Chapter 37
Holt eyed my balled fists and added, “Take a pill. Stemp will have my ass if I kill Kane before we can question him. Come on, we need to get out of here. Stemp’s calling in an anonymous tip to the cops about the back door hanging open, so they’ll be here pretty soon. Meet you at the coffee shop.”
Still seething, I followed him out and strode to my car.
By the time I got to the coffee shop I had my temper more or less under control. Antagonizing Holt wouldn’t help Kane. And anyway, Kane didn’t need help because he hadn’t done anything wrong. There was a perfectly good explanation for all this.
I hoped.
I heaved a sigh and got out of the car.
Holt had staked out a quiet table in the corner, and I dropped into the chair across from him with a groan.
He surveyed me with one eyebrow raised. “You look like you need a coffee.”
I glowered at him. “Coffee makes me cranky.”
He snorted, but there was a curl of humour at the corner of his mouth. “Wouldn’t want that. What can I get you, then?”
“Chamomile tea. Thanks. And the biggest chocolate chip muffin they’ve got.”
By the time he returned to his chair my eyelids were drooping.
“Look sharp, Kelly,” he commanded. “Spill everything you’ve got on Kane.”
I shrugged, choosing my words carefully. “There’s not much. The last time I talked to him, he was moving in with his ex and son and being a dad. Then all of sudden last night he was at Harchman’s, and we couldn’t talk because he was bugged.”
“Bugged.” Holt set down his coffee cup, frowning. “What the hell?”
“That’s what I thought. I don’t know who the bug belonged to, and I didn’t want to mess with it in case Kane was undercover and I screwed something up.”
Or something like that, anyway.
I went on, “Kane and I had faked a love-hate relationship the last time we were undercover at Harchman’s, so we put on a show for the bug and then called it a night. I didn’t see him again, but I found out he left this morning at ten-thirty.”
“Huh.” Holt sipped his coffee, narrowing his eyes as if to read between the lines I’d handed him. “Love-hate, eh? So you were up all night playing hide-the-salami. No wonder you look so bagged.”
“Fuck off.” I didn’t have energy to spare, so the words came out flat and weary.
Holt acknowledged the half-hearted insult with a casual middle finger, and persisted. “Why was he at Harchman’s? Who did he talk to? Who did he avoid?”
“Don’t know. We weren’t with the others long enough. Tawny and Lawrence Harchman were there, along with Labelle and Riel. Tawny was talking to Kane and feeling him up, but I’m pretty sure she does that with all the guys. He dropped her like a hot potato as soon as I arrived, but that might have been part of his cover.”
“You think he was expecting you?”
“Haven’t a clue.” I gulped down the last of the muffin and sipped my tea. “I sure as hell didn’t expect him.”
“But he had a room of his own.”
I suppressed a sigh. “Yeah.”
“Well, Stemp said the wiretap on Riel’s phone picked up a call this morning around eleven-thirty. Just a short conversation; Riel said ‘She just checked out’, and somebody that sounded a whole lot like Kane said ‘Don’t worry, I have it under control’.”
My stomach clenched as a thought that had been niggling at my subconscious flared into comprehension. Riel had said he was going for a mani-pedi at nine-thirty AM, but when I’d checked the network right before I’d left, there were no new sims.
So either he’d had a real-life manicure; or else he’d skipped the whole thing because he was otherwise occupied.
Maybe meeting someone… like Kane?
No. That just didn’t make sense.
I kept my voice level. “Lots of guys sound like Kane.”
Not true; that velvety baritone was his alone.
I followed up that flimsy defense with another one, equally flimsy. “And even if it was him, he’s bugged and obviously undercover so he’d have to say whatever Riel wanted to hear.”
“Get your head out of your ass, Kelly.” Holt scowled at me. “You’re compromised. He’s got you wrapped around his little finger, and you’re swallowing his bullshit whole.” He leered. “Along with anything else you might’ve swallowed last night.”
A jolt of anger straightened my tired spine. “Listen, asshole-”
“No, you listen, dumbass! Your boyfriend is in serious shit here, and if you don’t show some objectivity, you’re going to go down with him when this all shakes out.” His eyes narrowed. “Unless you’re already double-crossing the Department…”
“Fuck off! I just passed my fucking lie-detector test, okay? And so did Kane!” I reined in my temper with an effort. “I’m not compromised; I’m just telling you the facts as I see them. We both know Kane’s record as an agent, and we both know that after a career like that, it’s pretty damn unlikely that he’d turn.” I glared at him. “Unless you’re saying you’d consider it yourself.”
Holt bristled. “You know damn well I wouldn’t!” I flung out my hands in a ‘well, duh’ gesture, and he acknowledged it with a shrug. “Okay, fine, I’ll give you that; for now. So that’s all you know?” He eyed me suspiciously. “Where did he go when he left this morning?”
“Don’t know. I didn’t even know he’d left.” I didn’t mention that he’d last been seen in the company of Tawny Harchman. No need to fan the flames.
“Huh.” Holt frowned at me some more. “Okay, so tell me about his personal life. Where does he hang out, and who with? Give me bars, restaurants, hobbies, drinking buddies, ex-girlfriends, everything.”
“How the hell should I know?” I scowled at him over my mug. “I told you, we’re not seeing each other. I know he was living at his condo here in Calgary-”
“Address?” Holt interrupted.
“It’s in Sundance, but I don’t know the actual street address. Stemp would have it.”
“Okay. What else?”
“Like I said, as far as I know he was living at his condo until he moved in with Alicia, and he’s been volunteering at Daniel’s school during lunch periods. That’s about it.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Holt snapped. “You’re a fucking agent. Your life depends on observing people. You’re lying to protect him.”
“I am not!” I jerked forward to growl at him. “Look, I don’t get close to people, okay? He works out. I don’t know which gym. He volunteers at Daniel’s school. I don’t know the name of the school. He calls his dad in Winnipeg sometimes. He visits Hellhound sometimes. He likes cars and kids and gourmet cooking, and he gets up at five-thirty AM. That’s all I know about him. I don’t know his friends. I don’t know what he does in his spare time. I can’t name his favourite restaurant or bar. I don’t know his daily routine, or if he even has one. I never asked; he never told; and I haven’t spent enough time with him to find out.”
Holt stared at me in silence. “That is really fucking sad,” he said at last.
“Welcome to my life.” I downed a slug of tea in an attempt to fill the sudden emptiness in my chest.
He scowled. “Staying detached is part of the job, so suck it up. What I meant was, that’s a fucking piss-poor job of observation. You expect me to believe you can’t do any better than that?”
My fingers closed in a stranglehold on my mug in lieu of throttling him and my voice came out hard and level. “I don’t give a shit what you believe. If you’re such a fucking hotshot, go dig up Kane’s background yourself. Good luck.”
He sneered. “I don’t need luck. Unlike you, I’ve got observational skills.”
“Right, Mr. Top Agent.” I gave the title a sarcastic curl of my lip. “So what’s my favourite restaurant? Daily routine? Ex-boyfriends? Hideouts? Secret contacts? Go ahead, dazzle me with your brilliant observational skills.”
Holt glared. “How the hell should I know? I only see you when we’re working. I’m not investigating you.”
“Well, duh. Same with Kane and me.”
“It’s not the same at all. You’re screwing him. Women get attached as soon as there’s sex involved.”
I jerked forward, fists clenching, and he held up a restraining hand and kept talking. “Settle down, Kelly; I’m trying to help you. I’m just saying, you can’t trust a spook. He’s been playing you all along, and he’s playing you now. You’re just his patsy until he decides to stick a knife in your back, and then you’re his dead patsy. I don’t want to see that happen, okay?”
I bit down the angry tirade that begged for utterance and kept my tone measured. “Thanks for your concern, but he could have done that a dozen times over, and he never did. You’re wrong, Holt. Believe me, I get the whole professional paranoia thing, but you have to trust somebody sometime.”
The irony of those words coming from my own mouth made my lips twist in a bitter smile.
“What’s so goddamn funny?” Holt demanded.
“You wouldn’t get it.”
“Probably not.” He shrugged. “Good thing I don’t give a shit. So what were all those addresses Webb sent me?”
“Oh…”
My brain booted into emergency justification mode. With his new mission to capture Kane, Holt wouldn’t waste any time looking for Dante. But maybe I could slow his pursuit of Kane and help Dante at the same time…
“Those addresses are all the properties around here owned by Lawrence or Tawny Harchman, Labelle, Riel, and James Helmand,” I said with all the confidence I could muster. “I was originally thinking they might be helpful with my mission with Riel…” I kept talking, hoping he wouldn’t ask for clarification of that vague statement. “…but now they might be worthwhile investigating if you’re looking for Kane, too. I’m positive that he’s not doing anything illegal, but if he’s mixed up in this case somehow, those are some other places he might be.”
Holt gave me a level look.
I sipped my tea, hoping he couldn’t smell the bullshit I’d just spread in front of him.
“It’s a long shot,” he said slowly. “I’ll check out the more promising leads first, but it’s good to have those just in case.”
Keeping my face expressionless, I hid a sigh of relief. Time to escape before he realized I’d snowed him.
I gulped the last of my tea. “Are we done here? I have to go back to Silverside for a briefing and to question the two dirtbags who broke into my house last night, and then I have to get back to Riel.”
“Another break-in? Shit, Kelly, how many times have you had to fix your house now?”
I scrubbed my hands over my face. “I’m trying not to tally it up. At least I won’t have to scrape up frozen blood this time.” A sudden yawn nearly turned me inside out, and I dragged myself to my feet before I could succumb to the urge to curl into a ball and sleep for a week. “Here’s my latest burner number.”
Holt rose, too, and we exchanged numbers and headed for the door.
At my car, I reached for the door handle only to have Holt’s hand land on top of the door, preventing me from opening it. When I turned a frown on him, he said, “You’re too tired to drive safely. Pull off somewhere and grab a half-hour nap. I’ll check in with Stemp in half an hour and tell him you just left.”
Gratitude thickened my throat. “Thanks,” I muttered, and got into the car before I could reveal the emotion.
Despite my nap in an abandoned roadside rest area, I fought sleep interspersed with worry all the way to Silverside.
What if Holt lost his temper and shot Kane instead of bringing him in for questioning? He’d only have to say Kane had resisted arrest. If Kane really didn’t want to be brought in, his lethal martial arts skills would make deadly force the only option.
I sought comfort in the knowledge of Kane’s expertise. He was the better agent of the two. If Kane didn’t want to be found, Holt wouldn’t find him.
But Kane didn’t know Holt was hunting him. And I didn’t have any way to warn him.
A sliver of Holt’s suspicious paranoia prickled under my skin. Should I even be thinking about warning Kane?
What if I’d been wrong about him all along?
Goddammit.
By the time I parked in the Sirius Dynamics lot, my face hurt from yawning and I was in a mood foul enough to make Arlene Widdenback look like Pollyanna.
I stomped up the stairs and into the lobby, mustering a tight-lipped smile for the security guard while I signed in. Going directly to Stemp’s office, I tapped on his open door and stuck my head in.
“I’m ready to question those guys now,” I growled. “Where are they?”
Stemp looked up from his computer. “In my garden shed.”
“Your…?”
I must have looked as confused as I felt, because Stemp smiled. “It’s a useful shed, quite secluded and soundproof.” He tossed me a set of keys attached to a fob, which by some miracle I managed to snag out of the air without fumbling.
“Press the red button before you go in,” he explained. “It will fill the shed with tranquilizer gas. Press the green button on the back of the fob to activate the screen for video surveillance. After the occupants lose consciousness, press the blue button to exhaust the gas from the shed and replace it with safe air. That takes approximately sixty seconds.”
“Okay,” I confirmed as I turned over the fob to check the button and tiny screen, feeling slightly more cheerful.
“If they tell you what you want to know, gas them again but leave the door open so they can escape. I’ll send video footage of them breaking and entering at your farm to the RCMP, who will coincidentally receive an anonymous tip saying two men were seen behaving suspiciously in my back yard. By the time the police arrive, our friends should be conscious and ready to be arrested.”
“Perfect.”
“If they don’t tell you want you want to know, you may leave them where they are for another day.” Stemp eyed me for a moment in silence before adding. “Keep in mind that video surveillance will be active the whole time, and I’ll be watching the live feed.”
“Of course,” I agreed, as if I would never consider any method of interrogation that wasn’t strictly legal. “Who have they seen so far?”
“Nobody identifiable. The retrieval team was masked and the prisoners were tranked immediately. They haven’t seen another human being for nearly twenty-four hours. Please return here for briefing as soon as you’re finished.”
I gave him a nod and departed, making a stop at Stores for a ballistic trank pistol in case I needed to convince my captives that Arlene Widdenback wouldn’t hesitate to kill.
On the short drive to Stemp’s quiet neighbourhood, my curiosity rose. I already knew his outwardly-modest home contained some unusual security features; but the garden shed was a revelation. Holt must have searched it when we investigated last year, but he hadn’t mentioned it to me.
So either the shed’s special features were well-concealed; or else Holt considered it perfectly normal to have a high-tech jail cell in one’s back yard.
Damn, now I was envious. I needed to beef up my farm. My secret room in the basement was good and my video surveillance system was excellent, but I needed better locks on the doors; and a secure holding shed seemed like a fine idea.
I heaved a sigh as I parked in the alley. When I’d bought my farm nearly two years ago, I had been innocently anticipating the joys of a custom-built garage. Who knew I’d end up coveting a high-tech interrogation facility?
“Fuck my life,” I muttered as I got out of the car, my renewed bad mood settling on my shoulders like a dark and thorny cloak.