Never Say Spy (7 page)

I was rank with sweat and shivering again in my damp clothes.  All my muscles ached even more fiercely than before, and my bruised butt throbbed in time with the gash on my leg.  The frightening sight that confronted me in the bathroom mirror convinced me I had to have a shower, no matter how tired I was.

I stripped off my clothes and crept into a hot shower, soaking under the spray until I was warmed through.  Dressed again in my last clean clothes, I called the front desk to request a wakeup call before falling into the bed to alternate between restless sleep and panicked jerks into wakefulness.

The ring of the phone convulsed every muscle, making me yelp.  Completely disoriented, I floundered across the bed in a blind search for the source of the noise.  A cheery wakeup message answered my slurred ‘hello’.

The bedside clock read 9:45, and I blearily registered the presence of daylight behind the heavy drapes as I flopped back onto the bed and lay waiting for my heart to regain its normal rhythm.

I dragged myself out of bed and into the bathroom, where I used the facilities and brushed my teeth and my still-damp hair.  Sleeping on it wet had emphasized its curls, and I tugged uselessly on the piece in the front that persisted in sticking straight out.  Finally I doused it with water, hoping to subdue it.  I’m such a fashion model.

On the dot of ten o’clock, there was a tap at the door, and Officer Kane’s soft call came from the hallway.  “It’s John, honey.  Open up.”

I unlocked the door and stood back.  He filled the doorway for a moment, his eyes flicking over the room before he stepped inside.

Yeah, you can fill my doorway any time, big fella.

He was freshly shaved and dressed in a snug black T-shirt that emphasized his broad chest and bulging biceps.  I dragged my eyes back up to his face with an effort and gave him a smile.

“’Morning, Officer Kane.  Or should I say, Honey?”

Kane grimaced.  “Sorry.  If you invent a cover story, it’s best to stick with it.  If you forget the details, they can come back to bite you later on.  And just call me John.  ‘Officer Kane’ isn’t completely accurate anyway.”

I waited to see if he would elaborate, but he said nothing further, so I said, “Okay... John,” experimentally.

“Let’s go,” he said.

I put on my shoes and grabbed my backpack, and we headed for the elevator.

He put his arm around me again as we crossed the lobby to the checkout desk, and I felt my body react.  Lucky I was wearing a good bra.  Hate to flash the high beams at the morning staff.

I bumped against his hip and smiled up at him, playing the good wife.  Huh.  I’d rather be the naughty girlfriend.

When we got to Kane’s SUV, Clyde Webb looked up from the back seat.  “Hey, Aydan,” he greeted me cheerfully.

“’Morning, Spider.  How’s the gut?”

“Fine,” he said dismissively, and I let it go.

Kane pulled out into the light Sunday traffic and navigated to a drive-through restaurant, as promised.  Spider ordered pancakes and sausage, and I went for my favourite sausage and egg sandwich, along with milk, orange juice, and yogurt.  Kane ordered black coffee.

I stared at him in disbelief.  “Don’t you ever eat?”

The corner of his mouth crooked up.  “I ate breakfast at home.”

Spider spoke from the back seat, his mouth full of pancake.  “No, RoboKane never eats.  His system is fuelled entirely by black coffee and baby food.  He uses the baby food for target practice.”

I got the movie reference immediately.  “Didn’t Robocop come out in the eighties?” I asked.  “Were you even born yet?”

“1987,” Webb said proudly.  “I was three.”

“You watched Robocop when you were three,” I teased him.

“No, when I was sixteen.  I told you, I’m a serious movie buff.”

“Does that mean you only watch serious movies, or...” I goaded him.

“Yeah, yeah, you picky grammar types are all the same,” he griped good-naturedly.  “What are you, an English major or something?”

“Worse.  Bookkeeper.”

We reached the highway and settled in for the long drive.  Kane was in silent driving mode.  As before, Webb chattered incessantly from the back seat.  He had intelligent and refreshingly different views on a wide range of subjects, along with a buoyant personality and an offbeat sense of humour.  His conversation was liberally sprinkled with movie references, most of which I found completely obscure.  That troubled him not at all, and he blithely described the movies and their plots in detail.

As we approached Drumheller, Spider broke off his flow of talk.  “Kane, I need a rest stop and some snacks,” he said.

Kane pulled off at a gas station.  “Grab me some beef jerky,” he said as Webb got out of the car.

Spider poked his head back inside.  “Aydan, do you want anything?”

“No, I’m fine.”  I turned to Kane.  “Assuming there’s going to be time to eat when we get to Silverside?”

“Definitely.”

Webb departed, and I sighed and rested my aching head against the headrest, massaging my temples.

Kane eyed me with sympathy.  “Sometimes he shuts up if you ignore him.”

I smiled through my pain.  “He’s an interesting conversationalist, but a little goes a long way.”

“Don’t let his babble fool you,” Kane advised.  “He’s a brilliant analyst.  He graduated at the top of his class, and CSIS recruited him right out of university.”

“Oh, I certainly didn’t get the impression he was stupid,” I agreed as I opened the door.  “I need to stretch my legs.”

Kane nodded, and we both got out.  He paced around the car stretching and flexing his neck and shoulders while I did some leg stretches, trying to persuade my stiffened muscles to relax.  When Spider returned a few minutes later with his snacks, we all piled back into the SUV and got back on the road.

Webb struck up another conversation almost immediately.  Kane glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

“Shut up, Webb,” he said mildly.

Spider smiled and shrugged, unabashed.  But he did mercifully shut up.  He plugged his earbuds into his ears and turned his attention to his phone, texting at the speed of light.

We pulled into Silverside shortly after noon.  Without discussion, Kane drove directly to Fiorenza’s, a little Italian restaurant.

When we entered, Kane chose a table in the back with a commanding view of the rest of the tiny dining room.  I slid in beside him with my back to the wall, giving the restaurant my usual once-over and noting the exits.

Spider’s humorous scrutiny made Kane ask, “What?”

Webb laughed.  “You guys are two peas from a very scary pod.  You’re both sitting with your backs to the wall, doing that room scan thing.”

Kane turned to me with a faint frown.

“Habit,” I told him self-consciously.  “I told you I was paranoid.”  He gave me a half-smile and turned his attention to the menu, but continued to watch me surreptitiously.

Great, he thinks I’m a nut case.  But surely I could be forgiven a little paranoia after the last twenty-four hours.

We ordered, and Spider’s cheerful conversation filled the silence again.  I chatted with him as pleasantly as I could and Kane let the patter flow over him, responding noncommittally only to direct questions.  The food was excellent, and even Spider quieted to give it his full attention.

When the bill arrived, I appropriated it and handed the waitress some cash.  “My turn,” I said to the men’s protests.  “Thanks for driving me.”

“What do you mean, your turn?” Spider inquired.

Guessing that Kane hadn’t had a chance to fill him in, I gave him a quick recap of the night’s events while we waited for the waitress to return with my change.

“So you met Hellhound,” Spider said, quirking his eyebrows.  “What did you think?”

I laughed.  “I like him.”

“You’re definitely scary,” Spider said with a grin.

We trooped back out to the SUV.  “We’ll go to the hospital first,” Kane said.  “Your paramedic might be on duty, but if he’s not we should be able to get a name and contact information.”

Trepidation squirmed in my belly.  This had seemed like a good idea at first, but as I thought it through, I couldn’t foresee any positive outcome.  If the medic said he hadn’t seen Ramos, I could fall back on the ‘I bumped my head’ excuse, but I could hardly claim I’d been mistaken at the morgue, too.

And if the medic said he’d caught me in a clinch with Ramos, how would I explain that?  I couldn’t even explain it to myself.  I blew out a miserable sigh.  Kane glanced over, but made no comment.

When we arrived at the hospital, Kane showed his police ID to the hospital administrator.  “We’re looking for a paramedic who was on duty on Thursday at twelve thirty,” he informed her.  As she glanced up in alarm, he added, “He treated Ms. Kelly, and she wanted to talk to him to get a clearer picture of what happened.”

Relief eased the administrator’s face.  “I’ll bring up the duty roster.” She clicked keys on her computer for a few moments and frowned at the screen.  “There were no male paramedics on duty on Thursday,” she said.  “Both were female.”

Kane turned to me, his face expressionless.

“He changed his-” I stopped and reconsidered what I’d been planning to say.  “He wasn’t wearing a uniform when we got here.  But he talked to Dr. Roth.”

The administrator’s face cleared as she brought up another record.  “Yes, here it is.  That was Mike Connor.  He works part-time and he wasn’t on duty that day.  But he saw you fall, and he rode in on the ambulance with you.  He’s probably at his regular job today.”

As we watched her write out Connor’s phone number and work address, Spider glanced sharply at Kane’s unreadable cop face before looking away, elaborately casual.  I wondered what that was about, but neither man seemed likely to explain and I had enough troubling thoughts of my own.

Information in hand, we left the hospital and returned to Kane’s vehicle.  I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves while we drove the few blocks to the address we’d been given.

The building turned out to be located right beside the place I’d slipped and fallen on the sidewalk.  A nondescript square two-storey, it sported a bland stucco facade with a discreet sign beside the front entrance:  ‘Sirius Dynamics’.

We entered a small, hushed lobby that contained nothing but four chairs and what was obviously a security window.  The thick bulletproof glass slightly distorted the uniformed man behind it.  Sirius Dynamics had some ‘serious’ security, I joked feebly to myself.  The pathetic joke did nothing to relieve my nervousness.

The man behind the glass looked up as we approached.  “Afternoon, Kane, Webb,” he said, his voice crackling through the speaker.  He placed a clipboard and two security badges on the turntable inside the cubicle, activating it so that it spun around to the outer lobby.

Kane and Webb each signed the clipboard and picked up a badge displaying their respective photos.  That explained Spider’s reaction to the address, anyway.

“We need to see an employee named Mike Connor,” Kane informed the guard.  “Will you call and get him to meet us in the second floor meeting room?”  He waved a hand toward me.  “We’ll need a visitor’s pass, too.”

The turntable whirled around again, disgorging a badge along with the clipboard.

“You’re vouching?” the security guard asked Kane.  At his nod, the guard addressed me.  “Full name, address and phone number, please.”

I filled in the blanks and replaced the clipboard in the tray, to be spun back into the security booth.  Then I clipped on the badge and followed the men to the secured glass doors that gave onto a corridor lined with offices.

What on earth could Mike Connor’s second job be?  I couldn’t imagine this kind of security being needed for any role that a paramedic might fill.  Maybe he did on-site medical for oil and gas exploration or something.  Those companies tended to be security-conscious.

Spider waved his badge at the panel beside the door, and the latch released to allow us into a hallway lined with offices that stood vacant on a Sunday afternoon.  Reaching the end of the hall, we went through fire doors into a stairwell.  At the top of the stairs, Spider used his badge to let us through another secured door.

As we walked down the corridor, we passed an employee lounge.  A man in oddly matched clothing sat on a sofa, staring blankly ahead.  He neither moved nor spoke as we passed.  If not for the security badge clipped to his collar, I would have taken him for a vagrant who had somehow wandered in off the street.

That was a little strange.

I rubbernecked as unobtrusively as possible at the vacant rooms as we strode along.  None of them seemed to be offices in the conventional sense.  There were no computers on the desks, and many of the rooms had some sort of soft seating.  Strange indeed.

We entered a meeting room and took seats around a modest oval table.  Spider had brought a laptop, and he opened it and began to type rapidly.  Kane sat relaxed and immobile, and I suppressed the urge to fidget.

A couple of minutes later, Mike Connor arrived.  Apparently his second job didn’t require a paramedic’s uniform because he was again clad in khaki pants and casual shoes, this time paired with a blue button-down shirt.  He entered the room eyeing us each with curiosity.  He showed no sign of recognition to Kane or Webb, but he frowned when he saw me.

Then his face lightened.  “Oh, hello.  How’s your head?”

“Fine, thanks,” I replied.  “I guess I’m a tough nut to crack.”

He laughed.  “We haven’t been formally introduced.  I’m Mike Connor.  What can I do for you?”

“I’m Aydan Kelly, and thanks for picking me up off the sidewalk last week.”

Kane rose and shook hands.  “I’m John Kane, and this is Clyde Webb.  We’re on temporary assignment with Security division.”

No mention of RCMP or INSET.  That was odd.  Connor’s pleasant face smoothed into a watchful expression.

After a slight pause, he sat down.  “How can I help you?” he asked, sounding not quite as helpful as he had earlier.

Kane opened his notebook and withdrew a photo, which he slid across the table to Connor.  “Do you recognize this man?”

I held my breath.

“Yes, I’ve seen him around the building,” Connor replied.

That wasn’t the answer I was expecting.

“Have you ever spoken with him personally?”

Connor darted an awkward glance in my direction.  “Once.”

“Where and when?” Kane asked.

I tensed.  Here we go.

“I... can’t answer that,” Mike Connor said uncertainly.

Kane turned a hard gaze on him.  “Can’t, or won’t?”

“I... It’s classified,” Connor replied.  “Sorry.”

This was past weird.  Was he covering for me?  Or for himself?  And why would he?  And who says ‘It’s classified’, like it was some big secret spy thing?

“Webb and I have top-level clearances,” Kane told him.  “Ms. Kelly can step outside, and you can feel free to tell us whatever you want.”

“No, she’s fine,” Connor said hesitantly.  “I’ll need to check your clearances with my department head before I can talk to you, though.”  He got up.  “This will just take a minute,” he added as he picked up the phone from a credenza in the corner.

Spider and Kane both snapped their heads around to stare at me.  “You have a security clearance at Sirius, and you
didn’t mention it
?” Kane grated.

I closed my open mouth while I struggled to find my voice and organize my thoughts.  “I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about,” I stuttered finally.

Spider dove into his laptop to type furiously.  He surfaced in a few seconds, his forehead creased with bewilderment.  “No personnel record.  And I have access to all of them, even the black ops personnel.”

I felt a distinct drowning sensation.  Black ops?  I was in so far over my head...

“I don’t work here,” I protested weakly.  “I’ve never been here before.  I only moved to Silverside a few weeks ago.  I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Connor finished his conversation and hung up.  “Okay, you’re clear,” he said, not sounding very relieved.  “My department head really doesn’t like you, though.”

Kane shrugged.  “What can you tell us?”  He kept a penetrating gaze on me as he spoke.

“I saw your guy in Portal D,” Connor said.

Spider and Kane exchanged a hard look, and Spider blurted, “But he’s a janitor!  There’s no way he should have portal access.”

Connor’s eyes widened.  “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure, I have the personnel records right here,” Spider replied.

“Exactly when did you see him?  Did you notice what he was doing in the portal?” Kane asked.  I detected a tight note in his normally even voice.

What the hell was a portal?  Connor had mentioned a portal when he rescued me.  But the question I had dreaded was on the table.

Here it comes...

Connor glanced at me again, clearly ill at ease.  Kane observed him, watchful and expressionless.

“I saw him on Thursday afternoon, around 12:30.  He was, uh, meeting someone,” Connor said.

“Who?” Kane snapped.

“Ms. Kelly,” Connor said apologetically.