Universal Alien

by Gini Koch

  “So you get used to it. You’re going to be observed the moment you leave the Embassy in a normal, human way. Practice makes perfect.”

  Martini looked at me as he did as Malcolm asked and took my hand in his. “And yet you’ve told this Kitty. Meaning that she’s proved something to you, or confirmed something. So the Mastermind is in your world, too, isn’t he, Kitty?”

  “Yes, as far as we know.”

  “Then tell me, so we can take care of him, once and for all.”

  “She can’t,” Malcolm said. “The problem is that you, Martini, will not be able to control your protective instincts. Once I tell you who we suspect, you’ll never be comfortable with him again. Meaning he’ll know that you know. And then he’ll escalate whatever he’s planning this time, and that’s likely to end badly for all of us.”

  “Now I’m just going to suspect everyone,” Martini muttered.

  “Better that,” Malcolm said. “Even better that you prove you can fake it.” He looked at me. “He can’t lie. Most of them can’t. Missus Chief jokes about it all the time, but she uses it, too. So does the Mastermind. You can’t tell him, no matter how much you want to.” He looked at Martini. “And you can harangue me about it, but not her. Clear?”

  Martini eyed him, and I felt a stag fight coming. They were both Alpha Males, that was clear. But instead of fighting, Martini squeezed my hand gently and nodded slowly. “Yeah. I get your point. And you’re right—if you tell me who it is, I’ll just get rid of him before he hurts anyone else, my wife and child in particular.”

  “Charles is in the most danger, he’s who the Mastermind wants to hurt.”

  Martini shook his head. “Hurting you and Jamie? That would hurt Chuck as much as losing Naomi, trust me.” He sighed. “So, I have to pretend I don’t know that you know, and then, if I do that well, maybe you’ll tell me who’s trying to destroy all my people?”

  “Pretty much,” Malcolm said. “But you have political garbage to handle, so that should be a distraction.”

  “Speaking of which, I need to get to Paris really soon.”

  CHAPTER 38

  BOTH MEN STARED AT ME. “Why?” Martini asked finally.

  “Because the gift we need to give Margie Costello is there. Somewhere. I’m pretty sure I can find the shop, but I couldn’t tell someone else how to find it.”

  “We can’t do time travel,” Martini said. “So it’s around midnight there. Unless the store you’re looking for is open twenty-four-seven, we’re out of luck for a while.”

  “Would it work to go there on the way to Australia?” Malcolm asked.

  “Yes, but I don’t want to be followed by photographers. If getting this gift is turned into a media circus it won’t do what we need it to.”

  “How are you with the early morning hours, before it’s light out?” Martini asked me.

  “I’m not in love with morning, but I have three children. I’m used to getting up at all hours. If I can go to bed early, I should be able to get up hella early, too. What are you thinking?”

  “We gate over to the general area you think this store is in, find it, buy what you want, and get back before anyone in D.C. is actually awake.”

  “I like that plan. That’s a good plan.”

  “You two can’t go alone,” Malcolm said. “And don’t even try to argue about it. Who, besides me, do you want?”

  “Richard,” Martini said without missing a beat. “He works best with Kitty, and he’s the best at smoothing problems over.” He grinned at me. “At least so your Cosmic Alternate tells me.”

  I laughed. “Works for me.” I could handle hanging with the Silver Fox some more. Hey, I was married, not dead.

  Martini groaned. “It doesn’t matter which Kitty it is, they all lust after my uncle.”

  Leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry, you’re lust-worthy, too.”

  “What time do you want to launch this particular mission?” Malcolm asked.

  “Three a.m. our time is nine in the morning there,” Martini said. “Sounds like the right time.”

  Malcolm nodded. “You’ll advise White, Senior?”

  “Yeah. Is that enough, just the four of us?”

  “The Minister of Sulky Looks would be a fine addition, but I won’t want to hear him complaining at that time of the morning. Never, really, but at three in the morning, I’ll punch him. At the least.”

  “Who’s the Minister of Sulky Looks?” This was a new one.

  Martini chuckled. “It’s what Buchanan here calls Christopher when he’s being . . . difficult. But I’d rather keep Christopher here, to protect Jamie. Who we are not bringing with us on this little side trip.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that the guy glares a lot.” Maybe it was because he was married to Amy. “Now, of course, every time I look at him I’m going to think of that nickname. Thanks for that.”

  Malcolm grinned. “You’re welcome. What about the Secret Service? They’re not going to like you two sneaking out.”

  “Do they know about the gates and the hyperspeed?”

  Martini nodded. “Yeah. We haven’t been able to hide that from them.” He sighed. “I already had to deal with Cliff bawling me out for us going to Dulce earlier without them. After taking you to the hospital without them. At least he was upset with me, not our Secret Service details, since it’s not their fault when we take off without them.”

  “Why would he care about that?” Hoped I wasn’t showing any reactions, mentally or emotionally. Focused on the music playing, which was “In the Next Room” by the Neon Trees.

  “Secret Service reports into Homeland Security,” Malcolm explained, betraying absolutely nothing. “It makes sense that Goodman’s running point for the Secret Service. Especially when you two don’t behave.”

  “The regular details will be off, and the nighttime details are far more focused on external activity than internal,” Martini said. “We usually don’t slip out in the middle of the night. Hyperspeed and gates will solve the problem.”

  “Aren’t they supposed to be, well, hovering around us a lot more than they have been?”

  “We have so much security in the Embassy that they can relax somewhat,” Martini said. “And, Vice President or not, they’re not allowed in our bedrooms. They’re a little more lax with us because we have our own people in here guarding too—Field agents, Alpha Team, Buchanan and your C.I.A. detail, and so on. Not everyone’s here all the time, but some of them are on hand around the clock. We’re the most secure of all the public officials.”

  “Depends on your perspective,” Malcolm said. “You’re also the main focus for domestic terrorism right now.”

  “Comforting. Uh, where’s Jamie? Exactly, I mean.”

  Martini sent a text. His fingers moved so fast I couldn’t see them. “Pierre’s bringing her up.” He sent another text. “And Uncle Richard’s on board and he’ll make sure Christopher knows what we’re doing and that he and Amy come into our rooms after we’ve left.”

  “Doesn’t sound exactly clandestine.”

  “We know how to do this, baby. We do it all the time. Which is why Cliff and the Secret Service aren’t happy with us.”

  “I thought they basically tapped your phones.”

  Malcolm laughed. “They try. But the A-Cs are scientifically adept, to put it mildly. They have their own phones. The moment Martini got the nomination as V.P. they’ve been running two sets of phones each—one for the Secret Service to listen to and one for their real network.”

  “Wow. They must hate our guts.”

  “No, they don’t, actually,” Malcolm said. “They like you, both of you. You treat them like people, and important, part of the team or family people. It’s one of your gifts. Your details are actually very loyal to you both, and to Jamie. However, if one of you gets hurt while on their watch, not onl
y will that upset them personally, it will ruin their careers. And you two are possibly the hardest politicians to keep tabs on in the history of America.”

  “Go us.” The music switched to the Psych Furs purring “Pretty in Pink” just as Peter arrived with Jamie, who was indeed in pink. She ran to us.

  “Mommy, Daddy! Can I sleep in bed with you tonight?”

  Martini and I looked at each other. “Sure,” I said. “Why not?” I was convinced Jamie knew I wasn’t her real mother, and I was also pretty darned sure she’d suggested this so that Martini wouldn’t have to sleep on the sofa.

  Martini nodded. “Don’t expect it every night, Jamie-Kat, but sure. It’s been a tough day on Mommy. I think she’ll like cuddling with her little girl.”

  Jamie beamed. “Good. The pets will like that.”

  “Speaking of which—” I was about to ask where all the animals were, when I heard them. And then I saw them.

  Four large dogs were being controlled by a big guy who looked like he’d played football in college. He was followed by another guy who wasn’t quite as big but still looked like an athlete, who was pulling a giant wagon that appeared to have a cat carrier in or on it.

  “And here is where I leave you,” Peter said. “Enjoy the parent and child, fur, and feathers reunion, my darlings. Call if you need anything.” He left as the dogs dragged their handler to us.

  Realized I’d met these two guys already, during the massive information session at Dulce. They hadn’t registered and I realized they’d been hanging in the back, guarding, like Malcolm did. Did manage to remember their names, though. The bigger one was Kyle and the slightly smaller one was Len.

  “You guys are my C.I.A. protection detail, right?”

  “Right,” Len said as Kyle gave up and let the dogs go.

  The dogs were all over us, wagging, howling with joy, and slobbering. It had been a long time since I’d had dogs. But I still remembered how to control them. By channeling Mom. “Dogs . . . sit!” Four dog butts hit the floor. “Good dogs. Who’s who?”

  Everyone stared at me. “What do you mean?” Martini asked slowly. “They’re your dogs. Well, they were your parents’ but when we all moved here, they went into a no pets building and we got the dogs.”

  “And the cats,” Len said as he opened what was apparently the Feline Winnebago and three cats sauntered out. But they weren’t the only animals in there.

  An enormous number of fluffy balls of fur were piling out of the Winnebago, too. More than it seemed that it could have carried. They resembled kittens. Kittens with no ears or tails that I could see, but with bright, black eyes that looked almost like buttons. Or they were balls of fur on paws. But regardless, they were adorable. And they were like nothing I’d ever seen before, at least, not real and alive.

  “What are those? And why did Pierre say ‘feathers’?”

  “Ah,” Martini said, as “Animal” by the Neon Trees started. “As to that . . . well, there are a couple of other reasons the Secret Service isn’t as worried about our security as they could be.”

  CHAPTER 39

  “OKAY, I CAN BUY THAT. It’s all about competition with you, right? That’s Cliff’s motivation for . . . everything?”

  “Right,” Chuckie said. “But he’s sporting about it. Why take an unfair advantage?”

  “Especially since he already has a ton of advantages over us, over you. Yeah.” My stomach clenched. “He’s there, and Other Me is there and totally unprepared for this.”

  Chuckie snorted again. “She hates him, because I hate him. Nothing he can do or say will fake her out.”

  “And I’m there,” Buchanan said.

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean that the you that is there doesn’t trust Cliff.”

  Buchanan dug into his pocket, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and handed it to me. It was old and very dog-eared.

  Opened it and read aloud. “If I’m found dead, the guilty party is or is associated with Clifford Goodman of the C.I.A.” Looked up. “Wow, dude, you rock the conspiracy stuff. Possibly even more than Chu-, ah, Charles here.”

  “I’m a suspicious bastard, what can I say? Besides, my job is protecting you. Your husband’s enemies are, as today has aptly proved, yours as well. So, I’ve been investigating, in a very low-key manner, for years. After Angela was murdered and the rest of the team started going down, I was able to solidify my thinking. I didn’t know that Goodman was the head of the Corporation, but I was pretty sure he was a mole.”

  “Why didn’t you say something to us?” Reader asked.

  Buchanan shot him a very snide look. “What, and have you two ridicule me for being a crazy, trigger-happy lunatic?”

  “Yeah, let’s all stop the Bag on Malcolm Party, shall we? Clearly he’s neither crazy nor trigger happy, considering I’d have willingly killed Bernie at any time today.”

  “Right.” Reader shook his head. “You’re awfully bloodthirsty.”

  “Dude, you have no idea, but today? It’s an average day for me.”

  “Your world sounds infinitely more dangerous than ours,” Chuckie said, sounding incredibly worried.

  “Never fear. Other Me has far more protection around her at all times than any of us do. Speaking of which, no dog, no cat, no hamsters?” Hadn’t seen or heard an animal since we got here.

  Chuckie shook his head. “Quarantine isn’t kind to animals, and we travel too much.”

  “What, you’re loaded and you haven’t figured out how to grease some palms to ensure your pets are given preferential treatment? I’m disappointed in all of you. But anyway, right now it’s less things for our enemies to kill, so I’ll let it go. Though a pet would probably do Jamie a world of good.” Chuckie opened his mouth. “It’s tabled for later. So, now what? I say we go find Cliff Goodman and LaRue of Death or whoever she really is and make them really most sincerely dead.”

  “I love how you think,” Buchanan said, with complete sincerity as far as I could tell.

  “I’m sure you do,” Reader replied. “However, we have no idea where he is and, in this world, murdering someone in your own agency, or any other for that matter, carries some serious penalties.”

  Chuckie nodded. “We need proof that he’s the mole.”

  “Depends on what we’re hoping to achieve.” They all looked at me quizzically. Sighed. “If we want to humiliate Cliff and get him out of the C.I.A., yes, by all means, we need proof. If, however, we want to stop him from becoming the Mastermind here that he is where I come from, then we need to put a Final Solution into action. Because, like those assassins he sent after all of you, the dude won’t stop. I guarantee it.”

  “You’re right,” Buchanan said. “But we still need proof. I haven’t hunted him down and killed him because I don’t want to discover I’m wrong.”

  “You’re not,” Chuckie said. “But before we become judge, jury, and executioner, we need to know, for sure, that he’s the one in charge.”

  “And knowing what else he has going on wouldn’t be a bad thing, either,” Reader pointed out.

  “Anything that can help us in your Secret Lair?”

  “Not really,” Chuckie said. “We need to figure out what to do with our family. They’re in danger, and if we’re going after Goodman that means they’re left unprotected. I’d suggest that Kitty guard them, but honestly, I don’t think we have a chance without her along to help us. And leaving one of the rest of us behind isn’t going to be a good choice, either.”

  “What about the Israeli Embassy?” The three men stared at me and, couldn’t help it, I rolled my eyes. “Dudes, they just dropped everything to come help us out. Leah told me she was there for me if I was having issues with transition. In my world, when we’re in trouble we run to our friends, and vice versa.”

  “Hard to beat Mossad for protection,” Buchanan pointed out.

 
; “Jamie won’t be able to handle it,” Chuckie said quietly.

  Considered this. “Leave Jamie to me. If I can’t get through to her, okay, we’ll shoot for Plan B. But if I can, James, you need to see if Jakob, Oren, and Leah can do us another solid.”

  Semi-plan of action agreed upon, we rejoined Pierre, who was just finishing the cleanup. “I assume that horrible woman was one of those trying to kill our precious darlings?” he asked.

  “She was,” I confirmed.

  He nodded. “Sorry you only shot her in the leg. I hope the Israelis are less kind.”

  “They will be,” Buchanan said. “Trust me on that.”

  We headed upstairs to find the rest of the family still on watch—Caroline and Aunt Carla were stationed downstairs, Dad and the kids were upstairs.

  “I’m making dinner,” Pierre said. “We all need to eat. Unless we need to run or more assassins are on their way, in which case I’ll just prepare snacks to go.”

  “Sadly, I vote for the snacks. Hopefully the people in charge aren’t aware that their assassins have failed and been captured, but we need to use any extra time we have to get to safety, not to chow down.”

  “Katherine, what should Caroline and I do?” Aunt Carla asked. “I’ve missed my flight—which is fine, because I told those waiting for me that you’d been in an accident. But Caroline has a job to get back to, and if I don’t show up eventually, without you and the children being hurt or dead, it’s going to be questioned. Not,” she added quickly, “that I’m anything other than relieved that you’re all alright.”

  Hugged her. “It’s okay, I know what you meant. I think, honestly, you two need to be protected. And I doubt anyone’s going to believe us if we tell them what happened.”

  “I can call in sick,” Caroline said. “There’s always a bug going around, and I pretty much never take sick days unless I’m at death’s door, so the Senator will believe it’s real.”

  “I’ll give whatever excuse you need,” Aunt Carla said. “Solomon brought my luggage with us, so I’m taken care of and no one will be wondering why it isn’t claimed. I just need a legitimate excuse for why I’m no longer going to Paris.”