Kitty Katt 14: Alien Nation

by Gini Koch

  My music changed to “God We Look Good (Going Down In Flames)” by The Exies. “Nope. There’s always a risk of the poisonous gas getting into the general ventilation system. Cliff doesn’t care who he kills, but he’s attached to staying alive.” Had a thought spurred by the musical choice. “Mister White, the Bag of Bigness, please and thank you.”

  White opened it up. I took out all the extra semiautomatics. Ensured they were all ready to go with the safeties off. Put two in my back pockets, kept the third in my hand, then opened the stairwell door going down at hyperspeed. Verified that everyone in it, and there were a lot of men there, were all carrying weapons and all looked like bad mofos. Sprayed bullets out of the first gun while I pulled the second and started the same with it. Emptied one clip, dropped the empty gun, grabbed the last pistol. Continued shooting until I was out of ammo. No one in the stairwell was upright any longer.

  “Nightcrawler, if you would?”

  He nodded and went invisible. Every head got a direct shot, including when he had to move bodies. He had to reload three times, which included him having a shootout with the couple of people I’d missed due to them hiding. Then he was back. “Good call.”

  “Yeah, hopefully none of them were good guys.”

  “They weren’t. They all had G-Company tattoos visible.”

  “Great, my conscience is clear.” Opened the door going up as my music changed to No Doubt’s “The Climb.”

  Lots of dead bodies to wade through, which we did, while Reader called someone and requested dead body removal for both stairwells. Told him to have teams verify that everyone else in the Burj Khalifa was alive and not poisoned or shot to death or something and also requested a cleaning and repair crew for the observatory deck.

  Once we were past the stairway morgue we were able to move at hyperspeed. Jeff took me, White had Reader, Siler took Tim, and we all headed up thirty-six freaking floors. Fortunately, my sadistic track coaches in both high school and college had adored making their teams do stair charges on a daily basis, so doing this was no big deal, since my career with Centaurion had ensured that I kept all my track and kung fu skills at optimum.

  The positive was that we were all able to update each other in the time it took, because hyperspeed didn’t make running up this many stairs easy, just faster. And Jeff was close to drained, so we weren’t going all that fast, and I was providing most of our hyperspeed.

  “Remember,” White said as we neared our destination, “we’re looking for Jeremy, Malcolm, and Colonel Butler as well as Christopher.”

  We hit a problem in the stairwell between Floors 158 and 159 in the form of two things, one of which was my music changing to “Just Stop” by Disturbed. Came to a screeching halt and made the others do so, too. “Something’s wrong.”

  “What?” Jeff asked. “There’s no one and nothing here.”

  “Right. That’s the problem.” Remembered the schematic that my goggles had shared with me while they were still working. “This section, floors one-fifty-six through one-fifty-nine, are communications and broadcasting. Christopher went dark when he hit one-fifty-nine. Meaning there was no one lying in wait for him between one-fifty-six and here.”

  “So?” Jeff asked patiently.

  “So, there were a million G-Company thugs hanging out in the stairwells above and below the restaurant, lying in wait to catch anyone who might manage to escape and anyone who might be coming to rescue those trapped inside. The bad guys took Chuckie, and even if they took the elevator down instead of the stairs, no one called off the guys lying in wait. Ergo, if there were any here, they weren’t called off, either.”

  “Maybe Christopher got rid of all of them,” Reader suggested. “I couldn’t answer Ben when he tried to reach me because we were engaged with the enemy.” Hadn’t heard anyone call Siler anything other than Benjamin, Siler, or Nightcrawler, if it was me. But Siler didn’t act like this nickname was an unpleasant or even pleasant shock, and he didn’t do the usual A-C Wincing At A Nickname thing, either. Interesting. Chose not to ask how often he was helping out Alpha Team these days, but it probably bore some research later.

  “Christopher did not get rid of anyone, because not only are there no bodies left in the stairwells, but if he had he’d have then tried to reach his father to reassure said father that his only child was alive, well, and victorious. At that point, we’d destroyed our equipment. Meaning Christopher would have come down to find us and make sure his father was okay. He didn’t come down and he’s had plenty of time to do so. Therefore, he’s captured.” Or dead. Chose not to say that aloud because I refused to believe it.

  “I agree with my partner,” White said. “Caution needs to be our watchword, as rare a watchword as it is for us.”

  “Yeah, slow and steady, emphasis on slow. And weapons out, too. Figure we’re going to have to shoot someone soon.”

  “Haven’t you shot enough people tonight?” Jeff asked. “I mean that seriously.”

  “Are Cliff and the remaining Crazy Eights still alive? Yes? Then, no, I have not killed enough people yet.”

  We reached the doorway and Siler grabbed my shoulder just as my music changed to “Electric Worry” by Clutch. “Don’t take another step and don’t touch the door handle. Anyone.”

  “Okey dokey. Why not?”

  “I think the handle’s wired and, if I’m right, it’s wired to send enough current through it to stop someone’s breathing, if not kill them.”

  CHAPTER 78

  “HYPERSPEED WOULDN’T AVOID the threat,” Tim said. “You still have to make contact with the door to open it, no matter how fast you’re doing it.”

  “Figure the voltage and current both are high to account for A-C speed,” Siler said.

  “A-Cs recover fast, so I’m betting Christopher’s still alive. But that means he’s definitely a prisoner.” And we had to open the door without getting knocked out or killed ourselves. “So, we need to either disconnect the electric feed or use a form of insulation between our hand and the door handle.”

  “I don’t think we can disconnect from this side,” Siler said. “At least, not without risking getting hit with the current or being discovered.”

  “Insulating materials it is, then.”

  White moved me and Jeff back. “Three of us are still wearing gloves. I also have no rings on. Benjamin doesn’t either, but his skills are more vital right now.” Jeff opened his mouth to argue, but White shot him a very parental “because I said so” look. “He’s my son, Jeffrey. And yes, I understand the risks.”

  “Make sure the insulation on your gloves wasn’t stripped off when you rescued me.”

  White did the check. “Ah, good call, Missus Martini.”

  Siler took his gloves off and gave them to White, who pulled this pair on over the ones he already had on. Super strength was helpful here, because the gloves did not actually fit well this way. But they were finally on. “Silent entry, and speak softly once inside,” Siler warned us all.

  White handed Jeff the rolling bag, took a deep breath, let it out, then moved at hyperspeed and opened the door.

  That there was indeed electrical current flowing was evident from the sparks that flew off the handle. But White didn’t go down.

  The rest of us ran through the door, Siler grabbing White on his way in. Thankfully, White’s hand released from the doorknob.

  We’d entered what really looked like what you’d expect a broadcast studio to resemble. Algar shared the theme from WKRP in Cincinnati with me. Started to wonder if he was feeling alright. “Feel Fine” by Augustana came on. Okay, he was just entertaining himself at my expense, so, business as usual for me and the King of the Elves.

  This place was more filled with things than the other floors we’d hit, too. Lots of walls, desks, equipment I knew nothing about, the usual stuff I’d expect to see that might or might not be something
a real broadcaster used but that every TV show or movie insinuated was part of a studio setup.

  This particular studio was packing special extras—it came complete with dead bodies of the people I assumed had been working in here.

  What didn’t belong here were buckets of water. They were strewn everywhere that I could see. Not that I could see that much. As with so many places, this was a maze. On the plus side, the higher we got, the less floor space there was to cover, so we had that going for us.

  “Everyone be on alert,” I said softly, as White massaged his hand. “Nerida the Water Bender is up here.” Meaning she was around to drown or electrocute anyone who made it through the door. Really tried not to worry about Christopher and the guys who’d come to check on him, but found it hard to do.

  Siler checked the bodies. “No entry wounds, but signs of electrocution, so Kitty’s right and we’re in a hell of a lot of danger.” Considering this was the first time since we’d entered the Burj Khalifa that Siler had expressed serious concern, felt myself get a tad tense.

  Considered what our options were while The Eagles’ “Take It to the Limit” came on. “Let me lead.”

  “Not just no, but hell no,” Jeff said, optimistically using the growly man voice, which worked on me as it always did when we weren’t in bed, which was not at all. At least he growled it quietly.

  “I have no idea who else is here, but I can guarantee that Nerida is, and I can also guarantee that she thinks she can beat me and wants a chance to prove it.”

  “She can beat you by electrocuting you,” Tim pointed out.

  “She lost to you on the train,” White additionally pointed out.

  “Not in her mind. In her mind I guarantee that fight was a draw. And she wants to beat me. As in, she wants to win and have me know she’s won. That requires more than just shooting someone dead. Which means we’ll all have more time if she sees me first than if she sees any of you first.” They didn’t look convinced. Went for an explanation that might get through. “She was pals with Stephanie as far as I could tell.”

  Siler nodded. “Yes, they were friendly.” He sighed. “I think Kitty may be right.”

  “My wife is not going to be our shield,” Jeff snarled. He was still keeping quiet but had to figure bellowing was on the horizon.

  Heaved a sigh of my own. “Jeff, what do you think I was doing while you were at the restaurant? Hanging out getting a pedicure?”

  “That was when I wasn’t with you.” He looked worried, upset, and protective, meaning I couldn’t be mad at him for trying to throw himself in front of me.

  “At least you’re cute when the caveman comes out. A lot of people are depending on us right now, not the least of which being your cousin and my best friend. You can accept that we’re going to do things in the way that gives us the best chance of success or survival, or I will have Nightcrawler do to you what I did to you when we first met and you were being a fatalistic jerk.”

  Jeff winced. “I don’t need my head bashed, thanks.”

  “Good to know, Mister President. Don’t make me regret letting you come along.”

  “I’d complain that I’m henpecked, but then I’d have to feel everyone laughing at me. And I can feel that all of you think Kitty’s right.” He jerked. “Huh. My blocks were on the highest level I could manage because of what was going on. I shouldn’t be able to feel anyone, not even Kitty.”

  “Did you take your blocks down and forget?” Reader asked worriedly.

  “No . . .” Jeff concentrated. “My blocks are still up. But I can . . . feel? But it’s different. It’s sort of muted. Like . . . like watching a mixed martial arts fight on TV versus watching it ringside, or being involved in the fight.”

  “Why ask why? Take the help as it comes. Who else can you feel here and where are they?”

  “So now I get to lead?” Jeff’s sarcasm knob was turned to about seven.

  “No. You get to tell me where I’m going.”

  “Jeff, we’re running out of time,” Reader said, Commander Voice on Full. “Do what Kitty wants.”

  Jeff shot him a betrayed look. “Fine.” He was concentrating again and he nodded. “I feel Christopher. He’s angry and worried. But not about himself. He’s worried about . . . Butler?”

  “John is an android. Nerida dousing him with water could be a bad thing and getting zapped with electricity could be worse. Plus, Kozlow is probably up here, too, affecting what he can, and out of all of us, he has the best shot of hurting John.”

  “I have someone who feels very self-satisfied and anticipatory. Pretty sure it’s a woman.”

  “Pretty sure it’s Nerida. Where is she?”

  “Near Christopher. There’s also someone who feels bored, a little worried, and a lot jealous.”

  “That’s certainly an emotion you’d know. What’s he jealous of?”

  “Ha ha ha, this is me laughing at your attempt to keep things light. He’s jealous of the woman’s abilities, Christopher’s abilities, others’ abilities. And he’s really uncomfortable being here. Not here in this building, but here in this region. He’s resentful for having to be here at all.”

  “That’s Kozlow, for certain. He’s probably worried that Mossad will find him again.”

  “Do you feel Malcolm or Jeremy?” White asked as Olivia Newton-John singing “Suspended in Time” came on. Algar was focused way more than normal on the easy listening selections right now. Possibly to keep me moving cautiously.

  “No, but . . .” Jeff cocked his head. “He’s waiting. But for what? Or whom?” He looked at me. “Oh. Yeah, baby, I think you need to lead.”

  “Who’s waiting for me to make my move?”

  “Mossy. He’s here somewhere watching. He’s ready to kill but not in an angry way. He’s a soldier and he’s identified his targets. But he hasn’t killed them yet and I can’t tell why.”

  “That’s all you feel?” Siler asked, sounding worried. “Two people in addition to Christopher and Mossy?”

  “Yeah, I don’t feel Butler and he’s a well-made android, one of Marling’s, and he has emotions, so I can pick him up. And I don’t. I don’t feel Buchanan or Jeremy, either.”

  Refused to say that this could be because all of them were dead. Forced myself to focus on what I could do, which was kill Nerida and Kozlow as fast as possible. “Okay, no hyperspeed unless we’re running away and running in a direction we’ve already confirmed as safe. One electrical booby trap merely indicates others are likely. Stay low, and everyone please look for traps.”

  “Spotting them is definitely not her strong suit,” White said as he took the rolling purse back from Jeff. Was about ninety-nine percent positive White knew it was an Algar Portal and was ensuring that he or I had it under our control at all times.

  “I’d be offended but it’s true.”

  “Keep an eye out for cameras, obvious and hidden,” Siler said. “If they’re watching us coming then we don’t have the element of surprise. They may already know someone’s in here, so expect ambush, too.”

  “I don’t get anything like that from either one of them,” Jeff said. “But the emotions are coming through to me in such an odd way I can’t be sure what I’m getting is accurate.”

  “Well, then we’ll do what we always do—wing it until it works. So, lead on MacDuff. Hand signals from here on in unless we have to speak or one of us dies.”

  Jeff rolled his eyes. “Thanks for that.” But he took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Ready for silent running, baby.”

  I did go first, with Jeff pointing the way. We all stayed low, and everyone kept a wary eye out for traps. Neither found nor tripped any. Either no one had been expected to get through that doorway, they were hugely overconfident, or we were expected. Or all three.

  This area was nice and state of the art and all that, but it wasn’t nearly as sl
eek and beautiful as the other floors we’d seen and sort of messed up. Really hoped White was right and that the A-Cs could fix what had gotten wrecked fast.

  This floor was another thick arrowhead shape, though less elongated than the observation deck level. Weaved in, out, and around the walls, furnishings, and office rubble to finally get to the section of this floor that was at the arrowhead’s point. And it was here, as No Doubt’s “Suspension Without Suspense” hit my airwaves, that we found the only people alive on this floor.

  On the plus side, everyone we were looking for was here.

  On the negative side, only one of those people was standing.

  CHAPTER 79

  ON THE PLUS SIDE AGAIN, Butler, Buchanan, and Jeremy were all present. They were each prone, sort of floating a few inches off the floor. They were all also surrounded by a faint, hazy glow.

  Took Algar’s musical clues to indicate that they were in some form of suspended animation because, on the negative side again, I couldn’t tell if they were breathing or not.

  Christopher was breathing. He was also standing with his legs spread apart, each foot and lower leg in a bucket of water. His arms were spread apart and tied to a very large circuit board. His neck was tied to it, too.

  Based on the way we’d slunk into this area, Christopher was directly in front of me. A somewhat swarthy, Slavic-looking man was sitting at a desk to my right and Christopher’s left. He had his feet up on the desk, was leaning back in his chair, and looked hella bored. I’d seen him plenty of times and fought with him more than once—I’d been right: this was Russell Kozlow. Remembered that I hadn’t called Chernobog. Decided I’d worry about that later.

  A woman was on the other side of Christopher, in profile to me. But I recognized her insipid nastiness. Definitely Nerida Alfero. Super, this part of the gang was all here.

  Kozlow was playing with something in his hand. Had a feeling it was a kill switch, either tied to the circuit board or to the men in suspended animation, or both, which would explain why Mossy wasn’t making a move, wherever he happened to be observing this from.