by Gini Koch
Celeste laughed. “True enough, monsieur. True enough. Now, look around and see what you must have.”
Everyone with me had seen my sketch, and while I was tempted to pull it out and show it to Celeste, that would make her even more suspicious, and we didn’t need to create another international incident while trying to solve the first one.
So, we all wandered and searched. Other than trying to ensure that we got back to D.C. in time, this wasn’t a hardship. As I had eight years ago, I still wanted to buy most of what was in this shop.
Amadhia joined me. “What are you searching for?”
“Something I saw here years ago and didn’t buy.” Well, I hadn’t bought it in this universe. Spotted something familiar. Sure, it wasn’t what I was looking for, but it was very like one of the other items I’d bought years ago.
“Oh, that’s a beautiful mask,” Amadhia said. “Is that what you’re looking for?”
“Not exactly.” The mask wasn’t meant to be worn, at least I didn’t think so. It was meant to be displayed as art. The mask was a sun and moon design, half the sun on the left, half of the moon on the right, with a crown of stars. It was hand carved out of a single piece of wood and hand painted. None of this was unusual, other than how the artist had created the carvings. I’d never seen any sun and moon design quite like this, which was part of the point of getting a unique piece of art.
Tried to put it back, but I just couldn’t. Sure, we had one in D.C., but we didn’t have one in this D.C. And it was so beautiful.
Martini came over and took the mask out of my hands. “We’ll take this, and we’re still looking,” he said to Celeste. He smiled at me. “Get whatever you want. Even if it’s more than you think you should. We can afford it,” he added with a grin.
“Okay.” Didn’t need to tell me twice. Apparently Martini was looser with the purse strings than Charles was. Worked for me.
“Do you collect masks?” Celeste asked as she joined me and Amadhia.
“Not really. I mean, I like them, but we’re more . . . appreciators of the eclectic than collectors, per se.”
She nodded. “What else are you looking for? Something special?”
“Uh, yeah, actually, I am. I’m looking for something decorative in crystal, possibly glass or acrylic, something clear. But it needs to be unusual, too.”
“How unusual?”
Considered the design. “Hoping for something that makes you think of the galaxy or universe or similar. Something that would hang on a wall. But not a painting.”
She chuckled. “No small request. But . . . I think . . .” She wandered off. They seemed to do that a lot around here.
Kept on perusing. Charles was looking at something and I went over to where he was, Amadhia trailing me. “Whatcha looking at?”
“This music box. It’s so . . . unusual.”
Unusual it was. The main piece was a golden sun. The planets, Pluto included, were attached to it. Charles turned the key and as the music played, the sun turned slowly while the planets circled their star, accurately. I recognized the tune but checked to be sure—it was Mozart’s Symphony #41 In C, K 551, “Jupiter,” the first movement, Allegro Vivace.
It was also familiar. “Let’s get it, too,” I said quietly, as Martini came over.
“Like yours in Australia?” he asked softly. I nodded and he took it out of Charles’ hands. “Nice pieces you’re picking.”
“Yes, they are,” Charles agreed. He gave me a quick smile. “Nice to know we still like the same things.”
The conversation was suddenly awkward, and I noted Amadhia noting this. But Celeste returned. “I believe I have something you may want.” She indicated we should follow her, so we did, to the back of the store. “I’ve had it for years—it’s never moved, and that’s always surprised me. It’s one of my favorites. Sadly, the artist who made it passed away a few years ago, so there can never be another just like it or even close. I keep on waiting for the right person to fall in love with it.”
Richard and Malcolm were already there, admiring the piece. It was small, about the size of a grapefruit, and based on the intricacies, smaller than it had any right to be. Somehow, the artist had captured the feeling of the universe within the delicate threads of crystal that created a flat yet three-dimensional piece of art. My throat caught.
“That’s it,” I whispered. “That’s exactly it.”
“We’ll take it,” Martini said. “And we need it wrapped as carefully as possible.”
Celeste beamed. “At last. I almost hate to part with it, but your taste clearly runs to the heavens, and this is the perfect choice.”
She bustled off and Martini followed her, presumably to hand over wads of cash. I was excited and sad at the same time. There was only this one piece here, and there would never be another. In my world, the artist was still alive. I knew this because we’d found his work in a gallery on a trip to Paris. “I wonder if us buying this years ago made the difference.”
Hadn’t meant to say that aloud, and was instantly sorry I had, because Amadhia caught it. She touched my arm and moved us away from the others. “You are not . . . from here, are you?”
“What do you mean?” Wondered if Martini could pick up my panic. Hoped so.
“You’re aliens, or at least some of you are, but that’s not what I mean. You, you yourself, seem just slightly . . . out of place. You believe I’m someone else, and I can tell you still think I’m the person you know. You know of Celeste’s shop and the items you’ve found—you were searching not for ‘something’ but for them, specifically. You found old friends, not new ones.”
“Ah . . .” Had no idea of what to say at this point.
She smiled. “It’s alright. I would never betray you.”
“Why not?”
“Who doesn’t want to experience magic at least once in their lives? And this is magic, isn’t it?”
It was stupid, but I couldn’t help myself. “In a way. You’re meant to be a singer, internationally known, beloved by millions. You have the most beautiful voice . . . I can’t understand why you haven’t been signed to a recording contract.”
“I’m not a . . . bold person.”
Thought about something Charles had said earlier. “It only takes a few seconds of boldness to change your life.” As I said this, I heard music. Rock music, being played live. It would start, then stop, and it was clear there were musicians nearby who were practicing. I grabbed Amadhia’s hand. “We’ll be right back,” I called to the men. Then I led her to the alleyway.
CHAPTER 50
THE MUSIC WAS COMING from the door to our left when we exited, and I opened the door and dragged Amadhia after me. It was a recording studio, and the receptionist tried to stop us. Chose to pretend I didn’t speak or understand French.
The music was happening upstairs, so I ignored her and dragged Amadhia after me. “International superstar,” I shouted over my shoulder as we zipped past.
“Look, I can’t sing these lyrics,” a man said from where we were heading. “At least, not all of them. I’m a drummer first, man, and a guitarist, not a lead singer.”
“Come on, Aaron,” a different man said. “Work with me.”
“I’m trying to. I need a female singer and everyone you’ve brought to audition is horrible. I need a hit, this song will be a hit, but not if I don’t have the right person to harmonize with.”
“I’ve got who you need,” I said as we rounded the corner. It wasn’t a large studio, and I didn’t recognize anyone in it, but most of them looked American. “She can sing anything. Voice like an angel. And all that.”
Everyone in the room gaped at me, Amadhia included. There were several people in the room, many with musical instruments, but the one who had to be Aaron was around my age and bearded, sitting in the recording booth holding a guitar.
The receptionist ran up, apologizing in French. Charles, Richard, and Malcolm were right behind her. Assumed Martini was still handling our purchases.
“This is her manager.” I pointed to Charles. He managed James’ career, after all. At least in my world. And spies or not, James had a fantastic career. “Her name is Amadhia.” Turned to her. “I know you think you’re Emily,” I said in a low voice, “but if you want magic, be Amadhia and sing something, anything.”
She cleared her throat and sang U2’s “All I Want Is You.” After a few shocked moments of silence, there were appreciative nods. Then the musicians in the room started playing along with her, Aaron included. By halfway through, Aaron had started singing along with her, harmonizing beautifully. By the time she was done she and Aaron were doing call and response with each other. And when they finished, everyone applauded.
Amadhia flushed but she bowed. “You’re hired,” Aaron said. “I want her, and only her.”
Charles handed him a business card. “Send contracts here.” He pulled Amadhia aside and gave her a card as well. “Sign nothing, agree to nothing. Feel free to sing, but don’t give them a contract for anything.”
She nodded. “I won’t.” She looked around. “Is this real?”
“God, I hope so,” Aaron said. “Because we’re going to number one if I have you on the record, Amadhia.”
She flung her arms around me. “You have a friend for life,” she whispered to me. “Wherever you are and I am, I’ll be there for you.”
Several men in Armani suits appeared. Charles spoke to them, then turned back to the rest of the room. “They’ll be here to make sure none of you try to take advantage of our singer.”
“We don’t cross the Mob,” an older man who’d been the one telling Aaron to work with him said. “Especially not when they bring us recording gold.”
“We’re not the Mob,” I whispered to Amadhia.
She laughed. “I know,” she whispered back. “You’re something much better and much more amazing.”
Aaron dragged Amadhia into the recording booth, excitedly talking about what songs he wanted her to sing solo, which one he was doing solo, and which ones they were going to do as duets.
“Good job,” Martini said quietly from behind me, as he moved me out of the studio. “You just like saving people, don’t you?” He took my hand and led me downstairs.
I looked up at him. “It’s usually worth it.”
He nodded. “I’ve had agents take the purchases so we don’t have to worry about them. We need to head back, too, before someone realizes who just brokered this particular musical deal.”
Heard footsteps on the stairs behind us, and turned to see Aaron there. “I have no idea what you two are doing here, but thank you. For what it’s worth, I already was, but from now on I’ll always be pro-alien.”
“We’d appreciate your not mentioning who we are,” I told him. “We’re not exactly supposed to be here.” Took the plunge. “But she’s my friend and I just want her to have her chance.”
He grinned. “No one would believe it if I told them and I’m sure your people will deny it. But from one very grateful registered voter, thanks for looking out for the little guys, and gals. We’ll send the first press recording to you, if your offices will accept it.”
“They will,” Martini said. He handed Aaron a card. “Send it there.”
“Front row tickets and backstage passes for our tour, promise.” Aaron said as he bounded back upstairs. “Hey, I want to do ‘Uncertain’ with her. It’s gonna be huge!”
Martini took my hand and we headed all the way downstairs. “Should we get the others?”
“Uncle Richard and Buchanan will stay with Chuck so he has backup. We’re heading to the Metro. There’s a gate there.” He looked a little wistful. “It’s one of our favorite places.”
“To have sex, you mean.”
He grinned. “Yeah, I do. Not that I’m taking you there for that. I just want your little musical matchmaking experiment to work out. And I think she needs Chuck watching over what’s going on right now.”
“And it’s distracting him, in a good way, isn’t it?”
Martini nodded. “Whether you want to call her Emily or Amadhia, she needs someone ensuring they don’t use her and rob her blind. And Chuck knows business.”
“He does.” Felt a slight pang of jealousy, but shoved it aside. “Let’s get home. Jamie’s going to be waking up soon and I want to be sure we’re there. Oh, and I want to make a stop along the way.”
“Why?”
Shrugged. “I usually get the kids some little thing from every trip. I realize this isn’t an official trip, but still, why break the pattern?”
Martini squeezed my hand. “You’re a great mother.”
“Let’s see if Jamie agrees with that, shall we?”
The run to the Metro was interesting. I was getting better at seeing while we were racing along at hyperspeed. It was easier because I wasn’t trying to find anything, just look at everything around us.
We went to the Gare du Nord station. Martini had us go to regular human speed out of sight of anyone, near a gift shop. I picked out something for Jamie, we paid cash—somehow Martini had euros—and then we raced off to the bathroom. The men’s bathroom.
“Why are we here?” I hissed to him as we waited for the place to sort of empty out. We’d already dashed in and out several times—apparently there was one special stall and it was in use.
“Gates are in bathrooms. It helps us blend in and arrive and leave without a lot of notice.”
“But I’m a girl, that’s the men’s room, and you all said the gates were in airports.”
“They are. Every airport. But we have them elsewhere, and major train stations and bus stations and so forth are logical locations. We have gates everywhere it makes sense, honestly, which is more places than you’d imagine.”
“The maintenance costs must be astronomical.”
“Our Operations Team is exceptional. Hang on.” We dashed in again.
We were now the only ones in the bathroom, other than whoever was in the one stall we needed. I bent down to look at the feet of who was stalling, and to make sure there really was someone in there, and straightened right up again. Tugged at Martini’s hand, and he took the hint and ran us out of there.
“What is it?” he asked me as we reached our little hidey-hole.
“Get us out of here and call for a floater gate or take us to the airport. In fact, I choose airport. Now. Don’t wait. But call Richard and have him and the others stay where they are.”
Martini could talk on his phone while we were running, and he did so. “Uncle Richard wants to know why. So does Chuck. So do I.”
“There was a dead body in the stall. With blood pooling. I think someone knows we’re here and is trying to frame us for murder.”
CHAPTER 51
COX JUMPED AND STARED at me. “What? How do you know my name?”
“In my world, your best friends told me they called you Bill.”
“What friends would those be?”
“Jerry Tucker, Chip Walker, Matt Hughes, Joe Billings, and Randy Muir.”
Cox went pale. “They’re dead. Been dead for—”
“Years, yeah as I discovered yesterday.”
“How could that be if they were supposedly your friends?”
“Remember that long story? It’s kind of short. There isn’t one universe, there are a multitude of them. In the one I’m from, aliens are on Earth and they’re superpowered but basically pacifistic, so they’re good guys. In fact, I’m married to one, and got some of the powers due to giving birth. But that’s not important now.”
“I can take you to a hospital, ma’am,” he said earnestly.
“That’s what I loved about you. In the short time I knew you, I mean. You always ca
lled me ma’am. Everyone calls me Kitty, by the way and again. But it’s okay that you call me ma’am, though you can use Kitty whenever you relax.”
“We haven’t met, ma’am.”
“Not in person, no. I know you from a picture Jerry gave me of the six of you, when you were all at Top Gun together. It’s in my other world, like everything else. Like all of them. They’re all alive in my universe.”
“Well, that’s good,” he said in the tone used when dealing with a scary crazy street person.
Decided there were easier ways. “Hang on.” Stood up and picked him up. With one hand. But nicely.
“Whoa! What the hell? Put me down!” I did. “Are you some kind of bodybuilder?”
Grabbed his hand. “Nope.” Took off.
Ran us all over the mall, in and around every museum and monument, and stopped in front of the Jefferson Memorial. In about thirty seconds.
Cox fell to his knees and barfed. Stripes sniffed as if to suggest that Cox was an amateur. Had to admit, Stripes had it goin’ on in terms of handling hyperspeed.
“During an alien invasion, Matt and Chip got shot down over this water,” I said conversationally. “I saved them. Well, me and our team doctor, Tito. In my world, aliens are here and most of them are good guys and help us. Some of them aren’t and of those that aren’t, some of them are monsters like only Ray Harryhausen could have come up with. During the operation when I got involved with the gang from Alpha Centauri, the original fugly of everyone’s nightmares, nicknamed Mephistopheles, was leading a major offensive in the middle of the New Mexican desert. We called in for help.”
“So?” Cox said, as he stopped barfing and got to his feet.
“So, among those who came to help us were six Top Gun Navy pilots. They were amazing. But . . . sometimes the monster wins the round.”
Cox stared at me. “What happened?” he asked finally.
“Mephistopheles smashed your jet into the ground. You died instantly.” Took a deep breath. “So while we spoke via the radio and you treated me as your superior officer, I never got to meet you in person. You were my first.”
