Alien Diplomacy

by Gini Koch

  “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.”

  CHAPTER 65

  “WOULD 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.

  “What is this, Weird Reverse Day?” I looked closely. Somewhat unsurprisingly, it was Vance. I half-waved
back. He increased his waving from “hey, pay attention to me” up to “me, me, look at me” with some “my price is right, come on down” added in. I looked over my shoulder, just in case. There was no one else he could be sort of spotting from the street. I pointed to myself as Vance did more over-the-top gestures to indicate that I was the absolute object of his focus.

  “New boyfriend?” Jeff asked, jealousy meter only around a five on the scale.

  “Only if pigs are flying, trust me.” I considered my options. “Why isn’t he just coming to the front door?”

  Olga turned her chair and looked out. “Ah. Because we would not allow him in.”

  “Not that I’m complaining about your good judgment, but why not?”

  “His husband is not friendly to us.”

  “Why not?”

  “I honestly have no idea. Perhaps because we don’t, as I believe the Americans like to say, buy his bullshit.”

  “I really like her,” I said to Jeff. “Look, stay up here. I want to go see what my not-at-all-dear friend Vance wants so much that he’s sullied himself to drop by our Embassies.” My purse was still over my neck. I checked: Poofikins and Harlie were in it. Good, ready for the next level of whatever weird action was going on.

  “I’m going with you,” Jeff said.

  “No. I don’t want Jamie around him, exposed, or in the slightest amount of danger if we can help it. And before you start, accept that I’ll win this particular argument.”

  “Fine. Then take Reynolds.”

  Chuckie shook his head. “Not a good idea. I’m not sure what he knows, and I’d prefer to keep a semblance of my cover intact.” He smiled at Olga. “At least, outside this room.”

  She laughed while White finished his lemonade. “That leaves me, Jeffrey. Other classmates already believe Kathy and I are an item.”

  “Too true, Rick, honey. Let’s go make some magic happen.”

  Jeff groaned. “Not this again. You love to torture me, don’t you?”

  I leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Yes, because you punish me so well for it.”

  CHAPTER 66

  WHITE AND I TROTTED DOWNSTAIRS. The boys were indeed guarding the stroller, while drinking lemonade and chatting it up with Adriana. I couldn’t blame them—she was a cute girl. She seemed thrilled with the attention. I had to figure she was—if Olga felt confined by the chair, what would Adriana feel like, confined because of her employer?

  Our errand was explained. “You want us to come with you?” Len asked.

  Part of me wanted to say yes. Then I looked at Adriana’s expression. Nothing but her eyes showed how much she wanted the boys to stay, but her eyes were pleading for it. “No, but pick a window and be ready to run out if weird taxis or other dangers appear.”

  The boys nodded, and the look in Adriana’s eyes changed to relief. She led them to a window where they’d have a good view of the street.

  We left the three of them stationed on Lower Level Lookout and went outside. “Plans, Missus Martini?”

  “Gonna wing it, Mister White. You know, like always.”

  “You do work well off the cuff.”

  “I do my best work when I have no idea of what’s going on, you mean.” I glanced up. Yes, Jeff and Chuckie were on Upper Level Lookout. We were good.

  “Any guess as to what your latest non-friend wants?” White asked as we headed for the sidewalk.

  “Not a clue. I guarantee it’ll be weird, though. That seems to be today’s theme.”

  We stopped speaking as Vance raced over to us. “Took you forever to notice me,” he snapped, as he looked over his shoulder.

  “Most people trying to get my attention knock, ring the doorbell, call, or similar, Vance. So sorry I wasn’t watching for you trying to take flight on the sidewalk.”

  He turned back to give me a dirty look. “I couldn’t risk going onto Romanian soil.”

  “Yeah, ’cause they don’t like you.”

  He jerked. “They confirmed that?”

  I was really glad Chuckie had stayed upstairs. Why give him more reasons to want to strangle me? “No, I just assumed because they’re lovely people with class and manners that you weren’t their type.”

  “Hilarious.” He looked at White. “Speaking of manners, were you ever planning to introduce me to your husband?”

  “Not really, since he’s not here. This is my uncle by marriage, Richard White. Richard, this is Vance Beaumont. He’s married to Guy Gadoire, who’s a tobacco lobbyist.”

  “Ah, one of the Dealers of Death,” White said genially. “It’s a pleasure.”

  Vance rolled his eyes. “There are worse things than tobacco.” He gave White an appraising look. “Nice to see that you’ve got someone to occupy your time while your husband’s working.”

  I didn’t rise to it. White seemed to feel us appearing to be having an affair was a good cover. Whether he had a brilliant reason for this or just enjoyed torturing Jeff on occasion, I couldn’t guess. “Whatever. How did you know where I was?”

  “I’d been by, your house girl said you were out walking your dogs, I saw two guys who looked like bodyguards leave the Romanian Embassy walking four dogs. They took them across the street and went into your Embassy. I looked around to see if you were in one of the Embassies here. You were, I spotted you, couldn’t go in, and so I signaled you.”

  I wondered if I should share that Amy was the second-highest-ranking female in our Embassy at the moment, or if I should just save it for the President’s Ball later on tonight. Saving it would have a certain satisfaction to it, as long as I warned Amy first. Without the warning, she’d knee Vance in the balls faster than he could blink.

  “Gotcha. So, what’s going on, and why are you sharing it with me?”

  “Do you know about Jack?”

  “Yes, he offed himself, presumably not with cigarettes, so you’re off the hook on that one. You coming to tell me how distraught you are when you couldn’t have been bothered to be there for him when he might have needed you, or just coming to ensure that I know the news?”

  “Neither.” Vance stepped closer. “Look, can we get out of the street?”

  “Why not come into the Romanian Embassy with us?”

  He gave me a dirty look. “I’m not here because I like you.”

  “Thank goodness we’ve cleared that up. Why are you here?”

  “I need your help.”

  Leslie had called last night for the same reason. Why the people in my Washington Wife class felt I was their go-to girl for assistance was beyond me. “Why? And why me?”

  “Why you? Because you’re not a real insider.”

  “Gee, thanks for the flattery. It’s not really your forté, is it?”

  Vance glared at me. “You haven’t been here long enough to have made all the compromises and alliances that would prevent you from helping me. And the why is that I need help.”

  “Fine, I’ll bite. What’s going on, and why do you think I’m going to care?”

  “I think Jack was murdered.”

  So did I, but I wasn’t sure I should say so. I went for the smooth and noncommittal response. “Oh?”

  Vance nodded. “And I’m pretty sure I’m next.”

  I managed to refrain from saying that I hoped he was right. Reality said that, loathsome or not, I didn’t want Vance murdered. “Why so?”

  “Because I know what Jack figured out.”

  “And that is?”

  “He’s right, there’s going to be an assassination attempt tonight.”

  “At the President’s Ball?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why there?”

  Vance shrugged. “Because it can’t be canceled. So the target will have to attend.”

  “Do you know who the target is?”

  Vance nodded and opened his mouth as White slammed into me, taking us both to the ground. So I didn’t actually see the bullets hit.

  CHAPTER 67

  I HEARD THE BULLETS HIT, HOWEVER. Alo
ng with Vance screaming his head off. The sound of screeching tires was also pretty loud.

  Things happened fast, as White rolled us into the street to avoid a stream of bullets. As my perspective went over and over, I saw Vance run into the Romanian Embassy, as Len and Kyle ran out, which coincided with a taxi pulling up next to us.

  “Get in!” the driver shouted.

  White grabbed me and flung us both inside. We landed on the floor, him still on top of me. Well, we landed on something big and furry that was lying on the floor.

  The car burned rubber and drove off. The animal under me scrambled to get out of the literal dog pile. I chose to assist as fast as I could. The dog jumped onto the backseat as I got to my knees and risked a look around. The boys were running after us, guns out. Malcolm Buchanan was on the scene, also running toward us, but from Sheridan Circle Park. Unsurprisingly, he also had a gun out. It wasn’t a sniper rifle, however.

  As the taxi flung itself into the Circle, I could just see Chuckie in the distance, coming out of the Romanian Embassy at a dead run. I assumed he’d had to physically restrain Jeff, for which I was thankful. Jamie was going to be a lot safer on Romanian soil right now, as opposed to out in the street where bullets were flying.

  Bullets were still being sent toward us, confirming White and I were the targets, not Vance. Said bullets weren’t coming from my guys or Buchanan, which meant whoever was trying to kill us was somewhere above ground level.

  “Get down!” the driver shoved at us, as he flung the car into a jerky serpentine pattern. White grabbed me and pulled me back down to the floor. The dog that I’d landed on flattened on the rear seat. “Are either of you hit?” the driver asked.

  “Hi Moe, how’s it going? Curly and Larry along for this ride?” I hadn’t seen the other taxis during my short perusal of the chaos.

  “I believe our driver said his name was Ishmael,” White said. “And I wasn’t hit with bullets. Missus Martini?”

  “Not leaking either. Thanks for the save, Mister White.” I felt something cold and wet shove against the back of my neck. “Dude, call your Cujo off, will you?”