Alien Collective (37 page)

H
UNG UP AND REJOINED
the others by the TV. “That went remarkably well.”

Mom nodded slowly. “I’m amazed, frankly. Maybe the obvious show of force helped. However, there will be ample opportunities for mayhem beyond this morning, and just because Bruce Jenkins was shut up once doesn’t mean he won’t ask a question you don’t have a good answer for next time.”

“Speaking of which, Christopher mentioned that we dodged the Nancy Maurer bullet this morning, but he doesn’t expect that to last long.”

“Do you want me to fetch her?” Raj asked politely.

The President nodded. “She’s been through an ordeal, I’d like to see her.”

“Yes, sir.” Raj zipped off.

“I heard your plan for what to say,” Mom said. “I’m not sure if it’s a good idea, involving her in the bombing plot.”

“Mom, she was attacked by thugs her own son sent to ‘protect’ her, but we didn’t catch the guys so it’s her and our word against theirs. She has to have a reason to be with us that doesn’t cause even more suspicion. The ricin story is out, it seems the easiest answer to me.”

“I agree,” Mrs. Maurer said as Raj ushered her in. “So nice to see you, Mister President, albeit under unfortunate circumstances.”

The President stood up, hugged Mrs. Maurer, and gave her his seat. “Angela tells me you’re breaking ties with your son. I’m sorry you’ve been put into a situation where you feel the need to do so to protect yourself.”

Mrs. Maurer nodded. “As I’ve been saying, he’s not my son anymore. I don’t recognize the man he’s become.”

The President looked at me. I mouthed the word “android.” Then I did a little of The Robot dance move to be sure he got it.

His lips quirked, but he just nodded and looked back to Mrs. Maurer. “I feel confident that our friends at American Centaurion will protect you. However, are you sure you’re willing to become what will surely be a focal point of the presidential campaign? I feel confident Senator Armstrong and Representative Martini will get the party’s nomination, and you switching sides to join them will make the media’s day, even more than the Ambassador’s announcement did.”

“I’m sure. I worry about the safety of my grandchildren, but I can’t protect them if I’m dead or a hostage.”

A staffer came in. “I’m sorry, Mister President, but you’re due for a meeting in the Oval Office.”

“I’ll be right there. Fair enough, Nancy. Angela, I’ll leave this to you and the Ambassador and her team.” He nodded to us. “Ladies, gentlemen, please continue the good work you do and let’s hope that the good guys win.” With that he strode off with the staffer chattering to him about his meeting.

“I like him.”

“I do, too,” Mom said. “I’ve enjoyed this job.”

“He’s not the only president you’ve supported.”

“No, he’s not. But he’ll be the last if Vincent and Jeff don’t win the election.”

This hit me like a bolt out of the blue. Why I hadn’t considered that my mother’s job would be in jeopardy if an anti-alien team was in the White House was beyond me, but I hadn’t. The ramifications of Cleary-Maurer were larger than I’d paid attention to. The likelihood that we’d lose every ranking individual who supported American Centaurion was high. Chuckie, Horn, and Cliff would likely be out of their jobs before they could blink. Same with Kevin, Buchanan, and the rest of the P.T.C.U. Len and Kyle would be out of the C.I.A. along with Chuckie, and Colonel Franklin and Captain Morgan would probably be sent to an outpost in Alaska.

Maybe we’d still have people at NASA Base, but Alfred would undoubtedly be removed from his position, and that Base had been infiltrated easily before. That it would flip to completely anti-alien seemed possible.

There were more people who supported us, all of whom would be removed from their positions or marginalized. Our enemies would be moved up into positions of power. And control. Control over Centaurion Division. Which was, still and all, what everyone wanted—the War Division, wrapped up in a nice, tight bow.

The good of the country didn’t figure into this, I knew that without asking. The Cleary-Maurer ticket was pretty much anti everything we stood for and I cared about. It was time to stop complaining about Jeff being on the ticket and start campaigning.

Looked at Raj. “What do we need to do to ensure the nomination and the win?”

He smiled at me. “Glad to have you fully in, Ambassador.”

“Yeah, yeah, some of us catch on a little slower than others.”

“I’ve given it some thought already,” Raj said. “But I believe this isn’t the best place to discuss our strategy.”

Mom nodded. “We need to vacate so the room can be straightened. And around here, someone’s always listening.”

“Is the Embassy safe and cleaned up for us to return?”

Raj nodded. “I believe we’ll need to be seen leaving. This will give the press more chances to talk to you and Missus Maurer. We’ll need the team to provide coverage.”

“Make it so, PR Attaché Number One.”

Raj grinned. “I’m glad I spent so many years watching TV. It’s really paid off for this job.”

We left the dining room and stood in the vestibule while Raj gathered the rest of Team Press Conference. The press corps was still in the East Room, and White House security was blocking them from leaving, for which I was extremely grateful.

“There will be press outside, waiting for us,” Raj said as he herded the last of our flock over. “I want the Ambassador and Missus Maurer next to each other. Ambassador, you’ll be holding Missus Maurer’s hand.”

“It would look better if I had my arm through hers,” Mrs. Maurer said. “That way, it’s clear I’m holding onto her, not the other way around.”

“Squeaky, you amaze and impress me.”

“The rest of us need to flank them,” Raj went on. “We don’t have the usual bodyguards here, so we’re going to have to make do with those we do have. Lillian and Guy, if you two wouldn’t mind going before the Ambassador, I believe you’ll both be the best at warding off the press.”

Culver grinned the Joker’s Passing Out Killer Candy to the Kiddies smile. “Oh, trust me, we’re both pros at that.”

Gadoire nodded. “I suggest Vance be on the Ambassador’s side. He also has experience with this.”

In my experience with Vance, he was most experienced at running away screaming, but Raj was right—the guys who’d normally handle this were all MIA, so we had to roll with the punches.

“Raj should take Nancy’s free side,” Vance said. “Same reasons and he’s stronger than me, if shoving is necessary. And, trust me, it’ll be necessary.”

“Actually,” White said, “I think it would be better if I was with Missus Maurer, Raj was with the Ambassador, and you were with our Head of Imageering, Vance. She’ll be asked questions as well and will need the protection, so to speak.”

Vance nodded eagerly. He and Gadoire were married but both bi, and Vance’s fondest fantasies now involved adding an A-C woman, or man, into their mix. Couldn’t blame him, really. “That makes sense.”

“Mom, what about you?”

She shook her head. “I need to stay here. I’m due in that meeting the President’s having in about ten minutes.”

Mom took me aside and hugged me, the usual breath-stopping bear hug. “You’ll do fine, kitten. Just remember, silence is your friend in these instances. If you look like the press is attacking you, that can, many times, sway popular opinion toward you.”

Hugged her back. “Gotcha. Air . . . air . . .”

She let go and kissed my cheek. “Remember that you’re doing this for more than just yourself and your immediate family. The course of our country is going to be determined by this election.”

“But no pressure! I’ll do my best, Mom.”

She gave me a rather proud smile. “That’s all anyone can ask of you, kitten. And your best has been proven to be what we need. So, go get ’em, my little tiger.”

W
E WERE IN OUR FORMATION,
three lines of four people, the extra troubadours with Culver and Gadoire in front and Vance and Serene in the rear.

The troubadours weren’t going to be doing a lot of talking. Raj felt that they didn’t want to try to influence this particular crowd for a variety of reasons, most of them having to do with our wanting to look as beleaguered by the press as possible. Wasn’t sure this was our wisest strategy, but since my idea would be to take a gate and avoid all of this, I kept my thoughts to myself.

We were about to go out the door when a thought occurred that I felt obligated to share. “Um, guys? Where, exactly, are we going? We didn’t drive here.”

“You wound me,” Raj said. “And Pierre . . . when I tell him about your lack of faith . . .” he shook his head. “You’ll probably have to console him for hours.”

“Wow, your sarcasm knob goes from zero to eleven really fast.”

“It does. Let’s move, everybody. Stay with your line, and be sure it’s one line to each car.”

The East Room wasn’t in the East Wing. Shockingly for D.C., it wasn’t in the West Wing, either. No, we were in the official White House Residence section. This meant that we just needed to go out the North doors, down a few steps, and get into the gray limos that, now that I looked, were idling outside.

In theory, anyway.

In reality, there were a ton of reporters with microphones and cameras camped on the steps. Wanted to ask why they were allowed to be right at the President’s front door, but figured it was standard procedure. Or else they’d been snuck in by people who didn’t like us. Possibly both. Had no time to question or argue, so just rolled with it.

Pulled my phone out of my purse, which I had over my neck now, because this was just like going into battle. In case Jeff or someone tried to reach me, I’d never have a chance of hearing the ring, but I could feel the vibration.

“Just a moment,” a man’s voice called. Turned to see a variety of big, serious-looking men in suits descending upon us.

“Yes?” Raj asked.

“Secret Service, sir. The President’s asked us to escort the Ambassador and her retinue out. Looks like there may be some trouble getting you folks safely into your cars.”

“Thank you, we totally appreciate the help.” Ensured I sounded droolingly grateful because I was.

“Even with us helping you, it’s going to be a mob scene, folks,” the Secret Service man in charge said. “So be prepared.”

Everyone shared their preparedness and two Secret Service agents opened the doors.

We were out the doors and instantly it was like every movie or TV show where the attorneys are escorting the star witness or the famous mobster who’s on trial—total bedlam. Crowds at a One Direction concert were probably better behaved than the press corps that was out here.

Having A-Cs on the perimeters along with the Secret Service was nice because, regardless of their body types, they could block like the biggest linebackers out there, due to their being naturally stronger than humans. The Secret Service guys were all, to a man, big. However, unless we were willing to toss the press aside en masse—which I was, but knew without asking no one else would go for it—we had to shove through semi-politely.

Our names were being screamed, mine and Mrs. Maurer’s the most, along with questions I couldn’t even hear. “Hang on, dear,” she said to me as we all got jostled, Secret Service assistance or no Secret Service assistance.

“Thought I was supposed to be guarding you.”

“It’s a mutual thing.”

Most of the questions were being handled by Culver and Gadoire, who were in the lead, along with their A-C protectors, following behind three Secret Service men who were carefully shoving the crowd back. Couldn’t hear a word either one of them were saying, nor make out the questions being shouted at them. For all I knew they were saying we were from Pluto and bent on world domination or the greatest hope for mankind. The smart money, however, was on a lot of “no comments.”

“Are you sleeping with the man who has his arm around you?” This was shrieked by a woman nearish to me and Raj, who indeed had his arm around my waist so that I wouldn’t fall and end up trampled.

I was able to identify the shrieker because she was close to us. Of course, a woman had yelled comments intended to incite a riot right after Jeff was sworn in and Cliff’s car had exploded, thankfully without him, us, and Chuckie inside it. That woman had been Annette Dier.

Might be coincidence, she might just be a reporter. Or she might be something else.

Stopped walking and turned on the camera function on my phone. Got a good snap of the reporter accusing me of adultery.

“What the hell are you doing?” she yelled at me.

Took another couple of shots. “I like to remember all the rude people I’ve met.”

Raj moved me on as a Secret Service man near us shoved her and those around her back. We’d made it down all of three steps so far. Fantastic. At this rate, we might get home by dinnertime. Then again, it was around noon, so maybe we’d be later.

Another woman’s voice reached me. “You’re all murderers!” Sounded vaguely foreign. Wasn’t sure if this indicated foreign press or not.

Looked around and managed to snap a couple of shots of the woman I was fairly sure was accusing us of murder. She named no names, so there was that.

“Why are you taking tourist snaps?” Mrs. Maurer asked.

“For later.” Took more random shots of the crowd, as many as I could get, while we were tossed around like rag dolls.

Seemed like forever, but the Secret Service in the lead managed to get to a limo and get the door open. They helped Culver, Gadoire, and their two A-Cs in, protecting their heads just like cops do when someone’s being arrested or “helped” into a squad car. Four of us already in relative safety was good. Eight of us still out wasn’t.

The press surged and got between my line and the next limo. “Missus Maurer, are you changing political parties?” a female reporter asked. Sounded legit. Took her picture anyway.

“I can’t hear you, dear,” Mrs. Maurer lied. “I’m sorry.”

The Secret Service in the back chose to go sideways and take our last line with them, so they actually reached the third limo before we could get to the second. I could tell because we were still up on the steps, so could see Vance, Serene, and their two troubadours being helped in.

A microphone got shoved into my face. “Ambassador, why were you trying to kill innocent people yesterday?” a male reporter asked.

“We weren’t.” Snapped his picture. “We were focused on saving innocent people from a bioterrorism attack. As the F.B.I. will confirm or already has confirmed.” I sincerely hoped.

Raj shoved the man away without seeming to, and now that all the Secret Service men only had the last four of us to deal with, they were able to form a human chain and move everyone back.

We were at the limo, and the door was open. “Get Nancy in first,” I shouted to White. “And you, too.” He nodded and the Secret Service got them in, doing the head protection move again.

I was almost there, just a step away from getting into the car, when a woman shoved through a little gap between Secret Service men. “How does it feel to get away with murder?” she asked, as she shoved a mic in my face.

“I haven’t murdered anyone.”

“Yes you have.” Her eyes flashed. “You killed Ronald Yates, Leventhal Reid, and Herbert Gaultier.”

Once again, my recurring nightmare of standing before a congressional hearing paid off. Ensured I looked amused and affronted and did the only thing I could think of. Put my phone up and took her picture. With the flash on.

“She’s trying to kill me!” she shouted as she staggered back. But I grabbed the mic.

“You’re high, and highly misinformed,” I said clearly into the microphone. “I have absolutely not killed the people you named, and I think you need to consider your career choice if this is what you think passes for journalism.”

With that, I tossed the microphone back to her. It hit her in the face. Which might possibly have been an accident. But I sincerely hoped no one would ask me that question in a court of law.

Then the Secret Service helped me and Raj into the car, the door slammed, and we headed for the relative safety of the streets of D.C.