Authors: Diane Henders
Tags: #thriller, #suspense, #mystery, #espionage, #canada, #science fiction, #canadian, #technological, #spy, #hardboiled, #women sleuths, #spicy, #spy stories, #calgary, #alberta
The Spy Is Cast (43 page)
“I also reserve the
right to supply additional security measures to protect you,” he
added.
“Subject to my
approval,” I snapped. “I have the final say. On everything.
Including who I work with, and how and when and where I work.”
“You’re just an
asset,” Stemp protested. “That’s unreasonable.”
“You forfeited your
right to reasonable behaviour. You know my terms. You understand
the consequences of breaching them. We’re done here.”
“Very well.” He rose
and nodded to the two armed men. He turned to Kane. “As her
handler, you have complete responsibility for her performance, and
her safety. I expect you understand the magnitude of that task. I
hope you’ll prove yourself capable of it.” He turned and left,
trailed by his guards.
I clasped my trembling
hands together and took a deep breath.
“Holy… crap!” Spider
exploded. “That was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen!”
“First rule,” I
snapped. “Don’t threaten me.”
Kane turned to me
gravely. “You realize you’ve just made a very dangerous enemy.”
I snorted. “What’s he
going to do? Kill me?”
Kane eyed me without
speaking.
“He’ll be doing me a
fucking favour if he does,” I snarled. “I’m out of here.”
I got up and strode
out, hiding my shaking legs as best I could.
Kane caught up to me
on the front sidewalk. “Aydan.”
“What?” As I turned, I
caught sight of Stemp and his men still parked by the curb across
the street.
“Aydan, I’m sorry.
This shouldn’t have happened. I hope you know, I would have stopped
it if I’d known what was coming.”
I gave him a smile
that didn’t feel very convincing. “I know you wouldn’t willingly
put me in this position.”
He rocked back as if
I’d slapped him. “Aydan, I wouldn’t
knowingly
put you in
this position. I would have stopped it if I’d known,” he
repeated.
My eyes slid over to
Stemp again. He was watching us intently. Kane was right. I’d made
a dangerous enemy. I had no doubt that as soon as Stemp had any
alternative at all to using me, I’d die in an unfortunate accident.
And I was pretty sure that anyone who was close to me would be
destroyed at the same time. Stemp’s last words to Kane had been a
none-too-subtle threat.
I sighed.
“John, no offense. But
no, you wouldn’t have stopped it. If you got the command, you’d
carry it out. You wouldn’t have liked it, but you would have done
it. You really are all about duty.”
Hurt flashed across
his face before his expression closed down. I met his eyes, willing
him to understand.
“As soon as you begin
to choose which orders you will or won’t carry out, you’re a threat
to Stemp. And, by extension, a threat to national security. And if
that happens, your career, and probably your life, is over. You
are
all about duty. You have to be.”
He opened his mouth as
if to respond, and I steeled myself to do the only thing I could
think of to protect him.
I turned on my heel
and walked away without another word.
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By profession, I’m a
technical writer, computer geek, and ex-interior designer. I’m good
at two out of three of these things. I had the sense to quit the
one I sucked at.
To deal with my
mid-life crisis, I also write adventure novels featuring a
middle-aged female protagonist. And I kickbox.
This seemed more
productive than indulging in more typical mid-life crisis
activities like getting a divorce, buying a Harley Crossbones, and
cruising across the country picking up men in sleazy bars.
Especially since it’s winter most of the months of the year
here.
It’s much more
comfortable to sit at my computer. And hell, Harleys are expensive.
Come to think of it, so are beer and gasoline.
Oh, and I still love
my husband. There’s that. I’ll stick with the writing.
Diane Henders
People frequently ask
if my protagonist, Aydan Kelly, is really me.
Yeah, you got me.
These novels are an autobiography of my secret life as a government
agent, working with highly-classified computer technology… Oh,
wait, what’s that? You want the
truth
? Um, you do realize
fiction writers get paid to lie, don’t you?
…well, shit, that’s
not nearly as much fun. It’s also a long story.
I swore I’d never
write fiction. “Too personal,” I said. “People read novels and
automatically assume the author is talking about him/herself.”
Well, apparently I
lied about the fiction-writing part. One day, a story sprang into
my head and wouldn’t leave. The only way to get it out was to write
it down. So I did.
But when I wrote that
first book, I never intended to show it to anyone, so I created a
character that looked like me just to thumb my nose at the
stereotype. I’ve always had a defective sense of humour, and this
time it turned around and bit me in the ass.
Because after I’d
written the third novel, I realized I actually wanted other people
to read my books. And when I went back to change my main character
to
not
look like me, my beta readers wouldn’t let me. They
rose up against me and said, “No! Aydan is a tall woman with long
red hair and brown eyes. End of discussion!”
Jeez, no wonder
readers get the idea that authors write about themselves. So no,
I’m not Aydan Kelly. I just look like her.
Here’s an excerpt from
Book 3: Reach For The Spy
A faint noise woke me.
My eyes flew open and I held my breath, listening. Had the sound
come from outside the open window? I strained my ears, but heard
only the usual quiet of a July night in the country.
A tiny, metallic click
from the doorknob made me change the rhythm of my breathing, slow
and deep. I let my eyelids droop so I could watch the door through
the fringe of my lashes.
Damn that shaft of
moonlight. It fell directly across me in the bed, but the doorway
itself was in shadow.
The door swung open
slowly and silently. A large, dark figure moved toward my bed.
I emitted a small
snore followed by a deep sigh and rolled over, letting the bedsheet
fall away as I reached under the opposite pillow and clenched my
fist around the crowbar. The moonlight emphasized the curves and
hollows of my naked body. The intruder froze, staring.
That’s right, asshole.
Take a good look. It’ll be the last thing you ever see. Just come a
little closer, now…
He turned away
abruptly, and I was instantly in motion. The crowbar hurtled toward
his temple in a flat, vicious arc with all my strength behind
it.
“Aydan.”
At the sound of his
whisper, I let out a yelp of dismay. I tried desperately to slow
and alter the trajectory of my weapon, but it connected solidly
with his head. He fell.
Heart pounding, I
floundered toward the huddled form on the floor. As I reached him,
he sat up slowly. I flung myself on him from behind, one arm across
his massive chest while my other hand clamped over his mouth.
“We’re bugged,” I
breathed urgently in his ear.
His large hand closed
around my wrist, and I let him pull my hand away from his
mouth.
“I know,” he said in
normal tones. “I’m jamming them.”
I collapsed onto the
floor behind him, gasping. “Jesus fucking Christ, John! Don’t ever
fucking do that! I nearly fucking killed you, for chrissake!” If
frequent use of obscenities indicated one’s level of intellect, I’d
apparently dropped about a hundred IQ points in the last couple of
seconds.
“I noticed.” He
touched his head, and his fingers came away dark in the
moonlight.
“Shit!” I started to
scramble up, but he grabbed my arm.
“Don’t turn on any
lights.”
“I need to look at
that,” I argued. “I was going for a home run until the last second.
You’re bleeding.”
“I’ll live. It just
glanced off.”
I blew out an
irritated breath and knelt beside him to trace my fingers through
his hair, exploring the sticky area near the top of his head. At
least there wasn’t any squishiness that would indicate a
fracture.
I stepped across him
into my ensuite bathroom and came out with a clean washcloth.
“Here.”
He accepted it and
pressed it against his head. He glanced up at me, and then looked
away quickly. “Aydan… Could you please put some clothes on? This is
really… distracting.”
“Oh!” I glanced down
at my white skin, practically glowing in the moonlight. My
forty-six-year-old body was in pretty good shape except for the
extra ten pounds or so around the middle. I’d never been shy about
it. And getting naked with John Kane was near the top of my private
list of things to do, but I was pretty sure braining him with a
crowbar didn’t qualify as foreplay.
Anyway, it didn’t
matter. Now was not the time. I stepped quickly to the chair in the
corner where I kept my clothes laid out for quick access. I pulled
on jeans and a sweatshirt before turning back to him.
“Can you stand up?” I
asked.
He rose. “I’m fine. We
need to talk.” He sat on the edge of the bed and I perched beside
him.
The moonlight made a
dramatic study of his strong, square features. His silvered temples
gleamed against his short, dark hair as he turned to eye me
piercingly in the pale light.
“How did you find the
bugs?” he demanded. “Do you have a scanner?”
“No. I found them the
good old-fashioned way. Is Stemp monitoring them?”
“Yes. How did you know
you were bugged?”
“I smelled them.”
His dark brows snapped
together. “What?”
I grinned. “Stemp
needs to be more careful choosing his minions. Whoever he sent to
install the bugs was a smoker who wore cologne. I smelled him the
instant I came in the house. I checked everything over, and when I
couldn’t find anything missing, I started to look for things that
had been added.”
Kane nodded slowly.
“You’re good.”
I peered at him in the
moonlight. “What the hell are you doing here? Dammit, Stemp is
going to notice the bugs are jammed. I didn’t want him to know I
knew about them.”
“He won’t know. I got
Webb to generate a circular loop to feed the monitor. We have an
hour.”
“You got Spider
involved in this, too? What if you get caught?” I demanded. “It was
bad enough when Stemp just thought you were sympathetic toward me.
If he finds out about this, you’re going to be next on his hit
list, right after he whacks me.”
He went still,
watching me. “What makes you say that?”
“Come on, John. It’s
not rocket science. Stemp needs me right now, but he doesn’t trust
me because he can’t manipulate me. The instant he’s got an
alternative, I’m going to get a lead suppository.”
I sighed. “In fact,
you’ll probably be the one to get the order. That’s what I’d do if
I was Stemp. If you carry out the order to kill me, you keep your
job. And live. If you refuse, he passes the order down the food
chain to get rid of both of us. And on down the line to get rid of
anybody else who isn’t willing to follow orders. Get all the
housecleaning done at once.”
“That’s the most
paranoid, cynical thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
“Yeah. Tell me I’m
wrong.”