Alien Diplomacy (13 page)

Then again, they’d been tied up and tortured while most of that was going, so perhaps it wasn’t foremost in their minds.

Or maybe it was because Len was skidding us around yet another corner. He avoided hitting the cars coming for us, I had no idea how, though driving onto the sidewalk had something to do with it.

“How are we getting out of this alive?” I asked.

Jeff grunted. “I plan to take care of that shortly.” He turned around. “Kid, take the next three rights, then two lefts. You’ll see a parking garage under renovation, head into it, barriers be damned.”

“Yes, sir, Ambassador,” Len said, teeth gritted.

“I’m glad Len has athletic reflexes.” I was. He was doing things with the car I’d expect from Reader or Tim, or myself. But I hadn’t seen this level of competence since we’d been relegated to the Diplomatic Corps.

“We had to take a course,” Kyle shared. “Len got one of the highest scores ever, per Mister Reynolds.”

“We’ll cheer later,” Christopher snapped as we skidded around
yet another corner, narrowly missing a gaggle of students. “If, you know, we don’t die or kill someone on the way.”

I checked behind us. “We still have our pod of gray killer whales behind us. They don’t give up easily, do they?” No police cars were anywhere in the near or far distance. So much for the idea that regular people would be adequately protected. Anyone around us right now was in danger.

“Killer whales?” Oliver asked.

“Don’t ask,” Christopher said. “You get used to the Kittyisms or you go insane.”

“Thanks ever, Mister Happy.”

“Limos are like the car version of whales,” Len said, teeth still gritted, as he spun us toward Jeff’s requested parking garage. “These are trying to kill us.”

I sighed happily. “See? Someone understands me without a translator.”

Jeff grunted. “I’m thrilled. Kid, head for a middle level, not the bottom, not the roof, spin our whale around, and have it ready to go either up or down.”

“Yes, sir.”

“His name is Len,” I mentioned.

Jeff gave me a look that indicated he was close to having to have the jealousy chat with Len. I decided I liked who my driver was now, so shutting up was likely going to be the better part of valor. Besides, I had to cover Jamie’s ears while I screamed as we careened through a barricade, drove up a small ramp, took to the air, and landed to the sounds of Saliva’s “Click Click Boom.” At least we had a good soundtrack going, though I got the impression I was the only one taking the time to enjoy it.

“Kitty, need the eardrums,” Christopher said, wincing. “You’re louder than the music, which is saying something.”

“Don’t care. I’ve needed to scream for what seems like hours now, and couldn’t before.”

“Why not?” Jeff asked as Len spun the car.

“It would have scared Jamie.”

“You screaming your head off now didn’t scare her?”

“No. You’re with us now, so she knows Daddy will take care of it.”

“Oh.” Jeff looked extremely pleased. The car stopped, however, and his expression went hard. “I want us ready. Music off, I want you all paying attention.” Kyle turned off the stereo just as Iron Maiden’s “Dance of Death” was starting. I controlled my complaint
as Jeff shot me the hairy eyeball look. I’d been paying attention but decided now wasn’t the time to protest or demand musical accompaniment.

“Kid, Christopher and I are going to take whoever’s coming, but just in case we get into more than we can handle, I want you heading the car down if you can get out safely, or to the roof if you can’t.”

“Len and I can handle ourselves in a fight,” Kyle said.

“I want you doing your jobs, and that’s driving and protecting Kitty and Jamie. Period.” Jeff wasn’t growling, but he was close.

The boys chose not to argue. I knew they were smart.

Mr. Joel Oliver cleared his throat. “Why don’t you simply ask the baby to get us safely home?”

“Kitty was joking about what she said earlier,” Christopher said, sounding strained. Or maybe it was because they were hoping I hadn’t told Mr. Joel Oliver what he likely already knew.

Oliver, who was sitting between Jeff and Christopher, gave me a small smile. “I know, Mister White. You can stop pretending.”

“No idea what you mean,” Christopher said, while he looked at his hands.

Oliver sighed. “I know you’re aliens. I know you have special…skills. Skills that humans don’t. Mister Reynolds is fully aware that I know he’s the head of the C.I.A.’s Extra-Terrestrial Division.” He looked sad. “No one believes me, mind you, but I know the truth.”

“They print everything you write,” I pointed out.

He shrugged. “They print it because it sells, but my editors don’t believe anything I submit. Most of our readers don’t either, and the few who do are, for the most part, crackpots, to put it charitably.”

“That kind of sucks.”

He chuckled. “Yes, it does. Then again, I get to do what I love, and I know the truth. Everyone can call me a crazed conspiracy theorist or whatever the insult of the day is. But knowledge is power.”

I’d seen this same expression on Chuckie’s face all through school—it was a combination of determination, disappointment, hurt, and defiance. That look on Chuckie’s face had always made my heart hurt. It was somewhat unsurprising to discover I didn’t care for it on Oliver’s face, either.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Jeff said to me.

“I don’t what?”

“You are
not
getting attached to him! Having Mister Joel Oliver
here in the limo is one thing. Thinking of him as your friend is another.”

“I’m not your enemy, Ambassador Martini.”

“Nothing you do helps us,” Jeff snapped.

“Oh, on the contrary,” Pierre said. “He’s helping you far more than you realize.”

“I beg your pardon?” Jeff shook his head. “How is what he writes a help?”

Pierre sighed. “Really, it seems so obvious.” He looked around. “You lovely people are hiding in plain sight. Mister Joel is considered to be writing fiction by almost everyone. Therefore, if the man who routinely shares that Elvis is still walking amongst us also says that the dear people from American Centaurion are actually aliens living as our neighbors, what will the general populace think?”

“That it’s a load of crap.” Pierre had a strong point. “In fact, the more MJO insists we’re not normal, the more likely it is that someone’s going to assume he just feels we insulted him in some way.”

“Too much attention isn’t good,” Jeff protested. “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. Too many people insinuating that we’re…different, and someone’s going to decide that maybe we are.”

Oliver shook his head. “The government is protecting you, Ambassador. If no one was insinuating that something funny was going on with you, then you might have more cause to worry.”

“There were diplomatic plates on some of the cars following us,” Len said.

Kyle nodded. “I’m having them run.”

“Meaning that not everyone in the government is protecting us, which, I have to add, isn’t any kind of a shock.”

The sound of a lot of tires screeching echoed through the parking garage. The pod had caught up to us.

“No problem,” Jeff said, as he and Christopher prepared to get out of the car. “I’m going to find out exactly who’s behind this.”

“How?”

He grinned at me. “Well, I’m hoping by beating the crap out of these people, but I’m open to other options.”

“I like a man who’s willing to experiment with new ideas.” Especially in the bedroom, but that wasn’t relevant at this precise time.

Jeff chuckled. “I love how you think.”

“R
EMEMBER THEY HAVE GUNS
and a seemingly unlimited supply of bullets,” I reminded Jeff before he leaped out of the car.

“We have hyperspeed and an unlimited supply of pissed off,” he replied.

I didn’t need Christopher to chime in. Jeff was bigger and stronger, but Christopher was nastier, especially in a fight. And both of them had been, like me, feeling tied up and put on a major time out. I almost felt sorry for the guys in the whale pod. Until I thought about what they’d done to our other limo full of people.

“Hurt them. A lot.”

“On three,” Jeff said to Christopher. He nodded. “Three.” They were out of the car, doors nicely closed, before any of us could blink.

“He’s not much for patience, is he?” Pierre asked. “Not that I can blame him.”

“No, Jeff’s not all that patient in these situations.” Come to think of it, neither was I. And while I could see bodies flying, there were at least ten cars full of nasty people, and only two of our side involved. “Um, Pierre…”

“I shall guard our little princess with my life,” he said. “Jimmy shared that you fell more on the active side of the house, darling. Besides, I was at your wedding. I’m sure you’re ready to race in there. Just be careful.”

“You stay here,” I said to Oliver in my strongest mean-person voice, which I hoped was channeling my mother’s.

He shrugged. “They’re moving too fast for pictures. I’ll take
whatever ones might be helpful once things are, ah, handled. Until then, I’ve had a trying afternoon and am taking a nap. So to speak.”

“Works for me. Kyle, Len, do what Jeff said, and if there’s trouble, get Jamie out of here.”

“Will do,” Len said.

Kyle grunted. “Let us know if we can help, though. I’d like to kick some ass.” He looked back at Jamie. “Sorry.”

“She’s heard the word already, trust me.” I kissed her head. “You be good, Jamie-Kat. Mommy’s going to help Daddy.”

Who, as I turned back, might indeed need an assist, as there were a lot of guys with semiautomatics firing wildly. A-Cs were fast, Jeff and Christopher were both enhanced, so faster than normal, but still, all it was going to take was one or two random lucky shots and I’d be doing CPR. If we were lucky.

I concentrated, focused on the inner me, and let myself rev for a moment. I had a plan, and I needed to both move at hyperspeed and accurately hit something. I could do either one just fine, but both together wasn’t coming easily without an A-C holding onto me. However, Christopher was cornered, Jeff was surrounded, and no one had gotten out of one car, meaning they were the backup or, more likely, the ones in charge.

I considered taking my Glock, but under the circumstances, I wasn’t confident I could handle it while running, so I decided to let discretion be the better part of valor. “MJO, please close the door behind me.” He nodded; I opened the door, and went for it.

Out of the car and slamming into the one I’d aimed for, almost like a pro. I didn’t wait for an invitation—I ripped one of the back doors off. It felt great and didn’t hurt at all. Then again, pulling and hitting weren’t the same thing.

I looked in to see several people with their jaws hanging open. Three of them had the big-lug look of bodyguards that Kyle carried off a lot better. Two of them, however, were dressed in expensive clothes and looked like they were in charge. I reached in, grabbed both of them by their throats, and pulled them out of the car.

A-Cs were stronger than humans, and I’d inherited that from Jamie, too. I held on and dragged them with me as I ran toward where Jeff and Christopher were. I flung the smaller one to Christopher. “Hang on and use him as a shield.”

Dragged the larger one in front of Jeff and held him there. “Keep shooting, hit your bosses. Try to hit or run us over, and we’ll just break their necks!” This time, I knew I sounded like my mother. Or
I sounded scary crazy. Either way, the bullets stopped, and everyone backed away.

“Run and I kill them. Move and I kill them. Are we clear?” I waited. No one said anything. “Well? Dudes, you choosing that I kill them and you too?”

The man I was holding cleared his throat. “You told them not to move.” He had a slight accent. I couldn’t place it, but it didn’t sound American in any way. He also didn’t sound the way the taxi driver had, disguised voice or not.

“Whatever.” He was right, but why give him the satisfaction of agreeing? At least his minions were well behaved and good at following orders to the letter. “Jeff, hold the trash, will you?”

“Sure, baby. Let’s see who we have here.” He turned my captive around. “No one I know.”

“Hang on.” I walked at human speeds to Christopher and looked at his captive. “No clue. Hang on again.” Trotted to the limo. “MJO? I think we need you. Bring the cameras. Len, Pierre, stay in the car with Jamie. Kyle, come and gather up all the guns. I want them in the trunk of our car.”

Oliver and Kyle followed me out of the limo. Kyle started removing weaponry. “You want them tied up?”

“Yes, but we have nothing to do that with.” A thought occurred to me. What we needed was a pickup, and not the truck kind. “You know who they are?” I asked Oliver quietly.

“No,” he said just as quietly, while he took snaps of every single person. “They’re foreigners, and they’re likely to use the diplomatic immunity card based on their license plates.”

I remembered the lugs in the last car and ran over. They were still sitting there. “Really? Weapons on the ground, butts with the rest of your goon squad, or we kill your bosses.”

“Do what the crazy woman says,” the guy Jeff was holding called.