Alien Diplomacy (45 page)

“O
H MY!” OLGA SAID, STARING
at the basket and its contents.

I looked into the basket, just in case whoever had put this together hadn’t been Pierre, and therefore hadn’t done it right. Nothing looked overwhelmingly familiar, the packaging on everything was in a language I couldn’t read, and it was all arranged beautifully. I relaxed.

“Romanian specialties,” Olga said, clearly pleased. “We cannot find any of these things in America.” She looked up and gave us a very fond look. “I appreciate your agents picking these things up for me, in between their killings of what I believe you call superbeings and protecting us in other, more mundane ways.”

While the men looked uncomfortable, I tried to figure out how Olga knew as much as she did, former KGB agent or not. A thought occurred. “You read the
World Weekly News
, don’t you, Olga?”

“Oh, yes. The reporter, Mister Joel Oliver, he’s quite the investigator.”

Jeff grunted. “You all still think he helps us?”

“Oh, he does,” Olga said. “You must understand—I believe him because I observe. Most don’t, not even those whose jobs are in surveillance. They have other things to do, to think about.” She gestured to the chair. “I…not so much.”

White cleared his throat. “Ah, Madame, I believe we would all relax a bit more if you were to share with us the information you’ve gleaned. In a more straightforward manner, since we all know lives are at stake.” I was impressed and really wanted to know why White
hadn’t nominated himself as our Chief of Mission, since he was clearly the best we had right now with the diplomatic touch.

She beamed at him. “You’re quite good. I do understand why those who had your mission prior were so determined to eliminate you.” Olga looked back to Jeff. “However, we were actually discussing the gentlemen in the taxis.”

“What were the conclusions?” Jeff asked.

I brought him up to date with the semblance of what we thought we might know. “So, we’re still guessing about who they actually are. And Chuckie really wants to know what’s going on with Paraguay.” So did I, of course.

“You really think they’re law enforcement of some kind?” Jeff didn’t look convinced. “They don’t really dress like it from what you’ve all said.”

“You’re used to Chuckie and guys from the big agencies, who always wear suits. Some people do go undercover, and they do it by not looking exactly like their counterparts. You know, like
Serpico
and every other cop show on TV. The way Richard and I did in Paris.”

Jeff grunted. “Let’s not reminisce.”

“Please,” Chuckie said strongly, still shooting us the “shut up, shut up” look. I didn’t know why—Olga seemed to be the most informed person in town, so it wasn’t like we were fooling her.

“Fine. Let’s talk Paraguay.”

Olga nodded. “There are some very…unsavory things going on there.”

“How unsavory, and how involved is the Paraguayan government?”

Olga shrugged. “It’s like your government—some are involved and some are not.”

“Do you feel like naming names?” Chuckie asked.

“Absolutely not,” Olga said calmly. “For me to accuse anyone of wrongdoing would be…undiplomatic.”

“Fantastic.” Chuckie took a long swig of lemonade. “So, I assume you’d somehow like us to play twenty questions and pray we can figure it all out before more people die.”

“More people?” Olga asked. She actually sounded surprised, which both shocked and interested me.

I nodded. “We lost six of our agents, and someone I know supposedly committed suicide last night or this morning. And, yes, I think they’re related, but we have no ideas of how, or even why, let alone who’s actually in danger.”

“Is that all?” Olga asked.

I looked at Chuckie. The migraine was clearly riding shotgun. Checked out Jeff. He had the “here we go again” look on his face I was used to. Turned to White. “What are your thoughts?”

“I believe we have an ally who would like to be very sure before she shares her information,” White said. I noted that both Jeff and Chuckie looked resigned.

“Works for me. Olga, there are also international assassins involved, who’ve tried to kill me more than once. The taxi guys who are apparently local undercover cops are adding into the mix, though we don’t know why or what their game really is. We’ve had three whole phalanxes of extras from the Matrix movies chasing us. I think we have at least one, maybe two, maybe more, supersoldier projects going on, at least one of which is running wild in Paraguay. The Potomac’s cold and gross. And the traffic in this city is nobody’s friend.”

She laughed. “That is very true.” She leaned forward. “As to what you just told me, remember that politics is like a very convoluted ball of yarn. You pull the string, and sometimes what unravels is not what you expect.”

I nodded. “To quote the immortal Buckaroo Banzai, remember…no matter where you go…there you are.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I have more sage sayings I can pull up, if we’re going for Washington Name That Useless Tune or something. However, pulling yarn, while a folksy euphemism, isn’t helping us with this current situation any more than Buckaroo’s wisdom. Hard facts, even if they’re tiny, would be so much more useful.” I looked at my watch. “Because we have, based on Mister Watch here, less than eight hours before the President’s Ball starts, and we have no idea who’s marked for death or not. Please, let’s do Chuckie’s blood pressure a favor and cut to the chase.”

Olga smiled. “Your mother tends to prefer to cut to the chase, as you say, as well.”

“I knew you’d know my mom, because that’s just how it goes for me. So, are you two bitter enemies, frenemies, or compadres?”

“Oh, we are quite friendly now. I find your mother to be an exceptional woman. You are very much like her.”

“Awesome. Then, let’s pretend it’s Mom asking, shall we?”

Olga laughed. “As you wish.”

“Super. Who’s the damn target?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I just know that something very bad will be happening tonight.”

“Awesome. Is Titan Security involved?”

“I’m sure they are.”

“Excellent. Head man is in the know?”

“Mister Marling would be in the know, yes.”

“Cool. Is he working with someone in a position of governmental power or is he cowboying it?”

“It’s difficult to be certain, but I’d assume he is not executing a complex set of plans without some sort of assistance.”

“Booyah. What agencies might be working with Titan on this little assassination plan?”

She laughed. “The C.I.A., of course. Not your division,” she said to Chuckie. “I’m sure several others as well, but they would be…secondary.”

“Fabulous. What’s going on with Paraguay?”

“Exactly what you think. There is a dangerous project being run down there. And while the danger at the President’s Ball is more imminent, the project endangers everyone.”

“Everyone who?” Chuckie asked.

Olga looked somewhat surprised by the question. “Everyone in the world.”

“W
OULD YOU MIND EXPLAINING THAT?”
Chuckie asked.

“Certainly.” Olga shook her head. “Killing one person, even a few persons, is nothing compared to the creation of creatures that are chaotic killing machines and close to impossible to kill.”

“How the hell have they found a parasite to infect anyone recently? We took down the ozone shield on Alpha Four. The few superbeings that still manage to show up and form on Earth our agents destroy. That should mean we wiped out and continue to wipe out all their potential new recruits.”

Olga shrugged. “Allies shift and change, do they not?”

“Are you insinuating Alpha Four’s sold us out?” Jeff asked, eyes narrowed.

Olga looked across the street at our Embassy. Then she looked back at me. “Not really.”

“It’s the freaking former Diplomatic Corps, Jeff. They were in Yates’ pocket. For all we know, they knew he was Mephistopheles.”

Chuckie nodded slowly. “If that was the case, and I agree that it seems likely, then Mephistopheles could have actually had something, maybe much, to do with this.”

“Dude, I’m betting he started it. It would be just like him. For all we know, Mephistopheles might have been able to control the specially created supersoldiers, too, or at least figured he could, based on them being created in his heinous image.” I wondered if they’d all have his same icky breath, then realized that of course they would. All the in-control fuglies had stunk up the joint, so there was no reason to assume their sorta-progeny would have had breath mints added during their creation.

Olga nodded. “You must destroy the project. There are indeed several, but the one in Paraguay is the closest to success.”

“That’s why Titan’s down there, and that’s why they had Caro and everyone being watched. They’re not protecting our congressional fact-finding team, they’re protecting the supersoldier project.”

“Then why try to kill you?” Jeff asked.

I looked at Olga. “Because we get in the way. All the time.”

“And you get in the way the most,” Chuckie said. “You were Enemy Number One per the last major operation.”

“But they wanted Jamie last time,” Jeff said, as he cuddled her protectively. “The assassins would have killed her, too.”

“So we have different groups with different goals. You know, like always.”

“Is it always?” Chuckie asked.

“Often enough. Though, yeah, we usually have one lunatic mastermind per operation. But the Puppet Masters always seem to throw lots of different crap at us, just to keep it fresh and exciting.” I was going to say more, but my phone rang. Mercifully, it wasn’t an unknown number. I stepped away so that I was by the window that faced the Circle and the others could continue our Discussion of Doom. “Hey, James, what’s up?”

“Girlfriend, answer these questions for me, would you? Why did Pierre send six teams to Romania on a ‘mission of vital importance’? Where the hell are you, Jeff, Richard, and Reynolds? And why are your dogs sitting on my feet?”

“The dogs love you, we’re across the street with the Romanian Ambassadress, and Pierre is doing his job. He’s the only one adapting with poise and competence, which may be why you’re confused. Maybe we can make him the Chief of Mission.”

“I wish. I don’t want to even ask why you’re all over there. I just want to request that you come back soon and have some actual intelligence to report when you do.”

“You miss me?”

“Always, babe. However, I’m really missing information, a game plan, or a hope of averting domestic and international tragedy.”

“You were a lot more fun when you weren’t the Head of the Field.”

“I’m designing the posters for ‘Give Us Back Our Old Jobs Week.’ However, that won’t happen if we have nothing. Like we do right now.”

“Working on it.”

“With Romania?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Always am. Time, it’s of the essence.”

“Gotcha, Mister Main Man. We’ll be home soon. Soonish. Pronto.”

I heard voices in the background. “Oh, and Tim says that Walter says that Pierre says that Amy says that some guy named Vance came by to see you. When he found out you weren’t here, he didn’t stay.”

“Why was Vance around, and why was Amy answering the door?”

“No idea. I’ve been in what we call War Room discussions, mostly discussing how we’re all going to fail and die, most likely in a few hours. It’s amazingly unfun to tell our friends in the P.T.C.U. about our lack of results.”

“Be home soon, just have to stop by a park and score some uppers, ’cause boy, does it sound like we all need them.”

“Sounds good, but you don’t need to score for everyone. Lack of information just seems to make your mother more determined to kick butt.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“I’m not either, girlfriend. I know where you get it from.” I heard more voices. “Kevin told me to tell you that he’s viewing this like being down at halftime during the Super Bowl, so I think he’s prepping a ‘go team’ speech. Paul says he’s looking on the bright side of life, too. And Tim says he’s not willing to give up having his own driver.”

“Nice to know. I’ll score extra uppers just in case you and Serene bring the others around to our way of thinking.”

“Come home first and take your dogs with you to the park. They’re really demanding a lot of attention.”

“Rub their tummies. They like that.”

“Trust me, babe, I know. Everyone knows. To the point where I tried to assign some teams to dog petting duty, but your hounds wouldn’t go for it.”

“They’re selective.”

“So am I. I select that we solve our mystery crisis.”

“Demanding, aren’t you?”

“Will demanding help?”

“Who knows?”

“Not me, girlfriend. Not me.”

We hung up, and I turned back to everyone. All of whom were staring at me. “Uppers? Really?” Jeff asked, like he’d believe it.

“We may need them.” I opened my mouth to ask if they’d gotten any more intel out of Olga while I was engaged in witty banter with Reader, but I saw something out of the corner of my eye and turned back to the window instead. There was someone standing on the sidewalk, waving at me.