Alien Diplomacy

by Gini Koch

“Prince isn’t going to hurt you.”

  I shifted so I could look Prince in his furry face. I was rewarded with a slobbery face wash. Happily, he wasn’t holding a grudge for our impromptu MMA match. “Thanks for that, Prince.” I petted his head while I searched through my purse for an acceptable dog treat.

  Found a pack of teething biscuits. Jamie wasn’t really ready for them yet, but I’d been advised to have some around just in case. I gave one to Prince, who apparently felt it was a taste sensation. He finished quickly, gave me another doggy kiss, and rolled over so I could rub his tummy. I so rubbed. Make friends with the big dogs, that was my motto. “So, Ishmoe, what the hell’s going on?”

  “Ishmoe? What the hell?”

  “Why do you care what I call you? You haven’t told me your real name, so any name’s as good as another. I ask again, where are the rest of the Three Stooges?”

  He actually laughed. “I get it now. They’re trying to find the person or persons shooting at you.” We were still driving fast, but the zigzagging had stopped. “So, what’s going on?”

  “I asked you first.”

  “Look, someone’s trying to kill you. Again. Tell me what’s going on so I can help you.”

  “Tell us your real name first. And who you work for.” We slowed down and came to a stop. I got back up on my knees. We were at a stoplight, and no bullets seemed headed toward us. Prince rolled onto his paws and shoved his head at me. I made with the pets, then shoved Prince over and sat my butt down on the backseat, helping White up and onto the seat next to me.

  “I work for people trying to protect you. And my name isn’t important.” The light changed, and we drove forward, at a normal rate of speed.

  “I know your name isn’t important. I also know it’s not Ishmael or, as much as you all resemble the Three Stooges, Moe. I want to know your damn name. Or should I be talking to Prince here instead?”

  Prince hopped onto the floor, the better to get right in between us. He shoved his head at White, who wisely gave him vigorous pets.

  While we were doing this, I heard what I was pretty sure was a police band radio. There was a discussion of shots being fired in the Sheridan Circle area, along with voiced concerns that the limited police force available wasn’t able to get there in time.

  There was something bothering me about all of this, and it was a different bother than everything else. Ishmael didn’t seem dangerous. Prince was, clearly, a big softie, if him crawling up so he was now lying on both my and White’s lap to better get petting was any indication.

  Olga somehow felt they were K-9 cops. But even if Turner and Hooch or all the K-9 movies were accurate representations of working with police dogs—which I highly doubted—what was truly missing from this experience was a police badge. Prince had nothing on him to identify him as part of a K-9 unit. And by now, if Ishmael were really a cop, a badge should have been flashed, if only to set our minds at ease.

  I studied the back of Ishmael’s head. His hair was neatly trimmed. The beard was clearly false. He was driving with his left hand on the top of the steering wheel, while he fiddled with his radio without looking at it.

  His radio crackled. “Whale One, do you copy?”

  He grabbed the microphone. It looked just like the ones in all the cop shows and movies. “Whale One here. Catfish and company safe. Repeat, Catfish and company safe.”

  “Orcas got away,” a third voice shared. “Other fishermen out in the water caused disruption.”

  “Roger that. Whale One out.” He switched the radio to another band, still not looking at it.

  Olga’s beliefs gelled with things Oliver had told me only a couple of days ago. I dug out my phone and pulled up the Internet, took a stab and did a specific name search. Happily, A-C phones were top of the line with about 100 Gs to everyone else’s 3, 4, or 5. I had what I was looking for in moments. Sure damn enough.

  I showed it to White. “Huh. Interesting, Missus Martini.”

  I decided to take the leap. “So, Officer Melville, your parents were of a literary turn of mind, I see. Can I call you Herman, or are you really attached to Ishmael for everyday conversations?”

  He jerked the steering wheel so hard that Prince lost his balance and rolled onto the floor. “What…what are you talking about?”

  “Dude, you weren’t that hard to find.” I studied my phone. “The entire K-9 division was let go due to budget cuts. You were all allowed to keep your dogs, presumably because your Chief of Police wasn’t thrilled with this. There were only twelve of you.” I looked up. “The other teams are working what parts of the city?”

  “You’re way off base, lady,” Ishmael said as Prince righted himself and shoved his head between us so we could each scratch behind an ear. We complied.

  “You know, I can get why you’re not much for Herman, it’s sort of old-fashioned. But Ishmael is worse, in that sense. Maybe I’ll just call you Officer Moe. And I’m not off base at all. I’m actually Catfish, and I know it. No idea what you’ve named everyone else with me in your hunt for whoever the hell Moby Dick is, but I can recognize my code name when I hear it. I do appreciate the timely save, though.”

  “I was in the area.”

  “Right. You and the rest of the fishing expedition were lurking around. You’ve been in my area every day for the past few days. Why? And why all the elaborate taxi ruse stuff?”

  “Really, I’m just a gypsy cab driver who likes to help out the good citizens of Washington, D.C.”

  “And I’m actually Mata Hari, I’ve just aged really freaking well. Look, why all this ridiculous subterfuge? Especially since you appear to be on the side of truth, justice, and the American Way.”

  Ishmael opened his mouth, but White beat him to it. “Really, time is of the essence. Please stop your attempts to lie to us and tell us the truth. We might, in return, be willing to trust you and perhaps even share pertinent information.”

  Our driver considered for a few moments, while the radio crackled and people shared the unsurprising news that, now that an officer of the law had arrived at Sheridan Circle, there were no signs of any gunmen or any other form of disturbance. He heaved a sigh. “Yes, fine. And please continue to call me Ishmael.”

  I snorted a laugh. “Why?”

  He gave me a pained look. “It’s my code name. Look, we’ve been remaining incognito because we didn’t want to get into it with your friends.”

  “You mean you don’t want the C.I.A. aware that you’re trampling onto their turf because instead of fighting with you, they’ll merely arrest you?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, far too casually.

  “I mean that you don’t own a badge anymore. None of your unit does. So, in the olden days, if you’d crossed into Federal territory, you’d get chewed out, but your Chief or Captain could still cover for you. Now? Now you’re a private citizen. And the Feds aren’t nice to interfering taxi drivers who have no legal authority to detain prisoners or kidnap ambassadors or anything.”

  “I can’t confirm or deny your accusations.”

  “Officer Moe, seriously, if you actually want to help us bring down Titan Security, you’re going to have to give us some assistance, starting with information.”

  This time, Ishmael slammed on the brakes and pulled over so fast Prince wasn’t the only one losing balance. White and I righted ourselves, and I helped Prince back up onto the seat.

  Ishmael turned around, a shocked look on his face. “How did you know?”

  I looked straight at him. “Well, we don’t let just anyone in on the secret, but the truth is…I’m psychic.”

  CHAPTER 68

  ISHMAEL GAPED AT ME. “REALLY?”

  “Seriously, you really have to ask? No!” I waved my phone at him. “It’s all here, matter of public and World Weekly News record. Titan has the main contract to provide security to the parts of D.C. deprived of officers of the law. This city’s the test case before Titan and the rest of the big security companies go into a
major battle to get protection contracts throughout the U.S., and then Europe and the Middle East. What I want to know is—what the hell is your plan? Because I get a lot of flack for my plans, but at least mine have some coherency.”

  He stared at me for a long few seconds. Then he sighed. “Our plan is simple. To do what we agreed to do—protect and serve.”

  “Why have I been your main protection focus?”

  Ishmael gave me the “duh” look. “Because you’ve been targeted by assassins. And those assassins were hired by Titan Security.”

  “How did you know that?” White asked.

  “Her limo blew up. She was chased by a lot of men. And someone just tried to shoot you.”

  “Good points. But you showing up on the scene, every time, seems a little too coincidental. Especially the first time.”

  “We’re good.”

  “Officer Moe, you were on the scene far too quickly. No one’s that good.” At least, no one human.

  “We had a tip something was going down.”

  “A tip from whom? The only tipster who seems remotely accurate right now is Mister Joel Oliver, and I don’t think you’re on his call list.”

  When I said Oliver’s name, Ishmael’s eyes shifted a little. Living with A-Cs for the past two years had really honed my ability to spot the poor liars. He hadn’t said anything, and I hadn’t asked a question, but he was acting shifty. Light dawned. “You really were in the right place at the right time. Because you weren’t following me, were you. You were who was following Mister Joel Oliver. To protect him, right?”

  He looked ready to argue, so I hit him with Mom’s intimidating stare. It worked. “Right,” Ishmael said with a sigh. “He’s in danger, because he found out and wrote the truth. He might write for a complete rag, but when it comes to what happened with the police department, he was completely on the money.”

  I pondered some more while hoping he didn’t believe everything Oliver wrote. Because I had the impression Ishmael currently thought we were regular people, and I really wanted someone, anyone, to buy that we were “just folks.” At this point, it would make a refreshing change.

  “The three of you who’ve been tailing me, you weren’t the ones he spotted, were you? It was some of your fellow K-9s, right?”

  “Right. We all honestly work as cab drivers. Have to make money somehow, and it allows us the mobility we’re used to while also letting us blend in. We tend to stagger driving shifts, though. When we’re not driving, we’ll patrol on foot, if we have a good tip about things going down.”

  I shook my head. “Twelve of you policing a town this size isn’t a drop in the bucket.”

  “Better us than Titan,” he snarled. “They aren’t in it for the protection. At least, not the kind we mean. They’re worse than the Mob, and deadlier.”

  “Dude, on your side. Just pointing out that you’re all sort of sounding like modern day Don Quixotes.”

  Before anyone else could make a comment, my phone rang. Prince helped me dig it out and helped himself to another teething biscuit as a reward for a job well done.

  “Hi, Jeff, we’re fine.”

  “Thanks for calling to let me know.” His sarcasm knob was already at eleven.

  “We were kind of busy until now.”

  “Yeah, I know, I picked that up. You’re back to annoyed with some feelings of satisfaction and sympathy, which is why I called.”

  “Thanks for waiting. I probably couldn’t have answered the phone any sooner. Is everyone else okay? You and Jamie in particular?”

  “Yes. I have a headache, but everyone’s fine. No one shot at the jocks or Reynolds. Only you.”

  “I feel all special. Why do you have a headache?”

  “Reynolds did something to my neck to keep me immobile when the bullets started flying. I haven’t killed him yet for it. But I want to.”

  “Chuckie uses the Vulcan Nerve Pinch when he has to. It’s his job. And he did it to protect you and Jamie.”

  “Right, right. I knew without asking that you’d be taking his side on this one. Huh?” I heard voices in the background. “Oh, yeah. Everyone would like to know what the hell is going on.”

  “I’m not sure I can summarize easily.”

  “No problem. We’re coming to you. Just stay put.”

  I covered the phone. “Officer Moe, we have a request to stay here.”

  He shook his head. “Too exposed.”

  “Well, what do you suggest, then? Richard and I are happy to get out and wait for my husband, who’s coming to get us.”

  He sighed. “We’ll head somewhere safer.” He put the car in gear and headed us off.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I’ll tell you once we get there. If your husband can find you here, he can find you there, too.”

  “Thanks for the cryptic non-assist.” I went back to Jeff. “Sorry, our sort of protector feels we’re too exposed here. He’s heading for higher ground or some such. Think you can still follow us?”

  “I’m assuming you’re asking that so you don’t give away intelligence.”

  “Indeed.” I waited. Nothing. “No ‘atta girls’ or something?”

  “Atta girl.” He didn’t say it with enough enthusiasm, but I decided to let it pass. The headache was probably dampening his spirits.

  “So, what happened once I left. How’s Olga?”

  “Cool as a Romanian cucumber. She says we have a beautiful baby, she thanks you for visiting, and hopes you’ll visit again soon. Want to explain that?”

  “Not right now.”

  “Again, I’m not surprised. By the way, we have several taxis following us.”

  “You’re in a limo?”

  “Yes. Two of them. Alpha Team’s coming along, because they’re so happy that you and our retired Pontifex were shot at in front of our own Embassy.”

  “Great. I’d like to point out again that this wasn’t my fault. What happened to Vance? He said he knew who tonight’s target was.”

  “Did he? We got nothing out of him. He tried cowering behind the jocks, which didn’t work well. We left him with your mother, sobbing his guts out.”

  “I hope Mom’s clear that I don’t like him.”

  “Trust me. She took one look at him and asked him why he thought acting like an immature asshole was the right way to behave in a civilized society. He started crying then.”

  “I am so sorry I’m missing that.”

  “Yeah, well, I read him, and he’s a wimp.”

  “Jeff, I could have told you that without…um…you know.”

  “You’re so good with subterfuge.”

  “Blah, blah, blah. I’m getting off. Call if you can’t find us.”

  “I will. Be careful, baby.”

  “Always.”

  “Right. It still amazes me that, after all this time, you think you can fool me.”

  We hung up, and I paid more attention to where we were going. It looked vaguely familiar.

  Ishmael was on his police radio again, talking to his cronies. I got the impression he was calling the full Dirty Dozen in for a powwow.

  My phone rang again. “Hello?”

  “Kitty, darling, when will you be gracing our Embassy again with your delightful presence?”

  “No clue, Pierre. Why?”

  “Fitting time, dearest. We’ll take care of the rest of our bevy of beauties first, but you, as the ambassador, must look perfect.”

  “I’ll do my best to get back soon. Oh, and Pierre, please make sure the dress will be something I can run in.”

  “Trust me, darling. I do know you.”

  We hung up as Ishmael turned us down a familiar street. I took a look at where I was pretty sure he was heading us. “Are you freaking kidding me?”

  CHAPTER 69

  WE PULLED INTO THE SAME PARKING GARAGE Jeff had had us head into only yesterday. “What is this, Secret Meeting Central? Where’s the employees’ lounge and the conference room?”

  Ishm
ael parked on the same level I’d been on with the Dingo and all his cronies the day before. I spotted a few bullet casings that had been missed by the cleanup team and sent Reader a text about it. No one was going to accuse me of not paying attention this time.

  Ishmael sighed. “It’s under construction, only the construction’s on hold because of budget cuts. The foundation’s considered somewhat unstable, though it’s safe enough as long as there aren’t hundreds of cars parked here. So no one comes around.”

  “I’ll bet. So, is there a posted schedule? And, if so, whose supposedly clandestine meeting are we interrupting? Homeland Security? C.I.A.? Keystone Kops?” Reader’s text reply was, charitably, snippy. I snipped back. “Huh?” I realized Ishmael had said something I’d missed.

  “I said that this is a safe location. We meet here all the time.”

  “Huh. I wonder who else does. And who else knows you do.”

  “We’re secure,” he snapped as two limos, followed by five taxis, arrived and parked. We all got out. I desperately wanted to make a Spy vs. Spy joke, but even in this company, perhaps especially in this company, I figured it would go over badly.

  Jeff pointedly walked over and moved me and White away from Ishmael. “We’re fine,” I said quietly.

  “I prefer you closer to me, for a variety of reasons.”

  “No complaints from me. Where’s Jamie?”

  “With Denise, at our new day care center.” He sounded resigned. “I can’t argue with the need, and Jamie adores her, so I think it’ll be fine. Your parents are at the Embassy in case of problems. Christopher’s there, too…just in case.” He didn’t have to say just in case for what—at the rate we were going, the likelihood that someone would try to take over the Embassy this afternoon seemed at least probable.

  “Good, though I think the people responsible for all the crap with the Embassy are here in the parking garage with us. Why did you choose this location yesterday?”

  “It’s big, empty, and no one comes in this area. Isn’t that why you had the taxi guy come here?”

  “No, I didn’t direct him. He came here on his own. He says they come here all the time.”