Never Say Spy (5 page)

I zigzagged through the park until I was close to another neighbourhood access path.  Dodging into the cover of a copse of trees, I hunched over, gasping and trembling.

How long would it take Kane to get to our meeting place?  I had covered a lot of ground, and I’d been veering gradually toward my destination.   I was only about five minutes away if I took a direct route.

I was soaked with sweat and by the time I’d caught my breath, I couldn’t tell whether my shivering was from fear or the chilly wind.  I delved into my backpack for my old baggy jeans and pulled them on over my yoga pants.  My winter coat was back at the house, but I pulled the hood of my fleecy jacket over my head and moved out into the well-lit residential street.

Setting a leisurely course for the coffee shop, I kept my head down to hide my face and adopted a slouching swagger.  With the baggy pants and hoodie, I hoped to pass for a skinny teenage boy returning from a late-night party.  With any luck, my intruder would be looking for a woman with long red hair creeping fearfully through the streets.

The residential area was silent and deserted, but a few cars moved on the streets as I approached the small strip mall that housed the coffee shop and the roar of a Harley split the night.  Some biker must be enjoying the ice-free roads and chinook temperatures.

A few minutes later, I slouched against a light pole within sight of the parking lot to scan for Kane’s beat-up Suburban.

No luck.  The only vehicle in the lot was the Harley propped on its kickstand, its beefy rider leaning against it.  The tip of his cigarette glowed as he sucked in smoke.  When I circled closer, I could just make out the lettering on the back of his leathers:  ‘Hellhound’, accompanied by a large illustration of a snarling black beast.  The orange of the streetlights made its red eyes glow with life-like savagery.

Great, just great.

I wandered across the street, moving closer to the parking lot and ignoring its leather-clad occupant.  The cluster of newspaper vending machines on the boulevard seemed like my best bet, close to the parking lot but somewhat concealed from the street.

I meandered over and lowered myself to the cold ground behind the machines, leaning my back against one of them and facing the parking lot.  The biker glanced my way, but I dropped my head to dig in my backpack, coming up with a cereal bar.  I tore off the wrapper and chowed down, resting my elbows on my drawn-up knees and keeping my head hanging to hide my face.

Just a drunk kid hanging out.  Nothing to see here.

Booted footsteps approached, and I caught a whiff of cigarette smoke.

Shit.

The boots stopped inside my peripheral vision, but I didn’t look up as I stuffed the last of the cereal bar in my mouth.

A rough whiskey voice rasped, “Get the fuck outta here, kid.”

I slouched to my feet and turned away, still hiding my face.  In my best sullen-teenager voice, I mumbled, “Yeah, man, whatever,” somewhat muffled by the last of the cereal bar.

A violent shove to my back sent me stumbling away.  “I got shit goin’ down here,” the biker growled.  “Fuck off before I kick your fuckin’ scrawny little ass to hell.”

“Okay, chill, dude!” I whined, and beat it down the sidewalk fast, head down.

That was all I needed.  What were the chances this loser would pick this exact spot for his drug deal?

On the up side, my disguise seemed to be effective.  People see what they expect to see.  Nobody expects a middle-aged woman to hang out in a parking lot at three A.M.

Or so I hoped.

That put a serious crimp in my plans.  As I turned the corner, I chanced a quick glance back at the biker.  He had resumed his position, and I realized he had chosen his vantage point as carefully as I had chosen mine.  He had a clear view of the entire parking lot, including all the driveways and access points.

Shit, shit, shit!

What would Kane do when he arrived and realized what was happening?  If this was a bike gang dealing drugs, things could get ugly fast.  I had to find a spot where I had a clear view of the back door of the coffee shop, but was invisible to the biker.  Then if Kane drove up and decided not to stay, maybe I could signal him and follow him to a new meeting place.

I strolled across in front of the coffee shop, making sure I was in plain sight as I walked away.  As soon as the buildings blocked the biker’s view, I turned the corner again to get at the back of the other wing of the L-shaped mall.  There was a space between two of the buildings, probably a loading dock.  I should be able to sneak in there undetected.

All I had to do was get over the eight-foot-high stucco wall.

I smothered a groan and surveyed it with a decided lack of enthusiasm, rubbing my stiffening legs with shaking hands.  Limping closer, I eyed the pillars that decorated the wall.  Each pillar had a projecting base at the bottom.  If I stood on the base and hopped from there, I should be able to catch hold of the top of the wall where it met the pillar.

I managed the jump, banging my kneecap painfully in the process.  The stucco scraped my skin but at least its deep texture provided a secure handhold.  I hauled myself upward, scrabbling up the wall with my feet.  At the top, I squirmed around until I was hanging by my midsection, my feet on the mall side.  Slithering down, I clung to the stucco with sore fingers until my arms were fully extended.

The ground sloped away from the wall on the inside, and I lost my balance when I landed on the short grade.  I rolled and tumbled onto the paved laneway behind the mall, trying to bruise as quietly as possible and clenching my teeth on the profanity that begged for utterance.

Whose goddamn stupid idea was this, anyway?  To hell with altruism; next time I was going to do just as the nice policeman told me and go to a neighbour’s house.

I picked myself up and hurried for the gap in the buildings.  Sure enough, I had a clear view of the back of the coffee shop, but I couldn’t see much of the rest of the parking lot.

Had Kane arrived?  I skulked toward the opening.  I still couldn’t see much.  If I went any closer to the parking lot, there was a good chance the biker would see me, if he was still there.  I hadn’t heard any other motorcycles, so I suspected he was.

I peeked out of the gap, scanning the empty parking lot.  The big biker was still leaning against his Harley.  He made no move or outcry, so I assumed he hadn’t seen me.

I blew out a short breath between chattering teeth.  Nothing to do but wait.

I withdrew into the shadows again, watching the coffee shop.

Come on, Kane.  Hurry up, for chrissake.

Minutes dragged past while I shifted from foot to foot, trying to still my shivering with both arms wrapped tightly around myself.  I hissed impatience, rubbing my goosebumps.

Maybe he’d arrived and I couldn’t see him from where I was standing.

As I leaned toward the gap again, a vicious grip clamped onto my neck and nearly wrenched my head off with a hard backward jerk.  The impact of my back against the building knocked my hood off and smashed the breath out of me.

The beefy biker’s fist was already on its way to my face.  In the fraction of a second I had left, I registered a leather skullcap on a shaved head and a ferociously scowling face largely obscured by a grizzled beard and moustache.

The punch never landed.  Instead, his expression changed to astonishment.  The flat of his hand hit the wall beside my head with a smack, bringing his ugly face too close to mine.

His beard split in a grin, revealing incongruously white, even teeth.  “Well, hell-lo pretty lady,” he breathed.  “Ya must be Aydan.”

His grip loosened, but he didn’t let go while he reached into his pocket to extract a cell phone.  Punching a speed dial button, he waited a moment before rasping, “Got her.”

One of his hands was occupied with the phone and his attention was divided by the call.  I wouldn’t get a better chance.

I grabbed his wrist with both hands and lunged forward, diving between his arm and his body and turning toward the parking lot.  As his arm bent behind him, he lost his grip on my shoulder.  He let out a startled shout that turned into a grunt when I jerked his arm up behind him and slammed all my weight into the small of his back.  Letting go as he bounced off the wall, I dashed for the parking lot, my trembling legs barely cooperating.

Only a few strides later, pain and adrenaline slammed through me when a powerful grip on my wrist yanked me to a halt.  I jerked and twisted, but it was futile.  That arm might as well be caught in a bear trap.

He shouted, “Wait!  Stop!  I...”

I gave another titanic jerk away from him.  As I’d expected, he responded by yanking me back.  Instead of resisting, I borrowed his momentum to twist and step hard toward him, creating maximum force for the fist I’d aimed at his throat.

His eyes widened as he recognized my ploy and at the last second he dropped his chin and threw up his other arm to deflect my punch.  He was partly successful, and my knuckles struck his chin hard before hitting his Adam’s apple.  The jolt of pain as my fist hit bone made me yell and spontaneously kick out.  My foot thudded into his knee, and he finally let go of my wrist as he dropped, both hands going to his throat.

I wheeled and ran for the parking lot.

Two strides later, I crashed into an unyielding wall of chest.  I rebounded away, but powerful arms locked around me, pinning my arms to my sides.

And I lost it.

Blind rage flooded me, and I threw back my head in a berserk roar.  My captor started, his grip loosening.  I bent my knees to drop my body and flung my arms up with all my strength.  The restraining grip fell away, and I lunged past his legs.  Tripped over his foot.  Tucked and rolled on the hard pavement.

As I scrambled to my feet, I heard Officer Kane’s welcome shout, “Stop, police!”

I froze in my defensive crouch, panting like a steam engine, fists clenched.  My blurred vision slowly cleared, and I realized to my chagrin that it was Kane himself who’d grabbed me.

His gun was in his hand, but it wasn’t pointed at me.  That was a nice change.  He wasn’t pointing it at the recovering biker, either.  In fact, he didn’t seem to know where to point it.  His gaze snapped around the parking lot and alleyway.

The biker struggled up onto one knee.  He coughed a couple of times and then croaked, “’Bout time ya got here, Cap.  I was gettin’ my ass kicked.”

I rounded on Kane, anger and adrenaline boiling in my veins.  “Don’t tell me this is another one of your... your... minions!”  My fists jerked at my sides, all ready to fight and nobody to hit.

Kane eyed the man on the ground.  “If you were getting your ass kicked, Hellhound, I’m sure you richly deserved it.”  He turned to me.  In what I was beginning to recognize as his ‘Everybody Calm Down’ cop voice, he said, “Aydan, tell me what happened.”

“I...  He...”  I was still too furious to speak coherently.  I breathed deeply, forcing myself into yoga belly breathing.

In, out, slow like ocean waves.

I gradually unclenched my fists, flexing my fingers and admiring the slow ooze of blood welling up from the torn skin on my right knuckle.  Kane waited in patient silence.  Smart man.

Finally, I got my temper under control.  “I came out through the park to the north,” I began, realizing with discomfiture that my voice was shaking.  I hoped he didn’t think I was about to burst into tears.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  I still needed to hit somebody.  Hard.

I drew another breath, steadying my voice.  “I checked out the parking lot, but I didn’t see you, so I decided to wait.”  I nodded toward the biker, who had regained his feet to limp back and forth as if trying to get his knee working again.  “He was waiting, too, I guess.  I sat down behind those vending machines.”  I stabbed a finger in the direction of the machines on the boulevard.  “He ran me off from there.”

“Ran you off?” Kane interjected.

“Shoved me down the street and offered to kick my ass to hell.”

Kane glowered at the biker.

“Ya said there might be some bad shit goin’ down,” Hellhound protested.  “I saw this kid hangin’ out, an’ I didn’t wanna take a chance on civilian casualties, so I ran him off.”

Kane gave him an incredulous look.  “Him?  What part of this looks like a boy to you?” he asked, gesturing toward my tangled hair.

“She had her hood up, an’ she never showed her face,” Hellhound explained.  “I see this skinny kid in the middle of the fuckin’ night in a parkin’ lot, what was I s’posed to think?”

Kane sighed.  “Go on,” he said to me.

“He’s right, I kept my hood up,” I said.  “I didn’t want to be too visible, and I was purposely trying to disguise myself.  So I gave him some teenage attitude, and then went down the street and turned the corner.  I sneaked up the back of the mall and went over the fence.  Lucky it was stucco.  I think.”  I surveyed my abraded fingertips ruefully.

“I was trying to get a view of the coffee shop and the parking lot,” I continued.  “I peeked out, and I didn’t think he’d seen me, but I guess he did.”

I shot a questioning look at the biker and he nodded.  “So I was hanging out in the shadows waiting for you when he grabbed me from behind and just about punched my lights out.”

Kane frowned at Hellhound.

“Well, shit,” Hellhound justified himself.  “I saw this dude scopin’ out the lot, an’ when I went to check it out, it was the same fuckin’ kid I just ran off.  So I figured it ain’t just some kid.  Thought I’d see if he felt like tellin’ me who he really was.”

“And what part of ‘Do not engage under any circumstances’ was unclear to you?” Kane grated.  There was an edge to his voice that instantly made me think ‘Drill Sergeant’.

Hellhound must have felt the same, because he straightened, feet coming together and chin going up in a classic ‘Attention’ position.  It should have looked ludicrous, the grizzled, leather-clad biker standing at attention in his faded AC/DC T-shirt, but the tension between them negated any humour.

“Sorry, Cap,” he said, looking unrepentant.  “But what was I gonna do, let some fuckin’ dirtbag grab this pretty lady here, an’ maybe blow ya away, too?  I don’t need another fuckin’ phone call like the one I got two years ago.”

“Go on, Aydan,” Kane said to me, his voice still harsh but controlled.

“Well, he slammed me up against the wall and started to throw a punch, but my hood fell down,” I explained.  “And then, instead of saying something useful like, ‘Hi, Officer Kane sent me’, he cuddles up, calls me ‘pretty lady’, and then phones somebody and says ‘got her’!  What the hell was I supposed to think?”

I glared at Hellhound, who was still standing rigid and expressionless.  “So I tried to get away.  And he grabbed me.  You saw the rest.”  I was mad all over again.  “So is he another member of your team, or what?”

Kane’s face was unreadable.  “No,” he said quietly, seemingly more to Hellhound than to me.  “Mr. Helmand is a civilian.  According to what you have told me, he has committed assault tonight, and if you want to press charges, I will arrest him.”  Hellhound’s chin lifted a little higher, but he made no protest.

“Also,” Kane continued, “Involving him in this situation was a serious lapse of judgement on my part.  If you want to file a complaint and initiate an inquiry, I’ll provide you with the contact information for my commanding officer.”

I gazed from one man to the other, my anger draining away.  Their faces were both impassive, but something about their silent tension made me think of soldiers fighting a losing battle, too proud to give up.  I shuddered violently.

“I think... I’d like to get the whole story first,” I said.  “Somewhere warm, with food.”  I wrapped my arms around my trembling body.

Kane took in my shivering, dishevelled appearance.  “All right.  The diner on the corner is open all night.”  He ushered me to a shiny black Expedition.  “Meet us there,” he commanded Hellhound, who nodded silently and limped toward his Harley.

“What, no POS Suburban?” I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Another team member needed it for surveillance,” he responded expressionlessly.  “This is my vehicle.”

Inside the SUV, he cranked up the heat before taking out his cell phone to dial.

“This is Kane.  What’s the status on the break-in?”  He listened for a few minutes.  “I have her.  Wrap it up and head out.  We’ll coordinate reports in the morning.”  He disconnected and put the vehicle in gear.

“The uniforms went over your house.”  He spoke without looking at me, focused on the road.  “The back door had been jimmied.  Your bedroom door was kicked in, and the window was open.  They combed the area on foot and with HAWCS, the police helicopter, but they didn’t find anyone suspicious.  They didn’t find any witnesses tonight, but they’ll go back and canvass your neighbours tomorrow to find out if anyone heard or saw anything.”

“The window was open because that’s how I went out,” I said.

“From three storeys up.”

“Yeah, I went over the roof down onto the back deck.”

He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face.  “I’ll get a complete statement from you at the diner.”  We rode the rest of the way in silence.

When we arrived at the restaurant, Kane motioned for me to precede him to a table.  I chose one at the back, close to an exit, and sat down with my back to the wall, giving the room my habitual once-over.  Kane slid into the chair beside me and we sat silently scanning the room until Hellhound appeared a few minutes later.

“Hadta take a leak,” he informed us when he reached the table.  He appraised the two remaining seats with obvious dismay.  “Sure, take the good seats,” he groused.  When neither Kane nor I volunteered to give up our positions, the burly biker squeezed into one of the chairs facing us.

“Watch my back,” he urged Kane.  He winked at me and smiled, but I could tell he was serious.

“Always do,” Kane replied.

The waitress arrived, and Kane and Hellhound both ordered coffee.  I was ravenous, so I went for huevos rancheros with home fries, a cup of hot chocolate, and a glass of milk.

“Ya gonna eat that shit at this time a’ the night?” Hellhound demanded, his gravelly voice rising incredulously.  “That shit’ll rot your gut.”

“You’re getting old,” Kane ribbed him.

“I’m gettin’ smart,” Hellhound rejoined.

They fell silent again as the drinks arrived, the momentary levity having done nothing to decrease the tension.

When the waitress departed, I turned to Kane.  “So what happened?”

Kane rubbed his forehead as if it ached.  His short hair was tousled, and his chin bore a heavy growth of stubble.  The restaurant’s harsh lighting accentuated the lines around his eyes and mouth, making him look as tired as I felt.  God, I must look like the hag from hell.

“As soon as you hung up, I talked to the 911 dispatcher,” he said.  “I told him you wouldn’t be going back to the house, and that I had set up a meeting place with you.  But I live deep in the south end of town, and I knew it would take me fifteen or twenty minutes to get here.  None of my team members were available except Webb, and I didn’t want to put him in the line of fire again.  You did a pretty good number on him earlier, so I imagine he’s very stiff and sore.”

Hellhound regarded me with interest.  “Ya took on Webb, too?”

“Took out Webb is more like it,” Kane said.  “Anyway, I needed someone at our rendezvous point as quickly as possible in case you arrived before I did, and I also wanted to make sure we weren’t walking into a trap.”

“I guess introductions are in order,” he continued.  “Aydan, this is Arnie Helmand, a.k.a. Hellhound.  He’s a private investigator.”

I must have looked sceptical, because Helmand grinned, showing those even white teeth again.  “I clean up good,” he said modestly.

I tried to picture him in a suit with his beard and moustache trimmed.  It wasn’t convincing.

“He helps me out now and then, and he lives close to here,” Kane continued.  “So I called and asked him to go to the parking lot and keep his eyes open for trouble.  Surveillance only.”  He glared at Helmand.  Helmand glowered back defiantly.  “I also described you to him.  Then I got on the road as fast as I could.”

“I was the one he called after he grabbed you,” he went on.  “I was actually in the parking lot by then.  I saw his bike, but I couldn’t see him, so I was getting out of the SUV to look around.  Right after he said ‘Got her’, I heard all hell break loose on the line, and I thought you’d both been attacked.  I heard scuffling in the alleyway, so I ran in that direction.  I arrived just in time to see you take him out.”

The waitress arrived at that moment with my platter of food, and I dug in enthusiastically.  The men watched in silence while I devoured about a quarter of the eggs, salsa, sour cream, and greasy fries.  I’d finished my hot chocolate, and between the overheated restaurant, the extra calories, and the spicy food, I was warm at last.  I paused my feeding frenzy long enough to peel off my jacket before getting back to work on the plate.

“Oh, hey,” Hellhound rasped softly from across the table.  “I’m sorry, darlin’.”  I glanced up in puzzlement to see his contrite expression.  Kane was frowning at me in concern, too.

I followed their gaze to the livid welts on my left wrist and forearm.  There was a distinct reddened imprint of a Hellhound-sized hand, the creases of his fingers clearly visible as white lines.  Various other scrapes and scratches glowed on my pale skin.

“Oh.”  I touched the burning area on my neck where he’d grabbed me first.  That was probably fiery red, too.  “Don’t worry about it,” I reassured him.  “When they were handing out skin, I accidentally got into the ‘Princess’ lineup.  It only looks dramatic.  It’ll be gone in an hour, no harm done.”

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Kane asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.  But, Arnie, what the hell possessed you to grab me without telling me who you were?  You’re not exactly a reassuring-looking guy, you know.”

Helmand shifted uncomfortably in his chair.  “Yeah, I pooched it all right.  I was so surprised when your hood fell off, I forgot ya didn’t know what was goin’ down.  Then ya slammed my face into the wall, an’ I didn’t want ya to run out into the parkin’ lot an’ maybe get shanghaied by some dirtbag, so I grabbed ya.  I was tryin’ to tell ya when ya punched me in the throat.”

It was my turn to look shamefaced.  “Sorry about that.”

“Darlin’, don’t worry about it.  Last time I wanted it that rough from a chick, she made me pay extra.”  He winked.

“Clearly I’m not charging enough, then,” I retorted.  “Maybe I should write you and Webb an invoice.”

Hellhound shouted with laughter, then choked and coughed.  “Try expensin’ that one through the department,” he croaked to Kane, massaging his throat.

Kane remained grave.  “Getting back to the point of this meeting.”  Helmand sobered immediately, and they both looked to me.

“It was just a misunderstanding,” I assured them.  “I’m not interested in any arrests or disciplinary actions.  You were both doing the best you could, trying to save my butt, and I appreciate it.  If you’ll forgive me for beating on the good guys, we’ll call it even.”

Neither man reacted visibly, but the air pressure around our table lightened by several tons.  “No harm, no foul,” Kane replied.

I frowned.  “Yeah, that’s bothering me a bit.”  A tense pause made me hasten to explain.  “Maybe I should think about some self-defence classes or something.  I was fighting for all I was worth, and I did no serious damage at all.  I barely managed to get away from a guy who was actively trying
not
to hurt me.  Aydan Kelly, Lethal Weapon.”