Chapter 19
Holt froze with his fists clenched, panting and glaring.
A memory surfaced from one of my outdoor survival courses.
Don’t run. It activates the predator instinct.
Afraid to move, I stood staring at Holt.
“Hey, is everything okay here?” A booming voice made us both jump, and I turned to see a very large young man whose skin matched his dark hoodie, regarding us with a furrowed brow.
I could have sworn I actually saw Holt’s secret agent identity click back into place. “Yeah, thanks for asking,” he said easily. He grimaced and limped a couple of paces. “We’re late for our movie. We were running, and I tripped over that fucking… thing.” He jabbed a finger at the innocent concrete parking curb beside us. “Fucked up my ankle…” He limped a few more steps.
“Oh.” The young man turned to me. “Ma’am, are you okay?”
I managed a smile. “Yeah. I didn’t hit the ground.” I cast a chagrined glance at my wristwatch. “But I think we’ve missed our show.”
“Oh.” My young saviour relaxed visibly. “Well, that sucks.” He eyed Holt’s ankle. “Do you need a hand getting back to your car?”
“No, thanks.” Holt limped in a small circle. “I just need to walk it out.”
“Okay. Well, I hope your night gets better.”
“Thanks, and you have a good night, too. Thanks again for checking on us,” I replied, my gratitude more genuine than he’d ever know.
The young man nodded and ambled away, leaving Holt and me staring at each other in silence.
“I’m sorry,” we said simultaneously.
“No, really,” I added, nausea swelling in my stomach as I realized I had attacked a fellow agent and devoutly wished severe injuries on him. “Oh, God. Greg, I’m so sorry.” My trembling legs let go and I dropped onto the curb, head in hands. “I’ll call Stemp,” I mumbled. “Tell him I’m… out of control. He’ll have to get somebody else…”
Despair closed my throat. He wouldn’t just ‘get somebody else’. He’d declare me unfit for active duty and throw me in jail for the rest of my life.
Holt lowered himself cautiously to the curb beside me. “Cut that shit out. It’s no big deal.”
“It is a big deal.” I massaged my aching temples. “I completely lost it. I’m a danger to everybody, myself included.”
“Hell, we all are. Hey, come on.” He nudged my shoulder roughly with his. “I should’ve known better than to push you right after an op went to shit. I got what I deserved. I’m not going to go running to Stemp, so why should you?”
“Because one of us could have ended up dead.”
Holt snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’d take a hell of lot more than a little rib-tickle like that to kill me.”
“No; you’re not getting it.” I raised my head to scowl at him. “It’s so easy to kill a person. A single bullet. A quick snap of the neck. And then it’s all over; you can’t take it back or make it better.”
He frowned, his craggy face thrown into sharp relief by the unforgiving streetlights. “No, I do get it, but I don’t think you’re getting it. This is a test. You know Stemp; he’s always got an angle. He put us together for a reason. I’ve been gaming the psych evaluations to make it look like I’m completely over my issues, and I bet you have been, too. But he can’t prove it.”
Unwilling to confirm his deduction, I eyed him in silence.
Holt studied my face and grunted. “Huh. Yeah, I thought so.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a grim smile. “Don’t look so surprised. Hell, we’re spooks. Players; it’s in our skin. I played that kid a few minutes ago without even thinking. You played me earlier with the bump keys. Giving me the big eyes and the ‘oh, you’re so smart, how did you do that’ bullshit.”
“I didn’t…” I began, but decided to shut up instead.
Holt grinned. “Yeah. So, Stemp’s testing us. If we get through this, we’re golden. If he finds out we’re at each other’s throats every ten seconds, we’re out on our asses.”
“Or we kill each other before he gets a chance to give us the boot,” I pointed out stubbornly.
Holt’s steely gaze bored into mine. “I can think of a lot worse ways to die than quickly at the hands of a friend.”
Sudden emotion clogged my throat, and I summoned a snarky tone to hide it. “Oh, trust me, I wasn’t planning to make it quick.”
Holt barked out a laugh and rose, reaching down to hoist me up. “So tell me about your party.”
I grimaced. “Nothing to tell. The usual booze, cocaine, hookers…”
“Damn, I knew I should’ve gone.”
“Yeah, it was a blast,” I said sourly. “Riel obviously wanted me to meet face to face with James and I don’t have a clue why. If they’re friends, Riel had to know that James would love to have my guts for garters. So either he was trying to piss off James or me. I’d say he succeeded in both.” I sighed, fatigue throbbing in my bones. “So James took a run at me, I pulled my gun, somebody called the cops, and I left in a hurry.”
“Pursued by half the Calgary police force.”
Humiliation heated my cheeks. “Yeah. I had to call Stemp to explain everything to them before they hunted me down with the helicopter and got excitable with their weapons.”
Holt shook his head. “Why didn’t you just drop James with martial arts? It would’ve attracted far less attention.”
“Not in my skill set as a bookkeeper,” I said shortly.
“How about as a porn star?” Holt needled, then flung up both hands in a gesture of surrender. “Kidding, okay? You’re an arms dealer so it made sense to pull a weapon. Anything else?”
“No. How about Nichele?”
“I got her on camera. She’s safe.” He gave me a mocking bow. “I’m only watching her exterior door; no bedroom shots. If you don’t need me tonight, I’ll get a hotel near her place so if anything happens I can be there fast. You didn’t learn anything new about Dante’s abduction?”
“No. James said he didn’t know anything about it.”
“There’s a shocker.”
“Yeah.” I failed to stifle a cavernous yawn, still shivering. “Stemp will keep us updated on the police investigation. If they get a break, we’ll know about it. And I guess I’ll just have to keep trying with Riel.” I kneaded the knotted muscles in my neck. “But he’s too casual about this. Not in enough of a hurry. My gut says he’s not the terrorist at all, dammit.”
Holt grimaced. “We can only do our assigned mission. If it’s not him, it’s up to the rest of the team to figure out who it really is. Go get some sleep. You look like shit.”
I flipped him a weary middle finger, and he grinned and added, “If you need to call me, use my Realtor number unless you need the secured system. Might as well save some phones if we can. I’m going to pitch this one as soon as I call in my report tonight, so here’s my secured number for tomorrow.”
“I called mine in already,” I replied. “Here’s my new one.”
We entered the numbers into our respective speed dials and turned back to our cars without ceremony.
The drive back to Hellhound’s apartment felt agonizingly slow. Hoping to see his SUV in its assigned place, I slumped in disappointment when I turned into the parking lot at last.
He still wasn’t home.
Despite my exhaustion, fear quickened my pulse. Was this an abnormally long absence? I’d never stayed with him long enough to find out. Miss Lacey would know, but…
I consulted my wristwatch. Past ten-thirty. She was an early riser, and at ninety years old she probably went to bed early, too. No need to wake her just to share my worry.
Trudging into the elevator, I propped myself against the wall for the ride to the third floor and tried not to remind myself that Miss Lacey always climbed the stairs.
Hooker’s meows began as soon as my key scraped in the lock, and I crouched to prepare for his imminent escape attempt. With him successfully snared I creaked to my feet and slipped into the apartment, locking the door behind me with relief.
“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered fondly as the cat scrambled down from my arms to perform his starvation act beside the food dish. “You’re such a drama king.”
As I leaned against the counter watching him gobble the few treats I’d tipped into his bowl, my eyelids dipped and I swayed. Jerking myself upright again, I sleepwalked out of the kitchen.
Bed. Everything would be better in the morning…
The blinking voicemail light on my cell phone made me detour to the couch where I’d abandoned it earlier in the evening.
Nichele’s was the first message: “Hey, girl, I’m safe at home. I didn’t see your friend the security guard, but it’s okay. This is a secure building and nobody’s going to get up here. I’ve been phoning Dante but he hasn’t answered. I… I hope…” Her gulp was audible. “Well, anyway… I’m going to bed early so call me tomorrow, okay?” She sounded tired and dispirited, and my heart smote me all over again.
Was Dante being tortured right now? Or was he already dead, mercifully beyond suffering?
The next message played, and Riel’s appealing voice interrupted my dark thoughts. “Allô, Arlene? It is Benoit Riel calling. I am most sorry for this evening. I did not realize that you and my friend James ‘ad this…” he hesitated as if searching for the right word. “…désaccord… ah… disagreement? I ‘ope you will forgive me. Please let us try again and I will make… ‘ow shall I say it? Make you up to it…?”
He made a sound that somehow managed to convey one of his expressive shrugs and went on, “…Make things better. I am staying at the ‘Archmans’ spa, and they ‘ave invited you to spend a few days also. You would ‘ave your own room and all the privacy you would wish, and I promise I would not be a creep. I ‘ope you will come, and we can discuss our business in a nicer way. Please telephone me.”
He followed up with a contact number, and after the click of the disconnect I sat frowning at the phone.
What the hell was he up to? How could he not know about the animosity between James and me? That had to be pure bullshit.
And now he wanted me to spend time with two more people who hated my guts. ‘The Harchmans had invited me’, my ass. The only sincere invitation I’d ever get from them would be to take a long walk on a short pier. So why had Riel coerced them into inviting me?
Was he testing me? What kind of reaction did he want? Or was he merely trying to get me killed in a way that didn’t implicate him?
My mind felt as though it was struggling through thick syrup, bumping up against unanswerable questions only to churn sluggishly on to the next one. My eyelids drooped again, and I abandoned the effort.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow I’d formulate some useful plan and return Riel’s call, but tonight?
Fuck it.
I stumbled to the bedroom and fell fully-dressed into bed.
It was coming for me. I tried to run but my feet wouldn’t move. The unnameable horror drew closer, its breath hot and fetid; its claws dripping gore. My bindings tightened, crushing my chest so I could barely breathe. The beast’s bristly muzzle grazed my cheek and I gave way to blind terror, screaming and thrashing-
I jerked awake and let out an aborted cry at the sight of wide feline eyes inches from my face.
“Jesus Christ! Don’t do that!” I shoved Hooker’s considerable weight off my chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”
He purred and nuzzled my cheek, and his tickly whiskers clarified the origin of the dream-beast’s muzzle.
“Damn cat.” I massaged his scruff, slowly relaxing as his purr vibrated through the mattress.
“Don’… do tha’… ‘gain…” I mumbled as sleep reclaimed me.
…I was waist-deep in blood, screaming voicelessly at the sight of Dante’s eviscerated body nailed to a cross…
The dream-beast’s muzzle intruded again.
When Hooker’s persistent nuzzling woke me from a third blood-drenched dream, I realized he wasn’t actually causing the nightmares; he was waking me when I started to mumble and struggle in their grip.
“Thanks, buddy,” I whispered, and cuddled him close. “You’re as good as Arnie at guarding my dreams. Lucky thing, too, or I’d have screamed the whole damn building awake by now.”
Dragging myself out of bed, I shucked off my wrinkled clothes and staggered to the bathroom for a drink of water. On my way back I paused in the bedroom doorway. The sight of the empty bed made me swallow hard.
Where was Arnie tonight? Sleeping safely somewhere, or creeping through the darkness in mortal peril?
Feeling foolish but unable to stop myself, I retrieved his big black parka from the closet and tucked it into bed beside me. Wrapping my arms around it and burying my face in the scent of his laundry soap, I drifted off again.
The sound of a key in the lock jolted me out of slumber. Hooker’s hoarse meows rose to a crescendo as the door clicked open and then closed softly.
“Good morning, John Lee.” Miss Lacey’s voice dropped as she apparently noticed my shoes and jacket beside the door. “Hush now, John Lee, we mustn’t wake Aydan. Hush now, hush now…”
The meowing receded to the kitchen and fell silent seconds after a cascade of clinks indicated food pouring into the bowl. Then scratching sounds from the front closet signalled the scooping of the litter box, followed by the quiet opening and closing of the door and the scrape of the key as Miss Lacey departed.
I burrowed back into the pillow, but slumber eluded me.
Was Dante still alive? Was Riel our Remembrance Day terrorist? Maybe I should have abducted James at gunpoint last night and forced him to tell me what he knew…
I flopped onto my back, grinding the heels of my hands into my forehead. God, I was no better than James. Two years ago I would have been sick at the thought of using violence to extract information. Now it was the first solution that came to mind.
Groaning, I flipped over to bury my face in the pillow again.
But what else could I do? There was no point in duplicating the efforts of the police or the anti-terrorist teams, and I didn’t have any super-spy skills at my disposal.
But a lot of innocent people might die if I didn’t figure out Riel’s game in time.
After a few more minutes of miserable contemplation, I dragged myself up to sit on the edge of the bed. Hooker appeared in the doorway, licking his chops and looking smug, and I glared at him as though it was all his fault.
“So; a gunrunner, a bimbo, a slimeball, and a spy walk into a spa,” I growled. “Guess what the punchline is.”
Hooker yawned hugely and began to launder a paw, and I muttered, “Yeah, I didn’t think it was very funny, either.”