by Gini Koch
“We already have too many in the know,” Mom said, but she sounded resigned, not really mad. “Stop gleefully adding in more.”
James shrugged and shot Mom the cover boy smile. “We’ll handle it, Angela. We always do. And we’ll get your Kitty back, too. I promise.”
Mom nodded and I felt a lump in my throat. She wanted me to leave. Guess I couldn’t blame her—I wasn’t really her daughter. Martini squeezed my hand.
“That’s good, but remember—they’re both my Kitty,” Mom said. “Don’t think I’m willing to lose one over the other. Just call me an overprotective mother bear. In any and all universes.”
Martini let go of me and I went to Mom and hugged her. “Thank you.”
She hugged me back, her breath-taking bear hug. “It’ll all work out, kitten. You focus on getting up to speed on the kind of things you do in this universe, and I’ll keep the wolves at bay as long as I can.” She let me go and jerked her head at the others. “Get moving. Raj, you’re with me. Everyone else, get to Dulce and get everyone’s stories straight. Pronto.”
Those still in the room nodded and started through the shimmering air. They faded slowly into nothingness, which was kind of fascinating and icky at the same time.
“Are they being diced up or something?”
“No,” Martini said. “The gates don’t work that way.”
Christopher sighed. “Stop coddling her. We didn’t coddle our Kitty and she more than managed. They work via the same method the Operations Team—which we’ll explain to you later—uses to get us whatever we need pretty much before we need it. A subatomic, spatio-temporal warp process, filtered through black hole technology causing a space-time shift with both a controlled event horizon and ergosphere that allows safe transference of any and all materials. All gates also use a form of harmonic frequency. Floater gates, such as the one we’re about to go through, require more intense harmonic frequencies in order to exist and hold. This is why all gates have to be calibrated before anyone or anything goes through them. There’s more to it, but that’s the gist.”
“Interesting.” Everyone stared at me. “What?”
“We’re not used to you grasping the scientific stuff so . . . quickly,” Claudia said.
“In other words, you all think I’m an idiot. Got it.”
“No,” Charles said. “You haven’t had to hide how smart you are in the world you come from, because you’re married to me. But in this world, you carried on your use of, ah, protective coloration, and it’s second nature to you now.” He grinned. “It works well for you and allows you to make logical leaps that others miss, so it’s a good thing.”
“Oh. I have to be a ditz again? Fantastic.”
“Not a ditz. Just be yourself, Kitty. From what I can tell, you’re still the you I know here, just with some different life experiences.” Charles looked sad for a moment, then he nodded to Martini and walked through the shimmering.
“No one here thinks you’re stupid,” Martini said as the others followed Charles. “Like Tim said, you’ve been the Head of Airborne for Centaurion Division, the Co- and then Head Ambassador for our principality, and now you’re the wife of the Vice President. And in all that time, you’ve saved the day, and all of us, over and over again.”
The room was empty other than Singh, Mom, me, and Martini. Mom nodded to us. “We’re going to go stress out the Secret Service and hospital staff. Don’t dally.” She and Singh left, closing the door firmly behind them.
“Why would we dally?”
“Ah . . .” Martini looked embarrassed. “We tend to, ah . . . make out. Sometimes. Before we go through a gate.”
Examined his expression. “You mean we make out every time.”
He shrugged and grinned. “I can’t say I’ve ever thought it was a bad thing.”
I laughed. “I’ll bet.” Considered what everyone had been telling me and I leaned up and kissed his cheek. He seemed shocked, but in a good way. “That’ll have to do for now. But it’s probably bad luck if I don’t kiss you in some way.”
He hugged me. “I’m willing to be superstitious.” With that, Martini swung me up into his arms and walked us through the shimmering. And I was instantly reminded that I’d hit my head.
The nausea hit, hard and fast, and—married to other people or whatever we were or not—I buried my face in his neck. It helped a bit, and him tightening his hold on me helped more.
Thankfully, it was over fast. Martini put me down gently and rubbed the back of my neck. “It’ll pass, baby, I promise. And yes, I’m calling you ‘baby’ because I always do and you’re going to have to get used to that.”
“Charles calls me ‘baby,’ too.”
“Glad both versions of you like that.”
“Yeah.” Looked around. “Where in the world are we?” We were in what seemed like a huge cavern loaded with more computers, desks and screens than I’d ever seen, even in the movies. There were tons of people bustling about and most of them were women who were all, regardless of age, as hot as Lorraine, Claudia, and Serene. Meaning I’d landed in the Land of the Beauty Queens. Hoped the rest of them were as nice as the three I’d met so far appeared to be, but I didn’t count on it.
“This is the Dulce Science Center for Extra-Terrestrial Studies. Our main science, research, and medical facility. We’re in New Mexico now, by the way.”
“This looks like the biggest version of the Bat Cave ever. Though I imagine it’s a highlight of the UFO Tour or something.”
Martini laughed. “Oh, in some ways, this isn’t going to be as hard as everyone fears.”
CHAPTER 21
I DID A QUICK PASS AROUND the car while the assassins were getting out. I wanted them out of the car before I attacked, in part so they couldn’t drive off and in part because if I could conserve my strength and not have to rip off the doors of their car, so much the better.
Three men and a woman got out. They were dressed all in black, wearing dark sunglasses, and packing serious heat. Unless they were filming a gangster movie on this street and no one had advised the neighborhood, these people meant serious killing business.
Up reasonably close they remained unfamiliar. Didn’t know if this was good, bad, or indifferent. Also didn’t know if I’d recognize any of them once I could get a closer, calmer look. Made the executive decision to take them out and check their IDs later.
How, was the question, particularly since Reader had asked me to incapacitate them if possible. I wasn’t feeling kindly toward anyone in this car, of course, seeing as they’d just run me and the kids off the road and then gunned us down. Realized it was a really damned good thing I’d somehow switched places with my counterpart in this universe, at least for her and all the people I’d left in the house.
ACE? I asked in my head. ACE, are you there? Did you help me get here so I could save the day? Nothing. Algar? Why not give it a shot to reach the King of the Elves? Algar, if you can hear me, my free will could use an assist. Nada. Chose not to freak out about this—maybe they could both hear me and were just playing possum for some reason, probably related to the fact that my luck remained consistent.
Had no more time to spend trying to reach benevolent superconciousnesses or rakishly handsome other-dimensional beings. I had some nasty assassins to take care of.
The woman was the closest to me. I grabbed the machine gun she was holding, wrenched it out of her hands, and slammed the butt into her stomach. As she buckled, I used the gun to give her an uppercut. She went down and out.
My hit caused her sunglasses to fly off, along with the blonde wig she appeared to be wearing. And now I did recognize her. It was Bernie, she of the pretend friendship in order to steal my baby and kill me during Operation Assassination. I kicked her in the head, just because I hated her guts.
Bernie being here meant that there was a really good chance that Raul the P
issed-Off Assassin was one of the men. He might not be that pissed off, either, since Bernie was alive. He might also be able to tell me who the Mastermind was—because if someone was controlling things in my universe, that same someone could be doing similar in this one, especially if the Mastermind was a human.
Used the gun I’d taken from Bernie to smash the nearest man in the back of his head. He went down, I gave his head another side blade kick to ensure he was out, grabbed his gun, and went on to the next. I’d search all of them for more weapons—which I was more than positive they had—once they were all down.
The remaining men were just realizing something was wrong when I body slammed one of them into the other. As they went down, I hit them both on their heads and grabbed their guns. They were both out and I was in possession of four machine guns before they hit the ground. Hyperspeed was the best. Enhanced strength wasn’t so bad, either.
Machine guns were heavy and I had no idea what weapons Chuckie and Reader actually possessed. Ran the guns into the house, dumped them on the living room floor, then came back to do a body search of the hit squad.
A search of all the places I could think of on each person was going to take longer than I felt safe doing alone and out in the open, hyperspeed or no hyperspeed. Plus this was a residential neighborhood and someone was going to spot four strangers unconscious on the street sooner as opposed to later.
Dragged each of them back to the car and tossed them into the back seat. I wasn’t particularly nice about it. Decided I’d feel bad later.
Four assassins in, doors closed, I got into the driver’s seat, intending to move this car into our driveway. Only, as I turned the car on, the passenger’s door opened and a man joined me. He had a gun out and it was pointed at me. “Hands where I can see them.”
I stared. “Excuse me?” Him being here shouldn’t have shocked me, but it did.
“Hands. Where I can see them. Now. I don’t know how you just did what you did, without being seen and so quickly, but I’m highly skilled with rapid-fire, and I guarantee I can hit you.”
“Wow. Even in this Bizarro World you have Doctor Strange powers.”
He blinked. “What?”
“I just can’t believe that you’re working with the bad guys, Malcolm. Did you switch before my Mom was killed, or after?”
He blinked again. “What the hell . . . ?”
I jerked my head toward the back seat. “Are these your friends? If they’re your friends I’m sorry. For you. If they’re your targets, then I have some questions for them before you do whatever it is you’re planning to do, and a couple other dudes probably will as well.”
“How the hell do you know—?”
“How the hell do I know who you are? I’ve known you for three years. You’re Malcolm Buchanan, aka Mister Skills, aka Doctor Strange. No one sees you unless you want to be seen. You can kill people in like fifty different ways.” On that I was just guessing, but my experience with Buchanan was that if it was possible, he could do it. “You’re a superspy. At least, I hope. If you’re a super assassin our beautiful friendship is going to be in jeopardy.”
“What friendship?” His eyes narrowed. “How do you know my name?”
Heaved a sigh. “Okay, I’ll try to fill you in before the assassins who tried to kill me and three little kids earlier today and were clearly coming back to finish the job wake up. But first, are you with them or with the C.I.A. or whatever? I’ll still tell you what’s going on, regardless of your answer, by the way.”
“You will? Why is that?”
“Because, seriously, we’re friends.”
“Sure we are.”
Decided this was getting us nowhere. Time to test a technique Christopher and I, along with my Secret Service detail, had been working on—taking someone’s gun from them without getting shot or beaten up. I was pretty good at it by now.
Reached out and grabbed the hand and wrist holding the gun, pointed it up, hit a pressure point that caused his hand to release, twisted his wrist, snagged the gun, and turned it back on him. All in about one second. As per usual, when the skills were working at optimum, there wasn’t anyone around, Christopher in particular, to impress.
Buchanan gaped at me. “How the hell—?”
“How the hell did I do that? And without you seeing or having time to react? It’s part of the story I’m going to tell you. But first, you’re going to tell me who you work for.”
The passenger’s door opened again. Only this time Reader was standing there, with a gun pointed at Buchanan’s head. “Hands where I can see them.”
“Wow, that’s a running theme with you guys, isn’t it? James, do you recognize Malcolm Buchanan here?”
“Who?” Reader grabbed Buchanan and pulled him where he could see his face. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Trying to keep the Corporation from killing all of you.”
“Which one? Titan Security, Gaultier Enterprises, or YatesCorp?”
Both men looked at me blankly. Reader recovered fastest. “He means the Cuban Mob.” Buchanan nodded.
“Ah. Gotcha. So, James, is Malcolm C.I.A. or is he with another Alphabet Agency or has my friend here gone to the dark side?”
“He’s C.I.A. Well, he was. He went rogue.”
“What the hell are you doing, telling her that?” Buchanan sounded furious.
Reader rolled his eyes. “Kitty, what’s the garbage in the back?”
“Four assassins. I do actually know one of them and that means I sort of know one of the others. I knocked them out but we really need to get them tied up and all their extra weapons removed. Soon.” I could hear the sounds of people starting to come to.
Reader nodded and let go of Buchanan. He opened the rear door and karate chopped everyone back there. The sounds of awakening ceased.
“I like your style, James, I’ve always said so. I was planning to drive this car onto the driveway before Malcolm interrupted me.”
“Put it in the garage. There’s room, since the SUV was destroyed.” Reader shot Buchanan a derisive look. “Where were you earlier today when these four attacked?”
“Where were you?” Buchanan sounded pissed. “You were called back because of this threat, and instead of doing anything to protect the innocents, you and Mister Brilliant headed off to a meeting.”
“Wow, I can’t wait to get all the juicy details—and I mean that sincerely, because this sounds like a Very Special Episode of As The C.I.A. Turns—but we need to get the hell off this street before some nice person comes over to see what’s going on.”
Reader nodded. “I’ll get the garage opened up.” He trotted across the street and into the house while Buchanan got back into the car.
“Can I have my gun back?”
“Nope. I like it. And I can drive one-handed. I’m skilled.” The car was already started, so putting it into gear with just my left hand wasn’t hard. Drove the short way into the garage with the gun trained on Buchanan.
“I thought you said we were friends.”
“We are, where I come from. Here? I’m not so sure. And it sounds like you’re not exactly BFFs with James and Chu—ah, Charles.”
Buchanan stared at me. “You’re not her. You’re not Kitty, not the real one.”
“Wow, you are good. And, points to your team or whatever, because it took a hell of a lot more convincing for James and I’m not sure that Charles is on board yet. What gave me away, besides everything?” The garage door closed and I turned the car off.
“Kitty doesn’t call him Chuck or Chuckie, not in public. It’s Charles, all the time. How did they find someone who matches her so completely?”
“Oh, that’s all part of my fun story I’ll tell you when we have a moment’s breathing space. Does the Kitty that you’ve been shadowing know you exist?”
“No.” He lo
oked away. “No, she doesn’t.”
“Why not?”
“She doesn’t need to know that I’m there.”
Considered what Reader had said about Buchanan going rogue. “You left the C.I.A. after my mother, Angela, was killed, didn’t you?”
“We were set up. And I know it was an inside job. Hell yeah, I left.”
Thought about how who Mom had on her team in my world. “So . . . is Kevin Lewis on the team?”
“He was.”
Was. “Um, what happened to him?”
Buchanan turned back to me, and pain and anger flashed out of his eyes. “As with the rest of our team—other than Reader, Reynolds, and myself—he and his entire family were murdered. By the same people trying to kill all of you.”
CHAPTER 22
“OKEY DOKEY,” I said as Reader opened the rear door. “I just want some questions answered, and then I have no problem killing all of them. Ugly.” I’d met most of the folks in the P.T.C.U. by now, and Kevin, Denise, and their kids, Raymond and Rachel, were my friends, and I loved them. The idea that someone had murdered them in this world made me want to hurt whoever had done it in a very real, very painful, and very personal way.
Reader sighed. “We have no actual proof that we were set up. That’s the story he’s telling you, right?”
“Yeah. I have no problem believing it. Where I come from, this kind of crap happens all the time.”
“Where do you come from?” Buchanan asked, as I indicated he could get out of the car and help Reader haul assassins out.
“Check them, James. I only grabbed the machine guns. I’m sure they’re all armed to the teeth. And cyanide capsules aren’t out of the question, either.”
“Jeez, did you and Buchanan drink the same conspiracy theory Kool-Aid?”
“You’re not going to stand there and say that Charles isn’t still the Conspiracy King, are you?”
“No, he is,” Reader admitted. “But not like Buchanan here is.”