by Gini Koch
So whatever was going on at the Mall likely related to whatever I was now no longer qualified to hear. No worries. Oliver didn’t know that. “We’ve been a little distracted. By the dirty pictures.” Well, we’d been distracted by them yesterday, at least until Sandra the Android attacked, and they were the focus of my team’s investigation, so it wasn’t a total lie.
“You haven’t heard about the International One World Festival?” Oliver sounded as shocked as he looked. “It’s going on all week, but the President’s kicking it off today.” He checked his watch. “In about an hour.”
“DoLT Std">n’t tell me, let me guess. American Centaurion is helping the P.T.C.U. and whoever else with security.”
“Yes. Well, Centaurion Division is. Not Embassy personnel, at least not officially. However, after the Titan Security disaster, the Office of the President requested that Centaurion Division assist the Secret Service and P.T.C.U. on this one. No one wants anything to go wrong, and in addition to the usual concerns, the current tensions between Israel and Bahrain have upped the threat levels.”
“Meaning my mom’s on duty, right?” And probably stuck in some awkward middle position politically, being former Mossad.
Oliver nodded.
It dawned on me that my parents hadn’t called me at all this weekend. They’d called every day I was in Florida. I’d been too busy to register it before this moment, but they had to know I was back. And yet they hadn’t come by to see me or Jamie. I’d have been hurt, but the reason was clear—Mom didn’t want to lie to me and Dad couldn’t.
Oh, sure, they’d lied to me for most of my life, but once I’d discovered aliens truly lived on Earth, they’d come across with a lot more information. Mom didn’t have a problem telling me that something was above my security clearance normally, but since my HSAC test had ended up as a disaster, would anyone believe she wasn’t telling me things? I hated Sandra and her creators and handlers just a little bit more.
“So, are we supposed to be there in an, ah, ambassadorial capacity?” Because if we were, I was going to be glaringly absent.
“Not so much, no. Though every diplomatic mission in the city is expected to provide some form of support and attendance. Most of the Embassies have had personnel over all this past week, setting up.”
Olga nodded again. “That’s where all of our mission was yesterday. And where they are
today, as well. I confess to being surprised that no one has told you about it.”
Wow. Our lack of intel had surprised two of the best-informed people around. Wonderful. “We’ve been a little distracted.”
Oliver had stressed that it was Centaurion Division assisting. This meant Alpha, Airborne, Field, and Imageering would be involved, with Field teams out and about, doing their protect the world thing. American Centaurion was the political way of referring to us, and always indicated Embassy personnel and the Pontifex, when he was giving face time versus kicking butt. So Oliver’s explanation made sense, but left something lacking. “MJO, what’s American Centaurion’s role?”
Oliver gave me a long look. “So, the story was true.”
Yi
CHAPTER 32
“WHAT STORY?” WHITE ASKED PLEASANTLY.
“The story about the Ambassador no longer having a high-level security clearance.”
Olga looked concerned. “I so wish this were not so. You being kept, as you say, out of the loop, is not a good thing.”
“I’m not thrilled with it, either, but it lets us look into the dirty pictures business and hopefully get that put to bed. Bad pun totally intended.”
“Ah, yes,” Olga said. “Your plan.”
“You sound as underwhelmed by the idea today as you did yesterday.”
She jiggled Jamie, who giggled. “There is nothing wrong with your plan.”
“Only you think more is going on. Maybe it is.” I looked at White. “Should I catch them up on everything before the senator gets here?” This was a trick question. We were here to catch them up. But it seemed stupid to ask if we should mention our invisible birds or not, which was what I wanted his advice about.
White was nothing if not intelligent. He looked at the birds, which were nestled happily at our feet, then back at me. “Within reason, yes. Or we tell them nothing. But we did request this meeting.”
I got his point. Keep the Peregrines our secret weapons right now. If a couple dozen big birds could really be considered either secret or weapon. Then again, Olga and Oliver seemed blissfully unaware of the birds in their midst. I sniffed surreptitiously. Like the Poofs, the Peregrines didn’t give off much of an odor. I appreciated this trait in Alpha Four’s animals.
“In for a penny, might as well toss over the whole checkbook?”
“So to speak. I believe if we want Madame Ambassadress and Mister Joel Oliver’s assistance, we need to give them all the details.”
Oliver nodded. “I’ll keep everything in the strictest confidence. You have my word on that.”
When we’d first met him, I’d have laughed my head off at the idea that a tabloid journalist was trustworthy. But Oliver had been a lot more trustworthy, helpful, and supportive than people who were supposedly our friends and on our side.
“Should Adriana hear this?” I asked Olga.
“I will give her the pertinent details.” She smiled. “Securely.”
“Never had a doubt about that.” I brought Oliver and Olga up to speed quickly on the senator’s visit in Florida, the “fun” we’d had at NASA Base and its ultimate HSAC Fail for me, the fact that I was actually now firmly out of the classified loop, and that Armstrong had new pics featuring him as my latest costar.
In addition to not mentioning our Special Delivery from the night before, I also fudged about how NASA Base had gotten damaged—per Chuckie and Reader, I was still supposed to be a secret weapon, and I wasn’t sure how much either Olga or Oliver knew or merely suspected.
Finished up and took a deep breath. “Of course, yesterday, Malcolm Buchanan and Olga suggested that all of this was just for distraction purposes.”
“It could be,” Oliver agreed. “But it sounds like an effective distraction doing double duty.” Olga nodded her agreement.
“So, distraction technique or not, Richard and the boys have chosen to remain clueless so we can actually can actustill function as a team. And we have the latest set of dirty pictures coming for our viewing pleasure. If Senator Armstrong ever gets here.”
Oliver closed his eyes, clearly in thought. “I’d assume the senator is having to extract himself from the One World festivities, which is why I beat him here.”
“I don’t get why he’d leave something like that just to bring the latest blackmail pictures by.”
Olga snorted, and Oliver opened his eyes. “I’d assume because he’s terrified his political career is about to be destroyed.”
“He could never recover,” Olga agreed. “It would not do you any good, either. Or anyone associated with you.”
“Fabulous, not that this comes as a surprise.” I didn’t want to contemplate the reaction from the A-C community if anyone actually believed I’d been sleeping with both Chuckie and the senator. But a question shoved in and I gladly took my mind off the Scenario From Hell. “Is Armstrong eyeing a run for the Presidency?”
“Yes,” Oliver said. “He has been for a while now.”
“Okay, fine, I get why someone would want to blackmail a Presidential hopeful with potential to at least get his party’s nomination.” I might dislike Armstrong, but I was aware and astute enough to know he was a political animal and friends with many of the “right people.” “But I don’t understand why they’d choose me as his suspected affair. Especially since they already tried with me and Chuckie and got no reaction.”
White cocked his head. “Did they, in fact, get no reaction?”
“Well, Jeff hasn’t killed Chuckie, and the pictures haven’t hit the streets yet. Armstrong came to warn me, at least that’s what
he said, and right now, I sort of believe him.”
“So perhaps they didn’t get the reaction they wanted,” Oliver said.
Olga beamed at him. Oh, good. Another one racing to the head of the class. I’d have resented it, but at least I kept the smart ones close by. Besides, I was Questions Girl. At least right now.
“Related question. Why was Armstrong in Florida most of the time I was, especially if there was some big political event being planned?”
“Cover, maybe?” Oliver suggested.
“Or he wanted to enlist your aid,” White countered.
“But I thought the pictures only showed up a couple of weeks ago, not four.”
Oliver shook his head. “I only found out about them a couple of weeks ago. But I assure you, they were in existence before I discovered them.”
“So maybe the senator had them for a lot longer than we know about.” He’d been trying to see me for a month, after all.
“Limo approaching,” Kyle, who was close to the window that faced Sheridan Circle, said before I could ask what kind of aid anyone thought I’d be able to give Armstrong in regard to my new career as an unwitting porno model.
Len looked out the window. “Looks like the same car that he wcar thatas in yesterday.”
“You’re sure? Limos tend to look alike.”
“I’m sure. We had to take a course.”
“Len aced that one like he aced driving,” Kyle added. “I did pretty well with it, too. And I agree. It looks like the same car. And it’s got that ‘drove all night and haven’t hit the car wash yet’ look. Parking down the street.”
I decided to trust them on this assumption. It took about sixteen hours to drive up from Florida to D.C., b
ut Armstrong had had more than enough time to do so. “Yesterday he left a briefcase with a bug in it at my in-laws’ home.”
“We’ll assume he’s recording us again, then,” White said.
“Good call.”
“We have detectors with us,” Len said.
“We do as well,” Olga added.
“Great, so if we don’t like Armstrong’s answers, he’ll be on Romanian soil, and you can accuse him of spying or treason, or whatever your biggest crime is.”
Olga laughed. “I love how you think. We must ensure you are not disgraced. I will be heartbroken if we should lose you as a neighbor.”
Yi
CHAPTER 33
LEN AND KYLE WENT DOWNSTAIRS so they could scan the senator before he got past the foyer. Apparently he passed both the Romanian and C.I.A. Bug Tests because the boys brought him upstairs fairly quickly.
“You,” Armstrong said by way of hello, pointing at Oliver. “Why are you here?”
“I was invited by Ambassador Katt-Martini.”
Armstrong glared at me. “You want this to be trumpeted to the world?” He sounded angry and shocked. This was the first time I’d ever heard him really out of control of his Happy Politician Voice.
“No. I want whoever’s done this stopped. And Mister Joel Oliver is far more on my side than you’ve ever been.”
Armstrong opened his mouth. But Olga spoke first. “Don’t say something you might regret, Senator. You’re not on American soil.”
Armstrong’s mouth slammed shut. He glared at all of us. “This is ridiculous. Why do you want an audience for this?”
“Oh, I figure it’s always wise to be sure they only print pictures of my good side. Like to have everyone vote on which shots we think are best.”
“All your sides are good,” Len said loyally. Kyle nodded his agreement. I was glad Jeff wasn’t here—I was enjoying not having to have the jealousy chat with him.
“You can’t be serious.” Armstrong sounded horrified and a little repulsed. Charming as always.
“Dude, did I sound serious? Look, you’re stressed. We all get it. Sit down, have some lemonade or iced tea, eat a couple of those little cakes, you’ll feel better. Mister Joel Oliver is the only reason my first set of poses for Playmate of the Year haven’t already hit the newsstands. Let’s stop with the posturing and protestations and get down to business.” Armstrong didn’t look as though he actually wanted to sit, but he did. He kept his briefcase in his lap. It was definitely not the same one he’d left at Martini Manor.
I looked at Len. He shook his head. “Clean.”
“Of course I didn’t bring any bugs with me,” Armstrong snapped.
“And that would be the first time in our entire relationship when you haven’t.”
He had the grace to look slightly ashamed. “I can’t be too careful.”
“I know. You’d miss out on so many blackmail opportunities. Speaking of which, let’s see the latest shots.”
Armstrong looked pointedly at Olga. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Olga smiled. “Senator, I can assure you that I am the soul of discretion.”
“Dude, Olga knows everything, all the time. I have no idea how she knows, mind you, but she does. Her Magic 8-Ball is never wrong. If it’s relevant to her interests, she probably knows what you had for dinner last night. Stop being coy. She’s our friend and we trust her. You’re the one we’re not sure about.”
“Have it your way.” He opened the briefcase and handed a folder to me.
I pulled the pictures out. “Huh.”
“What?” White asked. “Oh, and when do the rest of us get to see them?”
“I want to show them to you in front of Jeff. It’s so much more satisfying that way.” I looked at Armstrong. “Was there a note with these?”
“No. With the set that showed you and Reynolds there was. But these just arrived this morning in that envelope.”
It was an amazingly bland envelope, your typical manila that usually held boring documents for safe delivery. The address was Armstrong’s D.C. one, no return address listed.
“Senator, did the other pictures go to you in D.C., too?”
“Yes.”
I looked at the pictures some more. As with the set costarring Chuckie, I appeared to be having quite the good time. In fact, it was a very familiar time. I dug my phone out. “Hey, Christopher, are you anywhere close to home?” I could hear background noises that certainly didn’t sound as if they were emanating from our Embassy.
“Ah, not really. Why?”
“We have new dirty pictures.”
“Great. Need me to read them?”
“Yeah, but I need you to think back to the ones of me and Chuckie first.”
“If I must.”
“You must. If you can.”
“Not hard, I read them yesterday.” Nice to see he was at Full Snark Level.
“Goody. Look, is it possible for you to, I don’t know, timestamp them?”
“Wow, a new Kittyism. Want to translate that for normal people?”
“Since when are you considered normal?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I do. Okay, what I mean is—could you get a read on when each picture happened? As in, what day or month or whatever it was that my picture was taken from, and the same for when Chuckie’s picture was taken from?”
He was quiet for a few seconds. “You mean, was each person photographed last week or last year, that sort of thing?”
“Yes.”
“Hang on.” He was quiet for a longer while. “Yeah, I think . . . I think your picture was from about a year ago. But Reynolds . . .” I waited. “Reynolds’ picture was only from a month or so ago.”
“Interesting.” Very, very interesting. “Barring you killing a superbeing or saving someone’s life, I think I need you at the Romanian Embassy five seconds ago.”
Christopher sighed. “I’ll clear it with Jeff and James and be right there.”
“Use a floater gate or the really fast hyperspeed. Olga has refreshments.” This wasn’t said so much as a lure, since Christopher was, like Jeff, a very healthy eater. But when he used his Super Flash Level Hyperspeed, he needed to replenish, and he preferred f
ood to sleep for it under most circumstances.
“Got it. Be there soon.”
I hung up and looked back to Armstrong. “Senator, do you remember when you might have been doing whichever sexual positions you’re photographed in?” I handed the pictures back to him.
Len, Kyle and White all got up and stood behind him. Oliver smiled at me, then joined them. Wonderful. I looked at Olga. She was laughing quietly while she snuggled Jamie.
He thumbed through them and shook his head. “Not really. They’re, ah, a little more, um . . .”
“Athletic?” Len suggested.
“Wild?” Kyle said.
“More like what I’d expect to see from Jeffrey,” was White’s quite insightful statement. “At least, based on my memories from when we were all housed at the Dulce Science Center.”
Before I could reply or think up a suitable comeback, Adriana stuck her head in. “Excuse me, Ambassadress, but we have another arrival.”
Christopher came in. A-Cs never sweated—even the hottest days in Pueblo Caliente were cooler than their home planet—but he wasn’t breathing hard, either. Superpowers were where it was at.
I got up and grabbed the pictures. “I Àctures. need you to read these,” I said without any introductory preamble. Hey, things were going from weird to weirder by the second. “I know they’re doctored. I know that’s really me, though I was not, of course, having a fling with the senator here. I think the head is really Senator Armstrong’s. I happen to believe the body is Jeff’s, however. Only doctored. A lot.”
Christopher took the pictures and put his hand on them and closed his eyes.
While he was doing this White studied the senator. “I realize he’s built roughly like Jeffrey. But he’s at least two decades older, and that shows in photographs.”
“That could easily be achieved using age advancement techniques,” Oliver said. “It’s done for movies all the time, and law enforcement uses it regularly to catch criminals and kidnapped or missing children, among many other options.”