Ya hadta follow the leads. Dermott’s gotta understand that.”

  “Back in the days when he still liked me he might have cut me some slack,” I mumbled. “But after I showed him up in that briefing last week, he’s howling for my blood.”

  “Fuckin’ asshole. But the chain a’ command’s gotta know that, right?”

  “I sure hope so. Because if it was up to Dermott I’d already be rotting in prison. And when he finds out about this clusterfuck…” I slumped in the seat. “Well, at least he still needs me tonight. I’ll have a few more hours of freedom.” A thought struck me and I added, “Maybe Nora called. She said she didn’t care how late I was. If she’s still waiting up for me, I might be able to pull this out of the fire…” I extracted my cell phone, hoping against hope.

  The message on the screen made every drop of my blood turn ice-cold and drain into my suddenly-sticky socks.

  Frozen, I stared at the phone. “Oh… shit…”

  “What, darlin’?” Hellhound demanded. “What’s wrong?”

  Wordlessly, I turned the screen toward him so he could read ‘Call home’ and its damning timestamp: 10:45 PM.

  “Aw, fuck.” He fell back in his seat.

  “Yep,” I said faintly. “I was so busy vibrating, I didn’t notice my phone.”

  He swallowed audibly. “Well, maybe it ain’t that big a deal. Ya were s’posed to sleep, right? Ya can just say ya were sleepin’ an’ ya missed it.”

  “Cross your fingers and hold that thought.” I pulled out a secured phone and reached for the door handle.