Chapter 25
After a few moments of fearful hesitation, I squeezed out of my car and sidled along the narrow gap between it and the panel van. I couldn’t see a damn thing beyond the two tall trucks. I could be stepping out into a hail of bullets.
Or somebody might be hiding under the panel van, waiting to grab my ankles and yank me underneath…
Heart hammering, I snapped a glance under the van.
Nothing.
The sound of footsteps on concrete in front of the truck made me catch my breath. Was a gunman coming for me?
Should I confront him or turn and flee?
Dammit, in this narrow gap I couldn’t even reach my ankle holster easily…
The footsteps carried a well-dressed woman in front of my car, and I clenched my teeth and strode forward. Surely if she was strolling along without a care in the world, there couldn’t be thugs lurking just beyond my field of view.
When I emerged from the gap, nobody was in sight. With a sense of anticlimax mixed with relief, I scuttled to the door of the restaurant.
Inside the foyer, I paused to take a long slow breath in an attempt to dissipate my adrenaline.
Made it. Not dead or abducted.
Yet.
I straightened my spine and put on a pleasant expression before striding up to the reception station.
“I’m meeting someone for dinner,” I informed the suit-clad young man. “Benoit Riel?”
“Yes, ma’am; he’s here already. This way, please.”
I followed him, my mind whirling with half-baked strategies. Should I pretend nothing was wrong? Or confront Riel and demand what he knew about my disappearing men? A brief but glorious vision of my hands around Riel’s throat while he choked out answers made me smile as we rounded the corner.
Riel rose from his table with an answering smile. My heart sank at the sight of Frederick Labelle beside him, giving me one of his big insincere grins, too.
Dammit. Was this part of his six-o’clock plan? And with Labelle here, would Riel clam up?
“Allô again, Arlene,” Riel greeted me. “You honour us with your presence.”
He bowed over my hand and courteously remained standing while the maître-d’ seated me. As he and Labelle resumed their own seats, I made my decision.
Concentrate on the mission. Betraying my concern over the missing men would only endanger them further. Arlene Widdenback was a stone-cold bitch, so she wouldn’t care enough about anyone to make a scene if they’d disappeared.
Of course, I’d already spoiled that impression by demanding Dante’s whereabouts from James at gunpoint; but I conveniently ignored that inconsistency.
I focused on Riel with my best fake smile. “I’m sorry I’m late. It took longer than I expected to find a parking spot.”
“It is quite all right. The parking here, it is very difficult, no? And expensive. Even in Montréal it is not so dear.”
I nodded. “I try to avoid coming downtown if I can.”
After a few more banal pleasantries, we settled down to peruse the menu. I stayed silent, my mind racing while I skimmed the offerings without seeing them.
How should I approach this? With Labelle here, I’d have to wait for Riel to make the first move in the weapon negotiation. What could we talk about? My handy-dandy spy courses had recommended that I build rapport or fake a sexual attraction, but neither of those seemed like a good idea. Arlene Widdenback didn’t give a shit about building rapport with anybody; and Riel wasn’t giving off a sexual vibe, despite his charm. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to cozy up to Labelle.
“I ‘ope there is something on the menu that appeals to you.” Riel’s pleasant voice interrupted my thoughts. He made another of his self-deprecating sad faces. “I would be most sorry if had made this restaurant to be so wonderful, only to find you do not like any of the food.”
“No, that’s not the problem at all.” I gave him my best smile. “My problem is that everything looks good and I can’t decide.”
Inspiration struck. He makes people like him by pretending he needs help.
I could do that.
I laid down the menu and added, “I’ll put my fate in your hands. I’m sure you know all the best dishes, so please choose your favourites for me. I like everything, so you can’t go wrong.”
Surprise and pleasure warmed his expression. “Ah, you honour me again with your trust. I shall not disappoint you.”
When the waiter arrived Riel ordered both our meals. I leaned back in my chair and concentrated on keeping a pleasant expression on my face while trying to develop a strategy that would advance both my assigned mission and my personal one.
Riel opened the conversation with a discussion of the food he had ordered, and soon we were chatting about gourmet cooking. Even though both Labelle and I made subtle attempts to steer the conversation during the meal, Riel remained charmingly convivial to me and ignored Labelle except to respond to his sallies with replies as brief as basic politeness required.
When dessert arrived at last, I scowled at the delicate meringues on my plate. The meal was almost over. I’d have to say something about the weapon despite Riel’s obvious reticence. Once we got to Harchman’s, I’d be simultaneously watching my own ass and spying on their network. I wouldn’t have any brainpower left for verbal jousting.
“Is something wrong with the macarons?” Riel inquired with concern.
I summoned a smile. “No, they look delicious. I’m sorry; I have a lot on my mind at the moment.”
“Ah.” After a polite pause, he added, “Can I ‘elp with anything?”
Finally, an opening. Start with something easy…
“I don’t know. Maybe. You said James Helmand is your friend, but how well do you really know him? I think he had something to do with my friend Dante’s disappearance.”
“Ah.” Riel sat back in his chair. “You are very… ‘ow shall I say it…? Honest?”
“Straightforward. I don’t like playing games.”
Labelle looked as though he was about to make a snide comment, but instead he took a large mouthful of his dessert and leaned back in his chair.
Riel gave me a sorrowing look. “But it is all about the game, is it not? Like the ‘ockey, it is both strategy and brute force, no?”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I shrugged and took a bite of my dessert, eyeing him steadily.
He sighed as though I’d disappointed him. “My friend James, he is also very… ‘ow did you say it? Straight ahead. Too much, sometimes. And after this prison term, he is now… not the man I knew before. I may ask him, but he may not tell me.”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d see what you can find out.” I held eye contact with him. “I like to know who my enemies are.”
Riel chuckled, obviously unfazed. “Yes, and the enemies of Arlene Widdenback, they do not live long.”
“Coincidence, I’m sure.” I took another bite of dessert. It really was delicious. Too bad I was too nervous to enjoy it.
“Yes, coincidence, no doubt.” Riel savoured a bite of his own dessert with a beatific expression before adding, “This Dante must be very dear to you.”
Alarm bells clamoured in my brain. He was fishing to see what kind of leverage he could gain. Thank God I hadn’t mentioned Kane or Hellhound.
Willing my pulse to steady, I returned a wry smile. “Not particularly. We were introduced by a mutual friend for a blind date last year. It didn’t turn out, and I haven’t seen him since. But the friend who introduced us is very fond of him, and…” I let my smile sharpen. “…I don’t like to have my friends upset.”
“Ah, of course not. And this is why I would prefer to be your friend.” Mischief sparkled in his eyes. “But your blind dates, they seem to not go so well.”
I forced a laugh and nodded toward him. “Particularly the fictitious ones.”
Labelle’s brow furrowed, obviously confused by our in-joke but unwilling to ask for an explanation. Riel’s attention was solely focused on me and I took his cue, ignoring Labelle’s frown to continue, “But Dante is a nice guy; we just didn’t…”
“…click,” Riel and I finished simultaneously, and Riel smiled and offered me a half-bow from his seated position. “It is his great loss.” He turned his attention to his dessert for a few more leisurely bites before adding, “But maybe he had no chance. When I saw you at Nichele’s office, it seemed your affections were perhaps already spoken for?”
A bite of meringue stuck in my throat and I momentarily stopped breathing, forcing myself to reach calmly for my water glass and sip. While the lump moved reluctantly stomach-ward, I regarded Riel over the rim of my glass with a half-smile.
“I’m afraid I don’t have much in the way of affections,” I said after a moment, thankful that my voice didn’t come out in a squeak or a croak. “I do enjoy a pleasant distraction, though.”
“Ah, yes,” he agreed. “I believe I recognized your distraction. John Kane, was it not?”
Shit.
He wouldn’t talk about the weapon, but he’d blab about Kane in front of Labelle? Bastard.
I held onto my smile. “You’ve done your homework.”
“But of course. Though, I am curious.” Riel leaned forward, his eyes alight. “Your… ‘ow shall I say it… alliance… with Monsieur Kane? My ‘omeworks tell me it is…” He tilted his hand from side to side. “…sometimes on, sometimes off. Is ‘e one of your… ‘ow shall I say it… trusted ones?”
“Trusted?” I raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Trust is overrated. He’s convenient at times.”
“Ah.” Riel leaned back, studying me. “You are an interesting woman. So warm and yet so cold. And this is ‘ow you control him, yes? With such promises that he cannot resist.”
I shrugged, conscious of Labelle’s attentive presence. “He could easily resist, but he doesn’t have any reason to. It’s a convenient arrangement for him, too.”
“Ah, you underestimate yourself.” Riel gave me a courtly inclination of his head before continuing, “My ‘omeworks also tell me your arrangement with Monsieur Kane was in place last Christmas when you went… ‘ow shall I say it? Shopping…? Together?”
My pulse ticked up. Maybe he’d talk about the weapon after all.
But he’d already indicated subtle disapproval of my bluntness…
I chose to stall. “Is that so? I’d be interested to know who started that rumour.”
“My friend James said ‘e became friends with a Monsieur Barnett and a Monsieur Parr…” Riel raised an eyebrow before finishing, “…before they died. Apparently your Christmas toys made quite a… ‘ow shall I say it? …impression… on Monsieur Barnett.”
So Riel knew I’d claimed to have the lethal ultrasound weapon last Christmas, and he also knew about the so-called ‘torture weapon’ I’d used to trick Barnett.
God, his screams still haunted my nightmares.
I converted my shudder into a contemptuous shrug. “Barnett made some bad choices. And he was an asshole.”
Labelle leaned forward, his avid posture at odds with the casual tone he affected. “Those must have been quite the Christmas toys.”
“Or per’aps Monsieur Barnett was… impressionable,” Riel said dismissively. “Shall we ‘ave coffee?”
I finished my last bite of meringue. “No thanks. You go ahead.”
The words had just left my mouth when the monitor in my wristwatch vibrated, sending a surge of adrenaline through my veins.
Somebody had breached the perimeter of my farm.
Whipping out a burner phone so as not to draw attention to my wrist, I toggled to the monitoring app and switched to streaming video. Sure enough, two men in dark clothing were approaching my back door, crowbars in hand.
“Excuse me,” I added, holding my voice steady with all my might. “I have to take this call.” Punching the speed dial as I rose from the table, I hurried toward the washrooms.
When Stemp answered on the first ring as always, I rapped out, “Somebody’s breaking into my house through the back door. Can you send a team to pick them up and hold them until I can question them?”
“Stand by.”
While dead air filled my ear, I toggled back to the video display. The two men had wasted no time with my back door, and I swore quietly. Another fucking repair. They were probably trashing my house right now. Stemp’s team had better get there pronto.
“The team has been deployed.” Stemp’s crisp voice soothed my nerves. “Perhaps this is what Labelle was arranging earlier. Any other developments? We’re not getting audio from our bugs.”
“No, Riel has dropped hints that make it plain that he knows I had the weapon, but he doesn’t seem to want to talk in front of Labelle.”
“Interesting. And when do you expect to return to question your visitors?”
“Um… I don’t know. I’ll likely have to go to the spa tonight as planned and hope Riel and I get a chance to talk. Let’s plan for tomorrow afternoon. And I’ll want to question them as Arlene Widdenback.”
Cold humour tinged Stemp’s voice. “I will ensure that their accommodations are up to Ms. Widdenback’s standards.”
My lips peeled back in a wolfish grin. “Thank you very much.”
“My pleasure, I assure you.”
The grin still tugged at the corners of my mouth while I made my way back to the table.
Labelle remained seated but Riel rose graciously, smiling in return. “Good news?” he inquired as we reseated ourselves.
“Maybe. We’ll see.”
“Ah.” His eyes sparkled with interest. “Very mysterious.” The waiter arrived with an insulated carafe and Riel declined a coffee refill and requested the cheque. “The spa calls to me,” he said as the waiter departed. “Let us not waste our precious relaxation time.”
The cheque arrived promptly and after a brief wrangle which I didn’t try too hard to win, he prevailed and paid the bill.
Labelle sat sullenly silent throughout our exchange and avoided eye contact.
Hmm. What had he and Riel discussed while I was gone? Or not discussed? Or maybe Riel had confronted Labelle about stalling our deal.
When we stepped out into the cold evening, Labelle muttered, “See you there,” and strode away.
“Are you sure I may not drive us?” Riel asked. “I would most appreciate the company on such a long and dark drive.”
Making himself sound vulnerable again. Oh, he was smooth.
“Sorry, but I really don’t know when I might need to leave,” I said. “I’ll meet you there.”
Riel looked flatteringly disappointed, and we parted with mutual expressions of fake goodwill.
When I slid into my car and activated my bug detector, it still registered all-clear. Then I clenched my teeth and twisted the key in the ignition, half-expecting it to be the last thing I ever did.
The car didn’t explode. Trembling, I laid my head back and switched to yoga breathing in an attempt to calm my pounding heart.
God, I could barely make it through a meal without letting my fears show. How would I manage an overnight stay among enemies? What if I woke up screaming, as I almost certainly would? That wasn’t the image I wanted for Arlene Widdenback at all.
But if I stayed awake all night, my trembling hands and dark-circled eyes would betray me in the morning.
Shit, shit, shit!
My positive attitude of the previous day was long gone. Good agent, my ass. I was a pathetic imposter whose friends were being picked off one by one; and my only strategy was to have dinner with my nemesis and then meekly follow him out into the middle of nowhere, probably to my doom. But, dammit, what else could I do? I had to stay true to my undercover role…
Pulling out a secured phone, I stared at it with my finger quivering over the speed dial button. Should I call Stemp and ask for advice? That would have been unthinkable only a few short months ago, but now…
My hand dropped back into my lap. Nope, it was still unthinkable.
And I sure as hell wouldn’t ask Holt. His jab from the previous night was still smarting, probably because it was true. I hadn’t done anything to earn his respect.
I thumped a fist on the steering wheel. So do something.
Hissing out an angry breath between my teeth, I texted him ‘Had a nice dinner, going to the spa now’, and pulled out of the parking lot to head for the highway.
About halfway to Harchman’s my phone vibrated. GHoltRealtor.
Hope ballooned in my chest as I pulled over to the shoulder. Please let it be good news…
My optimism was dashed by Holt’s tone, a blend of tension and irritation. “That buyer didn’t show up at eight o’clock, either. Have you been able to reach him? What’s his problem, anyway?”
My heart shrivelling, I cleared my throat but my voice still came out thin and uncertain. “I haven’t heard from him. I don’t know what his problem is. I hope he hasn’t…” I gulped, choosing my words carefully for the unsecured line. “…lost interest. If I hear anything I’ll let you know.”
“What about the homeowner? Have you heard from him yet?”
“No.”
Holt blew out a breath. “Well, we shouldn’t even be showing the house until the homeowner has signed a listing contract with me. Call me as soon as you hear from him; and let me know if you hear from the potential buyer again, too.”
“I will.”
I hung up and stared out the windshield, my insides as cold as the night that surrounded me.
No matter how I counted, that meeting time couldn’t have been later than eight o’clock.
Oh, God. Had I lost Kane, too?