Alien in Chief

by Gini Koch

One of the unattached Poofs bounded over and jumped onto Lizzie’s shoulder. “Ah, is this little fofo dangerous?” she asked.

  The Poof purred. Loudly.

  “Um, Lizzie? What does ‘fofo’ mean?” I had a guess, of course, that it indicated something cute in some way.

  “Fluffy. In Portuguese. Why?”

  “She’s okay, I see,” Jeff said with a sigh.

  “Yep. You’re Poof Approved, Lizzie. And, meet your new Poof, now named Fofo.”

  Lizzie’s eyes opened wide. “Really? It’s mine?” She looked excited for a moment, then her face fell. “I can’t have pets. Mister Dash says we can’t have a living creature dependent upon us who can be hurt, used against us, or who we’ll have to dump off somewhere in case we have to—” She stopped herself and looked down.

  “Run,” Jeff gently finished for her. “But you’re in luck. Poofs are . . . different.”

  “And once you name it, and the Poofs tend to choose their own names, it’s yours for life. Trust me, it’ll be a great pet, and possibly the only pet you can have that can disappear whenever needed, find you pretty much anywhere, and protect you, too, when necessary.” And now I had a good guess as to what country Lizzie’s School for Gifted and Wealthy Minors was in.

  “It’s okay, Lizzie,” Jamie said reassuringly. “Fofo wants to be your Poof. That’s why the animals are here—they wanted to welcome you home.”

  We all looked at Jamie. “Ah, home?” Jeff asked.

  Jamie nodded. “Isn’t Lizzie going to live here forever?”

  There was something in how Jamie was asking this that made me really think about my reply. “We haven’t really discussed it, Jamie-Kat. But we will, okay?”

  “Okay. Lizzie, you can have some of the animals sleep with you if you’ll feel better.” This was a generous offer—Jamie normally insisted on all the animals who weren’t on duty elsewhere or who hadn’t taken up residence with others in the Embassy all sleep with her. Ergo, there were a lot of animals in her room every night. Not as many as before Charlie’s arrival, but thankfully Jamie had been willing to share.

  Well, she’d been grudgingly willing to share after Jeff and I had explained that Charlie was allowed to have his own Poof and other animals who favored him. That Jamie was offering animals to Lizzie without prompting said a lot about how much Jamie liked Lizzie already.

  We used this as a segue to getting Jamie and Charlie into bed. Charlie was in the nursery attached to our bedroom and Jamie was in the room next door, otherwise known as the Shrine to Pink, which was her favorite color in the world. Charlie hadn’t indicated any color preferences yet, but I figured that was just a matter of time.

  While Jamie got ready for bed—being a big girl and not a baby like her little brother, at least as she’d announced a couple of months ago—Jeff and I tucked Charlie in and did with him as we’d done with Jamie. We sang songs and made sure that he was happily asleep before we left his room, baby monitor on.

  Of course, he had animals in the room with him, a sampling of all we had. The dogs and chochos had doggie beds, the cats and Poofs had cat trees I called Poof Condos and we’d gotten some bigger ones to make into Ocellar Condos, and the Peregrines had bird hammocks. Charlie had one set of Peregrines, one Poof Condo where his Poof, so far unnamed as far as anyone other than Charlie knew, Sugarfoot the cat, and an assortment of other Poofs slept, plus Duchess, two chochos, and two ocellars, who mixed it up and shared a doggie bed in between the chochos and the pit bull.

  Well, they slept there when Charlie wasn’t in the room. When he was, it was Snuggle Fest Time on his bed.

  That anyone could walk in the nursery was a miracle, and Jamie’s room was even worse. She had most of the rest of the unattached Poofs as well as her own Poof, Mous-Mous, and the cats Candy and Kane, all hanging out in several Poof Condos, a variety of ocellars in their Condos, the rest of the dogs and four chochos, all in doggie beds, and at least six Peregrines snoozing in hammocks.

  Fortunately, all Embassy rooms were huge. Even so, we’d had to expand Jamie’s room by breaking out a wall and combining two bedrooms into one. This was handled by the Operations team, meaning Algar, and had taken about five minutes. Leaving us with merely something like half a dozen other bedrooms of large size.

  Once our room was, like the rest of the Embassy, declared free of bugs and surveillance we didn’t want, we did our regular nighttime ritual with Jamie, which happily still consisted of singing songs to her, also now included the reading of a couple of bedtime stories, and definitely included the Parade of Animal Love. However, there were a few animals missing.

  Once Jeff and I had finished up and kissed Jamie goodnight several times, I checked on Lizzie’s room. Sure enough, there were a couple of Peregrines already in their hammocks, a chocho in a dog bed, and a Poof Condo with several Poofs and an ocellar in it.

  “I’d ask when I started living in a real zoo,” Jeff said as we headed back to the living room, “but I already know.”

  “They’re loyal and they love us.”

  “Oh, I’m not complaining, baby. Much.”

  In addition to Lizzie—who was petting the Poof in her lap—Chuckie, Len, Kyle, Raj, Joseph, Rob, Evalyne, and Phoebe were waiting for us. “It’s still a party. Yay.” Looked around. “Where’s Malcolm and Manfred and the others?”

  “Following a lead.” Chuckie was texting on his phone. “They found signs of surveillance exactly where he says he’d found it before.”

  “You mean Operation Assassination before?”

  “I do.” He looked up from his phone. “Do you think it was Huntress?”

  “Honestly? Doesn’t seem like her style, though she has to hang out somewhere. And, it could be.” After all, her father had lurked in Sheridan Circle, too, during Operation Sherlock. Maybe it was a family move. If, of course, Stephanie was our Huntress.

  “If not her, then who?” Jeff asked.

  “The list is so long. For all we know we were being watched to see if Lizzie came to the Embassy. But, you know, Nightcrawler knew what was going on today, including that Denise didn’t want the kids and others going on the train trip. As in, he knew that Denise, specifically, didn’t want to go. If there aren’t any bugs, was he inside the Embassy somehow earlier?”

  “Not to my knowledge,” Chuckie said. “But Buchanan doesn’t tell me, or anyone else, everything.”

  “No,” Lizzie said. “We weren’t in here. We were visiting the nice lady across the street.”

  “Olga?” I asked to be sure. “You were in the Romanian Embassy?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. She told us what was going on. And gave us a lot of food and stuff. Though your mom’s brownies are better,” she said to Jeff, which might have been her sucking up or her being honest, based on how great Lucinda’s brownies actually were.

  Jeff groaned. “What does Olga know that she wants us to know but won’t actually come out and say?”

  Chuckie rubbed the back of his neck. “I have no guess, and I also don’t know if we should be happy she’s friends with the assassins or not.”

  The adults all shared commiserating looks, but Lizzie giggled. “She said you’d say that. And she said to tell you that she knows you’ll figure it out and that everyone should always do their best to have a lot of friends.”

  “She is the All-Seeing Oracle. So, Lizzie, was there anyone else with you while you were having this visit? I mean aside from you, your father, and my two ‘uncles.’”

  “Adriana. She’s nice.”

  “She is. Anyone else? Anyone at all?”

  Lizzie shook her head, then gave a start. “Oh!” She dug into her messenger bag. “Sorry, I totes forgot—she asked me to give you a letter.”

  Took the envelope and examined it. There was no name on the outside. Not that weird, Olga was having it hand delivered after all. Opened it up and pulled out a pie
ce of paper.

  It was blank.

  CHAPTER 22

  I STARED AT THE blank piece of paper. Then I turned it over, just in case. Nope, still blank on both sides. “Um, Lizzie? Are you sure this is what Olga wanted you to give to me?”

  “Yeah. I watched her write something and fold the paper up and everything.”

  Chuckie put his hand out and I gave the paper to him. He sniffed it. “I’m not sure, but I think she’s using invisible ink.”

  “Why’s Olga going all National Treasure when this was just going across the street?”

  “I’d assume it’s because she wasn’t sure that Lizzie would arrive here safely,” Raj said.

  “She was with the top two assassins in the world and Nightcrawler. How much freaking safer can you get?”

  “Ansom Somerall just called to try to get you to give her up to him,” Evalyne pointed out. “And he knew her real name. Apparently Mister Siler wasn’t exaggerating the need for her to remain inside the Embassy.”

  She turned to Lizzie and put on her Extreme Protector of Important Politicians Face. It was a scary face if she wanted it to be, and she did. “I’m sure Kitty wants this information. I’m now asking officially, as part of the Secret Service—just what did you do that required you to take asylum on American Centaurion soil?”

  Lizzie clutched Fofo and sort of shrank back into the couch. “I already told Kitty,” she said, sounding scared but defiant. “I beat up some bullies.”

  “They’re the kids of a lot of rich, important bigwigs and I’m sure at least a couple of their parents are best buds forever with Ansom Somerall and probably a host of our other enemies. And I’d like to ask everyone to relax while I point out that Lizzie is holding a Poof which willingly bounded over to get attached to her.”

  In some circles, this statement would have earned me a big “so what?” from the peanut gallery. However, everyone, Secret Service included, had learned that the Poofs were good judges of character. How they knew who they could trust I had no idea, but they hadn’t been wrong yet.

  So the room relaxed a bit, and heads nodded. However, there were still some suspicious looks being shot Lizzie’s way.

  Of course, I knew that Alexander was using Poofs as his spy network in the Alpha Centaurion system. However, it felt like a stretch to assume that Fofo had decided to get attached to Lizzie to spy on her. The Poofs could have done that without one of them making their Poofy Love Connection.

  Jeff grunted. “I agree, baby.”

  I knew he wasn’t getting an emotional signal from me this time, but a mental one. Due to the Surcenthumain our enemies had given him during Operation Drug Addict Jeff had mutated and was not only the strongest empath in the galaxy, but he was also able to read minds. Mine mostly, but he was working on reading the kids and, due to what had gone on during Operation Civil War, Chuckie.

  “We need the names of those you attacked,” Joseph said.

  “And we’d like them now,” Evalyne added.

  “No,” Jeff said calmly, but with his Commander Voice on. “Lizzie will share that with me and Kitty when she’s feeling safe enough to do so. I’d like everyone to stop making a fourteen-year-old girl feel threatened in the very place where she’s been taken to be protected. And that’s a Vice Presidential order, in case no one’s clear.”

  The Secret Service agents all nodded, and while they all didn’t actually take a giant step back, they looked like they’d done so in their minds.

  “Thanks,” Lizzie said in a small voice. “I’m not trying to withhold information. It’s just . . .”

  “That your father plainly didn’t want you sharing. I have a feeling he knew we’d get it out of you, though. I think he didn’t want to give me a chance to say no, that’s all.”

  “What if you want to say no when I tell you all the names and stuff?”

  I shrugged. “Like I told you before, as long as you’re not the bully, I’m always going to back the person protecting the underdogs.”

  Chuckie gave me a fond smile. “True enough.” He looked at the Secret Service agents. “We’re all good here. Why don’t you make sure that the extra guard on Amy is in place? We’ll let you know who we think might be getting ready to be upset with us in a little while.”

  The four of them nodded and headed out of the room. Lizzie didn’t seem any more relaxed. Shot a look at Raj, who grinned at me, then turned to her.

  “So, Lizzie, what country is your school in?” he asked, Troubadour Tones set to Extra Soothe.

  “Portugal.”

  “Really?” Raj asked, still working his troubadour magic.

  “Yeah. I know, it’s kind of a weird choice, but my dad went there, too, and the school is totes great. Well, mostly.”

  “Beautiful location, I’m sure,” Raj said.

  Lizzie nodded and seemed normal now. “Yeah. It’s got everything. Even horses so we all learn to ride.”

  “We have Poofs, Peregrines, chochos, ocellars, dogs, and cats, so we’re competitive. So basically your school’s great other than for the Junior Skulls?” I asked her. Chuckie straightened up.

  “Yeah,” Lizzie said with a little grin. “They make everything suck as much as they can.”

  “Is that what they call themselves?” Chuckie asked.

  “No, that’s the nickname I gave them. I already told Kitty,” she added, sounding worried.

  “I’m not objecting to the nickname, I’m sure it’s apt.” Chuckie seemed intent, but not in a threatening way. “Why did you pick that name, though?”

  She shrugged. “Seemed obvious. I mean, we do get to see movies and stuff. Their parents are ambassadors and lobbyists and tycoons and kings and queens. Literally. The American kids are the ringleaders, but it’s not like any of them are cool to anyone who isn’t ‘at their level’. And a couple of them love bragging about how their fathers are world leaders and are in the Skull and Bones and crap like that.”

  “I’m just going to spitball it and say that they’re the kids of people who hate us, because that’s just how our luck rolls.”

  Chuckie nodded. “Yeah. Lizzie, I’m sorry, but we really need the names of the kids, the Junior Skulls. Can you write them down so we have the list?”

  “Sure.” She rummaged in her messenger bag, seeming unperturbed now, pulled out a pad of paper and a pen, flipped a few pages in, and started to scribble quickly.

  “What are you thinking?” Jeff asked Chuckie quietly while Lizzie wrote away.

  “I’m thinking exactly what Kitty said—that we’re going to recognize several of the last names.”

  “You know, during Operation Defection Election, I asked Vance about the full roster of the Dealers of Death. I wonder how many of their names are going to show up.”

  “Speaking of which,” Raj said, “you need to get Mister Beaumont on board with going down to Florida with us.”

  “I’ll call him now.” Pulled out my phone and hit his speed dial. That Vance and I had actually become close enough friends that he had a speed dial on my phone was one of the many things I’d have said never would have happened in a million years during Operation Assassination. Many things were so different now from when we’d first gotten to D.C. that it would easily take me a month to list them all.

  “Hey, Kitty,” Vance said as he answered. “What’s up?”

  I gave him the Reader’s Digest version of the various situations. “So, we were wondering if you’d be up for a rail trip.”

  “Oh my God, are you kidding me? You’re offering me a chance to be on Rail Force One and Two and you think there’s even the slightest chance I’ll say no?”

  “Hey, it’s possible.”

  “How soon do you need me to be ready?”

  “Well, as to that . . . honestly, I think we could use you right now. Can you pack while I send a couple agents to bring y
ou over?”

  “Trouble’s brewing, huh? Well, I’m your man, Kitty, you know that.”

  “Yeah, you do always come through for me. So, pack, say goodbye to Guy for a while, and I’ll send some agents over to collect you.”

  “Gotcha. See you shortly.”

  Raj was already assigning a couple of Field teams to pick Vance up as I got off the phone. “Wow, you’re Mister Efficiency, aren’t you?”

  He chuckled. “I just believe we’ll need Mister Beaumont’s help as quickly as we can get it and, under the circumstances, sooner is better than later.”

  “You mean you don’t want anyone to get a chance to shoot him with a bullet or an arrow, get him on their side instead of ours, or give Guy Gadoire a chance to ask to come along.”

  “Especially what’s behind door number three.”

  “Cannot argue.” Guy Gadoire was Vance’s husband and the head lobbyist for the tobacco industry. He spoke in a French accent we all felt was faked, and always seemed to be channeling Pepé Le Pew. Guy and Vance were both bi, meaning they viewed literally anyone as fair game.

  Jeff grunted. “One of them here is bad enough.”

  “Oh, they’re alright once you get to know them.”

  “Ha. Ha ha ha. I laugh about the two men with the most voracious sexual appetites out there being ‘alright’.”

  “They haven’t done anything untoward since you all embarrassed the hell out of them while simultaneously scaring the crap out of them during Operation Assassination.”

  “They haven’t done anything, no. What they’d like to do, on the other hand? I’m fully aware, as is every other empath within a fifty-mile radius.”

  “Ah, are they going to be creepers?” Lizzie asked, sounding worried and grossed out.

  “Not to a girl your age, thank God,” Chuckie said.

  “Not if they want to live,” Jeff added.

  “If they look at you wrong or try to touch you, you let us know,” Kyle growled, as he indicated himself and Len.

  “That goes for anyone,” Len added.

  Lizzie shot them both a grateful look.