The Spy Is Cast (14 page)

“What was that all
about?”

I shook my head
feebly. “Sorry, I’m just blowing off some adrenaline. That was
Clyde Webb. We were talking and he choked on his Coke. I thought he
was dying or something.”

True, but incomplete.
Eddy didn’t need to know I’d been afraid Spider wasn’t strangling
of his own accord.

Eddy grinned. “Thank
goodness. You scared me, rushing out of here like the place was on
fire.”

“Sorry,” I repeated.
“I’ll smack him for both of us when I see him.”

He laughed and went
back to the bar while I returned to the papers I’d scattered in my
mad flight.

On the dot of one
o’clock, I strolled into Up & Coming. The seductive smell of
warm chocolate tickled my nose as soon as I walked in and I scanned
the store, trying to pinpoint its source.

A curvy, diminutive
woman stood with her back to me while she reached up to arrange
lingerie on one of the shelves, wobbling slightly on high, booted
heels. Her feet were so tiny that if the heels had been any higher,
she’d have been en pointe. The display lighting gleamed off her
tight brown leather pantsuit and lit her short, spiky
platinum-blonde hair like a halo. When she turned, I gasped at the
sight of the sweet, lined face surmounting bodacious if somewhat
wrinkled cleavage.

“Lola?”

“Hi, Aydan,” she
greeted me in her throaty voice.

I stared. “Wow, you
look amazing! What happened to the delicate little lady with the
white hair and pink ruffled blouse?”

She laughed. “Been
there, done that. It was fun while it lasted. Some of my 1-900
customers really got off on it. But it was time for a change.”

“Some change! I love
your hair, it’s a great style and colour on you.”

“Thanks. I was going
to go red like yours, but you can’t get that colour out of a
bottle.”

I laughed. “Yeah, I
don’t think they make hair dye with this much grey in it.”

“You hardly have any
grey, honey. Your hair still looks completely red in this
light.”

“Thanks.” I sniffed
again, pinpointing the chocolate smell. “Is that you?”

“Yes, I was at a trade
show in Vegas last week, and I picked this up. Scented leather. It
smells better the warmer it gets. Imagine some big, hot hunk
wearing nothing but a chocolate-scented thong.”

Kane came immediately
to mind and I could feel my jaw slackening.

Lola shot me a wicked
grin. “I see you get the picture.”

I shook myself.
“Thanks for nothing. Now I have to go take a cold shower.”
Curiosity got the better of me. “Does it come in any other
scents?”

“Black is licorice.
There’s another shade of brown that’s coffee-scented. Cherry red.
Blue raspberry. Oh, and look what else I brought back!” She reached
behind the counter and brought out a pair of thigh-high black
leather boots loaded with buckles, fringe, and vicious stiletto
heels.

I laughed. “Lola, you
could fit your whole body inside those things.”

“I know, but I
couldn’t resist bringing a couple of pairs back. We’re going to
carry the line on our website, and I needed some samples. I got a
pair in your size. There wasn’t any point in getting them for
myself. Or for Linda. Her legs are as short as mine. Here, try them
on.”

“I have a very limited
need for thigh-high stilettos. I don’t dress up for Halloween.”

“Oh, go on, just put
them on,” she cajoled. “I want to see how they look. With your long
legs, they’ll be great.”

I shrugged and took
the boots. “You realize I charge by the hour. You’re going to pay
for this one way or the other,” I teased as I squashed the legs of
my snug jeans inside the boots and awkwardly zipped them up.

Lola gazed up at me.
“Holy cats, how tall are you anyway?”

“How high are the
heels?”

“About four and half
inches, if you count the platform soles.”

“Then I’m just over
six foot two.” I prowled and swaggered across the floor, tossing my
hair and striking a sexpot pose while she laughed. As I glanced
toward the window, I realized a man was standing outside, rooted to
the spot while he stared in at me.

“Shit!” I dodged
behind a display.

Lola followed my line
of sight. “Hey, free advertising. Thanks, honey!”

I unzipped the boots
and jerked them off my feet. “Easy for you to say. You owe me
big-time for that.”

“No, if you were
wearing fishnets and a leather miniskirt with the boots, then I’d
owe you. Hey, I don’t suppose…”

“No.”

“All right, all right.
Grumpy. Go do the books.” She grinned unrepentantly and picked up
the discarded boots as I made a beeline for the back office.

A couple of hours
later, I emerged warily. Lola smirked at me. “Hey, I just had a
great idea!”

“No. Whatever it is,
no. Not when you’re smiling like that.”

“Oh, go on. How would
you like to make some extra money?”

“No, I will not dress
up in boots, fishnets, and/or lingerie and parade around outside
the store.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to
do such a thing,” she said loftily. “But I do need a model for our
online catalogue.”

I was already backing
away, shaking my head. “Absolutely not.”

“We wouldn’t show your
face in any of the shots. And we’d hide the naughty bits.”

“Lola! No! Jeez! Do it
yourself if you need a model.”

“Now, there’s an
idea…”

I fled the shop while
she thought it over.

When I stuck my head
into his office, Spider was clicking computer keys, frowning
intently. A stack of papers overflowed the tray on his desk, and
the entire desk surface was covered.

He glanced up with a
start. “Is it four o’clock already?”

“Yeah. Long day?”

“You can say that
again.” He rubbed wearily at his stubbly chin.

I looked more closely
at the stubble. “Are you growing a beard?”

He blushed. “Trying.
It’s not going so well. This is a week’s worth.”

I couldn’t think of
anything encouraging to say, so I took another tack. “Going for a
new image?”

“I thought it might
make me look older. I’m tired of getting asked for ID. I’m
twenty-six, for crying out loud.”

Actually, its
fledgling state made him look even younger. I nodded and changed
the subject. “You rang?”

“Yes, we have to set
up the paper trail so we can pay you for your undercover work.” He
rooted through several piles of paper, restacking them until he
discovered the one he was looking for. “I meant to have this ready,
but time got away from me this afternoon. I haven’t decided yet
whether you should invoice Kane Consulting or Spider’s Webb
Design.”

“Which would then flow
money through from my actual employer, I presume.”

“Yes.”

“Um, Spider, I don’t
feel comfortable invoicing for bookkeeping services if I haven’t
actually seen your books. In my mind, there’s some responsibility
associated with this.”

“We can’t let you see
the books unless you go through a bunch more security clearances.”
He scratched his chin again. “Darn, this itches. Maybe I’ll just
shave it off.”

“How do you and Kane
deal with the income?”

He shrugged, still
absently fingering his stubble. “It’s easy for us. We’re both
officially part of the INSET team, so we draw normal salary. If
there’s anything that can’t be covered by that, it flows through
our personal companies.”

“What if we skip the
bookkeeping angle and you just subcontract some of your web design
out to me?”

“We can’t take a
chance on lying about it. It’s too easy to check. That’d be a good
solution, though, if you could do web design.”

I shrugged. “I
can.”

His eyes sharpened,
and I could see the wheels turning. “You can? Do web design?”

“Yeah. I’d never win
any prizes for graphic design, and I don’t do any of the
complicated stuff. But I can do pure HTML and search engine
optimization. I did my own website.”

Spider turned back to
his computer. “What’s your URL?”

I told him, and his
fingers flew over the keyboard. He clicked around for a few
seconds. “This is good. It’s nice and clean and fast.” He gave me a
calculating smile. “We could kill two birds with one stone. If
you’re willing.”

“Willing to do what,
exactly?” I leaned back in my chair, regarding him
suspiciously.

“I keep some civilian
clients for cover purposes. It seems like they always need
something right when I’m buried with CSIS stuff. Like now. I’m
working sixteen hour days, trying to stay on top of everything for
this thing at Harchman’s. My civvie clients get pushed to the
bottom of the pile. If you could cover for me, that would be
fabulous.”

“It depends on what
they need,” I equivocated. “I told you, I’m no guru. I can do basic
stuff, that’s it.”

“Trust me, it’s all
basic. Minor updates. Please,” he begged. “You have no idea how
much it would help me.”

“Okay, I’ll try.”

“Aydan, you’re a
lifesaver! Invoice me for the actual time you spend plus the amount
for your undercover work.”

I left the office with
a stack of files and spent the evening at my computer, wondering
what I’d gotten myself into.

When my phone rang at
4:45 A.M., I levitated several inches off the bed. I’d been deeply
asleep, and my heart tried to bang its way out of my chest while I
groped wildly for the receiver. Fear shot through me when I
squinted at the illuminated call display and recognized Spider’s
number.

I jabbed at the Talk
button. “Spider, what’s wrong?” I snapped.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he
said quickly.

I collapsed back onto
the bed and hyperventilated quietly for a few seconds. “Thank God.
What’s up, then?”

“I just got a call
from Kane. He needs you there.”

I rolled out of bed,
shivering when the chilly air from the open window hit my bare
skin. “Okay. What’s the plan?” As I spoke, I dragged out my
backpack and started to dig in my underwear drawer.

“You need to come in
to the office. We can talk there.”

Right, of course he
couldn’t tell me anything over an unsecured line.

“When?”

“ASAP.”

“See you in twenty
minutes.”

I hung up the phone
and threw on some clothes, abandoning the packing effort until I
knew more about what I was getting into. On my way through the
kitchen, I grabbed a cereal bar and hurried out the door.

I failed to appreciate
the beauty of the sunrise on the way to town. My nerves jangled
while I wolfed the bar down without tasting it. If Kane needed me,
it meant only one thing. I’d be going back into the network.
Nothing like the anticipation of pain and fear to get you going in
the morning.

I pulled up in front
of the little house precisely twenty minutes later. The lights were
on, and I strode up the walk and barged into the office without
knocking. Spider gave a violent start in his chair, and I offered
him a penitent ‘sorry’ as the phone rang.

He picked up. “Yes,
she’s here… Yes, I ran a sweep just a few minutes ago. We’re
secure… Okay.” He put the receiver against his shoulder and spoke
to me. “I’m going to put him on speaker now.”

He pressed a few
buttons, and Kane’s deep voice filled the room. “Aydan?”

“Hi, I’m here.”

“Thanks for coming so
quickly.”

“No problem, what’s
up?”

“We’ve had some
activity here overnight. People coming and going from the guest
house. In the night vision scope, it looked like at least one of
them was bound and blindfolded. We need to know if they’re using
the network. The sooner the better.”

“Shit, I should have
stayed in Calgary. I’m at least three hours away by the time I get
loaded up and on the road.”

He sighed. “I know.
But I didn’t know when, or if, we would need you again. It can’t be
helped. That gives me time to make some arrangements at this end,
anyway.”

“Okay, what do you
need me to do?”

“You still hold a
valid Class 6 driver’s license.” It wasn’t a question. Spider’s
research skills had obviously been at work again.

“Yes.”

“Hellhound says you
still ride.”

I shook my head
incredulously. “His memory is phenomenal. I made a passing
reference to it. Months ago.”

“But you do?”

“Dirt biking. I
haven’t ridden a street bike in years.”

“I guess that doesn’t
surprise me,” he said slowly. “But could you get back on a street
bike?”

“I guess. As long as I
have a chance to ride it around for a while and get used to it
again. But I don’t have a helmet I’d trust for anything other than
tooling around the back forty.”

“We’ve got a base camp
set up a few miles from Harchman’s, and we’re doing all our
surveillance from motorcycles. They’re small and manoeuvrable and
easy to hide. I’ll arrange for a bike and a helmet for you. Do you
have riding clothes?”

“Yes. But get me a
cruiser. 750 cc, max. I’ve never ridden one of those hyperbikes.
I’d probably kill myself.”

“All right. Plan to be
here for a few days. Camping. Sorry, it’s pretty primitive.”

“No problem. I’m
happier in the bush than dressed up at a party.”

His laugh boomed over
the speaker. “Somehow I thought you’d say that. I’ll bring you up
to speed when you get here. Webb will give you the network key and
the address where you can pick up the bike and helmet. When you’re
kitted up and leaving Calgary, call Webb. He’ll relay a call to me
and I’ll meet you on the highway about five miles east of
Harchman’s. Any questions?”

“Lots, but I think
they can wait.”

“One more thing. We
need to be able to get you out of the network reliably. You and
Webb need to work on that before you leave Silverside. We can’t
afford a repeat of what happened in March.”