by Gini Koch
“Why is this happening?” Mona asked quietly, while the reporters chattered on about terrorist bombings going off all over. “I mean this kind of effort, right now?”
“That is the correct question,” Olga said. And whenever Olga tossed off a really obvious hint, I paid attention.
Unfortunately for those around me, I did my best thinking while running my mouth. I could give in and freak out about how half the people I loved could be blown up or I could continue to give calm and in charge a go. Really wanted to start freaking out, but instead went with thinking.
So many weird and scary things had happened this afternoon, but the weirdest had to be the call from Nancy Maurer. Start there.
“Missus Maurer called to warn me to leave the protest. But she called after the bombs had gone off there, and after our Embassy had been gassed. So why did she bother?”
“Maybe she didn’t know what was going on, or where,” Culver suggested. “Just that something bad was going to happen.”
Lorraine nodded. “She didn’t sound like she was what I’d call in the know.”
“More like she’d heard something by accident and was trying to stop bad things from happening,” Claudia said.
“That would make sense,” Raj said, looking at his phone. “I’ve been researching the Cleary-Maurer campaign while we’ve been here, and there’s a lot of press about how Missus Maurer is supporting her boy. It’s clear that they’re using her in a public relations capacity, but that also means they’re bringing her out to a wide variety of events, including a few ‘closed door’ meetings where they’ve had her around for photo ops.”
“They’re going for the full-on flag, Mom, and apple pie approach,” Oliver said. “Emphasis on mom, since they’re using her to show that ‘decent women’ support them.”
“But how would she have known about bombs? Would the Cleary-Maurer campaign really be willing to try to blow up their competition?”
“You’d be surprised what politicians will do to win office,” Culver said dryly. Figured that, out of everyone in the room, she’d know best.
Vance cocked his head. “You know, Kitty, she said that you needed to stop taking an interest in the election and, if you did, ‘they’ would leave you alone.”
“You think this is all related to the election?” Serene asked. “Even the bombs at NASA Base?”
“If Kitty, as the Ambassador, is making the statement that she is against the Cleary-Maurer ticket, then the assumption would be that all the A-Cs are also against the Cleary-Maurer ticket,” Mona said.
“I don’t tell them how to vote.”
Abigail snorted. “Yes, you do. You’re the Ambassador, and the Pontifex and Alpha Team agree with you. That’s all it takes—we tend to vote as a bloc.”
“Really?”
Every A-C in the room nodded. It so figured.
Yet something else I was getting to learn on the fly. This I knew for a fact hadn’t been in the gut-busting Briefing Books of Boredom I’d finally managed to get through. They were a blur of points of parliamentary procedure, maps that merely looked like eye charts combined with mazes, and an unreal amount of if-then statements, but a statement pointing out that every A-C voted the party line would have caught my eye.
Buchanan got off his phone and rejoined us. “Miraculously, no one was hurt. Anywhere. Best we can tell is that these were all warnings, a sort of ‘see what we can do?’ kind of effort. Designed to frighten and intimidate without the bad side effects of killing people.”
“Our enemies are starting to attempt to be humane in some way? What’s this world coming to?”
“Why kill a registered voter?” Culver said. Like everyone else in my circle, she had a sarcasm knob. The horrifying fact that I was likely to become friendlier with this woman than I’d ever planned or wanted waved merrily at me. Chose to ignore this horror due to all the other crap going on. I’d save it for later, when I was feeling good about things, just to bring me back down to reality. “They want Cleary-Maurer to win, and you can’t win if the swing voters are all dead.”
“I wouldn’t count on the ‘no harm’ mindset to last,” Buchanan said. “The assumption is that they’re trying to show that they mean business to get what they want without killing . . . but that they did this to show that they can and will kill if needed.”
“Ah, so business as usual, gotcha.”
He managed a small grin. “Probably. Proud of you, all of you, for not losing it, by the way.”
“We’re good under fire,” Amy said. “But Kitty was trying to figure out what’s going on and I think Vance and the others have it right—it’s related to the elections.”
“Okay, so we oppose Cleary-Maurer. So what? We haven’t endorsed whoever’s running against them, so what does it matter?”
Everyone in the room gave me the “really?” look. Was glad Jamie and the other kids weren’t here—wouldn’t have wanted them to join in on this look and I had a feeling they would have.
“Oh, fine, fine. Yes, okay, Senator Armstrong is running and likely to get his party’s nomination. Senator McMillan’s already endorsed him. And we’re close to both of them and while we haven’t said anything outright yet it’s only a matter of time before we start waving Armstrong for President flags.”
Culver, Vance, and Nathalie exchanged a look. “Ah . . .” Nathalie said. “Kitty?”
“Oh goody, something else I don’t know but am going to find out. Thank God I live to learn and all that. What am I forgetting or not aware of? Other than the fact that both presidential candidates are going to be from Florida, I mean. Which is weird, when you think about it.”
“I’ve got some news you’re going to find weirder,” Vance said. “Like who’s being discussed, seriously discussed, as Vincent’s running mate.”
Took a deep breath. “Lay it on me.”
Heard some steps behind me and turned to see everyone we’d been told were at Langley enter the room, my husband amongst them. As relief washed over me, I examined everyone to make sure Buchanan was right and no one was hurt. Oh, sure, I looked at Jeff the most, but he was my husband, so that was only right.
Jeff was tall, broad, and built, with dark brown wavy hair and light brown eyes. He was, point of fact, the most gorgeous thing I’d ever seen, which was the biggest reason I was looking at him the most. So I was a normal girl.
His expression matched the rest of those entering the room—stress, combined with worry, relief, and anger. So pretty much how everyone already in the room probably looked, too. However, Jeff was also looking a little uncomfortable.
Vance came up next to me and put his hand on my shoulder. “Meet the most likely vice presidential candidate on the Armstrong ticket, Kitty. You might know him as your husband.”
CHAPTER 8
I LET VANCE’S STATEMENT sit on the air for a bit. Because it wasn’t computing. At all. While I stood there in shocked silence I got to observe.
I observed that I had nothing I could say that wouldn’t sound extremely undiplomatic. I also observed that everyone was passing little signals to others in the room—Mom and Kevin to Buchanan; Chuckie to Len and Kyle; Mom again to Jakob, Oren and Leah, and then again to Khalid; Chuckie to Amy and Caroline; Kevin to Raj and White; Cliff and Horn to Culver and Nathalie; Reader to Lorraine, Claudia and Serene, and then to Nathalie; Kevin to Len and Kyle; Chuckie to Olga, Adriana, and Oliver; Gower to Doreen, Abigail, White, and Raj. It was a regular Secret Sign Fest in here.
The only ones not joining in on the fun were Jeff—who was cringing and trying not to show it, meaning that, regardless of whether or not my face was hiding my inner thoughts, my emotions were incredibly clear—and Christopher.
Christopher was the only person of our new arrivals acting normally. Well, normally for him. He was glaring. Patented Glare #1, to be exact. It was such a relief that I wanted to hug him. However, that would mean I’d have to move and speak, and right now, I didn’t trust myself to do either.
&nbs
p; “Nice way to tell her,” he snapped at Vance.
“When were you planning on it?” Vance asked, sarcasm knob heading toward ten. “At the national convention?”
Managed to find my voice. “April Fools?” Hey, a girl could dream.
“It’s the end of July,” Christopher said. “So, no. Nice try.”
“Why are Christopher and Vance the only ones talking?”
Mom sighed. “Everyone’s waiting for your expected reaction.” She shook her head. “So, let’s get it out of the way so we can get down to business.”
“Can you get out of it?” This I directed to Jeff.
He grimaced. “Not really. It’s . . . political.”
Managed not to offer a snide reply. Jeff couldn’t be any more thrilled about this than I was. Went for the only thing I could think of—what I’d been thinking since Vance had shared the exciting news. “Has anyone considered the, ah, ramifications of the kind of . . . scrutiny a presidential or vice presidential candidate goes through? I mean really considered?”
Reader nodded. “It’s why we were all at Langley today. Discussing. Everyone feels that things can be . . . contained.”
Considered whose sanity to appeal to. Decided the guy who’d spent a lot of years sniffing around was the best choice. “MJO, can you perhaps share your extremely educated perspective on why this is likely to be the worst idea ever in the history of the world?”
“I believe that the situation could be less threatening than you believe it to be, Ambassador,” Oliver replied.
“I think it’s wonderful, Kitty,” Mona said. She appeared to be the only other person in the room who wasn’t clued in or getting secret signs passed to her. She looked quite pleased for us. I normally credited her with a hell of a lot more insight.
“It is?”
“Yes.” She beamed. “Why don’t you and Jeff go into one of the smaller salons and you two can discuss it as husband and wife.”
Ah. Mona was possibly more clued in than everyone else. And my good friend. Because I needed to talk to Jeff and I couldn’t risk saying anything in front of Culver, Cliff, or Horn, and presumably Mona realized this. Oliver probably had, too—he’d called me Ambassador and I was fairly sure he’d been lying about things being less threatening than I was imagining.
Khalid took my elbow and ushered me and Jeff out of this room, down a hall, and into a much smaller room that looked like a waiting room. “This is the antechamber to the Ambassador’s offices,” he said with a smile. So it was a waiting room, go me. “He’s not here at the moment, so you should have privacy.” Khalid nodded to us and closed the door.
Jeff opened the door leading to the Bahraini Ambassador’s office. “No one there.” He closed it, came over to me, pulled me into his arms, and hugged me tightly. His hearts were pounding. I hugged him back and felt his body relax a bit. “Are you, Jamie, and my mother alright? I wanted to call but Chuck and your mother wouldn’t let me.”
“Yeah, we’re fine. Because my ‘uncles’ are in town and gave Officer Melville and Malcolm the scary heads-ups.” Took a deep breath and moved out of our clinch. “Who in God’s name thinks you becoming Senator Armstrong’s running mate is a good idea?”
“Everyone, apparently.” Jeff ran his hand through his hair. “It wasn’t my idea.”
“I guessed. Whose idea was it?”
He sighed. “Don’s.”
“Senator McMillan suggested you? Is he high?”
“No. He thinks it will give voters something positive to choose.”
A-Cs were deadly allergic to alcohol, so I didn’t drink any more because I didn’t want to risk killing Jeff, or have him unable to kiss me. However, right now, I wanted the stiffest drink imaginable. “It’s going to give the press a really good time.”
“You don’t think I’m a good choice, do you?” Jeff asked in a low voice.
“Huh?” Looked at his expression—he looked disappointed and unconfident. This wasn’t an expression I was used to seeing on my husband’s face. Which meant he was reading my emotions incorrectly. Then again, my main emotion had been shocked horror. Maybe he was reading me right but interpreting me wrong.
I hugged him again. “Frankly, I think you’re a great choice. Jeff, you’re a natural leader and you always have been. It’s not you moving into a bigger position of power that worries me. It’s the fact that we have some scary skeletons in our closets.”
“Everyone knows I’m an alien.”
Wow. Due to our enemies giving Jeff a huge amount of Surcenthumain, what I thought of as the Superpowers Drug, he was amazingly enhanced. This meant a lot of things, but one of those things was that Jeff could practically read my mind. Backed up again and looked up at him. “Did you get hurt and no one wants to tell me about it?”
“No, why?”
“Because I’m not worried about you being ‘outed’ as an alien any more than I’m worried that our Supreme Pontifex is going to be ‘outed’ for being gay—both are very common knowledge by now and why both Club Fifty-One and the Church of Intolerance are so very fond of us. I’m worried as hell, though, about the fact that you and I used to do some really dangerous work, and that work included killing a variety of very bad people.”
“Oh.” He sounded relieved. “That’s what you’re so upset about.”
“That you’re not upset about it worries me. A lot. But not nearly as much as Mom, Chuckie and James not being completely worried about it.”
“We were discussing how to keep our former jobs under wraps, or how to discuss them, when the bombs went off.”
“Cannot wait to hear the plan so I can laugh a really bitter laugh while Mister Joel Oliver pokes ever so many holes into said plan. However, are you really okay? You all look fine, but you’re not really, um, reading me very well right now.”
Jeff grinned. “I’m stressed out of my mind, baby, and before you point out that I’ve had a stressful job since I was twenty, this is a very different kind of stress. This is stress based on doing another thing I really don’t want to do that I’m also not sure that I can do well. It’s affecting my ability to read anyone clearly, even you. I can get the dominant emotions, but not the nuance. It’ll pass.”
“Good. And to reassure you again since you’re not picking up nuance, you’ll be awesome as vice president, should you get the nomination, and we all survive the campaign, and you get elected, which I in no way think is a given. The survival. I’m fairly sure that if Senator McMillan thinks you’re the right choice for VP then you’re the right choice.”
Jeff smiled, pulled me to him, and kissed me. He was the best kisser in, I figured, the entire galaxy, and as always when he kissed me, I stopped thinking about anything else other than his mouth. Well, I thought about his body, too.
He ended our kiss and chuckled. “Thanks, baby. As long as you believe in me, I can do anything.”
“Glad to be of service. I’d love to suggest that we continue this part of our discussion and go rip each other’s clothes off, but we currently can’t go home.”
Jeff laughed. “I love that, no matter what the situation, your laser focus on the priorities remains intact.”
“It’s a gift.”
CHAPTER 9
KHALID WAS WAITING for us down the hall and we rejoined the others. Everyone was eating, and I made sure Jeff got a snack, too.
While he was eating I sidled over to Reader, who was standing a little apart from everyone else. He hung up his phone as I came over. “Tim was checking in, girlfriend.”
“I wasn’t trying to see if you were calling another girl, James. But are they okay?” Looked around. “Where did Malcolm go?”
He grinned. “You’re the only girl for me, and you know it. And yes, everyone is still alive and unpoisoned. Cleanup’s going to take longer than we’d like, and Buchanan went to oversee that and to ensure all tunnels near our bases are devoid of other evil stuff. And yes, before you ask the question I see your mouth opening to ask, he’s wearing pr
otective gear and has Field team escorts.”
“Good, good. I just like to be sure.”
“Yeah, I know. You okay?”
“Physically, yes. We were very efficiently herded here. But emotionally? Hell no. I can’t believe anyone thinks that we can have Jeff in a major campaign without a lot of nasty things we don’t want revealed to be waved at us on the six o’clock news.”
“I know. And as hard as this is to believe, everyone who’s pushing Jeff to go for the nomination knows the risks.”
“Awesome. Can’t wait for our lives to be ruined in, what, less than a month?”
He rolled his eyes “We think we can mitigate the risks, Kitty. How stupid do you think we are?”
“Not stupid at all, which is why I’m having trouble with the notion that all of you somehow don’t think that the very first thing that the paparazzi are going to uncover is that we killed Leventhal Reid.”
I could manage to say the name without shuddering, but it took effort. Reid had been, hands down, the most frightening person I’d ever dealt with in my life, and that included a lot of fugly monsters, politicians with scary delusions of grandeur, and the most cutthroat corporate raiders out there.
The last year had been nightmare filled for me because we’d discovered that the Bad Guy of Bad Guys, aka the Mastermind, had figured out how to clone people and had made a new, improved version of Reid. I’d met his sorta fourteen-year-old, rapidly-aging-to-maturity self as we were bringing down the secret research and cloning facility. And unfortunately, that clone had escaped.
As had the clone of Amy’s wicked stepmother and the Brains Behind Many Master Plans, LaRue Demorte Gaultier. She’d looked around twelve a year ago. How “old” they both were now was anyone’s guess, but my money was on mid-twenties.