Alien in Chief (12 page)

CHAPTER 22

I
STARED AT THE
blank piece of paper. Then I turned it over, just in case. Nope, still blank on both sides. “Um, Lizzie? Are you sure this is what Olga wanted you to give to me?”

“Yeah. I watched her write something and fold the paper up and everything.”

Chuckie put his hand out and I gave the paper to him. He sniffed it. “I'm not sure, but I think she's using invisible ink.”

“Why's Olga going all
National Treasure
when this was just going across the street?”

“I'd assume it's because she wasn't sure that Lizzie would arrive here safely,” Raj said.

“She was with the top two assassins in the world and Nightcrawler. How much freaking safer can you get?”

“Ansom Somerall just called to try to get you to give her up to him,” Evalyne pointed out. “And he knew her real name. Apparently Mister Siler wasn't exaggerating the need for her to remain inside the Embassy.”

She turned to Lizzie and put on her Extreme Protector of Important Politicians Face. It was a scary face if she wanted it to be, and she did. “I'm sure Kitty wants this information. I'm now asking officially, as part of the Secret
Service—just what did you do that required you to take asylum on American Centaurion soil?”

Lizzie clutched Fofo and sort of shrank back into the couch. “I already told Kitty,” she said, sounding scared but defiant. “I beat up some bullies.”

“They're the kids of a lot of rich, important bigwigs and I'm sure at least a couple of their parents are best buds forever with Ansom Somerall and probably a host of our other enemies. And I'd like to ask everyone to relax while I point out that Lizzie is holding a Poof which willingly bounded over to get attached to her.”

In some circles, this statement would have earned me a big “so what?” from the peanut gallery. However, everyone, Secret Service included, had learned that the Poofs were good judges of character. How they knew who they could trust I had no idea, but they hadn't been wrong yet.

So the room relaxed a bit, and heads nodded. However, there were still some suspicious looks being shot Lizzie's way.

Of course, I knew that Alexander was using Poofs as his spy network in the Alpha Centaurion system. However, it felt like a stretch to assume that Fofo had decided to get attached to Lizzie to spy on her. The Poofs could have done that without one of them making their Poofy Love Connection.

Jeff grunted. “I agree, baby.”

I knew he wasn't getting an emotional signal from me this time, but a mental one. Due to the Surcenthumain our enemies had given him during Operation Drug Addict Jeff had mutated and was not only the strongest empath in the galaxy, but he was also able to read minds. Mine mostly, but he was working on reading the kids and, due to what had gone on during Operation Civil War, Chuckie.

“We need the names of those you attacked,” Joseph said.

“And we'd like them now,” Evalyne added.

“No,” Jeff said calmly, but with his Commander Voice on.
“Lizzie will share that with me and Kitty when she's feeling safe enough to do so. I'd like everyone to stop making a fourteen-year-old girl feel threatened in the very place where she's been taken to be protected. And that's a Vice Presidential order, in case no one's clear.”

The Secret Service agents all nodded, and while they all didn't actually take a giant step back, they looked like they'd done so in their minds.

“Thanks,” Lizzie said in a small voice. “I'm not trying to withhold information. It's just . . .”

“That your father plainly didn't want you sharing. I have a feeling he knew we'd get it out of you, though. I think he didn't want to give me a chance to say no, that's all.”

“What if you want to say no when I tell you all the names and stuff?”

I shrugged. “Like I told you before, as long as you're not the bully, I'm always going to back the person protecting the underdogs.”

Chuckie gave me a fond smile. “True enough.” He looked at the Secret Service agents. “We're all good here. Why don't you make sure that the extra guard on Amy is in place? We'll let you know who we think might be getting ready to be upset with us in a little while.”

The four of them nodded and headed out of the room. Lizzie didn't seem any more relaxed. Shot a look at Raj, who grinned at me, then turned to her.

“So, Lizzie, what country is your school in?” he asked, Troubadour Tones set to Extra Soothe.

“Portugal.”

“Really?” Raj asked, still working his troubadour magic.

“Yeah. I know, it's kind of a weird choice, but my dad went there, too, and the school is totes great. Well, mostly.”

“Beautiful location, I'm sure,” Raj said.

Lizzie nodded and seemed normal now. “Yeah. It's got everything. Even horses so we all learn to ride.”

“We have Poofs, Peregrines, chochos, ocellars, dogs, and
cats, so we're competitive. So basically your school's great other than for the Junior Skulls?” I asked her. Chuckie straightened up.

“Yeah,” Lizzie said with a little grin. “They make everything suck as much as they can.”

“Is that what they call themselves?” Chuckie asked.

“No, that's the nickname I gave them. I already told Kitty,” she added, sounding worried.

“I'm not objecting to the nickname, I'm sure it's apt.” Chuckie seemed intent, but not in a threatening way. “Why did you pick that name, though?”

She shrugged. “Seemed obvious. I mean, we do get to see movies and stuff. Their parents are ambassadors and lobbyists and tycoons and kings and queens. Literally. The American kids are the ringleaders, but it's not like any of them are cool to anyone who isn't ‘at their level'. And a couple of them love bragging about how their fathers are world leaders and are in the Skull and Bones and crap like that.”

“I'm just going to spitball it and say that they're the kids of people who hate us, because that's just how our luck rolls.”

Chuckie nodded. “Yeah. Lizzie, I'm sorry, but we really need the names of the kids, the Junior Skulls. Can you write them down so we have the list?”

“Sure.” She rummaged in her messenger bag, seeming unperturbed now, pulled out a pad of paper and a pen, flipped a few pages in, and started to scribble quickly.

“What are you thinking?” Jeff asked Chuckie quietly while Lizzie wrote away.

“I'm thinking exactly what Kitty said—that we're going to recognize several of the last names.”

“You know, during Operation Defection Election, I asked Vance about the full roster of the Dealers of Death. I wonder how many of their names are going to show up.”

“Speaking of which,” Raj said, “you need to get Mister Beaumont on board with going down to Florida with us.”

“I'll call him now.” Pulled out my phone and hit his speed dial. That Vance and I had actually become close enough friends that he
had
a speed dial on my phone was one of the many things I'd have said never would have happened in a million years during Operation Assassination. Many things were so different now from when we'd first gotten to D.C. that it would easily take me a month to list them all.

“Hey, Kitty,” Vance said as he answered. “What's up?”

I gave him the
Reader's Digest
version of the various situations. “So, we were wondering if you'd be up for a rail trip.”

“Oh my God, are you kidding me? You're offering me a chance to be on Rail Force One and Two and you think there's even the slightest chance I'll say no?”

“Hey, it's possible.”

“How soon do you need me to be ready?”

“Well, as to that . . . honestly, I think we could use you right now. Can you pack while I send a couple agents to bring you over?”

“Trouble's brewing, huh? Well, I'm your man, Kitty, you know that.”

“Yeah, you do always come through for me. So, pack, say goodbye to Guy for a while, and I'll send some agents over to collect you.”

“Gotcha. See you shortly.”

Raj was already assigning a couple of Field teams to pick Vance up as I got off the phone. “Wow, you're Mister Efficiency, aren't you?”

He chuckled. “I just believe we'll need Mister Beaumont's help as quickly as we can get it and, under the circumstances, sooner is better than later.”

“You mean you don't want anyone to get a chance to shoot him with a bullet or an arrow, get him on their side instead of ours, or give Guy Gadoire a chance to ask to come along.”

“Especially what's behind door number three.”

“Cannot argue.” Guy Gadoire was Vance's husband and the head lobbyist for the tobacco industry. He spoke in a French accent we all felt was faked, and always seemed to be channeling Pepé Le Pew. Guy and Vance were both bi, meaning they viewed literally anyone as fair game.

Jeff grunted. “One of them here is bad enough.”

“Oh, they're alright once you get to know them.”

“Ha. Ha ha ha. I laugh about the two men with the most voracious sexual appetites out there being ‘alright'.”

“They haven't done anything untoward since you all embarrassed the hell out of them while simultaneously scaring the crap out of them during Operation Assassination.”

“They haven't
done
anything, no. What they'd
like
to do, on the other hand? I'm fully aware, as is every other empath within a fifty-mile radius.”

“Ah, are they going to be creepers?” Lizzie asked, sounding worried and grossed out.

“Not to a girl your age, thank God,” Chuckie said.

“Not if they want to live,” Jeff added.

“If they look at you wrong or try to touch you, you let us know,” Kyle growled, as he indicated himself and Len.

“That goes for anyone,” Len added.

Lizzie shot them both a grateful look.

“Boys, I'm glad you're ready to treat Lizzie like part of the family and your new little sister. That's awesome. However, you're all kind of maligning Guy and Vance. They have standards, and they're not into underage anything, or forcing anyone to do what they don't want to do. And, I might add, you guys are the ones bringing up the potential sexy times. Vance didn't mention anything like that.”

“Out loud,” Jeff muttered.

Lizzie giggled. “You sound like my dad any time there's a school dance.”

“Good to know he's a good father,” Jeff said.

“Let's look at your list,” Chuckie said, possibly to change
the subject. Lizzie handed it to him. Chuckie stared at it, and heaved a sigh.

“How bad is it?” I asked finally, since he wasn't sharing.

“On what scale?”

“One to ten. Ten being worst for this scenario.”

Chuckie shot me a rueful grin. “Eleven.”

CHAPTER 23

“F
ANTASTIC.
Truly, I cannot wait to hear the names Lizzie's given us.”

“Before we all get to that,” Len said, “shouldn't we figure out what Olga wanted us to know?”

“And get Adriana ready to go, too,” Kyle added. “I don't think anyone's called her to get her on board with the latest activity.”

“We might as well wait for Vance to go over the list,” I said as I stood up. “He'll know the nuances and details and we can all learn what fun we're going to be having together.”

Jeff sighed. “If we must.”

“We must. In the meantime, hang on.”

Trotted into my bedroom. I wanted to get a blow-dryer, but it occurred to me that now might also be a good time to check in with the King of the Elves and see what, if anything, he might want to share.

Went to our huge walk-in closet and looked at our hamper, which was, as far as I'd been able to figure out, one of Algar's portals. “So, any words of wisdom, warning, or advice you want to share with me before we head for Florida?”

A rakishly handsome dwarf with tousled, dark, wavy
hair and eyes that were unnaturally bright green appeared, sitting cross-legged on top of the hamper. Well, Algar was a dwarf by human standards. What he was by Black Hole Universe standards I, so far, hadn't asked.

“I suggest you stop stalling.”

“I'm not stalling. I'm asking you for any guidance your free will allows you to share with me.”

He sighed. “You know I won't tell you anything.”

This was a gigantic whopper of a lie. Algar told me things all the time. Sure, they were in a form of code, usually via music on my iPod or vague hints disguised as verbal sparring, but he still told me things frequently. And during Operation Civil War he'd been practically throwing help my way. Which I'd needed, of course.

But he was a Free Will Fanatic of the highest order, and so he didn't want to
admit
that he was helping me. It was our little fiction, but since ACE had taken up residence in Jamie's mind, I'd become more demanding that Algar toss a few bread crumbs my way.

Decided to go with something easier. “Any suggestions for how to read Olga's invisible letter?”

“Lemon juice and heat, just like you're thinking. See? You don't need to ask me for help.”

“I know, but I enjoy the verbal sparring so very much. Want to give me a hint about what's coming?”

Algar cocked his head at me. “Why are you asking me this right now?”

“Because we have people from your favorite solar system about to drop by, assassins all over the place, a teenager who appears to need protection probably from a host of our mutual enemies, and we're about to take the train down to Florida to attempt to keep NASA Base open, among other things.”

“Sounds like business as usual for you.”

“Aren't you hilarious? Are we taking the right team
members? Are there others we should leave at home, so to speak, or bring along?”

He shrugged. “I think you've chosen well, if that's what you're asking.”

“It's not, and you know it. You're really testy. Did I disturb you from a chess game with Death or making your bed or something?”

“Nothing that interesting. You left a far more interesting discussion to come into your closet and harangue me.”

“See, that discussion's going to happen in a couple of minutes. I'm delaying the gratification. You should be all proud of me. And I decided to spend my delayed waiting time with my favorite non-helpful Operations Team Member for the fun and reassurance you're not giving me.”

“What possible reassurance would you need? Everyone's following your plan.”

“I'm going to let both of us contemplate just how often my plans don't go as I envision. Sure, they work out in the end. But it's the excitement and twists, turns, and horrific surprises along the way to the end that I'd like to get a handle on.”

“Talk to Chuckie if you want to discuss time, the past, or the future, not me.”

“Huh?”

“Seriously, why are you so worried about this? Just been out of action too long?”

“I'm going to seriously resent that comment, especially coming from you. I'm worried because I'm leaving my children here. Is that a wise thing to do?”

“I try not to tell any of you how to parent. And you should be happy about it—if I'd meddled like that, none of the A-Cs would be on Earth.”

Managed not to ask if he'd interfered that way in another universe though. My experience over the past years said that, with the infinity of the multiverse, he'd done so at
least once. Though, of course, while managing to pretend that whatever he'd influenced was achieved through everyone's free will.

“I'm not asking you if time-outs work on a child of Charlie's age or when to give up trying to make Jamie take a nap. I'm asking if my children will be safer here than with me and Jeff.”

“Ah. Safer here for certain.” Algar gave me a bright smile I felt was totally faked.

“So, you're saying they won't be safe here, either. Should I send everyone to Dulce?”

“If it makes you feel better.”

“Will it, in point of fact, make my children and the other children safer?”

Algar sighed again. “No. Look, you need to get back to things. All I can tell you is that while you'll handle everything you need to, the real threat isn't anything you're used to dealing with.” With that he snapped his fingers and disappeared.

Managed not to mention that he was a real jerk because I was sure he knew and I also didn't want to make him not want to toss those inscrutable bread crumbs to me whenever he felt I actually needed them. Heaved my own sigh. “Thanks.”

As I turned to leave the closet, something caught my eye. A pair of what looked like night vision goggles. We definitely didn't have these hanging around in our closet. Picked them up. Yep, goggles. “Um, thanks again. I'll just . . . put these in my purse for later. I guess.”

Waited. Nothing happened. Presumably these were for later. Or Algar was amusing himself. Possibly both.

My purse was on our dresser and I dropped the goggles into it on my way to the bathroom to retrieve my blow-dryer. Flushed the toilet while I was in there, just in case. The soundproofing was good enough that it was unlikely
anyone would hear the flush, but that way I wouldn't be lying at all if I had to tell the others that I'd been gone so long because I'd had to go.

Rejoined the others, blow-dryer in hand. Chuckie grinned. “Going full
National Treasure
, are we?”

“Yeah, we are.” Took the blank paper from him and went into our kitchen and to the fridge. “Some lemon juice. And a Coke.” Opened the fridge to find a small bowl of lemon juice and an ice-cold bottle of the really good Coke up from Mexico, the one with real sugar in it. Clearly Algar wanted to kiss and make up. “Thank you very much!”

Grabbed the juice and the Coke. Got the bottle cap off and had a nice, long drink. Thusly fortified, plugged the blow-dryer in, got a couple of tissues, laid the paper on the sink, and started to lightly brush it with the lemon juice.

Chuckie joined me. “Mountain Dew,” he said to the fridge. Got his soda and joined me. “Want me to do the drying?”

“Sure, if you want the thrill of helping.”

The others trooped in. Jeff explained to Lizzie how to work the fridge. She asked for a Dr. Pepper, was thrilled when it appeared, then wanted to get everyone else's drinks. Couldn't blame her—that had pretty much been my reaction to how the Elves worked, too.

So, while Lizzie acted like the most enthusiastic waitress ever and got everyone's nonalcoholic beverage of choice—and had it explained to her that no one in the entire Embassy was allowed to drink alcohol, her especially, so she shouldn't bother asking for it when the adults weren't around—Chuckie and I worked on my Secret Letter.

Somewhat to my surprise, this method worked. But what we got as a result of it working didn't make things any clearer.

“Can you read it?” I asked Chuckie as we stared at letters that made no sense.

“No. I want to say it's in code, but I don't think it is.” He studied it more closely. “I think it's in a form of Cyrillic.”

“I thought Romania used the same alphabet that we do.”

“They do, now. And have for well over a hundred and fifty years. But that's what I think it is.”

Jeff sighed. “Is Olga just having fun at our expense?”

Thought about it and what I knew about Olga. Olga liked the “old ways,” so there was a good chance she'd learned Cyrillic. After all, she'd have needed to know it, Romanian or not, since the KGB had likely used it. And I had to bet she missed the action.

Took the leap. “She wants to come along.”

“Excuse me?” Raj said.

“I think Olga wants to come along with Adriana. And so she sent us a super-secret spy letter written in a language only she could translate. Meaning we need to ask her if we can come over to have her translate the letter she wrote. And then she'll suggest, to make it easy for us, that she and Adriana come over here.”

Len started to laugh. “What?” Jeff asked him.

“I called Adriana while Kitty was in your bedroom. She said that her grandmother won't let her come over right now. That has literally never happened before, and I know they aren't mad at us for some reason. I think Kitty's right. Shall I call back and share that we need translation services?”

“Please and thank you. And, of course, offer for you and Kyle to help them over here when they insist that we shouldn't go there.”

Lizzie cocked her head. “Why wouldn't Olga have just asked to go along? Why all the James Bond stuff?”

“She likes to have her fun.”

Chuckie stared at the paper. “Len, wait.”

“Okay.” He stopped dialing. “Why?”

“I don't know if we're right. Because Chernobog could translate this, too.” He looked at me. “So why was our first thought to call Olga?”

“Because it's not written in binary code.”

Raj jerked. “What if this letter isn't an elaborate ruse to get Olga over here, but, in fact, a message she expects us to give to Chernobog? And, if that's the case, we're not doing whatever it is Olga either expects or possibly needs us to do. And that could cause her, and us, problems.”