Alien Diplomacy

by Gini Koch

  The other thing in our favor was that the taxi drivers had no idea where we were going. Sadly, I had no idea, either. “MJO! You need to get us to our destination.”

  He ran in front of us and took a sharp left. We ran down an alley that was too small for a car. Oliver ran us down to another turning point, this time we went right. He slowed down. “Carefully,” he said as we neared the street.

  A taxi whizzed by. I was positive it was one of the ones after us. Oliver peered out. “Go!” He took off again, going back the way we’d come. The boys and I followed him.

  We hit the intersection and the light was thankfully with us. We dashed through as the taxis came around again. They were now on the wrong side of the road, meaning they couldn’t pull up to the curb, at least not without causing a major traffic incident.

  Oliver was puffing, but we were still running at a good clip, him in the lead, then me and Jamie, with Kyle flanking us, and Len and the stroller bringing up the rear. As “Parade” by Garbage came on, the calm part of my mind mentioned that this had to look hilarious. The rest of my mind suggested we laugh about it later, when we were actually somewhere safe.

  We turned again and seemed to lose the taxis. For about half a block. “Coming toward us,” Kyle shouted, and this time the taxis were again on our side of the street.

  All three taxis were heading for us, but they were several cars away when Oliver ran into traffic. The squealing of tires was impressive, but he wasn’t hit. The rest of us followed him. I was shocked, and grateful, but just like in the movies, the cars slammed on their brakes to avoid hitting us. Amid a great deal of cursing from the various drivers and the distinct sound of slamming metal, we dashed on.

  “Two of the taxis slammed into each other,” Len shouted. “But one’s still coming.”

  “Where the hell are the cops in this city?” We were fleeing in the streets with tires squealing all around us, yet there were no cops around, implied, or suggested.

  “No idea,” Kyle shouted back. “But I don’t smell a whiff of bacon.”

  I managed a laugh but decided I’d tell Kyle how much I enjoyed that little saying once we were safe somewhere. Oliver turned right, and I could see the bus stop, and the bus, in the distance. We all sped up.

  The remaining taxi reappeared, driving on the other side of the street, but keeping pace with us. That meant he was going slowly for the street, and there was again a lot of honking and cursing. I didn’t know if all the attention we were drawing from the various drivers made us safer or not, but it certainly wasn’t bringing out D.C.’s finest to investigate. I didn’t want to be questioned by the police, but that sounded a lot better than whatever the taxis had in store for us.

  I chose to hope that the only paparazzo around was running ahead of me. The thought of this little foot race making any kind of news was enough to make me want to go into witness protection. Not that there were any law enforcement officers around to suggest it to.

  We reached the bus stop as the bus pulled up. Oliver ushered me and Jamie on first. The bus driver stared at us. “You folks in a hurry?”

  “Just didn’t want to miss you,” I gasped out as I rummaged around for some money.

  Oliver shoved a twenty at the driver. “For all of us.” He and I found seats in the back where there were no other passengers, while the boys got the stroller collapsed and it and themselves inside in record time.

  I took Jamie out of the Fleeing Position. She cooed at me. “That’s my good little babycat,” I said as I kissed her nose. “You’re my little ready-for-action girl, aren’t you?”

  I looked out the window as the bus doors closed and we started off. The taxi driver was still across the street. He tipped his cap to me and drove off.

  The bus drove past the street where the other taxis had collided. They were still in the street, but the drivers were nowhere around.

  Len cleared his throat. “Are you and Jamie okay?”

  “Yeah. How about you guys?”

  “Nice workout,” Oliver said with a laugh.

  The boys, however, looked sheepish, worried, and upset, and they didn’t answer my question. I sighed. “Guys, really. You’re still learning. It happens.”

  Len shook his head. “We’re supposedly fully trained. If you’d let us, we would have gotten into one of those taxis.”

  “But I didn’t let you.” I patted his hand. “You did great.”

  “How so?” Kyle asked, clearly as upset as Len. “If it wasn’t for Mister Joel Oliver here, we’d all be dead.”

  I patted his hand, too. “But we’re not. We call this learning on the job.”

  “Our job is to protect you,” Len reminded me.

  “Yeah, it is. My job is also to protect myself, my baby, and anyone with me. I’m better at that job because I’ve been doing this longer.” Happily, no one was with us who could contradict me. “MJO, were our, ah, friends the same ones you’d spotted earlier?”

  “Sadly, no. At least, not that I could tell.”

  We all looked out the windows again. “I don’t see anyone or anything suspicious.” The men chimed in with the lack of suspicious. “So I guess we can sort of relax. For the moment anyway. So how long are we on the bus for?”

  “Several miles,” Oliver replied.

  “I’m willing for that to take a while.”

  No sooner were the words out of my mouth than the bus pulled over. Doors opened, no one got on or off. We looked at each other. The bus started up again. And stopped at the next block. Same thing.

  We lurched along, stopping at every block, listening to the other passengers mutter to themselves and each other about this ridiculous situation until my brain kicked. “Oh. Um. We can relax and let the bus driver drive the way he knows how to do. Best. And all that.”

  The men all gave me the “you so crazy” look. However, I hadn’t been talking to them. Jamie sighed, and I could have sworn she gave me a “make up your mind” look. But the bus continued on, this time not stopping except for traffic lights and legitimate bus stops.

  As we made our way, more passengers got on. We were no longer alone in the back. We all scrutinized said passengers, but none of them seemed either interested in us or a threat. Well, none of them were interested in us, but a couple of them made smiley goo-goo faces at Jamie. They appeared to be people who liked to smile at cute little babies, so we all smiled back.

  “Do you want to call the ambassador?” Len asked quietly.

  “No. Why stress him out any more than he undoubtedly is?” I didn’t want to admit that I was actually trying to avoid a lecture or a fight. Jeff had wanted to come get us, which now seemed like it might have been the smart plan. But, oh, well. Improvisation was my middle name, right?

  I focused on feeling calm and relaxed, so that if Jeff was monitoring he’d know we were all okay. My phone rang. “Do I want to know?” Jeff asked.

  “Probably not. Not in a good place to fill you in, either.”

  “Everyone’s safe?”

  “Yes. Still heading to the shopping area.”

  He sighed. “Fine. Try to not burn down the shops.”

  “Oh, ye of little faith.”

  Jeff snorted. “Never forget, baby, I know you.”

  CHAPTER 12

  WE JOSTLED ALONG. To be polite I put my iPod back into my purse. I didn’t think discussing the limo’s explosion, the potential assassination attempt, our chase through the streets of D.C., or who Mr. Joel Oliver thought was following him were wise topics, so we chatted about the weather.

  Len, Kyle, and I weren’t in favor of the cold. Oliver liked it because wearing coats gave him more places to stash film, media cards, cameras, and so forth. I refrained from making snide remarks, proving that at least Aunt Emily’s Diplomacy for Beginners class was paying off.

  Len asked why Oliver still used film, and we got a brief but informative lecture on why some shots still came out better using traditional photography methods and why some didn’t. Oliver carried w
hat seemed like every type of camera on him, so he was ready for any shot, at any time, whether it be artistic and up for a Pulitzer, digital and catching a celebrity without her underpants on, or anything in between.

  In a short time we were at the shopping area, got off the bus, and started strolling around. “Okay, no one got on the bus with us, no one got off the bus with us, I see no taxis with poorly disguised drivers around, so if whoever else was following you is still on your tail, they’ll need to park. So, who is on your tail?”

  Oliver looked around. “I believe they’re with the C.I.A.”

  Len shook his head. “Mister Reynolds doesn’t tail you, and he doesn’t have people tailing you.”

  “Ah, but you’d say that, even if he did,” Oliver said pleasantly. “However, I don’t think they’re on Mister Reynolds’ side of the alien question.”

  “There are no aliens.” Hey, I was going to do my best to get us back to some sort of security level.

  Oliver chuckled. “Of course there are. You’re married to one. But to make you feel better, let’s just refer to them by the nice name everyone uses around here. I believe those who have targeted me are not friendly to American Centaurion. Nor are they friends of those who are friends of American Centaurion.”

  “That doesn’t exactly narrow it down.”

  “Whoever’s in charge will be at the President’s Ball.”

  “To watch the fireworks, make sure nothing goes wrong, or to pull the trigger?”

  “I have no idea. My informants were all clear about the ball being the place where the major situation is going to go down. And while I doubt whoever’s in charge is the person or persons following me, I got a glimpse of shadowy figures and nothing more.”

  “Then why do you assume they’re C.I.A.?” Len asked.

  “It’s a safe bet,” Oliver said dryly. “Plus there was…something about them…”

  “Lurking in nice suits?”

  He shook his head. “No. C.I.A. field operatives are trained to blend in.”

  “They didn’t blend if you saw them.”

  Oliver stared at me. “That’s a very good point.”

  I considered this. “You think they wanted you to see them?”

  “Why would they want that?” Kyle asked.

  Len pursed his lips. “To flush him out, send him to whoever he thinks will protect him or want his information.”

  Oliver looked chagrined. “And I did exactly that.”

  We were in front of Cartier’s, and I stared at the nearby dress shops. “Did you? Because I know who you wanted to run to, and he’s not here or even close.”

  “So does that mean they thought he was?” Kyle asked. “Or did they think he’d run to you, Kitty?”

  “Or did someone blow up our limo for an entirely unrelated reason?” It was a legitimate question. In my experience, there was never just one scheme going on around us at any time.

  “Until we know otherwise, I’d assume that there was a connection,” Oliver said. “Unless your limousines routinely explode.”

  “Not unless someone’s trying to kill us. And who were the dudes in the taxis working for? Were they part of the blow-us-up gang, or were they merely trying to kidnap us for different, nefarious reasons?”

  “No idea. I don’t believe we have enough information.”

  “We should have grabbed one of them.”

  “I don’t think either Mister Reynolds or the ambassador would have liked that,” Len said.

  “Oh, they’d have liked it if we’d gotten some decent, accurate intelligence out of the experience.” Ah, well, another potential opportunity missed. I chose not to worry about it and instead made a command decision. “Let’s hit this shop.”

  I forged in before the males could protest. It was small and loaded with expensive clothes. I had a little trouble getting in the door with the stroller. None of the salesgirls came to help, but, fortunately, Len was there to handle it.

  For some reason, I expected to get someone asking me if I needed help finding anything. I wasn’t exactly dressed up, but then again, I had three men with me, two of whom looked official, and we were in a town loaded with foreign dignitaries. But it was as if I weren’t there as far as the salesgirls seemed concerned.

  I looked at a few dresses, held them up and stared in a mirror, but I didn’t feel enough love to try them on. The boys were on lookout, but Oliver was trying to help.

  “That’s pretty,” he said for the tenth time as I held up the tenth dress I wasn’t enamored enough to try on.

  “It’s okay. I guess.” I liked shopping with Reader. I could trust his taste. I didn’t think Oliver or the boys wanted me to look bad, but they weren’t former top international male models, either. Football players and paparazzi had one thing in common, though—anything revealing I held up got the thumbs up sign. Great. I needed to look like an ambassador, or at least the wife of one per Mrs. Darcy Lockwood, not like I was auditioning to be the next Bond Girl.

  I looked around. “Excuse me, could I get some assistance, please?”

  One of the girls deigned to leave the clutch of salesgirls and come over. “What price range are you looking for?”

  “I’m looking for something that looks good.”

  “Yes. How much are you planning to spend?”

  I gave her a long look. She looked about twenty-one or so. “You ever seen Pretty Woman? The movie with Julia Roberts?”

  She sniffed. “No, I don’t watch old movies.”

  “Really? Wow. It’s probably considered a classic of some kind now. You really should rent it or catch it the next time it’s on TV.”

  “Why is that?” she asked, sounding uninterested in the reply.

  “Because I’m going to drop a freaking fortune on clothes today. But not in this shop.” I dropped the dress I was holding on the floor, grabbed the stroller, jerked my head at the males, and headed for the door.

  Len opened it as one of the other girls came over. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but our store is just likely too expensive for someone of your means.”

  “Excuse me?”

  She gave me a patronizing smile. “There’s nothing in here that’s less than a thousand dollars.”

  “And your point is?”

  “People who ride the bus usually can’t afford to shop anywhere but Ross,” the first girl snapped. She was holding the expensive dress I’d dropped and looked affronted by my treatment of it.

  “Girls, I point you again to the educational film, Pretty Woman. Now, excuse me, we supposedly poverty stricken need to stop sullying your fine establishment.”

  As I said this, I heard the sound of a camera snapping. Sure enough, Oliver was taking pictures. He grinned at my expression. “Being with you is good for my career.”

  “How so?”

  He shrugged. “I should get the lead with this story. Boutiques refusing to serve an ambassador? That’s always good for the front page.” He got some quick snaps of the salesgirls. “You mind waiting outside while I get their names?”

  “Not a problem,” I said cheerfully as I looked at their expressions, which were all kinds of horrified. “Wouldn’t want them misspelled so their parents miss out on how well their daughters listened to their lessons on politeness and treating everyone pleasantly.”

  Len and Kyle escorted me out while the salesgirls started complaining that they’d been misunderstood, and my money was just fine. I took a deep breath. “Hanging with Mister Joel Oliver has its benefits.”

  “Yeah, but you still don’t have a dress, we don’t know what’s going on, and we have to take the bus back to the Embassy,” Kyle pointed out.

  My phone rang. “Hey, James, what’s up?”

  “Hold your position, girlfriend.”

  “Why?”

  As I asked this, a gray limo pulled around the corner and slid to a stop in front of us. “Because your ride is trying to find you.”

  CHAPTER 13

  “IT’S HERE, I THINK ANYWAY.” A man
I vaguely recognized as one of the many human operatives I hadn’t enjoyed got out of the driver’s side and tossed the keys to Len.

  “Good. Now, there’s a surprise inside.” Reader sounded pleased with himself.

  “There was a surprise inside my last limo. I didn’t care for it.”

  “You’ll like this one. I hate the dress shop you were in, by the way. Great for going back to Vegas, completely inappropriate for the President’s Ball.”

  “You don’t hate it as much as I do. I didn’t buy anything, don’t worry.”

  “Good.”

  “I wish you were here. I need Gay Fashion Support. Desperately.”

  “I know. And, like Reynolds, I’ve got a fix that will help you not only with shopping but with the Washington Wife class, too.”

  “Oh, yeah? There’s an Uzi in the backseat?”

  Reader laughed. “Nope. Something much, much better.”

  “Yeah? What?”

  “You’ll find out. Love you, babe.” Reader hung up.

  The driver opened the door, and a slim, reasonably attractive man got out. I felt my mouth drop open. He smiled at me. “Kitty, darling, you look radiant. Motherhood agrees, I see.”

  “Pierre!”

  “In the flesh, darling, in the flesh.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  He grinned. “What I do best, darling. Saving the day.”

  I shoved Len at the stroller and ran and gave Pierre a big hug. “I can’t express my joy.”

  He patted my back. “So Jimmy said, darling.” He took my shoulders and held me at arm’s length. “Still have our wonderful, feminine figure, I see.” Pierre shot a derisive look at the dress shop. “But clearly Jimmy was right. You need a guardian before you get lost in the forest of heinous fashion choices.”

  I introduced Pierre to the boys as the limo’s former driver, and his A-C shotgun, wandered off and then came right back, armed with another limo filled with A-Cs. Clearly Alpha Team had decided we weren’t to be left alone, and Jeff had decided that Len was required to function as a shield when we weren’t driving.