Alien Collective (18 page)

“And you’re leaving? I don’t know what to do. Or what’s going on. Or anything, really, including why I bothered to nap.”

He shrugged. “Perhaps it will make sense to you once you wake up. Or not. That’s not my problem.” He turned to go.

“Hey, do you happen to know who your Apprentice’s Apprentice would be?”

Mephistopheles turned back and cocked his head. “No. That was something Yates did. I did not . . . pay attention to it.”

“Now I know you’re lying. You were intimately involved in all that Mastermind and Apprentice crap.”

“No. I had my own plans of conquest, and he had his. At the start, they did not intersect. As he aged, and his illness spread, I was able to take more control. His plans for his children were not aligned with mine. And mine were the only plans I cared about. His plans were small. I would have conquered the world. But for you.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot. So you don’t know who his Apprentice was?”

“It was who you think—Leventhal Reid.”

“Who was Reid grooming as his ultimate Apprentice, any idea?”

Mephistopheles nodded. “The one you are not suspecting.” Then he gave me another shot of what passed for his smile and faded away.

W
OKE UP AS “PUMPED UP KICKS”
started playing. Either I’d slept through the entire
Torches
album and it was going around again, or ACE, Algar, or, somehow, Mephistopheles had ensured that I got all the information I needed in less than one song. Based on the way things were going, bet on the latter.

Not that I felt I’d gotten much in the way of actual information. But perhaps the secret meanings would become clear to me somewhere along the line.

Sat up and looked around. Sure, it had been less than five minutes, but now, I wasn’t in the room with just the two Poofs. What looked like every animal we had and then some were in here, too. Including my least favorite avian in the galaxy.

“Kitty! Kitty! Kitty!” Sure enough, Bellie, the Parrot O’ Love, was also with us. Well, at least she sounded happy to see me, as opposed to ready to kill me. Put that one into the win column, in part because there was just so little
in
the win column right now.

“Seriously? You’re all here? Bellie, too? Why isn’t Bellie with Mister?”

“Mister says Bellie has to be safe! Bellie loves Mister! Bellie loves Jeff!”

“Yeah, I know.” Jeff was, sadly, going to be overjoyed that this bird was with us. So much for all those happy thoughts of sexy times. I was never having sex with Bellie in the room, or even within hearing distance. Figured if Bellie could imitate me during sex, Jeff might seriously leave me for her.

Wondered if Oliver had sent Bellie down here to ensure that Siler didn’t see her. Sure, he hadn’t been privy to our conversations, but Oliver had his ways.

Of course, according to everyone else, so did the Tastemaker. Wondered when Jenkins would call me again, then knew it would be soon, and when it was just totally inconvenient. Readied myself for his call to come in at any minute.

Of course, if the animals were in here right when Algar put me here, I had to figure he’d sent or put the animals in here, too. So, maybe it was time to stop being Megalomaniac Girl or The Dream Chatter and switch back to Dr. Doolittle.

“Everyone, Kitty would like a word.”

“Word! Word! Word!”

“Yes, thanks Bellie. I think we’re called to order now.”

“Called to order! Called to order!”

“Bellie? Shut it or become dinner. You choose.”

Had to give her this, Bellie was one damned smart parrot. She shut up.

“Good job. Now, speaking of jobs, Kitty has the teensiest feeling that some of you were either not doing your jobs, or were doing jobs that someone else, mainly He Who Is Supposedly Too Awesome To Be Named, has given you. Who’s going to fess up first?”

Lots of shots of the Sea of Animal Innocence look, even from the K-9 dogs. No one offered any answers, and they were all doing the thing where I couldn’t figure out what they were thinking.

Gave up. “Bellie, back to you as Spokesbird. Tell me both what I want and what I need to know.”

“Vance! Vance! Bellie loves Vance!”

“This is your big reveal?”

“Hey, Kitty, you in here?” Vance called from the entryway.

“Aha. Okay, Bellie, all is, sort of, forgiven. Back here!” I shouted.

Vance picked his way through all the many pets. Bellie flew to him, squawking happily. She settled on his forearm, the better for his other hand to be able to stroke her head. “Wow, are you running a grooming business on the side?”

“Hilarious. Take the parrot with you when you go. But before you go, what’s up?”

He shrugged and sat on the side of the bed. “Everyone’s doing officially important things. However, since I’m not Mossad or a political bigwig, I couldn’t go along on one of the guided tours. Meaning I could help babysit the kids, or find you and go over theories. Chose you. Be flattered.”

“Totally am.” Sort of. Though honesty forced me to admit that on at least two occasions Vance had called what was going on correctly, and in a big way. Perhaps he could do so now. “What do you think is going on?”

“You mean that I know about and can comprehend?”

“What else could I mean?”

“There are things going on I don’t know about. You could catch me up to speed on them, and then I could give you theories.”

“Nice try. Why don’t you give me your theories for what you know about? You may know more than I do, after all.”

“About the Tastemaker, yes, I obviously do. But he may not be your only problem.”

“He’s a problem I’m not prepared to handle. So, let’s tackle him first.”

“I would but he’s straight. And, frankly, the pickings in and around your diplomatic mission are always of a finer quality.”

“We’re flattered. Sort of. Okay, so Bruce Jenkins is straight. Lots of people are. So what?”

Vance sighed. “If you want to know how to defend against someone, it helps if you know how they tick. He’s straight, unmarried, not dating anyone seriously, no children, no pets. And while he could go after anyone in town, he picks his targets carefully.”

“Why is he so powerful and yet Mister Joel Oliver had to have an alien invasion happen to get a modicum of respect?”

“As you were told earlier, it’s because Jenkins deals with salacious gossip.”

“So, when Esteban Cantu was trying to blackmail me, and Senator Armstrong, with dirty pictures of me and Chuckie and then me and the good Senator, why were those sent to MJO instead of Jenkins?”

Vance looked thoughtful. “You want my gut feeling?”

“Sure. I go with my gut all the time.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve climbed around on the rooftops with you, if you’d care to remember. I still have nightmares about that.”

“Did you come to whine or are you going to share your gut’s thoughts on my question?”

“Oh, fine. I think the pictures were sent to the
World Weekly News
because it was presumed they’d print them. In addition to everything else, it would have driven a wedge between you and Mister Joel Oliver, and even more so between him and Mister Reynolds. Plus, why get Jenkins involved if we were going to be bowing to our new alien overlords within a few days anyway?”

“Yeah, I can buy that one. So, why sic him on me now? Why not earlier? Why at all? But mostly, why now? We’re clearly in the midst of another attack from one or more of our enemies, but that happens regularly. So why did Bruce Jenkins call me today?”

“When probably matters, too. He called you after the bombs had gone off.”

“Meaning after our embassy had been gassed. I need to ask Nightcrawler about that.”

“I’m not even going to ask who the hell that is. One weird thing going on around you at a time.”

“If it was only one thing. So, back to the big question—why sic Bruce Jenkins on me at all, let alone right now?”

“It seems obvious.”

“Not to me.”

Vance sighed again. “Two reasons. The first is even more obvious than the second, so let me share that one. Listen, I’ll speak slowly.”

“I’m pretending to listen but actually ignoring you.”

“Trust me, it seems that way. Frequently. But reason number one is that your husband was just announced as the most likely vice presidential candidate. Jenkins called within minutes, possibly within seconds, of that being mentioned on the news.”

“Oh. Yeah. I knew that. Right. Okay, I’ll give you the ‘duh’ on that one.” Maybe I should have really tried to actually nap. I was slipping, because I’d made this assumption earlier and had, literally, forgotten. Sloshy had sort of thrown off my groove.

“Especially since Jenkins ran off Vincent’s last two most promising running mates. The wrong VP candidate can destroy a ticket, but Jenkins has been getting rid of people who would have made good leaders for the country.”

“He hasn’t gone after Senator Armstrong?”

“He’s tried, but it’s easier to screw up the VP candidate. Seems less like campaign interference.”

“I suppose, and before you whine, I’ll trust that you know this landscape a lot better than I do. So, what’s behind Door Number Two?”

“Again, this seems obvious. He called when he called because Bruce Jenkins is on your enemies’ payroll, and nothing distracts a person like being hounded by the Tastemaker.”

“Y
OU THINK THEY WANT
Jeff distracted?”

Vance rolled his eyes. “I don’t play stupid with the people who actually know I’m not a moron. You can return the favor and stop playing stupid with me when we’re alone. I thought you trusted me.”

“I do.” Somewhat. Well, all things considered, more than a lot of people. “And, dude, I’m not intentionally playing stupid. I’m just sort of overwhelmed right now.”

“Yeah, and that’s what I meant. They haven’t sent Jenkins after your husband as much as they’ve sent him after
you
. You’re the one they want distracted. And before you try to pooh-pooh that idea, I’ve seen you in action enough now that it’s clear that you’ve got to be high up on your enemies’ hit list. In fact, my guess is that you’re their number one target.”

This was true, but something I didn’t think any of us had ever mentioned in front of Vance. Might not be remembering it—the way the day had gone and these last few minutes had proved, we might have said it in front of him an hour ago and I just didn’t recall—but if we hadn’t, he’d made this leap correctly by merely looking at things mostly from the outside. Hopefully he’d made other leaps that were correct and could help.

“Okay, so I ignore Jenkins and that solves that problem, right?” I asked with probably far too much hopefulness.

Sure enough, Vance gave me a look that could only be described as snide. “Oh, of course. Because that will solve everything
and
insure that Bruce Jenkins instantly loses interest and stops sniffing around. Totally going to happen. Let’s just go shopping and not worry about anything, problem’s completely solved.”

“Wow. I think that, on a scale of ten, your sarcasm knob was turned to about twenty.”

“Good. Means I’m getting through. No, you can’t ignore Jenkins. Sorry. You have to deal with him.”

“If only I knew how. You know, I didn’t actually see this one coming, God alone knows why.”

“I’ll second that. But you didn’t see it coming because you don’t read the papers and you had no idea who he is. And before you try to lie and say you stay up on things, Pierre confirmed that, the few times you pick up a newspaper, you only look at the funnies and the sports sections.”

“Not my fault newsprint is dead.”

“Right. So, anyway, for most people in this town, the Tastemaker calling them would be cause for panic. For you, it was an opportunity for you practice your on-the-fly sarcastic comebacks.”

“As if you’re not making sarcasm an art form?”

“Did I sound disapproving? But that just proves you have a lot more potential for disaster than your husband would, and that’s not actually meant as an insult.”

“It’s true, too. You know, we were both in military positions before being moved into the diplomatic mission. What are the chances that anything we did that might be considered an, ah, impropriety will be brushed aside as part of our military duty, let alone part of our time in covert and clandestine ops?”

Vance shrugged. “If they’re for you? You’re patriotic heroes protecting the world. If they’re against you, you’re psychopathic killers on the loose and no one’s safe while you’re around.”

Mephistopheles had essentially said the same thing. Couldn’t wait to tell Jeff about my dream. Maybe I’d save it for a time when he was feeling relaxed, just for maximum effect. “I can guess which way Jenkins is going to go, then.”

“Yeah. It’s the same way the Kramers have gone. I don’t know if you ever thought of Marcia as your friend, but she and Zachary both have come out for Cleary-Maurer.”

“I never could stand her, so no loss. And no surprise, either. That’s got to suck for you guys and Nathalie, though. You were all close.”

“Whatever. This is politics—things change all the time. They couldn’t swing with the new world order, so they’re going to fight it. Just know, and be sure Jeff knows, that they’re not your friends.”

“I’m sure Jeff knows already.” Barring Kramer wearing an emotional overlay or blocker, always a possibility, Jeff would have picked up the animosity ages ago. The Kramers not becoming cronies wasn’t a surprise. That we were friends with anyone from my Washington Wife class at all was the shocker. “So, I guess no help with Jenkins from that side, though. Any other political way to affect him?”

“Not really, no. He has everyone running scared. I’d normally suggest bribery, but I’ve got to figure that your enemies have more money than you and have offered him as much as he wants to get you, so that option’s out.”

“So’s killing him, right?”

“Only because it’s now going to be known that he’s after you, and if he dies right after trying to speak to you I think it’ll be suspicious.”

“I was kind of joking. You’d be okay with us killing him?”

He shrugged again. “He’s not my friend. He’s trying to hurt people I consider my friends. However, it’s not an option, so the moral quandary is over. No, what we need to have is a plan of attack to circumvent him, give him just enough right information that we can make him believe the wrong information, and figure out how to keep him more distracted by you than you are by him.”

“Piece of cake. If only we had cake.” Now I wanted cake. Fought back the overwhelming desire to ask the King of the Elves for a cupcake or two.

Vance shook his head. “You don’t have to come up with this. You have people for that. I’ll handle it, with Pierre and Raj. They both run interference for you already. I’ll go over the game plan with them and we’ll get you set up—before Jenkins catches you.”

“Really? You’d do that for me?”

Vance gave me a funny look. “Yeah. You’re my friend. Wouldn’t you help your friend out?”

“Yeah, I would, and I do. I just . . .” Reached over and took his hand. “I just don’t take it for granted. Thank you.”

He squeezed my hand. “I know we haven’t been friends as long as you have been with a lot of these other people. But you made sure that all the mess created by Lydia Montgomery didn’t blow back on Guy. Even if we hadn’t been friends before then, we’d have been your lifelong friends afterward.”

“Good to know.”

He grinned. “I know you don’t like Lillian all that much, but she respects you, and she wants to stay on your good side. Not sure how much help she can be, but I’d be willing to bet she’ll help as much as she’s able to.”

“She lobbies for some of our biggest enemies.”

“There’s lobbying and then there’s being in someone’s pocket. She knows Titan’s against you guys. You’ve proved which side is the one more likely to win in a fight—she’ll drop Titan before she drops American Centaurion.”

This was news. Hopefully good news, too, but wasn’t sure if I should count on it. However, it reminded me of my conversation with White from what seemed like days but was really only a couple of hours ago. “Hey, who’s Guy and Lillian’s Dealer of Death counterpart for alcohol?”

“Why?”

“We’ve never met him or her.”

“Well, based on what I think you mean, if you’re looking for the full group that you’d call the Dealers of Death, you need to include the people who cover the fast food, hazardous waste, oil drilling, and firearms lobbies, not just tobacco, alcohol, and weapons manufacturing. To have the full set and be able to call Death Dealer Bingo.”

“Touchy much? And you forgot Big Pharma, but we already know they hate us.”

“Bingo.”

“Hilarious. Okay, who are they, all of them? Because none of them have ever approached us. Guy and Lillian did, but not these others. And it would seem like they’d all hang together.”

“I’ll be offended later, because it’s not like it’s the first time any of you have insulted my husband and friends and what they do for a living.”

“Dude, seriously, if you can look me in the eyes and, without breaking eye contact or laughing, and also with all sincerity, tell me that smoking doesn’t cause every damn disease we think it does, I’ll apologize.”

He snorted. “Right. Anyway, I assume you have some reason, other than idle curiosity at an inopportune time, for why you want to know?”

“Yeah, I do. First off, it seems weird—Lillian approaching us right away, with all of our potentially destructive alien technology, makes sense. But Guy doing it doesn’t. At first I thought we’d never met whoever handles alcohol because we don’t drink. But we don’t really smoke, either, and Guy doesn’t seem to care at all. So if we’re somehow so influential that the head mouthpiece for Big Tobacco wants to be our friend, why doesn’t the head of Big Booze feel the same way? Or the rest of the ones you named?”

“Okay, what’s second off?”

“Why aren’t you guys friends with these other Dealers of Death? You’re pals with Lillian, and other influential people. Why are these who it would seem you’d have a lot of affinity with not in your circle? Lillian and Guy are tight, that much is obvious. But I’ve never heard Lillian mention the firearms person, and Guy hasn’t mentioned the alcohol lobbyist, not even in passing.”

“What else?”

“Gideon Cleary’s family is part of Big Booze. But we weren’t enemies of his before this campaign started, at least not that we knew of. And, regardless of their relationship or lack thereof with Lillian and Guy, where are the firearms people? We use guns, all the time. We must buy them from someone. And yet whoever runs that lobby has never dropped by to shoot the breeze, let alone try to influence us. Why hasn’t the Big Pharma lobbyist come by to see if he or she can work the magic and make us part of their team? I can understand the fast food, oil drilling, and hazardous waste people giving us a pass . . . right up until I think about your husband, and then I’m right back to the question of either why Guy wants our favor or these others don’t.”

“Anything else?”

“Probably. My husband was essentially appointed by the freaking President. That alone would make him seem special, even if they didn’t know he was an alien. But they do, and everyone else does, too. And even after we were exposed and Jeff was made a Representative, none of these people have approached us. And before you ask, Jeff tells me about all the lobbyists who talk to him, because it’s assumed they’re going to try whatever with him, then head for me as the presumed weak link, to see if they can get in that way.”

“I have a simple answer for why we don’t hang with Simon Hopkins, who’s the head of the Alcohol lobby. It’s probably the same reason he doesn’t try to make inroads with all of you, either. He’s a huge homophobe.”

“Last time I checked, GLBT folks drank just like straight folks.”

“They do, and Simon would never admit this out loud. But, you know, when you’re gay, you’re able to spot when someone hates you merely for
being
gay. Simon was friendly with your former Diplomatic Corps, because none of them were gay and your religious leader at the time was straight. The moment those people left and Paul took over as Pontifex, Simon was done with all of you.”

“Wow, well, I wasn’t asking about this to send invitations to dinner.”

“Yeah, I know. Lillian had the choice to remain friendly with him, by the way—Guy and I would never ask her to compromise her work for us. She chose us and she and Abner never do anything with Simon or his wife.”

I was having to radically alter my opinion of Lillian Culver, and I wasn’t enjoying having to do so. However, I’d clearly sold her very short, because I’d have never expected her to choose loyalty and what was morally right over getting ahead in any way.

Vance smirked. “Yeah, she had to change how she thought about you, too. Don’t worry, it’s all part of the wonder that is D.C. You’ll get used to it.”

“In about a million years. What about the others?”

“You know, I’m kind of with you, it doesn’t make any sense for why they haven’t approached you. But, as for who they are, Niles Berkowitz is the head lobbyist for Big Oil, Talia Lee is who covers Firearms, oh and she’s tight with Janelle Gardiner from Gaultier Enterprises.”

“That so figures, and might explain why she hasn’t approached us. Who else?”

“Myron Van Dyke is your Big Pharma guy, and he’s tight with Quinton Cross.”

“Gaultier’s all set up, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, they are. I’m sure that’s why Amy hasn’t won her fight. Thomas Kendrick from Titan is Lillian’s client, of course, but he’s so new, he hasn’t made a lot of relationship connections like the others have. His connections are still more military in nature. Lux Carr is Hazardous Waste and Kingsley Teague is Fast Food.”

“Lux? Kingsley?”

He shrugged. “I don’t question other people’s names. Lux seems to like her name, and Kingsley makes a lot of jokes about his that tell me he not only likes it, but he thinks he should be called King Kingsley.”

“Fantastic.”

“It gets better, and I know you’ll appreciate this one, they’re both tight with Amos Tobin.”

“Well, he ran a variety of fast food franchises before he took over YatesCorp, didn’t he? And God alone knows what all YatesCorp is into, but I know it’s more than we even know about. So I guess those love connections make sense. That’s Dealer of Death Bingo for me, then, right?”

“Right, based on what you were talking about, at any rate.”

“Poor Ansom Somerall doesn’t have a buddy? That seems wrong.”