Chapter 1
Driving through the cold grey November morning, I belted out an off-key version of ‘My Own Way To Rock’ along with Burton Cummings. The bouncy tune might have been enough to energize me for a day at the office, but it couldn’t dissipate the perpetual current of low-level anxiety buzzing in the back of my mind.
I stopped murdering the song and switched to foolish optimism instead.
No need to worry. I could just relax and be myself: Aydan Kelly, ordinary middle-aged bookkeeper. My undercover assignment had dragged on for months with no discernible progress, so maybe my potential arms buyer had lost interest. Or gotten arrested. Or better yet, killed.
Or maybe he’d seen the error of his ways, repented, and joined a monastery to spend the rest of his days ministering to the poor and infirm…
The ring of my burner phone shattered my fragile bubble of wishful thinking.
Heart thumping, I swerved over to stop by the side of the road. After a single deep breath that was supposed to be calming, I thumbed the Answer button and barked, “Arlene Widdenback” in my best hardass-bitch voice.
“Good morning, Ms. Widdenback.” Frederick Labelle’s rich radio-announcer’s tones oozed through the small speaker like warm butterscotch syrup, stirring queasiness in the pit of my stomach. “I hope you are well.”
“Fine,” I said shortly. “I’ll be even better if you finally have a deal for me.”
“Not quite yet.” He infused the words with all the synthetic regret of a weatherman predicting hail, tornadoes, and plagues of locusts. “However, you’ll be pleased to hear that our client will be coming to Calgary soon, and he’d like to meet you face to face.”
Fear tightened my throat, and I held onto Arlene Widdenback’s no-bullshit voice with an effort. “You’re supposed to be my broker, so do your job and bring me a deal. I don’t do face-to-face meetings.”
Annoyance chilled his voice, congealing its former sweetness into something quite a bit less pleasant. “That’s what I told him. I’ve been working on this deal since August, and I don’t appreciate being cut out at this late date.”
“So tell him to go piss up a rope,” I snapped.
“Unfortunately, it’s not that simple. He was quite… insistent.”
Mentally agreeing that gangland bosses could be remarkably persuasive, I sat in silence that I hoped would radiate disapproval.
Should I just repeat ‘I don’t do face-to-face meetings’ and hang up?
But the last time I’d refused a meeting, Labelle had sent a very cranky man with a gun to collect me. And if a middleman arms broker like Labelle kept a cranky gun-toter on staff, a high-ranking gang member like Benoit Riel probably had a whole stable of cranky gun-toters.
And even that thought didn’t scare me as much as what the Department might do to me if I bungled this mission…
“He hasn’t given me an arrival date yet,” Labelle said into the silence. “Likely early next week. I do hope you’ll be able to meet him. I think his visit is a positive sign that he’s ready to move the deal forward.”
Stall.
I grunted, putting as much contempt into the sound as I could. “Maybe. Call me if he actually shows up.”
I pressed the disconnect button and collapsed back in my seat, willing my pulse back down into normal range.
After a few moments of fruitless yoga breathing I abandoned the effort and activated my small bug-detecting device. Its indicator light glowed a green ‘all-clear’, and I pulled out one of the Department’s secured phones and hit the speed-dial.
As usual, Director Charles Stemp answered on the first ring with a crisp, “Yes?”
“It’s Aydan,” I said, trying not to sound as anxious as I felt. “I have a development. Benoit Riel might be coming to Calgary to meet with me in the next few days.”
“Excellent. Briefing at zero nine hundred.”
I checked my watch. Eight thirty. My civvie clients would have to wait.
I held in my sigh. “Okay. I might be a few minutes late, though.”
“Very well. I’ll inform your partner.”
The click of his disconnect sounded before I could utter the words, “Wait, what partner?”
Uh-oh.
As I jogged across the frosty parking lot to the entrance of Sirius Dynamics, my heart thumped in a rapid rhythm that had nothing to do with exertion. Who would I get? Please, let it be someone I liked and trusted…
Dammit, I didn’t want a new partner; I wanted my first and best one back. A vision of John Kane’s steady grey gaze and reassuringly broad shoulders warmed my mind. If only he hadn’t resigned…
I puffed out a harsh breath as I hurried into the building. Too late for that. Get over it.
The security guard gave me a cheerful ‘Good morning, Aydan’, and I managed a smile while I jittered through the sign-in procedure. I took the stairs two at a time, then paused at the top to dry my sweaty palms on my jeans and give myself a mental pep talk.
I could do this. I was getting closer to being the experienced agent I’d been impersonating for the past year. I’d taken some courses, and I had a few missions under my belt. And despite turning forty-eight a couple of months ago I was in the best physical shape of my life. Everything would be fine. Piece of cake.
I headed for the meeting room with my feet dragging as though I was already knee-deep in doom.
Outside the door, I plastered on a smile that I hoped would look convincing, then stepped inside.
“Hi…” I began. My greeting faltered at the sight of the occupants of the room, and I faked a cough to cover my dismay before continuing, “…Greg; Ch…” I added another strangled cough when my attempt to force Stemp’s first name from my lips failed. “’Scuse me; something in my throat,” I croaked. “Director.” I nodded to Stemp and slid into the nearest chair, hoping I hadn’t sounded as idiotic as I felt.
“Hey, Kelly!” Greg Holt greeted me, his steel-blue eyes glinting like broken glass in the craggy landscape of his face. “Long time no see. Team Anger-Management, boo-yah!”
Forcing a laugh, I reached across the table to reciprocate his proffered fist-bump. His gaze flicked behind me and I spun, but let out a pulse-calming breath at the sight of Clyde Webb’s beanpole figure.
Thank God. At least I could count on Spider.
“Hi, Spider!” My relief burst out on my face in a wide smile and I jumped up. “Here, take this chair. I’m going to-”
“…sit with your back to the wall,” he finished along with me, his mischievous grin making him look more like a high-school kid than a twenty-seven-year-old techno-genius. Then he turned a repentant expression toward Stemp. “I’m sorry I’m late. I got, um…” His cheeks went pink. “I was a little late leaving the house this morning…”
Holt guffawed. “Three months married and the honeymoon’s still not over, eh?”
Spider blushed scarlet. Dropping into the chair I’d just vacated, he mumbled, “Sorry, it won’t happen again,” with a guilty glance at Stemp.
Stemp’s impassive façade eased enough to allow a quirk at the corner of his mouth. “You’re forgiven. Agent Kelly just arrived moments ago, too.”
“Oh, good…” Spider gave me a flustered glance. “I mean, um… not that I’m glad you were late, too, just… I’m glad you weren’t waiting on me.”
Giving him a smile and a pat on the shoulder, I rounded the corner of the table and sat down with my back to the protection of the wall.
“Now that everyone is present…” Stemp began.
Shit.
I had been clinging to the hope that my real partner would arrive at any moment. But no; apparently I was getting Holt.
Good God. As if I wasn’t already scared enough.
I dragged my attention back to Stemp’s voice as he brought Holt up to speed.
“…Agent Kelly has been posing as Arlene Widdenback, a dealer in arms of all kinds, but particularly in technologically advanced designer weapons. Three months ago Frederick Labelle, a former broker for Fuzzy Bunny’s now-defunct arms empire, initiated contact on behalf of one Benoit Riel, who is high in the gang hierarchy in Montreal.”
Holt glanced over at me. “What did you sell him?”
“Nothing, yet.” I slouched a little lower in my chair. “It’s been frustrating as hell. Labelle keeps hinting that Riel will put in a big order, but it hasn’t happened. Then this morning he called to tell me Riel is planning to come to Calgary and wants to meet me.” Hiding my fear at the thought, I added, “Who knows, though? He doesn’t know when Riel is supposed to arrive, so it could be just talk. He’s been oozing butterscotch-flavoured bullshit for months now.”
“That’s weird,” Holt said. “If Riel’s using Labelle as his broker, why would he want a face-to-face?”
“No idea. I told Labelle I didn’t do face-to-face meetings and he should do his job as a broker and bring me a deal.”
Holt raised an eyebrow. “Huh. Are you going to stick to that if Riel shows up?”
“Probably not,” I mumbled.
“Good call,” Stemp said. “Keep playing hard to get, but you should definitely meet with Riel if he comes. Holt will be your backup.”
Holt’s lips tightened, and I could almost see the thought-bubble above his head. He was a top agent. He should have the leading role.
Stemp continued smoothly, but I knew he hadn’t missed Holt’s reaction. “The analysts have uncovered a complex web of interrelationships, so it will be ideal that Holt is unknown to Labelle, Riel, Tawny Harchman, and James Helmand.”
I blinked. “I see the potential connection with Tawny Harchman since we know she had ties to Fuzzy Bunny, but what does Helmand have to do with this? He’s in prison, and he never even knew about my Arlene Widdenback cover. He only knew that Fuzzy Bunny wanted me as Aydan Kelly and he was going to make a tidy profit by handing me over.”
I didn’t bother to add ‘after he beat me and tried to rape me’, but memories of pain and terror stirred darkly in the back of my mind nonetheless.
“Helmand was incarcerated with the former members of Fuzzy Bunny and they got to know each other,” Stemp replied.
My mouth went dry. Oh, shit…
Stemp went on, “The latest intel indicates that Tawny Harchman also had contact with Helmand through her connections with Fuzzy Bunny; and we’ve discovered that Helmand knows Benoit Riel through his gang connections.”
My heart thudded to the bottom of my belly. “They all know each other. Great. Absolutely fu-” I bit off the incipient f-bomb and substituted, “…fine. Marvelous.” I massaged my temples, where a tension headache was already throbbing.
Stemp nodded. “Not ideal, I agree. Now that Helmand has been released-”
“What?” My voice came out in a strangled squawk, and I cleared my throat and forced a level tone. “It’s only been a year.”
Stemp gave one of his infinitesimal shrugs, his mouth flattening into a sour line. “We couldn’t prove he had intent to jeopardize national security, so the money laundering and assault cases were tried in civilian court and the charges were plea-bargained. He has been a model prisoner, and yesterday he completed two thirds of his sentence and was released on parole.”
Oh, God. That vicious bastard was free. Sick fear flooded my belly at the thought of him coming after me.
But at least I was armed. What about Nichele? He knew where she lived. After brutalizing her once, he wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.
Shit, I had to call her right away…
“So do we know where he is?” I tried to hold my voice steady but it quavered slightly despite my best efforts.
“He’s in Calgary, but the conditions of his parole prevent him from contacting his victims, including you, your friend Nichele Brown, and Helmand.”
Holt frowned. “Helmand? Isn’t that who we’re talking about?”
“James Helmand is the parolee,” Stemp replied. “I was referring to his younger brother, Arnold Helmand. For clarity, let’s refer to them by their first names.”
“Arnold… oh. Hellhound?” Holt asked. “Big ugly bearded guy covered in tattoos; sniper and weapons specialist?” Stemp nodded and Holt’s frown deepened. “His brother is a gang kingpin? Isn’t that a hell of a security risk?”
“Arnie would rather die than even give James the time of day,” I snapped. “He doesn’t associate with James at all.”
“Arnold’s loyalty isn’t in question, nor is it relevant to this briefing,” Stemp said. “But it is relevant that James knows your cover story and your subsequent dealings with Fuzzy Bunny. He’ll think that Arlene Widdenback’s connections with corrupt law enforcement were what resulted in his arrest.”
“Great,” I muttered. “So not only is he going to be pissed that I escaped and he didn’t get his money from Fuzzy Bunny, he’s going to be super-pissed that I got him arrested.”
“Very likely,” Stemp replied, as though he wasn’t the least bit concerned that I was the target of a murderous lunatic with a vendetta.
And why should he worry? He thought I was an experienced agent who could easily handle the situation, not a bookkeeper scrambling just to stay alive…
“Inform me as soon as your meeting with Riel is scheduled,” he went on. “Webb, get wiretaps on Riel’s and Labelle’s phones as soon as possible. Holt, I’ve given you security clearance to access the complete dossier on Arlene Widdenback and the developments in this case to date. Questions?”
Mute headshakes were his only reply, and he rose with a nod. “Dismissed.”
As he strode out the door, I sprang up and followed him.
Hurrying down the hallway, I tried to pluck some reasonable arguments from the storm of fearful protests hurtling through my brain. Why did I get saddled with Holt? How could I request somebody I trusted?
“Yes?” Stemp inquired, and I realized I had trailed him into his office and he was regarding me with a quizzical eyebrow raised.
“Oh. Um… I was wondering if Carl Germain might be available for my partner. Or maybe Jill Francis?”
“No, they’re both assigned to other missions.” Stemp’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“I, uh… I just… I haven’t worked with Holt very much, and, um…”
“So this will be an excellent opportunity to remedy that,” Stemp said. “Was there anything else?”
I nearly blurted, ‘Yeah, he scares the shit out of me.’
But that would only make me look like a coward and a whiner. And besides, Holt wouldn’t have been reinstated to active duty if his psych evaluation didn’t show he was over his anger issues.
Theoretically.
Although if he knew how to game the evaluations like I did…
Defeated, I mumbled, “No, nothing else,” and plodded out the door.