by Gini Koch
“Yeah, I think my theory might indeed do that.” And I didn’t ever want to make my mom look bad, especially not to her boss, who happened to be my husband.
Jeff shook his head. “The only person who can hire or fire your mother is me, baby. And even if she’s screwed up somehow, which I doubt, we all make mistakes, even Angela. Whatever it is, it’s not going to affect her standing with me, or her position as the Head of the P.T.C.U. Tell me what you think. I’ll do my best to play Devil’s Advocate.”
“Okay, and yeah, I doubt what I’m thinking would make you want to fire Mom, but I think it’ll affect her confidence. A little, anyway. But . . . anyhow . . . what if Cliff’s not the only one who’s read Ten Little Indians?”
Jeff stared at me. “And suddenly I take back all the jealousy and wish Chuck was here. What in God’s name do you mean?”
“You read. It’s one of Agatha Christie’s best, also entitled And Then There Were None.” Jeff still looked blank. “It’s the classic case of someone faking their death only to turn out to be the murderer.”
“Who’s faking death?” Jeff sounded totally lost.
“Sorry, this is why I wanted a human. Or Raj. Someone versed in pop culture. But we’ll muddle through because that’s how we roll. The biggest reason we didn’t suspect Cliff of being the Mastermind was two things—Chuckie trusted him so we all trusted him.”
“You especially,” Lizzie said. “That’s what Mister Buchanan says. If you’d suspected Cliff, then others would have. But he’d fooled Chuck, and that meant that if Chuck trusted him, you trusted him, and everyone else followed your lead.”
“Other than Malcolm, and yes, succinctly put. The second reason I trusted Cliff, though, was that his car had exploded during Operation Sherlock, making us think he was a target, too.”
“Oh.” Jeff seemed to be catching up. “That’s what you mean by red herring, got it. And that really did work, because even when Cliff did something odd, it was so simple to point to that incident and feel confident that the Mastermind was trying to kill him, too. I think I’m with you now. So, you think someone else is doing that to us? Who? And who has the motivation as well as the means?”
“Well, what I think Nightcrawler thinks is that it’s the person we think we saved and are protecting—Janelle Gardiner.”
Good thing I wasn’t waiting for gasps of surprise or anything, because I didn’t get them. Lizzie looked longingly at her phone, but didn’t use it, meaning Siler had definitely given her the Radio Silence order and she was obeying it. Because she was a good kid.
Jeff’s eyes narrowed. “So, you think Janelle, what, faked her own capture?”
“Sure, why not? We’ve been looking for the Big Boss in the NSA and Mom hasn’t found them. What if there isn’t one there, but just a flunky or an assistant or whatever who answers to Janelle and so is flying under Mom’s radar? As in, what if Janelle moved from Quinton Cross’s supposed protection to the protection of someone at the NSA? Or vice versa?”
“It would fit,” Lizzie said. “Supposedly Talia Lee was her best friend, right?”
“Right. And Somerall thinks he’s a ladies’ man. What if she let him think he’d gotten her to be his latest conquest, and she fooled him?” Memory nudged. “And that would also fit for Ansom and Talia being on their ‘Lizzie is a dangerous girl’ kick. Remember when Talia called me during Operation Madhouse? She was trying to foist the blame for the Bots onto Thomas Kendrick.”
“Yes, but I’m still not seeing how Janelle is the one in charge,” Jeff said. “Why was she in a cell at that NSA black site, then? And why did she give the other two up?”
“In the cell? They realized we were coming. Ansom and Talia split, Janelle put herself into that cell and made us think we were saving her. Then she’s under P.T.C.U. custody—she probably thought she’d go under the NSA, but even so, Mom hasn’t restricted her all that much, because she’s viewed as a victim we need to protect, not a bad guy. Based on what they’ve been maneuvering, my guess is that this was always their plan—make us think Janelle needs our protection and therefore move her into the safety of our custody and out of our minds as a potential Mastermind, for want of a better term.”
“Why give up her coconspirators, though?” Jeff asked again. “Why make us suspect them?”
“We already suspected them and they know it. And she could give them up, so to speak, because we had only her word and literally no proof. She could do that, with or without their knowledge and blessing, because her word with zero evidence isn’t enough for a trial, let alone anything else.”
Jeff grunted. “I hate to do this, but you were right—we need Chuck here.” He pulled his phone out and dialed. “Hey, sorry. Are you guys done eating? Dessert, too? Good. Yeah, of course something’s come up. Why would any of us get to enjoy a night out? Yeah. Yeah. Of course bring her along, she’ll have insights, I’m sure. Yes, definitely call for a gate. Floater, right to our living room. Because I don’t think we want to wait for public transportation and it’s nicer to come out via the floater than into the bathroom and I’m trying to salvage the tiniest part of your evening for you. Oh, you’re welcome.” He hung up with a sigh. “I hate doing this to myself, let alone others.”
“Maybe his date will be impressed with how vital he is to the running of the country.”
Jeff snorted. “She already knows.”
As he said this, saw the shimmering that meant a floater gate was forming. Then Chuckie stepped through, holding his date’s hand. I stared. And realized that who this was shouldn’t have surprised me all that much.
CHAPTER 38
“SO, CHARLES TELLS ME that we have the usual madness going on,” Nathalie Gagnon-Brewer said as the gate disappeared.
“We do,” Jeff replied. “Ah, would you two like a nightcap?”
They both stared at him. “You don’t drink,” Chuckie pointed out, sounding confused.
“Because it will kill you,” Nathalie added. She shot me a worried look. “Is Jeff alright?”
“He is, he just feels bad that we’ve interrupted your date and he’s trying to be folksy. He’s addicted to old TV shows, remember? They do the nightcap thing a lot in those old shows.”
Chuckie grinned. “Thanks, Jeff, I appreciate it. And I’m good. Nat, do you want anything?”
Nat. He was calling her Nat. He’d given Naomi and Abigail nicknames, too, Abigail most likely because he was giving one to her sister and didn’t want to leave Abigail out.
Felt all warm and fuzzy—he was better. He’d moved past the grief of losing Naomi and Cliff’s betrayal, he was dating, and he really liked her, because the only other women he’d given a nickname to were his late wife and her sister.
“I’m good, too,” she said as she sat down next to me, while Chuckie took the armchair next to Lizzie and across from Jeff. “We had a lovely dinner, and I’m too full to add anything else in right now.”
They shot each other a fond glance, then both turned to Jeff. “So, what threat to national or international or galactic security is going on?” Chuckie asked.
Jeff looked at me. Took a deep breath and did my Recap Girl job and caught them up to speed on what we were thinking and what Team Tough Guys might actually be doing.
Chuckie grimaced when I was done. “I can’t believe we fell for it twice.”
“You didn’t,” Nathalie said. “It’s the same ploy but the setup is completely different. Anyone would have believed as we did—that Janelle was a victim, not the perpetrator.”
“That’s why the Janelle-Bot was in her house—she’d left it there to protect things.” Though said Bot had destroyed a lot of the furniture while trying to kill me, Len, Kyle, and Bruno. Then again, it wasn’t hard to order new stuff from Amazon, Bot or not.
“No beating yourself up,” Jeff said to Chuckie. “We’ve had enough of that and Nathalie is right—this
was well-played by our enemy. If this theory of Kitty’s is correct, that is.”
“It fits,” Chuckie said. “Frankly, it fits better than Somerall and Lee turning on her. What they could hope to gain by doing that seems far less than what she can gain by doing this.”
“And them blaming the Christopher-Bot, too. Maybe that’s why he’s saying that they’re enemies, because he knows they’re trying to make him the fall guy.”
“He’s a robot,” Jeff said. “He might have overcome his programming as advertised. However, I think it’s just as likely that he was programmed to say and do what he has in order to make you think that you’ve flipped him to our side, baby.”
“That has merit,” Chuckie said. “It’s her playbook for sure, and we know our enemies know it and are doing their best to use it against us. However, one thing—Somerall and Lee said that ‘he’ was taking things to extremes. They might have meant the Christopher-Bot, but they might have meant someone else.”
“So, there’s also a dude involved. It’s not a shock. For all we know, Quinton Cross had been a part of this as well and they replaced him with someone else when he died from Cliff’s so-called Alien Flu.”
“That Amos Tobin guy’s going to be pretty jealous if that’s the case,” Lizzie said. “He tried to find her, find Janelle, didn’t he?”
The four of us stared at each other. “Oh dear,” Nathalie said finally. “Could all of that have been planned merely to get Tobin captured in such a way as to put him also into protective custody with Janelle?”
“I hate being played. Yes, it definitely could have been. We need to call my mom.” Who hated being played even more than I did.
“No,” Chuckie said. “We need to call Buchanan.”
“What if they’re in the middle of something and the ring alerts the bad guys that they’re there and they get shot?” Hey, I’d seen this enough on TV, it was a legit concern.
Chuckie shook his head at me. “You got up way too early today. Their phones will all be muted.” He pulled his out and sent a text.
“Now what?”
“Now we wait, Miz Impatience.”
Didn’t take long for Chuckie’s phone to ring. “Eagle Pest Control, how may we help you? No, we specialize in rats and rat infestations. You’re welcome.” He hung up.
“Wow, I love hearing spy talk. What did you actually tell each other?”
“Buchanan asked me if we take care of bugs and annoying insects.”
Waited. “That’s it? Dude, I want to know what the sign and countersign were and all that jazz.”
“Eagle is for Jeff or the White House or whatever,” Lizzie said as if she was reciting something for an oral test. “Pest Control means we have an enemy situation. Mister Buchanan checked to see if we were being bugged, spied on, or if it was something else small-time. Chuck mentioned rats because that’s what these people are, and also rats are a lot more dangerous and they’re smart. Mister Buchanan said that you weren’t what he was looking for but that he’d keep you in mind in case things changed, right?” she asked Chuckie.
“Right. Did your father teach you this?”
She nodded. “And the uncles. So, that means that they’ll break off and come right to you. If he’d said he’d keep you in mind it would mean that they weren’t stopping their mission.”
“The uncles never taught me this.” Felt a little jealous.
“They said they didn’t need to,” Lizzie said. “Besides, you totes always figure it out, Kitty.”
“She does,” Jeff said, rather proudly. Felt better.
The air shimmered again and this time Siler, Buchanan, and Wruck stepped through. Donned my Recap Girl cape yet again and brought them up to speed. “So, Nightcrawler, our big question of the day is—is Janelle Gardiner who you suspected or is it someone else?”
“I suspected her and Amos Tobin, so we’re in sync.” He perched on the arm of Lizzie’s chair. She leaned her chin on his knee. It was a very cute father-daughter scene. Resisted the urge to take a picture and instead finished my Coke.
“Go team. And, next up, I don’t know how we tell my mother, but we clearly need to.”
“I’ll do it, Missus Executive Chief,” Buchanan said. “She’ll take it better coming from me than from you or Reynolds.”
“Are they in secured locations or do they have more freedom than will be good for us?” Jeff asked, Commander Voice on Full. “Because I don’t like the idea of traitors this good at faking everyone out being given the run of any federal building.”
“They’re not hanging out at CIA Headquarters. Um, are they?”
Chuckie managed a laugh. “No. Nor at the NSA, FBI, or Homeland Security, either.”
“They’re both in safe houses,” Buchanan said. “With full-time P.T.C.U. and A-C guards.” He grimaced. “But they’re not all that restricted. Everything they do or say or send electronically is monitored, of course. But if they’re talking in codes, then no one’s spotted it.”
“You wouldn’t spot it if the codes relate to their legitimate jobs and businesses. I mean, Mom has them sequestered more for their safety than for the fact that we know they’re shady. She’s allowed them to work, because Janelle runs her stuff through Amy and Tobin runs his through Christopher. Oh, no freaking way!”
It was clear from everyone else’s expressions that they’d all made the leap just like me.
“They’re using Amy and Christopher to send their messages, meaning they can say anything because those two are above suspicion.” Nathalie sounded as angry as I felt.
“They can’t say just anything,” Chuckie said, “because those conversations are taped and observed. But they can certainly say or write things that seem innocuous which Amy and Christopher will then share with the people who can decipher the innocuous into action.”
Jeff groaned. “This job, it gets easy when?”
“Never,” Chuckie said. “But you’re good at it, so there’s that.”
“I don’t feel good at it.” He looked to Buchanan. “What do we do?”
“You? The three of you, and I mean you, Mister Executive Chief, Missus Executive Chief, and Miss Action Jackson are going to go to bed. It’s the first day of two important schools tomorrow and everyone needs to get a good night’s sleep. The Secretary of Transportation will also not be doing anything other than finishing her evening out with the Director of the CIA, who will also not be taking an active role.”
Chuckie opened his mouth. Put up my paw. He shut his mouth. The One True FLOTUS Power in action. “Malcolm’s right. This is a job for stealth, and you’re now the face of the CIA.”
Chuckie sighed. “You’re right. I want regular updates. Not the sugarcoated kind you’re planning to give to the President, either.”
“Not a problem,” Siler said. “We’ll talk to Angela first and coordinate with both of you.”
“At least let Commander Reader know what’s going on,” Jeff said.
“No,” Buchanan said calmly. “This isn’t an American Centaurion issue. This is a United States covert ops issue. This is what we do. Let us do our jobs, for once, without you. Any other questions or demands we’ll override?”
“Yeah.” Looked at Wruck. “What do you think about all this, John?”
He shook his head. “I’m along for muscle and backup. Benjamin and Malcolm are running this show.”
Really wanted to ask him about our genetic makeup, but had the feeling that this really wasn’t the time. Chuckie caught my eye and gave me a sign indicating that he wanted me to stay quiet. Knew what he wanted me to shut up about. Oh well, I’d just ask Wruck about Ancient Earth History another time. When he and the others weren’t, you know, trying to identify a couple of traitorous murderers and all that.
Jeff heaved a sigh. “Fine. Please take all precautions. My wife frets quite a bit if one of you is missing or
gets hurt.”
Siler laughed. “We appreciate the concern.” He patted Lizzie on her back and she straightened up.
“You sure I can’t come with?” she asked. “It would be really instructive.”
“Not tonight,” Siler said. “And I want you in bed before ten.”
She heaved a dramatic sigh. “Life’s not fair.”
“Nope,” Jeff said. “Get used to it.”
“Truer words and all that,” Buchanan said. “We’ll see ourselves out via the gate in your bathroom.”
The number one thing on my Aliens Are Weird List was that almost every gate they had was in a bathroom. This made a lot of sense in terms of airports, train stations, bus stations, and the like, but less in terms of normal households. And yet, more residences had gates in the bathrooms than anywhere else, though basements were the number two location of choice. I’d given up asking why a long time ago and had merely accepted that the A-Cs really liked to find a theme and stick with it.
They nodded to us, then Team Tough Guys strolled off to our bathroom. They still managed to look cool while doing it, which was a skill, really.
“What do we do about Ansom and Talia going to Marcia’s party tomorrow night?”
Chuckie shook his head. “No idea. Let’s see what those three find out and what your mother wants done. You all really need to focus on all the school-related activities.” He stood up. “And we should get going. You’re not the only one with an early day tomorrow.”
Jeff nodded. “You’re with me at the Intergalactic School, right Chuck?”
“I am, and Alpha Team will be, too, along with half the Secret Service.” He grinned at me. “And yet I’m still more worried about what Kitty will get up to at Sidwell.”
“Hilarious. Not that you’re wrong, of course.”
Nathalie gave me a hug. “Tomorrow will be wonderful. Just be yourself.”
Hugged her back. “Let’s hope you’re right.”
Chuckie came over and offered her his hand. She took it and he helped her up. “We’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early, Mister President,” he said with a grin. “Kitty, enjoy your day at the school with the kids.”
