Universal Alien (22 page)

C
RAP.
I had no idea what to do. Wished I'd had the foresight to ask Malcolm about this. Because Martini had his In Charge voice on and he also sounded like he was angry and stressed, and I felt very vulnerable all of a sudden.

Martini's eyes narrowed. “Why do you want Buchanan here to protect you?”

“Ah . . .” I had no answer I could give. I wasn't used to someone acting like they were reading my mind.

“I can read Kitty's mind because I'm enhanced and because I'm so close to her. You're her, I'm reading you. You're a little harder, but you're her—some different life experiences in the last decade, but still, her.”

“Great. Uh, do you always threaten her?”

“What?” Martini jerked back as “Ready To Go” from Panic! At The Disco came on. “I'm not threatening you.”

“Okay, maybe you don't realize that you're looming over me suddenly, and that your voice is lower, and that you're glaring. But you are. All of those things. And I'm not wearing any clothes other than this robe.”

Martini blinked and shook his head. “I'm sorry. But if you know who killed Naomi, then you know who the Mastermind is. And that's vital information.”

“Then why did you tell Malcolm it wasn't important?”

Martini shrugged and I saw him visibly force himself to relax. “Because the political situation was more vital. Raj told me you felt you had a fix, and you handled everyone else already, so we're not in panic mode anymore.”

Malcolm definitely thought finding proof so we could officially identify the Mastermind was the most important thing. “Sorry. You're just throwing me. I don't know you. Really at all. I can't differentiate between intensity and anger with you.”

Martini took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. Not angry. Just stressed and worried. This is as hard for me as it is for you. Harder in some ways.”

“Yeah, I have two husbands here, you sort of have half a wife.” Once again, I hadn't meant to say that, it just came out.

But he laughed. “Yes. Exactly. And, honestly, I wasn't pretending—I'm jealous. Of pretty much everyone, I guess. Definitely of Buchanan. It's an ego hit when your mother-in-law assigns someone to protect your wife and daughter, and then he does a better job at it than you do.”

“From what you all told me earlier, you do most of the saving when my Cosmic Alternate needs it.”

He smiled. “She saves me more than I save her, honestly.”

“Then why worry about Malcolm?”

“Why are you worried about my Kitty?”

“Because she's me, and they both might not notice the difference. Or else he may like her more. She could do everything he does with him. I can't.”

Martini cocked his head at me. “I can't swear to it, of course, but I truly doubt that your Chuck is cheating on you.” He leaned nearer and chucked me under my chin. “Once you go Kitty, you never go back. And, trust me, you're his and he wants you, the real you, back. I promise.”

“Okay. I have no choice but to take your word on it.” Tried to figure out what to tell him as “A Pain That I'm Used To” from Depeche Mode came on. “Look, I don't think Malcolm wants me telling. We have no proof. Yet.”

“Did he tell you not to tell me?”

“No, not specifically or anything. He doesn't want the Mastermind to know that I know who he is, because the Mastermind thinks I'm your Kitty and if he knows your Kitty knows, then he'll activate his doomsday plans or whatever. I think. And I realize that was a completely confusing explanation.”

Martini chuckled. “It was, but I've heard worse. Look, unless you think the Mastermind is me for some reason, why couldn't you tell me? Is it someone close to me?”

“No, I don't think so.” He was close to Charles, but Malcolm hadn't indicated that the Mastermind was tight with Martini. One small blessing. Hopefully. “He's a human, not an alien.” Worried that I'd said too much.

Martini sighed. “Do you really want a nap or were you just getting out of a situation smoothly?”

“I know I should be tired, but the medicines are helping. Eating all of your mother's brownies helped a lot, too. I had a ton of them. And three glasses of milk.”

“Not a Coke?” He sounded worried.

“Not with brownies that good. Trust me, I drink them. I assume my CA is as addicted to them as I am.”

He grinned. “Yeah, she is. It appears to be the drink of choice for the sexiest girls in their universes. And that wasn't a come-on.”

I snorted. “Right. But anyway, why were you asking?”

He pulled out his phone. “I'm going to solve this. Go get dressed. When she's going casual, my Kitty wears jeans, Converse, and a rock T-shirt.”

“Sounds good. Oh, by the way, how do I get the recipe for your mother's brownies?”

He laughed. “She'll never give it out until she dies, I don't think. And my parents are named Lucinda and Alfred. Just in case.”

“Good catch, thanks. Work on her for that brownie recipe, will you?”

As I headed for the bedroom I heard him chuckle. “Only my girl.” Of course, that was the problem, in a nutshell. Well, as Mom always said, it was time to focus on solutions, not problems. As if to confirm this, “Foolish Behavior” from the Neon Trees came on.

Trotted into the closet and found a set of clothes laid out for me. Just as Martini had described, only with an Aerosmith hoodie as an addition. “Mötley Crüe? Okay, if you insist. And thanks again.”

Looked through the T-shirts, all of which were hung with care. Saw a lot I owned, though most were slightly different. No Jack Johnson shirts, though, nor any Amadhia shirts. Oh well, we couldn't match 100 percent. Hopefully she had their music. Amadhia was my favorite female singer and all of a sudden I really wanted to hear her voice. However, now wasn't the time to ask for a musical switch.

The Crüe on my chest, my beloveds on my back, and My Chemical Romance singing “Mama,” I trotted back out to Martini, who gave me a big smile. “That's better. Now you look like you.”

Decided not to argue—we'd had our first fight, and I didn't really want to have a second any time soon.

He shook his head. “That was a misunderstanding, not a fight. At least, I didn't think it was a fight. Did it really feel like a fight to you?” He looked worried and sounded more so.

“For me and Charles, that was a fight.”

“Oh. I'm even more sorry, then.” He didn't look happy anymore. “I didn't mean to frighten you and then fight with you, ever, let alone in the space of a few minutes.”

I patted his knee. “It's okay. I'll make a note that, for you, this was just you being jealous and insecure.”

He laughed. “Pretty much. Buchanan's on his way up. We'll discuss it and then determine if we should tell Angela now or wait.”

“Wait, you want to involve my mother?” Panic hit, and I couldn't stop it. Felt tears coming and held them back.

Martini noticed, of course. He was off the stool and holding me in a moment. “Shh, shh, it's okay. We won't let anything happen to her. I promise.” He patted my back. “It's okay.”

“What is?”

“To cry.”

“I've done too much of that today. Has it only been a day?”

“Not even a full day. Despite how it feels, it's just early evening. But it's been years' worth of emotional hits. Crying is a release. So cry if you need to, baby. It doesn't make you weak, not to me or anyone else who matters.”

Leaned my head against his chest, but him holding me reduced the panic enough that I could calm down. The double heartbeats were unusual but also soothing. “Yeah, it has. I can't . . . Jeff, I can't lose her again.”

He kissed my head. “I swear to you, I won't let anyone hurt your mother. Not that she needs a lot of protection—and you're definitely her daughter, because you don't, either. Not that that stops me, or Chuck, or anyone else from protecting the two of you, and everyone else that we can. We're a family, all of us, and we're in this together. Forever.” He hugged me tighter. “And no matter when you go back to your own universe, you'll always be part of our family. No matter who you're married to.”

A knock at the door caused us to separate. But I felt okay. Looked at the time. “Where is Jamie?”

“Pierre is giving her dinner because he thinks you're napping and I'm taking care of you. We'll get her soon, but I don't want her hearing this discussion.”

“No argument, just wanted to make sure she was okay. I'm sorry I didn't think of it sooner.”

“It's okay. She's safe and in good hands everywhere in the Embassy.” As the music changed to “Not Falling Apart” by Maroon 5, Martini opened the door and let Malcolm in.

Who looked at us. “First fight, huh?”

“Wow, were we really that obvious?”

Malcolm shrugged. “To me, yes.”

“That's what I wanted to talk about,” Martini said. “Because Kitty tells me you've been far more observant than the rest of us. And those observations need to be shared. Now.”

Malcolm shrugged. “You're not going to like it. And I'm not sure you're going to be able to hide that you know. Very few A-Cs can lie believably and you're absolutely not one of them.”

Martini sighed as we all moved to the living room. He sat on the couch and I sat with him. Malcolm took a comfy-looking chair. “Okay,” Martini said. “I can buy that reason, honestly. But at the same time, Kitty insinuated the Mastermind is someone we know well.”

“He is. But that means he knows you well, too,” Malcolm said. “Look, if I thought you'd both believe me and be able to hide the information, I'd have told you about my suspicions three years ago.”

“Three years?” Martini sounded shocked and a little angry. “You've known that long and haven't done anything?”

“I've done a lot, including being attacked and put into a coma that took some of my memory away. But knowing and proving aren't the same thing, and Angela would be the first one to tell you that. And I still have no proof.”

“Does my Kitty know?”

Malcolm shook his head. “But you two need to practice. Hold hands.”

“Why?”

“So you get used to it. You're going to be observed the moment you leave the Embassy in a normal, human way. Practice makes perfect.”

Martini looked at me as he did as Malcolm asked and took my hand in his. “And yet you've told this Kitty. Meaning that she's proved something to you, or confirmed something. So the Mastermind
is
in your world, too, isn't he, Kitty?”

“Yes, as far as we know.”

“Then tell me, so we can take care of him, once and for all.”

“She can't,” Malcolm said. “The problem is that you, Martini, will not be able to control your protective instincts. Once I tell you who we suspect, you'll never be comfortable with him again. Meaning he'll know that you know. And then he'll escalate whatever he's planning this time, and that's likely to end badly for all of us.”

“Now I'm just going to suspect everyone,” Martini muttered.

“Better that,” Malcolm said. “Even better that you prove you can fake it.” He looked at me. “He can't lie. Most of them can't. Missus Chief jokes about it all the time, but she uses it, too. So does the Mastermind. You can't tell him, no matter how much you want to.” He looked at Martini. “And you can harangue me about it, but not her. Clear?”

Martini eyed him, and I felt a stag fight coming. They were both Alpha Males, that was clear. But instead of fighting, Martini squeezed my hand gently and nodded slowly. “Yeah. I get your point. And you're right—if you tell me who it is, I'll just get rid of him before he hurts anyone else, my wife and child in particular.”

“Charles is in the most danger, he's who the Mastermind wants to hurt.”

Martini shook his head. “Hurting you and Jamie? That would hurt Chuck as much as losing Naomi, trust me.” He sighed. “So, I have to pretend I don't know that you know, and then, if I do that well, maybe you'll tell me who's trying to destroy all my people?”

“Pretty much,” Malcolm said. “But you have political garbage to handle, so that should be a distraction.”

“Speaking of which, I need to get to Paris really soon.”

B
OTH MEN STARED AT ME.
“Why?” Martini asked finally.

“Because the gift we need to give Margie Costello is there. Somewhere. I'm pretty sure I can find the shop, but I couldn't tell someone else how to find it.”

“We can't do time travel,” Martini said. “So it's around midnight there. Unless the store you're looking for is open twenty-four-seven, we're out of luck for a while.”

“Would it work to go there on the way to Australia?” Malcolm asked.

“Yes, but I don't want to be followed by photographers. If getting this gift is turned into a media circus it won't do what we need it to.”

“How are you with the early morning hours, before it's light out?” Martini asked me.

“I'm not in love with morning, but I have three children. I'm used to getting up at all hours. If I can go to bed early, I should be able to get up hella early, too. What are you thinking?”

“We gate over to the general area you think this store is in, find it, buy what you want, and get back before anyone in D.C. is actually awake.”

“I like that plan. That's a good plan.”

“You two can't go alone,” Malcolm said. “And don't even try to argue about it. Who, besides me, do you want?”

“Richard,” Martini said without missing a beat. “He works best with Kitty, and he's the best at smoothing problems over.” He grinned at me. “At least so your Cosmic Alternate tells me.”

I laughed. “Works for me.” I could handle hanging with the Silver Fox some more. Hey, I was married, not dead.

Martini groaned. “It doesn't matter which Kitty it is, they all lust after my uncle.”

Leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Don't worry, you're lust-worthy, too.”

“What time do you want to launch this particular mission?” Malcolm asked.

“Three a.m. our time is nine in the morning there,” Martini said. “Sounds like the right time.”

Malcolm nodded. “You'll advise White, Senior?”

“Yeah. Is that enough, just the four of us?”

“The Minister of Sulky Looks would be a fine addition, but I won't want to hear him complaining at that time of the morning. Never, really, but at three in the morning, I'll punch him. At the least.”

“Who's the Minister of Sulky Looks?” This was a new one.

Martini chuckled. “It's what Buchanan here calls Christopher when he's being . . . difficult. But I'd rather keep Christopher here, to protect Jamie. Who we are not bringing with us on this little side trip.”

“Yeah, I noticed that the guy glares a lot.” Maybe it was because he was married to Amy. “Now, of course, every time I look at him I'm going to think of that nickname. Thanks for that.”

Malcolm grinned. “You're welcome. What about the Secret Service? They're not going to like you two sneaking out.”

“Do they know about the gates and the hyperspeed?”

Martini nodded. “Yeah. We haven't been able to hide that from them.” He sighed. “I already had to deal with Cliff bawling me out for us going to Dulce earlier without them. After taking you to the hospital without them. At least he was upset with me, not our Secret Service details, since it's not their fault when we take off without them.”

“Why would he care about that?” Hoped I wasn't showing any reactions, mentally or emotionally. Focused on the music playing, which was “In the Next Room” by the Neon Trees.

“Secret Service reports into Homeland Security,” Malcolm explained, betraying absolutely nothing. “It makes sense that Goodman's running point for the Secret Service. Especially when you two don't behave.”

“The regular details will be off, and the nighttime details are far more focused on external activity than internal,” Martini said. “We usually don't slip out in the middle of the night. Hyperspeed and gates will solve the problem.”

“Aren't they supposed to be, well, hovering around us a lot more than they have been?”

“We have so much security in the Embassy that they can relax somewhat,” Martini said. “And, Vice President or not, they're not allowed in our bedrooms. They're a little more lax with us because we have our own people in here guarding too—Field agents, Alpha Team, Buchanan and your C.I.A. detail, and so on. Not everyone's here all the time, but some of them are on hand around the clock. We're the most secure of all the public officials.”

“Depends on your perspective,” Malcolm said. “You're also the main focus for domestic terrorism right now.”

“Comforting. Uh, where's Jamie? Exactly, I mean.”

Martini sent a text. His fingers moved so fast I couldn't see them. “Pierre's bringing her up.” He sent another text. “And Uncle Richard's on board and he'll make sure Christopher knows what we're doing and that he and Amy come into our rooms after we've left.”

“Doesn't sound exactly clandestine.”

“We know how to do this, baby. We do it all the time. Which is why Cliff and the Secret Service aren't happy with us.”

“I thought they basically tapped your phones.”

Malcolm laughed. “They try. But the A-Cs are scientifically adept, to put it mildly. They have their own phones. The moment Martini got the nomination as V.P. they've been running two sets of phones each—one for the Secret Service to listen to and one for their real network.”

“Wow. They must hate our guts.”

“No, they don't, actually,” Malcolm said. “They like you, both of you. You treat them like people, and important, part of the team or family people. It's one of your gifts. Your details are actually very loyal to you both, and to Jamie. However, if one of you gets hurt while on their watch, not only will that upset them personally, it will ruin their careers. And you two are possibly the hardest politicians to keep tabs on in the history of America.”

“Go us.” The music switched to the Psych Furs purring “Pretty in Pink” just as Peter arrived with Jamie, who was indeed in pink. She ran to us.

“Mommy, Daddy! Can I sleep in bed with you tonight?”

Martini and I looked at each other. “Sure,” I said. “Why not?” I was convinced Jamie knew I wasn't her real mother, and I was also pretty darned sure she'd suggested this so that Martini wouldn't have to sleep on the sofa.

Martini nodded. “Don't expect it every night, Jamie-Kat, but sure. It's been a tough day on Mommy. I think she'll like cuddling with her little girl.”

Jamie beamed. “Good. The pets will like that.”

“Speaking of which—” I was about to ask where all the animals were, when I heard them. And then I saw them.

Four large dogs were being controlled by a big guy who looked like he'd played football in college. He was followed by another guy who wasn't quite as big but still looked like an athlete, who was pulling a giant wagon that appeared to have a cat carrier in or on it.

“And here is where I leave you,” Peter said. “Enjoy the parent and child, fur, and feathers reunion, my darlings. Call if you need anything.” He left as the dogs dragged their handler to us.

Realized I'd met these two guys already, during the massive information session at Dulce. They hadn't registered and I realized they'd been hanging in the back, guarding, like Malcolm did. Did manage to remember their names, though. The bigger one was Kyle and the slightly smaller one was Len.

“You guys are my C.I.A. protection detail, right?”

“Right,” Len said as Kyle gave up and let the dogs go.

The dogs were all over us, wagging, howling with joy, and slobbering. It had been a long time since I'd had dogs. But I still remembered how to control them. By channeling Mom. “Dogs . . .
sit!
” Four dog butts hit the floor. “Good dogs. Who's who?”

Everyone stared at me. “What do you mean?” Martini asked slowly. “They're your dogs. Well, they were your parents' but when we all moved here, they went into a no pets building and we got the dogs.”

“And the cats,” Len said as he opened what was apparently the Feline Winnebago and three cats sauntered out. But they weren't the only animals in there.

An enormous number of fluffy balls of fur were piling out of the Winnebago, too. More than it seemed that it could have carried. They resembled kittens. Kittens with no ears or tails that I could see, but with bright, black eyes that looked almost like buttons. Or they were balls of fur on paws. But regardless, they were adorable. And they were like nothing I'd ever seen before, at least, not real and alive.

“What are those? And why did Pierre say ‘feathers'?”

“Ah,” Martini said, as “Animal” by the Neon Trees started. “As to that . . . well, there are a couple of other reasons the Secret Service isn't as worried about our security as they could be.”