The Spy Is Cast (18 page)

As I watched,
paralyzed with shock, the construct that looked like me brushed her
tongue across the rim of her wineglass. Harchman’s avatar smiled
and unzipped his pants, and the construct sank worshipfully to her
knees, opening her mouth.

Eeeeeuuuuwwww! I did a
rapid about-face, compulsively wiping my lips.

I hovered with my back
to the room for a few seconds, recovering, and then shrugged it
off.

Whatever. I really
wished I hadn’t seen that, but it was harmless fantasy on
Harchman’s part. I’d been known to have a fantasy or two myself on
occasion. The enticing aroma of warm chocolate wafted to my nose,
and I closed my eyes and banished it determinedly.

Besides, Harchman
needed all the help he could get. Fantasy was the only way he’d
ever manage to achieve a boner that size. I stifled a snicker.
Maybe all guys imagined themselves well-endowed in the sim.

I turned back to the
job at hand and quickly finished all the connections in the
corridor. Then I turned to the brick firewall at the end of the
hall. Drifting carefully through it, I surveyed the next set of
doors. Letting out my breath silently, I started again.

I’d slipped into an
unconscious rhythm when I suddenly came upon an occupied room about
halfway down the hall. I bit back a cry and jerked away so
violently my insubstantial body rocketed backward through the
opposite wall of the corridor and into another, fortunately vacant,
room.

Pulling myself
together, I took several deep breaths and drifted back to
reluctantly peek in again on the nightmare scene. My mind wrapped
around it whole, storing it away in an instant to haunt me later. I
forced myself to ignore the blood and instruments of torture and
concentrate instead on the faces of the people in the room.

Two men stood over a
third man, tied to a chair. I memorized the faces. The first two
were burned into my brain. I’d never forget them. The man in the
chair didn’t have enough face left for me to identify. I’d never be
able to forget that, either.

I backed away,
swallowing hard. Just a simulation. The man in the chair was
physically unharmed. Somewhere.

The knowledge didn’t
help much. I knew he was suffering as much as if it was actually
happening to him in real life.

I drew a couple of
ragged breaths and squelched my initial impulse to rush out of the
network and report to Kane immediately. He had said two people were
brought in. I forced myself into research mode.

I was just turning
away to continue down the corridor when a gunshot exploded from
inside the room. Horror drowned me as I jerked back to see the
captive’s limp body hanging from its bonds. A glimpse of the head
wound confirmed that his torment had ended. Permanently.

I hung paralyzed in
the corridor, struggling to force my lungs to expand as the two men
turned away from their victim and strode toward the door. Toward
me.

A blip cut through my
vision and the small accompanying stab of pain galvanized me into
action. I folded virtual space to stand instantly in front of my
exit portal. Adrenaline searing my veins, I stepped through into
pain.

I ground my teeth,
trying not to make noise. My throbbing head jerked violently. After
a moment, I realized it was because I was holding it with both
hands and Kane was shaking my shoulders at the same time.

“Aydan!” he hissed.
“Aydan! Come on! Dogs!”

I forced my eyes open
and staggered to my feet, still half-blind. Kane dragged me down
the path until I regained a semblance of motor control. Frenzied
barking rang through the forest, too close.

I shook my head,
desperately focusing. When he saw I could move under my own
volition again, Kane shoved me in front of him on the path.

“Run! Get back to
camp. I’ll draw them off.” I opened my mouth to argue, and he shook
my arm hard. “Do it! Remember your priorities!”

I met his eyes,
closing my mouth on what was probably a sob. Then I turned and
ran.

I charged through the
woods, trying to shield my eyes from the twigs that lashed my face.
Men shouted and the barking reached a crescendo behind me. Fear for
myself and for Kane drove me to reckless speed.

I burst into the
clearing and flung myself onto the Honda, skinning my knuckles as I
frantically twisted the key. Rocketing along the winding path, my
dirt-biking reflexes wrestled the unfamiliar weight and bulk of my
ride. When I finally gained the pavement, I cracked the throttle
wide open.

The front wheel lifted
as the engine roared, and I threw my weight forward to settle it,
barely in control. Then the highway flew by, my frantic panting
drowned out by the engine noise. The wind whipped my watering eyes
and tore at my hair.

Please, absent gods,
don’t let me crash. No helmet. No chance in hell.

I kept my gaze locked
on the road, afraid to even glance at the speedometer. The turnoff
rushed up and I braked hard and downshifted rapidly.

And forgot how big and
heavy the motorcycle was.

I took the turn too
fast, laying the bike over in a hard lean to compensate. Asphalt
dragged at the footpeg. It didn’t catch, thank God. My turn swung
too wide, and I pulled out of it in desperate terror of
high-siding. Somehow I managed to hold it together.

Braking again and
trying to yank the bike into another too-tight turn, I overshot the
entrance we’d previously used. Instead, I hurtled over the crossing
on the other side of the fence posts. Too late, I spotted another
post lying half-concealed in the grass, directly in my path.

My heart couldn’t beat
any faster, so it stopped.

I stood hard on the
footpegs, bouncing the suspension and cracking the throttle as I
jerked upward to take the load off the front wheel. In my panic, I
underestimated the power of the bike again.

The engine surged, the
front wheel reaching for the sky. The rear wheel bumped over the
fencepost, but the ground sloped down into the valley.

The motorcycle took
air. My pulse rate redoubled, my vision blackening at the edges.
Clinging frantically to the handgrips, I shifted my weight slightly
back of centre and tried to adjust the throttle to maintain the
right speed. The back wheel hit heavily before the motorcycle
slammed forward onto its front wheel. The bike bucked and twisted
and I barely kept my seat, braking again as soon as I dared.

I jerked my eyes up in
time to see Hellhound swing the gate open.

Too close, too
fast.

Clutch-brake-throttle.

The rear end swung
around, a barrage of stones rattling against the gate as the tire
gouged an arc in the dirt. Then I was through. I dodged around the
corner and skidded to a halt in the clearing.

Germain bolted to his
feet from a log beside the RV as Hellhound ran up from behind. I
gasped a couple of shallow, hysterical breaths, air wheezing
through my constricted throat. My hands wouldn’t let go of the
handgrips.

A voice I didn’t
recognize pushed out from between my teeth. “I think they got
Kane.”

My breathing wouldn’t
work right, and I still couldn’t let go of the handgrips. I jerked
my arms, trying to free myself. Somebody whimpered, and I belatedly
recognized my own voice.

Germain snatched out
his gun and ran for the gate, out of my line of sight while I
struggled.

I felt the
motorcycle’s suspension compress as Hellhound swung onto the seat
behind me. He reached around me to turn off the ignition and leaned
into me, his warm bulk at my back as he placed his strong hands
over mine.

“Slow down, darlin’.
Just breathe.”

He gently massaged my
hands while I concentrated on steadying my breath. In. Out. Belly
breathing. In. Out. Slow like ocean waves.

The ocean waves jerked
and wobbled as tremors rolled through my body. Hellhound’s gravelly
voice growled soothing nonsense in my ear. Gradually his warmth
eased my frozen paralysis, and my deathgrip relaxed.

As my hands fell away
from the grips I sucked in a ragged breath and collapsed against
him. His arms wrapped around me to hold me close. I allowed myself
a few seconds of comfort before pulling away to sit up.

“I’m okay. Thanks.” I
forced my tight voice to steady.

Hellhound got off and
lowered the kickstand, steadying the bike. I dismounted after him.
My knees buckled, and I fell flat on my ass.

A shrill giggle
escaped me as I looked up at him from my seat in the dirt. He gazed
down at me for a second, his face creased in concern. Then he sat
down beside me and tucked his arm around my shoulders.

The giggle went on a
little too long, and I clamped my trembling lips together and did
some more deep breathing.

Germain returned,
frowning down at us tensely. “No sign of pursuit. Aydan, what
happened?”

“I got in the n…” I
began, and then caught Germain’s eye and stopped. “I… We… The dog
patrol found us. Kane sent me back while he drew them off. I can’t
see how he could have escaped.”

Hellhound jerked
around to look in my face. “The patrols never came out that far
before. How close to the buildings were ya?”

I sighed. “Close.”

“But, darlin’,
why…”

“He’s resourceful,”
Germain interrupted. “He could have gotten away. He might be
working his way back on foot. That would take some time.”

I surveyed his face
and saw the grim reality. “How long do we wait? I could go back
there right now and know right away if he was in…” I shut up again.
Then the fear and frustration burst out of me. “Dammit! Arnie needs
to know!”

Hellhound’s arm
tightened around me. “Then tell me.”

“Not my call,” I
gritted. I gazed up at Germain. He shook his head. “What’s Plan B?”
I demanded.

“Plan B is a full-on
assault. It’s only to be implemented if you’re captured with the
key,” Germain said reluctantly. “We can’t justify it for any other
team member.”

“But…” I began, and he
interrupted.

“I’m sorry. I feel the
same way as you do. But we can’t. Kane knew the score when he went
in.”

The strength of anger
poured into my legs, and I lunged to my feet. “We can’t just leave
him! You don’t know what they’ll do! You have no idea what I saw…”
My throat closed up and I spun away, taking a few shaky steps to
stand with my back to them.

“Aydan.” Germain’s
voice was firm. “We’ll get him back. We just have to do it a
different way, that’s all.”

I stood trembling,
trying to compose myself. Sweat poured off me while I gasped
shallow, ineffectual breaths. My legs shook uncontrollably.

Hellhound came around
to stand in front of me, eyeing me worriedly. “Aydan, when did ya
eat last?”

Nausea washed over me.
“Around eight-thirty,” I whispered.

“Shit!” He caught me
as my knees let go again and lowered me gently to the ground. He
knelt beside me. “Germain! We got any orange juice?”

Germain’s worried
frown hovered over me. “No.”

“In my backpack. In
the RV,” I panted. “Sorry. Stupid. Meant to have a snack when I got
here. Forgot.” I struggled to get up, shivering in the heat. Sweat
soaked my tank top.

“Stay put,” Hellhound
rasped. His arms closed around me and he pulled me back to lean
against him. Germain reappeared and handed me the small carton of
orange juice. I took it with both hands, trying to still their
trembling enough to get the straw in my mouth. Hellhound took it
away from me and held the straw to my lips. I sipped, waiting for
the nausea to pass.

“I’m okay,” I
insisted. “Just need a bit of blood sugar. I’ll be fine in a
minute. We don’t have time for this. Kane doesn’t have time for
this. What’s the plan?”

Germain squatted
beside me. “The plan is that you stay there and drink orange juice
until you’re ready to walk to the trailer and eat something. After
that, we’ll talk.”

“Talk now! Let’s not
waste time!” I struggled to stand again, but Hellhound held me
effortlessly.

“I told ya to stay
put,” he growled. “Ya can get up when that juice’s done.”

I briefly considered
doing a quick chugalug, but despite the urgency that hammered at
me, I knew Hellhound was right. I subsided against him and let him
feed me more juice.

Germain relented and
sat down on the ground opposite. “First we need recon. We need to
know if they have Kane, and if so, where they’re holding him. We
can’t just go blazing in there.”

“I can do that,” I
said. “I can go into the…” I stopped and gazed imploringly at
Germain. He shook his head. I blew out a frustrated breath and
continued obliquely. “I can check the rooms. If necessary, I can
probably peek out a portal and see what’s on the other side.”

“Did you get in
earlier?” Germain asked.

“Yes. I found a
prisoner.”

I swallowed hard as
the memory rose in front of me. Germain’s face hardened as he read
my expression, and Hellhound gave me another sip of orange
juice.

I shook off the horror
and continued. “There were two men torturing him. He… I don’t know
if he told them anything.” I dealt silently with my memories again.
“They killed him. While I was watching.”

Hellhound’s arms
tightened around me, and I resisted the urge to turn and hide my
face in his chest. I pulled away to sit up a little straighter
instead.

“Did you get a good
look at their faces?” Germain asked.

“Yes. Well. The
torturers.” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “The
prisoner… wasn’t identifiable anymore. If I had any way of
uploading those faces… You don’t have a n… connection here, do
you?”

“We have a satellite
uplink.”

“Then I need to talk
to Spider and see if there’s a way I can dump that data to him.” I
struggled determinedly away from Hellhound’s restraining arm. “I’m
ready to eat now.” I dragged myself shakily to my feet and tottered
toward the RV.