Universal Alien (23 page)

“O
KAY, I CAN BUY THAT.
It's all about competition with you, right? That's Cliff's motivation for . . . everything?”

“Right,” Chuckie said. “But he's sporting about it. Why take an unfair advantage?”

“Especially since he already has a ton of advantages over us, over you. Yeah.” My stomach clenched. “He's there, and Other Me is there and totally unprepared for this.”

Chuckie snorted again. “She hates him, because I hate him. Nothing he can do or say will fake her out.”

“And I'm there,” Buchanan said.

“Yeah, but that doesn't mean that the you that is there doesn't trust Cliff.”

Buchanan dug into his pocket, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and handed it to me. It was old and very dog-eared.

Opened it and read aloud. “If I'm found dead, the guilty party is or is associated with Clifford Goodman of the C.I.A.” Looked up. “Wow, dude, you rock the conspiracy stuff. Possibly even more than Chu-, ah, Charles here.”

“I'm a suspicious bastard, what can I say? Besides, my job is protecting you. Your husband's enemies are, as today has aptly proved, yours as well. So, I've been investigating, in a very low-key manner, for years. After Angela was murdered and the rest of the team started going down, I was able to solidify my thinking. I didn't know that Goodman was the head of the Corporation, but I was pretty sure he was a mole.”

“Why didn't you say something to us?” Reader asked.

Buchanan shot him a very snide look. “What, and have you two ridicule me for being a crazy, trigger-happy lunatic?”

“Yeah, let's all stop the Bag on Malcolm Party, shall we? Clearly he's neither crazy nor trigger happy, considering I'd have willingly killed Bernie at any time today.”

“Right.” Reader shook his head. “You're awfully bloodthirsty.”

“Dude, you have no idea, but today? It's an average day for me.”

“Your world sounds infinitely more dangerous than ours,” Chuckie said, sounding incredibly worried.

“Never fear. Other Me has far more protection around her at all times than any of us do. Speaking of which, no dog, no cat, no hamsters?” Hadn't seen or heard an animal since we got here.

Chuckie shook his head. “Quarantine isn't kind to animals, and we travel too much.”

“What, you're loaded and you haven't figured out how to grease some palms to ensure your pets are given preferential treatment? I'm disappointed in all of you. But anyway, right now it's less things for our enemies to kill, so I'll let it go. Though a pet would probably do Jamie a world of good.” Chuckie opened his mouth. “It's tabled for later. So, now what? I say we go find Cliff Goodman and LaRue of Death or whoever she really is and make them really most sincerely dead.”

“I love how you think,” Buchanan said, with complete sincerity as far as I could tell.

“I'm sure you do,” Reader replied. “However, we have no idea where he is and, in this world, murdering someone in your own agency, or any other for that matter, carries some serious penalties.”

Chuckie nodded. “We need proof that he's the mole.”

“Depends on what we're hoping to achieve.” They all looked at me quizzically. Sighed. “If we want to humiliate Cliff and get him out of the C.I.A., yes, by all means, we need proof. If, however, we want to stop him from becoming the Mastermind here that he is where I come from, then we need to put a Final Solution into action. Because, like those assassins he sent after all of you, the dude won't stop. I guarantee it.”

“You're right,” Buchanan said. “But we still need proof. I haven't hunted him down and killed him because I don't want to discover I'm wrong.”

“You're not,” Chuckie said. “But before we become judge, jury, and executioner, we need to know, for sure, that he's the one in charge.”

“And knowing what else he has going on wouldn't be a bad thing, either,” Reader pointed out.

“Anything that can help us in your Secret Lair?”

“Not really,” Chuckie said. “We need to figure out what to do with our family. They're in danger, and if we're going after Goodman that means they're left unprotected. I'd suggest that Kitty guard them, but honestly, I don't think we have a chance without her along to help us. And leaving one of the rest of us behind isn't going to be a good choice, either.”

“What about the Israeli Embassy?” The three men stared at me and, couldn't help it, I rolled my eyes. “Dudes, they just dropped everything to come help us out. Leah told me she was there for me if I was having issues with transition. In my world, when we're in trouble we run to our friends, and vice versa.”

“Hard to beat Mossad for protection,” Buchanan pointed out.

“Jamie won't be able to handle it,” Chuckie said quietly.

Considered this. “Leave Jamie to me. If I can't get through to her, okay, we'll shoot for Plan B. But if I can, James, you need to see if Jakob, Oren, and Leah can do us another solid.”

Semi-plan of action agreed upon, we rejoined Pierre, who was just finishing the cleanup. “I assume that horrible woman was one of those trying to kill our precious darlings?” he asked.

“She was,” I confirmed.

He nodded. “Sorry you only shot her in the leg. I hope the Israelis are less kind.”

“They will be,” Buchanan said. “Trust me on that.”

We headed upstairs to find the rest of the family still on watch—Caroline and Aunt Carla were stationed downstairs, Dad and the kids were upstairs.

“I'm making dinner,” Pierre said. “We all need to eat. Unless we need to run or more assassins are on their way, in which case I'll just prepare snacks to go.”

“Sadly, I vote for the snacks. Hopefully the people in charge aren't aware that their assassins have failed and been captured, but we need to use any extra time we have to get to safety, not to chow down.”

“Katherine, what should Caroline and I do?” Aunt Carla asked. “I've missed my flight—which is fine, because I told those waiting for me that you'd been in an accident. But Caroline has a job to get back to, and if I don't show up eventually, without you and the children being hurt or dead, it's going to be questioned. Not,” she added quickly, “that I'm anything other than relieved that you're all alright.”

Hugged her. “It's okay, I know what you meant. I think, honestly, you two need to be protected. And I doubt anyone's going to believe us if we tell them what happened.”

“I can call in sick,” Caroline said. “There's always a bug going around, and I pretty much never take sick days unless I'm at death's door, so the Senator will believe it's real.”

“I'll give whatever excuse you need,” Aunt Carla said. “Solomon brought my luggage with us, so I'm taken care of and no one will be wondering why it isn't claimed. I just need a legitimate excuse for why I'm no longer going to Paris.”

“You two rock, and Aunt Carla, I'm not sure there's a good excuse to avoid Paris. But I truly appreciate you taking one for the team.” Looked at Dad who'd come downstairs to join us. “Um, you know, why don't you just say that Dad and I aren't doing well and that you feel that we need you with us right now?”

“Because you tend to not want me to stay an hour, let alone longer.” Aunt Carla had a sarcasm knob. She wasn't at eleven on a scale of ten, but she was surely at an eight and rising. Bizarro World was loaded with surprises.

“Makes it all the more believable that you're staying,” Reader said quickly. “Tell them that the accident—which Kitty and the kids miraculously walked away from—is causing Sol and Kitty to finally deal with Angela's death and that's why they asked you to stay.”

She nodded. “That sounds reasonable. It'll fly with the family and friends I'm visiting.”

“What about your husband?”

She gave me a small smile. “He died last year. I . . . still wear my wedding ring because you two don't have a monopoly on mourning.” She gave Chuckie a fond look. “We don't all find our soul mates on the first try, Katherine. For me, third time was the charm.” She took a deep breath. “But, we do go on. And it makes this easier.”

“Are we going with you guys, wherever it is you're going?” Caroline asked.

“No. We want you and the kids in a safe house of some kind. We're still setting that up, but you should get your excuses done now.”

They both nodded and stepped away to make their calls. “I'll call the Israelis,” Reader said, also stepping away.

“I'll start packing what we'll need to survive for, how long, a week?” Pierre asked.

“Let's hope it's that or less,” Chuckie said. Pierre nodded and zipped off.

Dad sighed. “I'll go back upstairs and tell the children they can pack one small bag each with toys and games. Pierre will handle clothing, toiletries, and anything else pertinent. We're barely unpacked anyway. But . . . Jamie isn't going to want to leave.”

“I'll talk to her.” No one looked like this gave them any hope that I'd get through. Dad kissed my cheek and headed upstairs.

“You need to clear anything?” Chuckie asked Buchanan.

“No. I've got safe houses and I've been floating between them since I, as you put it, went rogue.”

“I think it was James who put it that way.”

“I did,” he said, rejoining us. “Jakob said that, with what we just gave them, Mossad would take us to Israel and back if we needed them to. Housing our civilians at their embassy with full Mossad protection is, and I quote from his superior, merely a small favor they're happy to oblige. So, once we get the kids, Sol, Pierre, Caroline, and Carla safely tucked away, where do the four of us go? Cuba? Jakob said Mossad will drop us wherever we need.”

Thought about it. “No. Cliff's here in D.C. First of all, because he works here, but mostly because he wanted you guys brought back here so he could see you dead.”

“Why, do you think?” Reader asked.

“Because in my world, this is my skill. I'm Megalomaniac Girl—there's not a psycho or evil genius mastermind I can't feel the love with. For whatever reason, I'm just this kind of skilled.” Missed Tim something fierce. Which reminded me. “James, what did you find out about my flyboys?”

“Ah, we should determine if we want Mossad to help us. They've offered.”

“Oh, nice try at the distraction. Tell me. It's something bad, isn't it? Are they working for Cliff or something?”

Reader didn't look like he wanted to share. “Tell her,” Chuckie said, in a tone that brooked no argument. “She's a big girl. Frankly, she's Wonder Woman, based on what I've seen. Tell her—I'm sure she can handle it.”

“I'm not,” Reader muttered. “But fine, have it your way. I found them. All of them. And . . . they're all dead. Killed in action in Iraq or Afghanistan over the course of the past five years.”

M
Y THROAT WAS TIGHT
and I had tears in my eyes. But I didn't let them fall. “You're sure? All of them? Jerry and Matt and Chip and—”

“Yes.” Reader stopped me. “I'm positive. Kitty, I'm so sorry. First your mother and now this.”

“There's no one I can hurt to avenge them, is there?”

“No,” Chuckie said as he put his arm around me and hugged me to him. “There's not. They were in wars, and unfortunately, wars have casualties. I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry.”

Swallowed hard. I knew about casualties, of course. Understanding that this was how the world worked was easy from a logical perspective. However, from an emotional one, any time someone was lost it was a tragedy.

Tragic or not, however, I knew what my guys would tell me to do if they were, somehow, here. And that would be to save the day and not let the bad guys win. “Okay. I'm going to go talk to Jamie. James . . . search for Tim Crawford. Maybe he's not dead.”

“Common name. What does he do?”

Great question. I had absolutely no idea what Tim had done before he'd joined Centaurion Division. “Ah . . . I don't know.” It was official—I sucked as a boss and a friend.

“We can get Mossad as backup,” Chuckie said soothingly. “You don't have to find every person here you know in your world.”

Considered this. “Maybe I do. I mean, some are good and some are bad. So the possibility exists that they may be hooked up with Cliff in some way.”

“Cross that bridge when we get there,” Buchanan said. “We need to clear out before Goodman figures out his team's failed and sends a better one.”

“A better one, that's it!” All three men looked at me blankly. “James, see if you can find Peter and Victor Kasperoff. They're cousins, probably out of Russia. Sometimes they go as Keller, but always Peter and Victor.”

“Who are they?” Reader asked. “In your world I mean.”

“The best assassins out there. And my adopted uncles. Long story. But if they're here, I think I can get them on our side again. And we may need them.”

Reader and Chuckie exchanged an “OMG” look. “I'll try.” Reader didn't sound enthused.

“Look, I'll write out a list of every other human operative and ally I have in my world. I had no luck finding anyone but the two guys who turned pro and while I'd love to call in the Jets for backup, I doubt we can score help from that corner. But one thing I do know—the Mastermind is a master chess player, and we're going to need all the pieces we can get.”

“We'll get backup,” Chuckie said soothingly. “Why don't you try with Jamie? If she doesn't want to go, we're going to have to come up with another plan, because I doubt the Israelis want to move in a three-way mirror.”

“I'm sure they could roll with it.” But I wanted to talk to Jamie anyway, so I trotted upstairs, leaving the men to discuss their worry about my insane desire to call on scary people who wouldn't know me for help. They probably had a point.

Found her in her room, watching herself in her mirrors. “Hey, Jamie, can I talk to you for a minute?” She nodded but didn't turn away. Went to her and sat down next to her. “What are you looking at?”

“Me.”

“Ah. Well, do you like what you see?”

“Sometimes.”

“Okay. We need to go and we can't take your mirrors with us. But we can come back for them.”

“I can't leave them.”

“Why not?”

“They need me.”

Pondered my next move. She was a little girl and I was quite capable of picking her up and just taking her to safety. I was also the adult and the mother, so, technically “because I said so” was also a very viable and legitimate response. However, we needed to avoid Jamie having a meltdown, and besides, there was something more going on here.

Other Me and Chuckie had come to the conclusion of autism, and I could see why. But I was from a world where, if someone started behaving oddly, you had to question if they were an alien, an android, an enhanced human, or something else entirely. Therefore, I'd learned that the obvious, easy answer wasn't always the right one.

So, had to figure out my next move, and make sure it wasn't the move that Chuckie or Other Me was likely to choose. Not that I thought they were doing a bad job as parents, but if they'd known the right things to do or say, they wouldn't think Jamie was autistic, or they'd have confirmed it and would be getting her professional help.

Looked into the mirror. It was set up so that the mirrors reflected not only the person in them, but each other. In fact, the way the mirrors were set created what appeared to be an infinite number of Jamies, curving out and around. I'd seen something like this before. Recently. And at least one time before.

It looked like the Universe Wheel, only closer up and on its side, truly like a round cassette that you'd use in an old-fashioned slide projector.

But Jamie wasn't looking at all the other images. She was staring straight ahead. So I stared straight ahead, too. And I saw what she was seeing.

In front of me, not so much. But in my peripheral vision? Worlds were spinning past, and I could see myself in them. Just for a moment, and then the next worlds moved into place. And if I looked directly at a world, what I was seeing turned back into the general reflection of the mirror.

“It's like
Through the Looking Glass
. Times a million. Or more.”

Jamie didn't turn, but I saw her beam at me in the mirror. “I knew you'd understand, Mommy!”

“I think I do. What, um, do you see, Jamie?”

“What you're seeing, Mommy. All of us, all over. I'm always with you,” she said happily. “Even where I have two mommies. You're always the mommy who is my mommy.”

In most of the other worlds I was married to either Chuckie or Reader. Mine was the only one where aliens were on Earth, so it was the only one where Jeff was. But I'd seen a few worlds where I was married to guys I didn't know, and a few where I was married to girls I didn't know. I was too busy to try to spot those worlds right now, but I remembered them from when I'd given birth to my Jamie.

“Who's your daddy in those worlds?”

“Usually Daddy. Sometimes Uncle James.”

Made sense. Chuckie and I were in every world I could see, and Reader was in most of them. If I was going to be artificially inseminated, or just have sex with a guy I liked in order to conceive, they'd be the obvious choices. And choosing the smartest guy in any room as your baby's sperm donor made sense, though, clearly, in some worlds, I'd gone for slightly less brains and perfect cheekbones instead. That was me, mixing it up and keeping the multiverse guessing.

Cleared my throat. “Why haven't you told Daddy or . . . your Other Mommy about this?”

“They don't understand.” She looked sad. “They think I'm broken.”

Wanted to stop looking into the mirrors and just pull her into my arms and tell her how much I knew Chuckie and Other Me loved her, that they were frightened because no parent wants their child to suffer and they thought she was suffering.

But I didn't. Instead, I picked her up, keeping her facing the mirrors, scooted myself under her, bent and crossed my legs, and put her down onto my lap this way. Then I put my arms around her and held her. “Parents want the best for their children. And I can understand why they're scared. They love you so much.”

“I know. I love them, too. That's why I asked.”

“Asked what?”

“For help.” She said it as if it was obvious. I'd changed universes—perhaps it
was
obvious.

“Who did you ask to help you?”

“Who we all know to ask.”

We all. Interesting. “I don't know who that is, Jamie-Kat.” Was she in contact with ACE or Algar? I could but hope.

“Yes, you do, Mommy—Auntie Mimi.”