Kitty Katt 14: Alien Nation

by Gini Koch

“I didn’t share why the K-Nines were here,” Len said. His phone beeped. “However, Mister Reynolds has guessed at least somewhat accurately. He says that as long as you’re taking me, Kyle, at least two A-Cs, and some Secret Service with you, it’s okay to do, and I quote, ‘whatever the hell they want from her this time.’ So we seem cleared.”

  Chose not to ask if Len had really only shared part of what was going on with Chuckie. Also wondered if the person Kyle was texting was Buchanan. Assumed it was. Actively chose not to complain about the boys doing what they felt was right. Was well aware that they got private tongue-lashings I wasn’t privy to and saw no reason to try to ensure they had another.

  Decided I was heading to the main police precinct in a clandestine manner and so didn’t need to change clothes. Did wash the dog slobber off my face and hands while Manfred calibrated the gate. The K-9 teams went through first, each human officer holding their canine teammate. Then Kyle, Evalyne, and Phoebe stepped through to verify that all was well wherever we were landing.

  Colette and Len received a go-ahead text from Kyle, so she went next, leaving me, Manfred, and Len. But before we could step through, Mrs. Maurer stuck her head in. “You have an additional teammate coming.” She backed out and said addition joined us in the bathroom. A very handsome, human addition.

  “Jeff, Chuck, Buchanan, and your mother want me going along, Kitty,” Kevin Lewis said, flashing me a grin. He was a former pro football player who my mother had recruited into the P.T.C.U. early on in his career. He was tall, with dark black skin, twinkling dark brown eyes, fantastic teeth, and literally bags and bags of charisma. “I’m the most expendable right now in terms of what’s coming. No offense meant toward you,” he added to Len.

  Kevin was married to Denise, who, besides being blonde and fair skinned, matched him in everything. They both had the best smiles and charisma to spare. Their children, Raymond and Rachel, were beautiful blends of their parents. Basically the Lewises were representing in the Humans Can Be As Hot As A-Cs department.

  Kevin was also Mom’s right hand in the P.T.C.U., so if Mom wanted him along on this trip, then along Kevin would be.

  “I never argue when I’m forced to travel with extra hot guys, Kevin.”

  “Frankly, I’m flattered that Mister Buchanan sent you instead of coming himself,” Len said.

  “I’m flattered, Kitty. And Len, I’ll try not to take that as an insult.”

  Len laughed. “Never, sir.”

  “Oh, stop the sir stuff with me. Like Kitty, I prefer informality, and you know it.”

  “Let’s get this goat rodeo rolling, though. The faster we go over, the faster we get back.” That was me, Ms. Expedient. Len put his arm around me then stepped us through. I squeezed my eyes shut. It didn’t help.

  As always, the feeling of the world rushing past me, visible out of the corners of my eyes if I was trying to be macho, and felt even with my eyes closed when I wasn’t, played havoc with my stomach. Happily, the journey was incredibly brief, and Len holding me helped considerably.

  Opened my eyes to find out that, sure enough, we were in a bathroom. Nice of the police to keep to the A-Cs’ theme. Len moved us out of the way as Kevin stepped out behind us, Manfred bringing up our rear. No one looked surprised at our location. Yeah, we’d all been with Centaurion long enough—most gates were in the bathrooms of every airport, train station and, these days, bus station or any other potential transport hub we could think of.

  This bathroom turned out to be in the basement level, near the holding cells. So nicely convenient for us to pass the least amount of people who might recognize that the FLOTUS was around down here, too. So far, so very good.

  “Remember,” Melville said quietly, “the Chief didn’t want to bother you with this, Kitty. So we want to stay as low-key as possible. I only want to let him know you’re here if this turns out to be legit.”

  “Word. And we’re all with you.”

  Evalyne nodded. “Phoebe will stay with Kitty. I’ll go with the officers to secure the area.” I’d managed to get those agents assigned to my detail to accept that when it was just us, or we were with those in my inner circle, or we needed to be cool, they should use my first name, not my title. Thankfully, Evalyne and Phoebe were quick studies and had seen the wisdom of this early on. Chummy first names for others, however, weren’t necessarily on their docket.

  So, Evalyne and the K-9 team headed off. Manfred nudged me. “I’ll go make doubly sure that we’re all okay in here.” He zipped off at hyperspeed, presumably to check out the entire building, not just this floor.

  Looked around, for lack of anything else to do. It was a unisex bathroom with five stalls and five sinks and not much else, other than décor that didn’t seem necessary. Whoever had sent the weird turtle statue to me, though, had either sent the same to the D.C.P.D. or else the gift had been from the K-9 squad and they hadn’t shared—perhaps I hadn’t seemed enthused enough or something. But there were three rather large turtle statues in here, two of them on either side of the sinks, one near the back of the room.

  All looked similar to the one I’d gotten. In fact they looked enough alike that they could have all been the same—the only difference was that they were each posed a little differently. Why anyone wanted turtle statues in here I had no idea, let alone ones about three feet tall. Of course, why I would want one was just as much of a mystery. However, right now, this wasn’t my circus and, therefore, these weren’t my monkeys. Or turtles.

  Unsurprisingly, Manfred was back first to distract me from the D.C.P.D.’s odd decorating and possibly gift-giving choices. Hyperspeed rocked as always. “They’re ready. No one’s down here but those who came with us.” He shook his head. “I looked at all the prisoners. None of them are familiar to me.”

  “Well, you haven’t spent as much time up close and personal with most of our enemies as I have. Let’s go see what’s what and who’s on first.”

  “We’ll go at hyperspeed,” Phoebe said. “That way no one other than the one prisoner we want to see will get a glimpse of Kitty.”

  This plan made sense, so we hooked up and did the Hyperspeed Daisy Chain. Meaning we were with the others in an instant. Only, as I looked around, Phoebe’s plan wasn’t actually going to work because while the cells were metal and sturdily made they weren’t exactly private. The design was sort of doubled-up chain link, but there was enough visibility for the prisoners to see who was in the other cells.

  There were five cells down here—two were large and had people in them, women in one, men in the other. There were three smaller cells in between the two larger ones. Two were empty, but the middle one had someone in it. We stopped in front of the middle one.

  Looked into the cell. There was definitely a woman in here but, as Manfred had said, she didn’t look familiar. Casey had been a stewardess, and she was an attractive brunette who was around my age. The woman in this cell had scraggly gray hair and looked like she’d chain smoked 24/7 since grade school.

  She knew me, though, because her eyes widened and she came closer. And as she did, I realized that I did know her and it was indeed Casey Jones—at least as I’d expect her to look about sixty years in the future and, you know, after smoking all the cigarettes in the world.

  “Casey, what the hell happened to you?”

  “Cliff Goodman’s insanity happened to me,” she rasped out. “You have to stop him.”

  CHAPTER 15

  LET THIS ONE SIT on the air for a bit. “Um, you know, that’s almost funny, coming from you. Since when do you think we’re on the same side and since when do you ask me for help?”

  Casey grimaced. “I went to Harvey first. He refused to see me, and that’s why I’m here. I asked for you, but they said you weren’t coming and that no one would contact you.”

  “I have friends in all the places. Your request was shared, and here I am, representing fo
r Amnesty International. Gimme a mo, though.” Pulled Melville back and turned us both toward the wall, away from Casey. Kevin joined us. “Has anyone tested to see if she’s in heavy makeup and/or wearing a wig?” Spoke very softly, so Casey couldn’t hear me.

  “I have no idea,” Melville replied in kind “We don’t normally wash prisoners’ faces. She was searched for weapons by female officers, so if she was in a wig I assume they’d have found that.”

  “Maybe.” Wigs were easy to find—after all, at the start of Operation Drug Addict, when we’d first had the pleasure of meeting Casey and her set of Club 51 loons, two of them had been wearing wigs to make themselves look old. There were other ways to make your hair look like crap, of course, and Casey was a dedicated lunatic, meaning that if she felt the need was great enough, maybe she’d sacrifice her great hair for the cause. “We need to figure it out, and fast. Casey could be dying and all that, but she’s a decent actress. And I find this entire scenario highly suspicious.”

  “Do you want me to go talk to the Chief?” Melville asked.

  “I will,” Kevin said. “Because this just became a federal situation.”

  “Take Manfred with you, just in case.”

  He grinned at me. “Always nice to know you care.” He nodded to Manfred and those two headed off.

  Went back to Casey, ensuring none of us were within her arm’s reach. “You look flat-out awful and like you’ve aged decades since I last saw you. What gives?”

  “Whatever you did to Cliff the last time he saw you is what ‘gives.’”

  “Seriously, time’s a’wastin’, especially for you, at least based on what you’re looking like right now. What are you talking about?”

  “You infected him with something.”

  Per intel we’d gotten from the CIA and Serene’s assumptions during Operation Madhouse, Cliff was indeed likely infected due to what I’d done to him. It was nice to have the confirmation, though.

  “Huh. I slammed some dirty needles into his ass. If he’s whining about my infecting him, that’s all his own fault for releasing his Death Virus. You’re saying that my doing this to Cliff somehow made you into someone I should try to fix up with the Crypt Keeper?”

  “No. I’m saying that he’s sick, in mind and body. He found out that I was still tight with Club Fifty-One. So he made me the guinea pig for all their attempted cures.”

  Attempted. Interesting. “So, how contagious are you?”

  She shook her head. “I have no idea. I may be deadly. I may not. I’m not clear any longer on what’s been done to me.”

  Evalyne was talking quietly to Kevin using her Standard Issue Secret Service Via The Matrix equipment. “We need Doctor Hernandez ASAP. Advise that we may be in another contamination situation. Yes, more A-Cs, too, but only in case we have to lock it down fast. No, no more P.T.C.U. on-site than you right now, I don’t think. It’s one prisoner and she’s contained.”

  Wrenched my attention back to our prisoner. “Fantastic. So, Casey, what is it you want to share with me?”

  “I want to give you the location to Cliff’s hidden base.”

  Contemplated my responses. They seemed limited. Sure, I could snort loudly and leave. Or I could gather the relevant information. If we could believe whatever she said, which I doubted. Sure, I’d flipped a lot of our enemies. But none of those enemies had been dyed-in-the-wool alien haters like Casey was.

  And I knew how things worked—my instincts said that if Casey was coming to me, then she was coming to lie to me or send me to a trap in some way. The real question wasn’t if she was lying to me, but whose orders she was actually acting on and what was really waiting for us at the location she’d give for the “hidden base.”

  Decided that I was here and therefore getting the relevant info was the Plan of the Moment, so went with the obvious reply. “And what do you want in exchange for giving us that information?”

  “I want you to save my life and, whether you can save me or not, end Cliff’s.”

  She could be telling the truth—it was possible, after all. But that didn’t mean she was. And there was a really easy way to find out. “So, I’m just curious—how did you get away from Cliff and the rest of the Crazy Eights?”

  “The crazy who?”

  “It’s my affectionate nickname for all of you loons. Answer the pertinent question. If you were the guinea pig, how did you escape to get here to relative safety?”

  Her eyes shifted right, left, up, then down. Quickly, but still, I was watching her closely. “I saw an opportunity and took it.” She looked back at me and she looked angry and sincere. “They thought I was dying and left me alone. I got out and made my way here.”

  The majority of A-Cs couldn’t lie to save their lives. Only troubadours and the very rare and specialized Liars could manage it well naturally. Some, like White and Doreen, had practiced enough over the years that they could lie rather effectively when it mattered. But Jeff and Christopher were each a master class in how to easily spot someone desperately trying to lie. Meaning I’d spent many years now honing my skills at spotting tells. And Casey was definitely lying.

  I had several options, but chose to go with the one I figured she was hoping for. “Gotcha. So, where is Cliff’s newest Secret Lair?”

  “Outside of Paris.”

  Ensured I kept a poker face on. “Does he only have one or is he shuttling between locations?”

  “There’s one in Paraguay, but he’s not there right now.”

  Proof, as if I’d needed it, that Casey was lying. Paris and Paraguay had been hot spots for anti-alien activity and supersoldier creation using superbeings years ago. But we’d stopped all of that during Operations Confusion, Assassination, and Destruction. There was no way in the world that Cliff was going back to any of these locations—he knew we knew where they were, and even if the “new lair” was supposedly “close by” the old ones, it made no sense to go to these locations—all his allies there were dead, gone, or turned to the side of good, with an emphasis on dead for the majority.

  Plus, I knew that Cliff had last been in the Middle East, which made far more sense, especially if he wanted to get foot soldiers in the form of the remaining remnants of the Al Dejahl terrorist network.

  However, someone or something was currently in Paris. And conveniently, I was about to go on a FLOTUS World Tour with Alpha Team and plenty of others who were happy to kick butt at the drop of a hat. Sure, I’d have the kids along, but their current crop of babysitters and protectors were well up to the task, so I could leave my children in safety while I and the others looked for the Parisian trap Casey was hoping we’d walk right into.

  “Got it. Well, you give us the exact locations and all that jazz and we’ll see what we can do for you.”

  Casey eagerly shared the supposed location while Len and Kyle both took notes. The location sounded like it was near to the Gaultier Enterprises facility outside of Paris, which again meant that whatever or whoever was there, it wasn’t Cliff.

  Tito arrived now. He was in a full hazmat suit and carrying a big medical bag. “I’d ask what’s going on,” he said to me, “but I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.” Melville let him into Casey’s cell and Tito proceeded to perpetrate medical procedures upon her.

  Prince, meanwhile, got close to the bars and started sniffing intently.

  Tito finished up fast and exited the cell. While Melville locked it back up, Tito studied his phone.

  “Missed a call from Rahmi?”

  He shook his head. “We have new apps that allow me to diagnose what’s going on at a molecular level.”

  “Wow, what will they think up next?”

  “Ask Alfred. This came out of NASA Base.” Jeff’s father was one of the few male A-Cs with scientific aptitude, of which he had tons. I’d discovered that most of the advances we had were due to Alfred, though the
Dazzlers—which was what I called the female A-Cs to myself—were no slouches in this area, either.

  “Of course it did.” Managed not to say aloud that it was only because of White that the A-Cs hadn’t taken this planet over. Yates had tried for that, after all. But the son wasn’t like the father, and for that I was incredibly grateful.

  Sadly, Stephanie had taken up Yates’ mantle. She was incredibly determined, quite talented and, as Jeff’s niece and Alfred’s granddaughter, had a level of safety most of our enemies didn’t—she wasn’t someone any of us could kill easily. Most of the A-Cs couldn’t even contemplate doing so. I could, but I didn’t want to devastate Jeff’s entire family. And Stephanie knew this, and used it to her advantage.

  Thinking about Stephanie sent my mind right back to our Lunatic of the Moment. Cliff had been sleeping with Stephanie as well as with other women—this was why Stephanie had ultimately turned on him, the old hell hath no fury thing. But Cliff hadn’t been overly discriminating, and he was a master manipulator.

  “What are you getting?” I asked Tito softly.

  “She’s not contagious. I don’t even think she’s actually sick, though she looks horrible. There’s something wrong with her blood though. I’m getting weird readings.”

  Turned to Melville. “We need to hose down our girl there. Immediately if not sooner. FLOTUS order and all that.”

  “What?” Casey said. “Why are you suggesting that?”

  “I think you’re faking.” As I said this, another option for why her eyes had been flickering around when she was lying presented itself, just as Prince started to growl. Knew that his growl was confirming what Tito was about to realize—most versions of the androids we’d encountered had blood of some kind inside.

  Didn’t question my gut. If I was wrong, so what. But if I was right, this was one of the typical opening gambits. And we’d walked right into it.

  Either Casey had become a willing android or they’d made one in her likeness. Or they’d cloned her for this in some way. Didn’t have time to find out. And I knew this because Casey looked straight at me and smiled. “See ya.”