by Gini Koch
The music changed to “Rhyme Stealer” by Sugar Ray—a song I was a hundred percent positive no one other than Algar could have possibly programmed into the fundraiser’s playlist—and my memory did me a solid and shared stuff I’d heard, seen, or thought in the past couple of days as it related to this, as Reader and I moved into hip-hop moves. Everyone else scurried off the dance floor. Algar was harshing the party’s buzz, big-time, but it was helping the cause. “The nursery rhymes.”
“Excuse me?” Reader sounded lost.
“Whoever’s created the Christopher-Bot is into nursery rhymes. I don’t know that I’ve run across anyone who’s dropped a rhyme like the Christopher-Bots that wasn’t teaching preschool in some way. Meaning it was programmed in. If Antony Marling was still alive it would mean nothing. But he’s dead and I don’t think the Christopher-Bots have been around as long as they insinuated. They’re too advanced.” My dream had definitely confirmed this. “But they were told or programmed to believe they’d been around for a good long while.”
“Why do that?”
“To throw us off if we ever got our hands on it. The First was going to tell us who was in charge.”
“Per what Alpha Team was told, right before the Second blew him to bits.”
“Yep. Morphing bits that ended up forming into a capture net just like my teams dealt with at the NSA black site. Meaning that whoever’s in charge, they’re for sure NSA. My bet is that they’ve been around for ages, well-hidden and even better protected, and none of us have noticed them, because they’ve kept the lowest profile of any of our other nemeses.”
“So, anyone we’ve never heard of is a suspect? That won’t take us long to hunt down. Only about a century or so.” Like all the rest of my circle, Reader possessed a sarcasm knob.
“Maybe not. Mom’s been hunting in a very determined fashion, and while she hasn’t found who at the NSA authorized that black site where we found the Fem-Bot Factory, that does mean she’s eliminated a lot of suspects. They could be a man or a woman, a human or an alien in hiding, but I guarantee we’re going to discover that they were the person working first with either Madeleine Cartwright or Monica Strauss, or both, and now with Janelle Gardiner. And whoever they are, they’re into nursery rhymes.”
“Well, it might help us spot them, but only if we’re interacting with this person. I sincerely doubt that Angela’s going to be able to start asking suspects about their love of nursery rhymes unless she wants to be put on psychiatric leave.”
“We have a little more than that. I’m sure they knew Yates, they probably know the Tinkerer—and this person could be the Tinkerer, because no one even suspected Trevor existed until Operation Madhouse, though I kind of doubt it. And they were likely a friend of the late Quinton Cross, too, since Cross was Janelle’s protector and benefactor prior to Operation Epidemic.”
Reader sighed as the music changed to “Private Eyes” by Hall & Oates and moved us back into a foxtrot. “The bottom line is that we’re unlikely to figure out who this mysterious NSA honcho is at this party. But we have a far more urgent and pressing issue—someone called to tell you that robots were going to try to kill you here tonight. I think that has to be our priority, regardless of the fact that we have half of a full Christopher-Bot in custody. As today proved, they seem to have plenty of Fem-Bots to spare.”
“We might have one here already, or one more like the Kristie-Bot. As I know you already know, Hacker International found the name Kramer during their otherwise fruitless and/or slow searches. Let’s see if Marcia’s the robot that’s going to give assassination a try.”
CHAPTER 65
READER TWIRLED ME OFF the dance floor and we got some polite applause. Noted a lot of faces I recognized—those applauding had been helpers at the Bake Sale Catastrophe. Those not applauding had been in Charmaine’s Entourage.
Quietly pointed this out to Reader as I waved to the applauders and ignored the others. Spotted the kids—they were hanging out near a food table. Lizzie had been right, not only was the eldest Kramer boy here, but the Cordell twins were as well. Spotted some other teenagers, all of whom looked vaguely familiar. Clearly we weren’t the only parents that had caved to the demands and let the kids dress up and come out on the first night of school. Bad parenting trophies for all!
As far as I could tell, the Valentino kids were doing what we’d asked them to and chatting up the Cordell twins, though Louise wasn’t with them. Looked around for her as well as we wandered the hall looking for Marcia. There were too many people around us now for us to discuss what we had been, so I changed the topic. “Think you’re going to get press as my new squeeze?”
“Only if I’m lucky. Chuck normally scores that honor.”
“He’s dating Nathalie now.” Shared what Jeff had told me and Lizzie as Reader snagged some drinks for us from a tray marked as nonalcoholic being passed by a waiter.
Took a close look—Chuckie and I had almost died during Operation Drug Addict because we hadn’t paid attention to the dude serving our drinks. There was nothing remarkable about the waiter, but did my best to log what he looked like, just in case. Sipped my drink. Cherry 7-Up wasn’t my fave, but it did look like pink champagne, so could understand why it’d been chosen.
“Yeah? Good for them! It’s about time.”
“Excuse me?”
“While I’d never sell you short, girlfriend—because if you’d said yes he’d have never looked at another woman again—and I know how much Chuck and Naomi loved each other, Nathalie’s a catch for anyone. And I knew her when we were both younger, remember, and what she wants really hasn’t changed as an adult.”
“What does she want?” The music was now instrumental and nothing I recognized. Apparently the Algar Channel was taking a commercial break.
“What she’s always wanted—someone like Chuck. Smart, tall, handsome, successful, driven without being blinded by it, gentle, kind, caring, loyal. He’s literally the guy she described to me as her perfect man when we were both seventeen.”
“Wow. And yet she cheated on Edmund with Eugene. I can see some similarities to Chuckie in Edmund. Not so with Eugene.”
“I’m guessing Chuck has what both of them had—Edmund’s brains and drive and Eugene’s abilities in bed.”
“My husband will not like my confirming that latter point. Especially since I never slept with Eugene. However, yeah, I can’t argue.”
Reader grinned at me. “Jeff can get mad at me, then. He hasn’t had a good jealousy rage for ages. Anyway, I’d have tried to fix them up but neither one seemed emotionally ready.”
“You’re just an old softy. But yeah, glad Elaine arranged it.”
“You and she can fight over who gets to be the matron of honor at the wedding.”
“You really think they’ll make it?” I hoped so, because, as Jeff had said, they both deserved to be happy.
“I do. However, I don’t see our hostess anywhere, do you?”
“No. But I don’t see Vance, either. It’s likely he’s with Marcia.” Spotted Charmaine. She was in a white dress and was near the stage, chatting up several people, Zachary Kramer included. Decided I could miss dropping by that group for a while.
Finally found Louise. She was sticking near to Jeff, who had a huge group of women around him. Actively chose not to be jealous—he went home with me, and one of his nieces was right there. Presumably he wasn’t going to be cheating on me in the middle of the fundraiser, though several of the women looked more than ready to go for it.
“Vance wasn’t with her when I spoke to him. He was with some others, though.”
“Well, I guess we chat up whoever on our Hunt For Marcia Kramer so it doesn’t look suspicious, and that way we can say we’re asking people to donate to the school.”
“Well then, let’s check in with your Chief of Staff.” Reader steered us toward a portable bar where
Vance, Culver, Abner, Colette, and Gadoire were hanging out with a lot of people I didn’t know.
Vance broke away and kissed my cheek. “Get ready to shout bingo,” he whispered.
So, these were the other Dealers of Death. And it was time for my close-up.
Because Vance was my Chief of Staff, gave Gadoire a hug first and allowed him to slobber on me, or what he called being courtly, and kiss the back of my hand. That was me, always taking one for the team. “Ah, my dove, you’re radiant as always.”
“And you’re still a wild flatterer, Guy.”
Extracted my hand, gave Abner a hug, then ensured I gave Culver a bigger one and an almost-touching air kiss. “Lillian, it feels like ages since I’ve seen you and it was only yesterday. You’re looking amazing as always. No one wears red like you.”
She beamed at me. “And no one can carry off a dress of any color like you, Kitty. I don’t believe you know everyone here?”
“No, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure, either James or myself.”
Culver did her best, but I stopped trying to remember who was who within five seconds. Some I’d recall and I’d be able to spot all their faces again, and Vance and Reader would just have to do the rest. However, there was someone conspicuously absent.
“Where’s Thomas?” I asked Culver, midway through the intros.
“Oh, he’s with Charles and Nathalie,” Culver shared breezily. “They’re discussing sports, and you know how quickly that gets dull if it’s not your passion.”
Chuckie had no sports passions other than Australian ones that didn’t involve suffering through a game with me, Nathalie was into fashion, not football, and I’d yet to hear Kendrick mention a team or a sport, let alone a passion for one. Meaning they were snooping and that was just fine.
“Well, we’ll leave them to it.” Back to more meeting of people I instinctively knew I wouldn’t care for. Profiling for the win.
Somerall and Lee joined us, trailed by a lot of our security forces, as I finished shaking the last paw, which belonged to Niles Berkowitz, while deciding that he was never getting invited for Passover, despite him going for the “we’re both Jews, isn’t that great?” opening gambit. Berkowitz was Big Oil’s lobbyist and Somerall’s bestie. Those two shook paws while I ostensibly looked around for Kendrick and watched this group out of the corners of my eyes.
All these people reminded me of two groups—the Cabal of Evil and the Land Sharks. Somerall and Gardiner were both in the Land Sharks and Kendrick had been. Of course, Culver, Abner, Gadoire, and Vance had all been in the Cabal. So had Nathalie. Things changed.
“Lillian, do you have any idea where’s Marcia is? I spotted Zachary with the President of the Sidwell Friends School Parent Teacher Association, but I haven’t been able to find our hostess. We were looking for her when we spotted you.”
“They were here earlier,” shared Simon “Homophobe” Hopkins, the Alcohol lobby’s go-to man. He was standing as far from Gadoire as possible. Gadoire wasn’t my favorite person, but he’d proven his loyalty, and besides, Hopkins disliked him for who he loved. Confirmed that I hated Hopkins, which came as no surprise. “But Marcia wasn’t with them. How are you getting on with Charmaine?”
So, he knew her. Not a surprise. Had to come up with something positive to say. “She’s quite the powerhouse.”
Hopkins nodded. “Impressive woman. You’ll like her husband, Bob, too. He’s a venture capitalist.” Loved the assumption that I liked Charmaine, but didn’t contradict it.
“How wonderful.” Wasn’t totally sure what a venture capitalist did, other than make lots of money. Didn’t care, either.
Berkowitz shoved back in. “Bob’s a go-getter. He’s on the board of several prominent corporations, too.” Wondered if Cordell was as awful as his wife or if he worked hard to spend less time around her. My vote, without meeting him, was for the latter, but there was no accounting for taste.
“Really?” Reader asked, sounding just this side of bored. “Which ones?”
“YatesCorp, Gaultier Enterprises, Titan Security,” Berkowitz ticked off without missing a beat. He kept on listing company names but my ears chose to share that the other names weren’t relevant to my interests. “So you can see,” Berkowitz concluded, “he’s quite well-connected.”
“Sounds like it.” Now Reader sounded totally bored. He was good, and I was keeping my mouth shut. Spent the time looking around as if what I really wanted to do was find Marcia and stop all this boring business talk.
Interestingly enough, no one used this moment to try to sell me on anything. So they weren’t all that much like the Cabal of Evil or the Land Sharks had been—they had no interest in playing nicely with our particular brand of others. Which still seemed odd and stupid. In less time than it had taken me to swallow a sip of tea, the Land Sharks had been at me. And the less said about how quickly the Cabal of Evil had pounced the better.
But the other Dealers of Death had no interest in swaying me, or even broaching the subject. Truly doubted they felt I was wily and someone to avoid, since everyone liked to sell me really short. Was about to create a reason to move on when I saw Hopkins’ gaze move behind me. His eyes narrowed. Noted other Death Dealer gazes were also focused and angry.
“Seriously, has Marcia been kidnapped?” Turned around to “search” for her and saw who Hopkins had spotted—Lizzie. She was laughing at something one of the other kids had said, and she looked like a normal teenager at a fancy affair, not like someone worthy of the wrath of a dozen adults.
However, my ward having taught their kids a strong anti-bullying message—by kicking their butts—at her former school, which was possibly even more prestigious than Sidwell and was also in Portugal, was not the reason they hadn’t spoken to us pretty much ever. It was why she was living with us now, but it wasn’t why the Dealers of Death weren’t interested in what American Centaurion and the Office of the President could offer them. Which bore more investigation, but not tonight.
Turned back. “I see her nowhere. James, we need to hunt her down, I need to find out how she wants to handle donations.” Smiled at all the Dealers of Death. “And thank you all again for coming to support Sidwell. I realize most of your children don’t school here, so it’s doubly gracious of you to help out.”
Eyes widened or narrowed, depending. But before anyone else could respond, Somerall spoke up. “Oh, look, there’s Janelle and Amos.”
Sure enough, Gardiner and Tobin had arrived, along with more security. Lee waved them over. Managed not to ask her if she wasn’t worried about being called a traitor for having dropped by the White House the other day, but had a feeling that wouldn’t get a useful response. Really wished I’d asked if Somerall and Lee were the robots who were going to try to kill me.
Gardiner was in her mid- to late-forties, trim, attractive, with long dark hair she always had in some sort of up-do. Her Washington color was green, possibly to match her eyes—I’d never asked, but she was in green tonight as per usual.
Tobin was a nice-looking, later-middle-aged black man, with only a little paunch around the middle. Tobin lived for a folksy look, so while he was usually in a suit and tie, the tie was a bolo, his shoes were expensive cowboy boots, and he always wore a Stetson. He had a lot of Stetsons, since his accessories always matched whatever he was wearing, though black was his favorite color, in part because he also lived to always say that good guys wore black.
They said hello to everyone, getting handshakes or hugs, depending. Had to fake it with Gardiner, since I didn’t want her realizing that we’d figured out that she wasn’t a victim. Gave her a brief hug because more effusiveness would be just as suspicious as avoiding her. “How are you doing?” Seemed like the safest form of hello.
She gave me a brave little smile. “As well as I can be,” her eyes darted to Somerall and Lee then back to me, “under the circumstances.
”
Tobin, wearing his usual Man In Black attire, ten-gallon Stetson included, went in for a hug. I could let him do it or knee him in the balls. Took yet another one for the team and allowed the hug. “Madam First Lady, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“You’re looking well yourself, Mister Tobin.” Was glad he’d remembered that he wasn’t on my list of those who got to be informal with me. The Formal Only list was far shorter, but felt that most of those I was standing with were firmly on it, at least for the time being.
Felt surrounded, because we were. In fact, Tobin had moved himself between me and Reader. Did not like this particular situation, because there were a lot more of them than there were of us. However, I didn’t allow it to throw me. Instead, I smiled and nodded while they talked about absolutely nothing. Possibly they were passing coded messages, but if they were, the deciphering would have to be done by someone else, preferably Chuckie.
The music went from whatever instrumental selections I’d been ignoring to “Move Along” by The All-American Rejects. The Algar Channel was back from its commercial break and the hint could not be clearer. It was a direction I was all too eager to follow, too.
“James,” I said, interrupting some boring story about the olden days of corporate mergers that Myron Van Dyke, the head lobbyist for Big Pharma, was droning on about, “I’m sorry, but we really need to find Marcia.”
“Do you have to leave just now?” Berkowitz asked. “We were just getting to know you.”
How they were doing that by not talking to me was anyone’s guess. Maybe they were all robots and were filming us. Who knew? Figured I’d find out somewhere along the line. However, not right now.
Gave everyone a big smile. “So sorry, we’ll try to join up with you again, but duty really does call.” Mouths opened, but I was the FLOTUS and I had The Power Of The Paw. Put up my hand. The mouths all closed. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I promised Marcia I’d find her first thing, and we’ve spent all this time having fun. James? Let’s move on, please.”
