by Gini Koch
The troubadours weren’t going to be doing a lot of talking. Raj felt that they didn’t want to try to influence this particular crowd for a variety of reasons, most of them having to do with our wanting to look as beleaguered by the press as possible. Wasn’t sure this was our wisest strategy, but since my idea would be to take a gate and avoid all of this, I kept my thoughts to myself.
We were about to go out the door when a thought occurred that I felt obligated to share. “Um, guys? Where, exactly, are we going? We didn’t drive here.”
“You wound me,” Raj said. “And Pierre . . . when I tell him about your lack of faith . . .” he shook his head. “You’ll probably have to console him for hours.”
“Wow, your sarcasm knob goes from zero to eleven really fast.”
“It does. Let’s move, everybody. Stay with your line, and be sure it’s one line to each car.”
The East Room wasn’t in the East Wing. Shockingly for D.C., it wasn’t in the West Wing, either. No, we were in the official White House Residence section. This meant that we just needed to go out the North doors, down a few steps, and get into the gray limos that, now that I looked, were idling outside.
In theory, anyway.
In reality, there were a ton of reporters with microphones and cameras camped on the steps. Wanted to ask why they were allowed to be right at the President’s front door, but figured it was standard procedure. Or else they’d been snuck in by people who didn’t like us. Possibly both. Had no time to question or argue, so just rolled with it.
Pulled my phone out of my purse, which I had over my neck now, because this was just like going into battle. In case Jeff or someone tried to reach me, I’d never have a chance of hearing the ring, but I could feel the vibration.
“Just a moment,” a man’s voice called. Turned to see a variety of big, serious-looking men in suits descending upon us.
“Yes?” Raj asked.
“Secret Service, sir. The President’s asked us to escort the Ambassador and her retinue out. Looks like there may be some trouble getting you folks safely into your cars.”
“Thank you, we totally appreciate the help.” Ensured I sounded droolingly grateful because I was.
“Even with us helping you, it’s going to be a mob scene, folks,” the Secret Service man in charge said. “So be prepared.”
Everyone shared their preparedness and two Secret Service agents opened the doors.
We were out the doors and instantly it was like every movie or TV show where the attorneys are escorting the star witness or the famous mobster who’s on trial—total bedlam. Crowds at a One Direction concert were probably better behaved than the press corps that was out here.
Having A-Cs on the perimeters along with the Secret Service was nice because, regardless of their body types, they could block like the biggest linebackers out there, due to their being naturally stronger than humans. The Secret Service guys were all, to a man, big. However, unless we were willing to toss the press aside en masse—which I was, but knew without asking no one else would go for it—we had to shove through semi-politely.
Our names were being screamed, mine and Mrs. Maurer’s the most, along with questions I couldn’t even hear. “Hang on, dear,” she said to me as we all got jostled, Secret Service assistance or no Secret Service assistance.
“Thought I was supposed to be guarding you.”
“It’s a mutual thing.”
Most of the questions were being handled by Culver and Gadoire, who were in the lead, along with their A-C protectors, following behind three Secret Service men who were carefully shoving the crowd back. Couldn’t hear a word either one of them were saying, nor make out the questions being shouted at them. For all I knew they were saying we were from Pluto and bent on world domination or the greatest hope for mankind. The smart money, however, was on a lot of “no comments.”
“Are you sleeping with the man who has his arm around you?” This was shrieked by a woman nearish to me and Raj, who indeed had his arm around my waist so that I wouldn’t fall and end up trampled.
I was able to identify the shrieker because she was close to us. Of course, a woman had yelled comments intended to incite a riot right after Jeff was sworn in and Cliff’s car had exploded, thankfully without him, us, and Chuckie inside it. That woman had been Annette Dier.
Might be coincidence, she might just be a reporter. Or she might be something else.
Stopped walking and turned on the camera function on my phone. Got a good snap of the reporter accusing me of adultery.
“What the hell are you doing?” she yelled at me.
Took another couple of shots. “I like to remember all the rude people I’ve met.”
Raj moved me on as a Secret Service man near us shoved her and those around her back. We’d made it down all of three steps so far. Fantastic. At this rate, we might get home by dinnertime. Then again, it was around noon, so maybe we’d be later.
Another woman’s voice reached me. “You’re all murderers!” Sounded vaguely foreign. Wasn’t sure if this indicated foreign press or not.
Looked around and managed to snap a couple of shots of the woman I was fairly sure was accusing us of murder. She named no names, so there was that.
“Why are you taking tourist snaps?” Mrs. Maurer asked.
“For later.” Took more random shots of the crowd, as many as I could get, while we were tossed around like rag dolls.
Seemed like forever, but the Secret Service in the lead managed to get to a limo and get the door open. They helped Culver, Gadoire, and their two A-Cs in, protecting their heads just like cops do when someone’s being arrested or “helped” into a squad car. Four of us already in relative safety was good. Eight of us still out wasn’t.
The press surged and got between my line and the next limo. “Missus Maurer, are you changing political parties?” a female reporter asked. Sounded legit. Took her picture anyway.
“I can’t hear you, dear,” Mrs. Maurer lied. “I’m sorry.”
The Secret Service in the back chose to go sideways and take our last line with them, so they actually reached the third limo before we could get to the second. I could tell because we were still up on the steps, so could see Vance, Serene, and their two troubadours being helped in.
A microphone got shoved into my face. “Ambassador, why were you trying to kill innocent people yesterday?” a male reporter asked.
“We weren’t.” Snapped his picture. “We were focused on saving innocent people from a bioterrorism attack. As the F.B.I. will confirm or already has confirmed.” I sincerely hoped.
Raj shoved the man away without seeming to, and now that all the Secret Service men only had the last four of us to deal with, they were able to form a human chain and move everyone back.
We were at the limo, and the door was open. “Get Nancy in first,” I shouted to White. “And you, too.” He nodded and the Secret Service got them in, doing the head protection move again.
I was almost there, just a step away from getting into the car, when a woman shoved through a little gap between Secret Service men. “How does it feel to get away with murder?” she asked, as she shoved a mic in my face.
“I haven’t murdered anyone.”
“Yes you have.” Her eyes flashed. “You killed Ronald Yates, Leventhal Reid, and Herbert Gaultier.”
Once again, my recurring nightmare of standing before a congressional hearing paid off. Ensured I looked amused and affronted and did the only thing I could think of. Put my phone up and took her picture. With the flash on.
“She’s trying to kill me!” she shouted as she staggered back. But I grabbed the mic.
“You’re high, and highly misinformed,” I said clearly into the microphone. “I have absolutely not killed the people you named, and I think you need to consider your career choice if this is what you think passes for journalism.”
With that, I tossed the microphone back to her. It hit her in the face. Which might possibly have b
een an accident. But I sincerely hoped no one would ask me that question in a court of law.
Then the Secret Service helped me and Raj into the car, the door slammed, and we headed for the relative safety of the streets of D.C.
CHAPTER 63
AFTER THE SECRET SERVICE ran off the mob so that we could drive away, slowly, things were relatively calm. At least inside the limo. Outside it was still bedlam. Hoped we hadn’t started some kind of riot on the White House lawn.
“Why were you taking pictures like a tourist?” Mrs. Maurer asked. For the second time, really. Chose not to point this out. There I went, flexing my diplomatic muscles. They needed the workout.
“Good question,” White said. “I was wondering the same thing.”
Was about to answer when my phone rang. “Hi Vance, you guys okay?”
“Yeah. Wanted to let you know that Serene and I figured out what you were doing. We both took video of the crowd.”
“You amaze me. Good job.”
“I’ll try not to be insulted by that.”
“Good. Wasn’t an insult.”
“Says you.”
We hung up and I took the time to look at our driver. “Hey, I know you. Burton Falk, right?” He one of the human agents Buchanan used whenever he needed someone to handle driving and other sundry tasks. As far as I knew, Falk was part of Centaurion Division, but I figured it was better not to ask.
“Right you are, Ambassador.”
“Who’s driving the other limos, the rest of your team?”
“Yes. Everyone’s in good hands.”
“Good to know. Where’s Malcolm?”
“He’s busy, but asked me to make sure that you were taken care of. But I’m as curious as everyone else about your photo-taking obsession.”
“Geez, everyone’s a critic. Vance and Serene figured it out, but maybe that’s because he’s more paparazzi conscious than the rest of you and she’s an imageer. I took pictures so that we could see if anyone in that mob was actually one of the Yates progeny we’re trying to find.”
“Oh!” Chorused by everyone else in the limo in unison.
“Makes sense,” Raj said. “Sorry for not catching on right away.”
“It’s okay, you were busy being mauled. And I suggest the rest of you use that excuse, too.”
Once off the White House grounds we made it back to the Embassy in short order. Our extra troubadours went to the basement to gate back over to the Science Center. Falk and the other drivers didn’t stick around, either. They took one of the limos and drove off. Clearly they took their cues from Buchanan and were learning his Dr. Strange ways.
I had my own ways, however, and they said it was time to go to the kitchen.
Hugs all around from Pierre, along with the news that Team Announcement weren’t back yet. However, Pierre confirmed that they’d checked in and everyone was accounted for and unharmed.
Grabbed a quick snack—Lucinda was in the Embassy and a gigantic plate of her brownies were sitting out on the counter, begging to be eaten. The others followed my lead, even Culver. Glasses of milk were also made available, which meant we could all have a couple more brownies without issue. Thusly fortified, I considered our options.
“I think we need to see what Serene, along with Stryker and his team, can get from the pictures.”
“Let’s go to them,” Serene said. “They should be back in the computer lab by now, wouldn’t you think?”
“Oh, they are, darling,” Pierre said. “Believe me, they are.”
“Lillian, Guy, do you want to go to the Zoo with us?” I wasn’t suggesting we take a breather. We’d bought the building “next door” and had remodeled it to give us more space. We showed off the Poofs and Peregrines to the public at random times on the first floor, but the rest of the building was used for personnel, including Hacker International.
Culver shook her head. “I really do need to go to my office, and I should also check on Abner.”
Realized I hadn’t seen her husband, Abner Schnekedy, at any time over the past day. Culver had wisely kept her maiden name for business. “He wasn’t brought to the Science Center?”
“No. He went to his mother’s. He’s fine, but I should be a good wife and check in.”
Far be it for me to question anyone else’s marriage parameters. “Okay. Before you go, what were the questions you and Guy got from the mob?”
“The usual. Were you mad bombers, why was Nancy Maurer with us, why were we with you, things along those lines.”
“We replied with no comment, my dove,” Gadoire said. “But cheerfully.”
“Oh good.”
“However, like Lillian, I feel I must not assist with your next tasks. Just as dear Lillian does, I expect calls to my office, and I’ll need to handle them.”
Culver nodded. “What’s the party line? ‘Ask the F.B.I.’? Or do you want us saying something more? Or less?”
I’d gotten so used to the fact that they were working with us on this one that the question only registered at about a three on my Shock-O-Meter. “Raj, I think that’s your area more than mine. You, Pierre and Vance all came up with something, right?”
“Right. Before you leave, why don’t the five of us have a short meeting to get our stories straight?”
Nods all around. “I’d like to join you,” Mrs. Maurer said. “I think it’s going to be important that I’m able to say the same things as the rest of you with confidence.”
“Kitty, I’m going to stay at the Embassy when the meeting’s done, to help out however you guys need,” Vance said, as he held out his phone. “Just have the computer guys get this back to me as soon as they can.”
“We will,” Serene said, as she took the phone from him. Decided not to ask why she’d taken his phone instead of letting me do it. Right now.
“I’ll leave you here in good care,” White said to Mrs. Maurer, “while I accompany our young ladies.”
Pierre ushered those staying in the kitchen to the larger table and Serene, White, and I headed up to the second floor and the raised, enclosed walkway that connected the Embassy to the Zoo.
The walkway was made of steel, concrete, and bulletproof glass, for which I’d been grateful more than once. Looked down at our street as we walked across. “No protesters are out.”
“Give them time,” White said. “They’re probably regrouping just as we are.”
“Speaking of which, I’m glad it’s just the three of us going up to see the guys, Kitty,” Serene said.
“Why? You don’t want the others looking at the pictures and video we took? They all know you’re an imageer.”
“Yes, I know, and I’d be fine with them helping on the pictures. Besides, I’m sure we’ll all end up looking at the pictures and video more than we want to.”
“Speaking of which, did you take Vance’s phone to try to get an early read?”
“Yes. I’m testing a theory.”
“Which is?”
She sighed. “I’ll tell you about it shortly, because it relates to what I was saying just now. I’m glad it’s just us because I think you’ve forgotten something important that Benjamin wanted you to do. But I haven’t.”
“Probably. What?”
“It’s time for you to make contact with Chernobog.”
“That’s great, but I have no idea how, and unless Hacker International, you, and Olga have figured that out, I might as well just click my heels together and make a wish.”
“Well, we’ll find out what progress has been made when we get upstairs,” White said.
“What if said progress is none?”
“Then we figure out another way,” Serene said.
“Open to suggestions here.”
Right on cue, a phone rang. Only it wasn’t my phone, Serene’s phone, White’s phone, or Vance’s phone that was doing the ringing.
CHAPTER 64
DUG THE BURNER PHONE out of my purse as the three of us stopped in front of the elevators on the Z
oo’s second floor. “Uncle Peter?”
“Miss Katt, you did a lovely job today.”
“Thank you. Thanks for not letting anyone shoot or blow up my husband.”
“You’re welcome. There was limited activity of our kind related to his excursion today.”
“Nice to know. They saving it up for something better?”
“Indeed they are. I’m glad you’ve realized.”
I actually hadn’t, but decided now was the time to give it a shot. “They’re going to hit us at the National Convention?”
“That seems to be the case, yes.”
“Oh goody. Something to look forward to. Um, did you or Uncle Victor accept a contract on anyone there?”
“No.”
“Did Siler?”
“You would have to ask him.”
“Fantastic. Thanks for the heads up. So, anything else I should know about?”
“Only that we are leaving tonight.”
“You are?” This wasn’t good news. Of course, my feeling upset that the top assassins in the world were leaving town was indicative of just how bad things were and how far out of my depth I felt.
“We will be back next week. However, we have business elsewhere.”
“I’m so glad you’ll be back, I hope. And I don’t want to know about your other business. Do I?”
“No, you do not. Keep your head down while we are gone. I fear our business might have been ordered to remove us from your proximity.”
“Or it could be legit and that means you need to take the job.” I was counseling an assassin about killing someone. Go me. Would have asked how my life got this complicated but I already knew. Just hoped they were going to kill someone evil versus someone good. Decided not to guess the odds on that being the outcome.
“Correct.”
“Can I ask you an out of the blue question before you go?”
“Certainly. I do not guarantee an answer, of course.”
“Of course not, but you’re still more forthcoming than anyone else I work with.”
He chuckled. “Perhaps because I see you differently than most.”