by Gini Koch
“But . . .” Christopher started. “I . . .”
Amy rolled her eyes. “So all the extra angst and brooding was because of that? I don’t know whether to be relieved or seriously angry. I thought you were unhappy being married to me.”
“No!” Christopher now looked panicked. “I love being married to you.”
“You haven’t acted like it recently.”
Decided to just go for it. “He also feels like he’s been shunted aside and has no real role any more. Jeff’s a congressman, you’re trying to run a huge conglomerate, even his dad kicks more butt than Christopher does. His position would be important if we didn’t have an ambassador on site. But we do, and it’s me, not him. Kevin’s the Defense Attaché. And we have a troubadour in a much more important face position than Christopher has, which is pretty much the textbook definition of rubbing salt in the wound. There’s more to it, of course, but that’s the gist.”
Everyone, not just Christopher, gaped at me. “Really?” Amy asked finally.
“Yeah. And no, Christopher didn’t tell me. I’m just not as totally dim and unobservant as my nearest and dearest apparently think I am, and I can figure out when I’m the focus of someone’s impotent railing, and then I can also figure out why.” Looked at Chuckie. “I did have a really good teacher that way.” Chuckie grinned.
“Gosh, glad that’s all straightened out,” Jeff said quickly, as Christopher looked worried and upset and Amy looked pissed and confused. “You two please fight and make up once we’re sure of what Kitty’s talking about.”
“I need your help, you know,” Amy said to Christopher in a low voice.
“Not now,” Chuckie said, with a lot of authority. “Later, and in private, and that’s an order. Right now you can both have me as the mutual focus of hatred, I’m used to it. So, Kitty, why are you suddenly the pitchwoman for Unisom?”
“Oh, this, right. I think maybe we’re looking at the situation the wrong way, or at least some of it. We have a great offensive plan for later, but we have nothing but defense planned until then. But we know what our enemy doesn’t, which is that they don’t have what they really want, and we know who our enemy is and they don’t necessarily know that we do. That means we have the advantage. I think we need to press it.”
“It’s risky,” Buchanan said.
“Not if we all actually believe that Gladys is on our side and doesn’t like being used by our enemies. If we have anyone who thinks otherwise, now is truly the time to share those concerns.”
The room was quiet for a few long moments, then one hand raised.
CHAPTER 60
“I HAVE EXPERIENCE with long-term moles,” Olga said as she put her hand down. “And you need to prove to me, right now, that this woman is not exactly that.”
“I don’t believe they can.” Gladys stepped out of the bathroom with the gate in it. Okay, so I should have had the bathroom doors propped open. My bad.
“Are you saying you’re a traitor?” Olga asked her calmly. Buchanan, Len, Kyle, Chuckie, and Adriana all shifted in how they were sitting or standing. Just a bit, but all five of them were ready to attack or defend.
“No,” Gladys said. She shot an amused look toward Buchanan. “You’re good, my boy, but you’re not good enough to take me.”
“Don’t give me a reason to find out,” Buchanan said calmly.
Gladys snorted. “Oh, noted.” She looked back to Olga. “I have no idea how I’ve been controlled, but based on everything that happened, it’s obvious I have been. There’s only one way for an android copy of me to have gotten into the Science Center, and I’d have had to have allowed it through.”
“So, what do we do with you?” Olga asked.
It was interesting in that these two women were pretty much ignoring everyone else in the room. Had the feeling they felt that, should it come to it, they could easily dispatch all of us without trying too hard. Had a feeling they were right.
“I think we hear the rest of what Kitty has to say.” My mother sauntered out of the gate bathroom. She was dressed in her P.T.C.U. gear—black pants, shirt, bulletproof vest, P.T.C.U. baseball cap, and lots of snazzy guns. All holstered. Hoped that was a good sign and not an indication that Mom was too trusting. “And Gladys, trust me—I can take you. Without trying hard.”
“Mom? How did you get here? I mean, aside from the obvious ‘took a gate’ answer.” Good lord, we weren’t having a For Your Ears Only Meeting. We were having a Clandestine Kegger. Clearly I should have asked Pierre to cater something on the casual side. Probably wasn’t too late.
Mom and Gladys both gave me the “duh” look. “Walter told us where you were,” Mom said. “When we asked. Without coercion.”
“You didn’t tell him the meeting was private?” Jeff asked me.
“No, because we were trying to be stealthy. And all that.”
“Only my girl. So, Aunt Gladys, Angela, welcome to the party. Olga was just pointing out that we have no way of proving Gladys is or isn’t a long-term mole. We’d love your input.” Jeff shot them both his Charming the In-Laws Smile.
“Why are you all sitting on the floor like the biggest bunch of Scouts in the known world?” Mom asked.
“Good grief! We were trying to have a super secret club meeting, what do you think? Mom, focus. How do we prove that Gladys isn’t evil?”
Mom heaved a sigh. “Really? I mean really? You’re asking this, all of you?” All heads in the room nodded. “Charles, Malcolm, even you two?”
Chuckie nodded. “Consider us clueless.”
“Truly.” Mom rolled her eyes. “Olga, are you honestly questioning?”
Olga laughed softly. “Oh, no. I’m very aware of what will prove that Gladys is not willingly working for the enemy. However, they do need to be taught. American schools don’t seem to focus on logical thought and deductive reasoning. And, no offense meant, A-C schools appear to be even worse.”
“True enough.” Mom shook her head. “It’s a very simple answer. I hope you’re all listening closely. Ready?” All heads nodded again, even Gladys’. So there was that. “Fine. Kitty, you’re alive.”
“Beg pardon?”
“Oh,” Chuckie said. “Yeah, okay.”
Buchanan chuckled. “Good point. That’s why you’re the boss.”
“Mind clarifying that, Secret Agent Man or Men?”
“I will.” Buchanan turned to me. “You’re the number one target on your enemies’ hit lists, and you have been since you first joined Centaurion Division. Sure, Mister Former Chief and the Minister of Sulky Looks were watching over you, but there are so many different ways to kill someone and make it look like an accident that I could list them from now until the funeral and not be done.”
“Gladys moved you away from the Science Center,” Mom added while I tried to control the Inner Hyena over Buchanan’s nickname for Christopher, with only limited success. “I know Richard was influential in that decision, but I also know he didn’t make that decision alone.”
“True enough,” White said. “For the record, only Madame Olga raised the issue of Gladys’ trustworthiness.”
“Richard, I realize you’re my older brother, but sometimes you’re just too decent and trusting. Of course you should be determining if I’m your enemy or not. I allowed our enemies in and they murdered Michael in cold blood. You should be running me through every test you have.”
“No need,” White said. “Since Angela’s point is well taken. I’d add that Jamie is under your guard quite frequently and is still safely with us.”
“Super. So, we’re all on the same team. In keeping with our campout traditions, we’ll sing “Kumbaya” and make s’mores later. However, I do actually have something I want Gladys doing between now and Michael’s funeral.”
“And that is?” Gladys asked me.
Tossed her the box of Unisom. “I want you spying for our side. We’re pretty sure your half brother’s controlling you through your dreams. So, you know how
he does it, even if you’re not consciously aware of it.”
“I’m not sure I can discover that in the timeframe we need.”
“Chuckie, you’re up. I know the C.I.A.’s done studies on this stuff, and not just because of The Men Who Stare At Goats. So, you get to oversee Gladys’ dream indoctrination. Naomi, you’ll need to help him with that. It’s a fun couples project.”
“What are we looking for?” Naomi asked. “Dreams don’t work like waking thought, even dreams you control.”
“Ronald Yates clearly was spreading the love around in every corner of the world. That means there’s any number of Yates half siblings running around. You’re looking for them, for signs that indicate what Ronaldo is planning, for signs of who he’s taking his directions from. We should be so lucky that you discover who the Master or Apprentice is. Look for them, too, but I have to figure you’ll find out the plan before you’ll get a real clue to their identities.”
“We’ll need Paul’s help,” Naomi said.
Waited for him to appear. Shockingly, he didn’t. Wondered why not. “Everyone else is here—so where are Paul and James, anyway?”
“Dealing with the riot that’s at your front door,” Mom said. “That’s why I’m here in the first place. Pierre contacted me. Apparently he’s the only person in this entire Embassy complex who felt that a riot in the streets in front of your Embassy wasn’t good for public safety or relations.” Yeah, Mom’s sarcasm knob went well past eleven.
“It came up fast,” Kyle said. “When we went to get Olga there was no one on the street.”
Len nodded. “When we walked from the Embassy to the Zoo, it was only about fifteen or twenty minutes later, and the mob was already formed.”
“I think people going in and out of the Embassy was the trigger,” Buchanan said. “Based on what I’ve been dealing with the past few days, at any rate. You all going in and out was proof that there were people in here to threaten and terrorize.”
“We’ll deal with them,” Mom said. “Just deciding if we want to call in the National Guard or not.”
“What are Paul and James actually doing, do you know?”
“They’re talking with Colonel Franklin and your Uncle Mort to determine if they want to have a show of military force of some kind, use Field agents, or both.”
“We could send out the Amazons,” Jeff said. “They’d love to knock some heads, I’m sure.”
Thought fast. “No, we don’t want to go for fighting back if we can help it. I think I have another solution.”
CHAPTER 61
“I HATE THIS PLAN,” Jeff said, as he and I stood at the front door. “I might hate it even more than when you had us use the alligators to rescue people at the Space Center.”
“It’s the easiest way, will ensure that no one’s hurt, and will get rid of the Loser Brigade out front without any real effort or a lot of time.”
Rahmi and Rhee were with us. They were both almost vibrating with the excitement of getting to do something, even though they’d been told it was a non-fighting something.
The com turned on. “We’re ready, Chief,” Walter shared.
“Okay, girls, it’s show time. Remember that we’ll want to run back into the Embassy in case anything goes wrong. Inside, retreating, not going forward to attack.”
The princesses looked at the pictures Jeff and I were holding, and shapeshifted.
“We are clear on our required roles,” Rahmi said. “We are to smile and wave and then go back inside when you tell us to.”
“I love the sparkles,” Rhee added.
“Good. You two look great, just like the pictures. Walter, let’s activate Mission: Get Off My Lawn.”
With that, Jeff opened the door and we four stepped out.
The gasp from the crowd was audible. Because of my enhanced vision, I could see the huge floater gate that spanned the length of our facility. But no one on the street could.
The four of us waved to the crowd, which, true to expectations, surged toward us. Even the people at the tables with the petitions got up and came a’running.
As the first people hit the floater gate, they disappeared. But it was a big crowd, and we had people shoving in the back to get close enough to see if who they thought was standing with us were indeed two people thought long dead.
Proving that the human Curiosity Gene was much stronger than the human Common Sense Gene, in a matter of seconds, there was no one on the street. Trotted inside. “Okay, Walter, turn off the gate.”
“Off, Chief.”
The four of us used hyperspeed to grab the tables, chairs, and other paraphernalia left outside. We were back inside in under ten seconds and there was no trace of the mob left anywhere. Gave myself a virtual pat on the back.
“What do we do with all this crap?” Jeff asked.
“Keep the paperwork, we’ll want to look at it to see what they’re trying to do. Just leave the tables and chairs here. I’ll have the Operations Team get rid of them.”
Raj and Reader joined us in the foyer. “All protestors arrived safely and are accounted for,” Raj said.
“They’re also all under arrest,” Reader added with a grin. “Colonel Franklin said to tell you that he took pictures of their expressions, because he knew you’d appreciate them.”
“He rocks. Okay girls, you can change back now.”
Reader laughed. “Ronald Regan and Elvis. The reports on this should be great.”
“Yep. How to ensure your enemies sound like lunatic crackpots without really trying.”
“What if someone took pictures?” Jeff asked. “Imageering can’t alter them right now.”
“Colonel Franklin has confiscated all phones and cameras,” Raj said. “Since the protestors are being treated as terrorists.”
“Hey, not my fault those people managed to sneak onto Andrews Air Force Base en masse and threaten the U.S. Government.”
Reader put his arm around my shoulders as we headed off to get back to the real business of the day. “Girlfriend, I have to say it—I just love watching you work.”
CHAPTER 62
THE NEXT WEEK was spent getting ready for Michael’s funeral and our side’s answer to Operation Infiltration.
We’d used the excuse of religious necessities to explain why no one, Jeff in particular, was going to work until after the funeral. It seemed to work, in part because Oliver was fanning the media flames as promised, and much news coverage was being focused on how devastating this loss was to American Centaurion.
There were, of course, the opposing views, but thanks to the success of Mission: Get Off My Lawn, the opposition looked like the biggest bunch of dangerous wingnuts around, which helped Oliver’s efforts. Didn’t let it go to my head—one mission firmly in the win column did not an entire successful Operation make.
At Buchanan’s repeated insistence, Reader had assigned Field teams into the neighboring embassies and regular residences in our area. All these agents had supposedly passed their Anti-Mind Control Training. A handful of the embassies and regular folks refused to be occupied, so we and our friends in the D.C.P.D.’s K-9 division were watching them for signs of danger to the residents or anti-alien activity from said residents. The rest seemed relieved to have the extra protection, because no one had missed the excitement of the Mob O’ Losers.
Pierre had our personal fashion designer, Akiko, working on creating the appropriate “funeral attire” for all the female A-Cs of importance. This included women not involved in the actual operation, so Akiko was busy and had to get A-C assistance to have a hope of completing everything in time for the event, to the point of having her design studio and factory temporarily moved into the second floor of the Zoo.
Raj indeed had the Troubadour Connection. There were a lot of troubadours out there—more than I’d ever heard about—and they seemed almost pathetically eager to get to do some actual work. It was interesting, how shoved to the side these particular A-Cs were. Clearly Christopher’s
views about troubadours were the dominant ones for the A-Cs of Earth. Wondered how much that had to do with the fact that King Adolphus of Alpha Four had been a troubadour.
In addition to the Dazzlers who were on Imitation Duty, we had some male troubadours who were going to add in, to cover effective confusion if needed and give us some more people to pretend to be Embassy staff.
Spent much time with my assigned imitator, Francine, who was from Euro Base. She was good and pretty much “got me” right away. She was even able to imitate my voice.
All the troubadours were practicing sounding like their assigned double, and most were really good at it. The gal imitating Serene, Nadine, was having the most trouble, but even she was pretty good after a few days of immersion.
Immersion had been hard on everyone, though, because it meant our assigned troubadours were eating, working, and hanging out with us. Jeff drew the line at sleeping with us, but other than that, each woman on Team Infiltration had a shadow.
Jamie and the other kids had really gotten into the whole “extra mommies and aunties” idea. I wasn’t sure if they understood what we were doing or not—though if forced I’d have voted for the idea that they did—but they were having a ball with it. Double the attention, double the fun seemed to be the kids’ motto. Part of me was tempted to have the kids go along to the funeral, but protective wisdom said they’d be much safer in the Embassy, so I didn’t suggest it.
“I really walk like that?” I asked Reader as Francine and Jeff strolled up and down in front of us in the ballroom, which was where our little team of me, Jeff, Francine, and Reader, who was our assigned “verifier,” were practicing this afternoon. We had a trial run scheduled for early evening, and every team was prepping because we only had a couple of days before the funeral and no one wanted to be on the team that fooled no one.
“Yeah, girlfriend, you do.”
“I accepted three years ago that I look like a cheetah on drugs when I’m running, but I had no idea my butt swayed that much when I was walking.”
