Alien Collective (33 page)

M
EPHISTOPHELES
and his detailed video screens disappeared, too, and all I heard was Adam Levine crooning about dancing the night away and taking him all the way. Wouldn’t be a hardship to take Adam all the way, but I was happily married.

The song changed to “Wildest Dreams” by Iron Maiden. Had that right. Shoved my still-foggy mind back to the dream. Needed to remember everything.

Thought about what Mephistopheles had said, since his clues, if you could call them that, seemed the clearest. Why I was now getting regular visitations from the Fugly of My Nightmares was a special question I had no good answer for at this time.

“Up in Arms” by the Foo Fighters came on. Woke up fully and sat up. “Chess.”

“What?” Jeff asked sleepily. I could get that Maroon Five hadn’t woken him right up, but Iron Maiden should have, and if not them, then the Foos certainly should have done the trick.

“You okay?” I put my hand on his forehead. Felt normal.

“Yeah, just tired.” He looked at the clock. “You got up with the actual alarm? I should be asking you if you’re okay.”

“Go back to sleep, Mister Funny.”

“No, I’m wide awake now. What were you shouting about?”

“It’s a chess game and we’re not thinking about it right.” At least, I hoped that’s what the various clues ACE and His Kitty’s Dream Players had been trying to pass along. Either that or I should use less sour cream and butter on my baked potatoes. Chose to figure on the former, because I didn’t plan to use less butter and sour cream anyway.

“Okay, you and Chuck always say it’s chess,” Jeff said as he sat up in bed and pulled me back to snuggle next to him.

“But we haven’t been thinking of it like that this time. And I think we need to.”

“Okay. You’re always our queen. Chuck always says he’s a bishop. Christopher and I are knights. Richard’s usually the king, but it could be Paul. Paul was the other bishop, so maybe that’s what Richard is now.”

Thought about this. “The king is different this time.” If the king was different, were the other pieces different, too? Our board had shifted a lot since the “chess game” Jeff was talking about. Michael had stressed I was the queen. Maybe because I was the only piece that hadn’t changed positions?

“Why?”

“Things are different? I think.”

Before we could continue this, the com sprang to life. “I’m sorry Ambassador, but Raj has asked me to encourage you to hurry up. You have an important press conference coming and you need to be briefed.”

“Sure thing, William. I’ve totally been looking forward to today, promise.”

“Briefing in the commissary.”

“Tell Raj and Pierre I love and appreciate them.”

Jeff and I zipped into the shower and, in deference to the rush, only did the deed a couple of times, and we used hyperspeed, too. That was us, always sacrificing for the cause.

Decided I’d better go out in the Armani Standard Issue because Raj and Pierre would tell me immediately if I needed to change clothes. There was a fedora sitting on the hamper. Looked at it fondly. Jeff looked amazing in a fedora. “Maybe you should wear a hat today.”

“It’s the middle of summer.” Jeff looked at the hat and chuckled. “Later, baby. We’re busy now.”

Jeff finished up and left the closet. As I was putting my shoes on the hat fell off the hamper and landed upside down. Which was odd because there’d been no movement near it. Picked it up and looked at it. There were some dark pieces of something dusting the inside. Spilled them out into my hand—tea leaves.

Apparently this was the same fedora Jeff had worn during Operation Sherlock and he’d been wandering around with tea leaves getting into his hair whenever he’d worn it. Put the hat back on the hamper and realized that made no sense. The Elves were nothing if not tidy, and leaving tea leaves in a hat for a year and a half was the opposite of tidy.

So it was a clue. And everything in my dream had been clues. Great. I needed some coffee and food so maybe what the Powers That Be felt were obvious hints would become clear to me.

Brushed the tea into a wastebasket, grabbed my purse and ensured it was full up with all the necessities, and joined Jeff. We headed upstairs, and again in deference to the urgency that was today, we took the stairs instead of the elevators. So no make-out session. Chose to show I was a big girl and not be bitter about it. Much.

Since the A-Cs tended to function like a military unit—albeit a giant, extremely well-dressed and good-looking one—mealtimes were at standard times. Therefore, the entire Science Center was in the commissary.

We were graciously allowed to give our daughter hugs and kisses, then dragged away from her to sit with the Briefing Team, which took up an entire, huge, long table. Jamie seemed quite content with Dad and Lucinda, but now Jeff and I were both bitter.

As we sat down I realized I’d been wrong in thinking everyone was here. Oliver’s team was nowhere in evidence and when I asked about them, it turned out they hadn’t checked in. No one seemed worried, other than possibly Ravi. I couldn’t be sure because while they were a part of the briefing, we had so many people that Hacker International weren’t sitting all that close to me.

I wasn’t sitting next to Jeff, either. I had Raj on one side and Pierre on the other, with Reader across from me, and Tim and Serene flanking him. Got the feeling everyone was wishing I had an android counterpart somewhere they could just program with what needed to be said and how. Couldn’t blame them.

The five of them filled me in on what had transpired while we were playing Quicksand in the Desert. More bombings, accusations of our involvement in said bombings, and then political unrest based on the bombings and fueled by every anti-alien group out there were the main highlights. Many of the streets of D.C. and elsewhere were plastered with anti-alien and anti-Armstrong-Martini posters, and all this before Jeff was even officially announced as the VP candidate. Apparently it had been a busy day for everyone, everywhere.

“We’ve set up a press conference,” Raj said as he wrapped up and I shoveled food in and coffee down and hoped like hell I could remember anything about my dream and clues, let alone this information, by the time breakfast was over. “You’re going to get hit with a variety of questions, but they’ll all boil down to these points.”

“Right, I think I have them. What are our thoughts about Jeff running for vice president? We think that if one of us is called to service, then we go, and since Senator Armstrong is our good friend, we will, of course, be happy to have Representative Martini represent us in higher office, if the voting public agrees.”

Jaws dropped. “Well done, Kitty,” Serene said without an ounce of sarcasm or shock showing. “That was perfect.”

Raj nodded. “Yes. What else?”

“I’m sure I’ll be asked if we did the bombings to garner attention or because we’re closet terrorists. In which case my answer is a shocked, horrified, and offended absolutely not.”

“What if someone insists they have proof, Kitty darling?” Pierre asked.

“Then I will insist that their facts are wrong and that we trust the good officers of the law, both state and federal, to get to the bottom of these terrorist acts. We fight the terrorists, we don’t join them.”

“Good.” Reader nodded. “What else?”

“They’re going to ask the follow-up, which is if we didn’t do the bombings who did? In which case I’ll point them back to the fact that we know the police and federal agencies are doing all they can to find the perpetrators.”

“And?” Raj asked leadingly.

“And, if Bruce Jenkins is there, he’s going to ask if I’m having a variety of affairs with anyone and everyone I know. To which I’m going to ask him if he’s seen my husband and let the audience laugh at him. So, did I miss any?”

“What’s happened to poor Missus Maurer,” Pierre said. “I’d expect someone to toss that one at you, darling.”

“She can’t be officially listed as missing for another twenty-four hours,” Reader said. “But Melville’s confirmed that the Cleary-Maurer campaign called to alert D.C.P.D. that she hadn’t come home from her afternoon stroll.”

Mrs. Maurer was actually in the briefing session. She got up and came over. “Didn’t want to have to scream. I think I need to go with the Ambassador, so it’s clear I’m alive and not under duress.”

“You mean you’re ready to change sides politically?” Raj asked. “Because that’s what you being seen with Kitty, in public, particularly in this way, will say.”

She sniffed. “My own son sent people to kill me. I think that warrants a change of teams, don’t you, young man?”

“We assume,” White, who was on Serene’s other side, said. “Though we have yet to confirm.”

“Sadly, I have no issue believing it,” she said.

White nodded. “I agree with you. You going along also tosses in a monkey wrench the other side won’t necessarily see coming. However, that means monkey wrenches will be coming toward Missus Martini as well.”

An idea dawned. “Can I have Raj and Richard with me?”

“Why?” Reader asked. “And why them?”

“Because I’m a troubadour and can calm the situation if needed and because Mister White is actually the best with human diplomacy,” Raj said. “We’ll bring along a few other troubadours, too, just to have a show of force that won’t take any Field agents away from their other duties.”

“Raj is my favorite.” Heard Jeff groan from a few seats away. Which brought up another point. “What is Jeff going to be doing while I’m being interrogated by the press?”

“He and the rest of Senator Armstrong’s team are going to be practicing their formal ‘Jeff’s our guy’ speech,” Reader said. “The National Convention is next week, remember.”

I hadn’t, but chose to not mention this. “Okay. So where are we doing this press conference?”

“You’ve scored the East Room of the White House,” Mom, who was sitting between Jeff and Christopher, shared. “Try not to make the President regret it.”

“Won’t that be like the President is endorsing the Armstrong-Martini ticket?”

“He’s the same party and he’s already endorsed my candidacy,” Armstrong, who was across from Mom, said. “And, as you know, he’s pro-alien.” He flashed me his Campaign Smile. “It’ll be fine, Kitty. You’re a natural speaker.”

Senator McMillan, who was next to him, nodded. Caroline, who was next to McMillan, gave me the thumbs up. Tried to let their positivity fill me. I was filled with the positive feeling that we were all feeling far too confident, myself included, and that meant something was going to go wrong. Shoved it aside.

“True enough,” Christopher said. “Never found Kitty to be speechless for long.”

“Careful or I’ll demand you come there with me.”

“I’m part of the Presidential Ticket Announcement Team, sorry,” he said with a grin, not a Patented Glare. Chose not to ask if he was feeling okay. He and Amy were sitting close together and I figured they’d had a good night and the effects hadn’t worn off of Christopher yet.

Wondered for a moment if the President was the new king. Maybe. But he was on the last months of his second term—he seemed an unlikely target for what was going on. And Michael had said I always protected this king.

“I’d like to go with you, Kitty,” Culver said. She was a little farther down the table but still near to the Senators. “And I think you should have Guy along as well. And not for the reasons I’m sure you think. We both have more experience dealing with the people you’re about to be faced with, and I think you’ll want the help.”

“Thanks, Lillian, I’ll take you and Guy on Team Press Conference gladly.” Tried not to think about the message them coming with me was going to send, good intentions or not, and decided I’d deal with those ramifications later. “Nathalie, what about you?”

“Just like Don,” she nodded at McMillan, “I’m going with Jeff and Vincent, to show my support.” Knew without asking that Caroline would be with McMillan.

“Makes sense. I assume Chuckie can’t come with me, right?”

“Right.” He was on White’s other side, so on the other side from most of the Presidential Ticket Announcement Team. “I’ll also be with Jeff and Senator Armstrong. As will a large contingent of Field Agents, C.I.A. agents, and some Secret Service agents, along with most of the D.C.P.D.”

“Why?”

Chuckie gave me the “what the hell?” look. “I think it’s kind of obvious, Kitty. We’ll be there to protect them. This is an outside event, and we’ve had a lot of terrorist and anti-alien activity going on. Hence, a large show of force and a lot of eyes and ears on the ground.”

And there it was. I knew what Michael had been trying to tell me and, probably by extension, what the rest of those in my dream had been trying to tell me. Felt kind of stupid for it to have taken this long, especially with that gigantic clue Algar had tossed me, but hey, I had a lot going on and was distracted.

We all were. Everything yesterday had done the typical Bad Guy Double Duty, and distraction was always on the Bad Guy Plans Du Jour. But our enemies weren’t distracted. At all. And they wanted to take the king. Or, as I thought of him, the guy I’d been protecting since, in that sense, we’d met.