Universal Alien (31 page)

“In essence. They know they can't find me and that I can escape if they try to capture me. Besides, I let them claim credit for certain inventions, so it's in their best interests to continue to help me. They'd rather get the credit or their finder's fee than stop my ideas from coming. And if I were betrayed, no more ideas, and none for any of them, specifically.”

Knowing human nature, that made sense. Mostly. “But what if one of them decides turning you in is more worthwhile financially?”

He shrugged. “They have no idea what I can really do, so they have no defenses against hyperspeed or increased strength. They all just think I'm an eccentric genius and they humor me because what I provide makes that humoring worthwhile.”

“Don't they try to find you, just out of curiosity?”

“They may. But in all this time no one's found these tunnels, and since I enter them at hyperspeed, no one can see me doing so.
I
wouldn't have found the tunnels without Harlie. Harlie found them when we first got here—we use them to get all over the world. I have underground safe rooms like this one all over by now. They can't find me—nothing on Earth can penetrate whatever is lining these tunnels—and I want to keep it that way. If they knew I was an alien . . .” He shuddered.

“We won't let them know, sir.” Cox cleared his throat. “I've lost everyone here who mattered to me. In a small way, sir, I do understand what you're going through. But some things are still worth fighting for. And saving innocent people from someone like your father is one of them. You were right to try to fight. I understand why you didn't once you arrived here. But right now, sir? You're not alone anymore. At least, you don't have to be.”

“You lost your family, son?” Alfred asked.

Cox nodded. “My parents and all my friends. I'm an only child. I understand feeling alone. But if we don't help her,” he nodded toward me, “then all the sacrifices become worth nothing. She's come from another universe to try to save what she can of our world. I'd say that's worth revving up the fighting spirit for.”

Alfred stroked Harlie, clearly thinking. “If you will tell me about your world, about my family there,” he said finally, “then I'll give you whatever help I can.”

“I'll be glad to. Even if you don't want to help us, I want to tell you about the life another you is living, because it's a good life, filled with love and success and happiness. It's the life you deserved here that was taken from you, but for whatever comfort it's worth, that better life is out there, and you're living it to its fullest.”

Alfred smiled, a real smile for the first time since we'd met him. “That sounds like a gift, a true gift, and one I'll treasure forever.”

M
ARTINI AND I RACED OFF
to Charles de Gaulle airport. This time when we went into the men's room I made him check under the stall door right away. We zipped right out again, never slowing down to anything resembling slow.

“There's another dead body in there,” he said, voice tight, as we left the airport as fast as we'd come. “And I'm sure it's one of our Secret Service men. That's too much of a coincidence.”

“We call it a frame-up where I come from.”

“We call it that here, too. But who the hell could be framing us? I mean, who knows that we were coming here?”

“Well, half of the Embassy, basically.”

“They're all trustworthy. And I say that based on the fact that Chuck has everyone swept and searched for emotional overlays and the like regularly and randomly, and there isn't a human without an emotional overlay or blocker on them who can lie to me.”

Tried really hard not to think of the one human who was fooling and lying to Martini and Charles both on a regular basis, but there wasn't any music around for me to focus on.

Martini headed us into a deserted alleyway in an industrial area and stopped. “The Mastermind is a human and you're sure that he's lying to me on a regular basis. Just tell me this—is it Chuck?”

“What the hell? Are you high?”

“We're deadly allergic to alcohol and we don't do drugs as a rule, so no.”

“No. The Mastermind hates Charles. Chuckie, sorry. Both, really, in my world and yours. And Malcolm and I both confirmed that to you already. Why are you even asking this?”

“Because you're thinking of him, of Chuck.”

“Because the Mastermind is fooling him and you both. And therefore he's fooling everyone else.”

Martini stared at me. “Oh. God.” He looked pale. “I hope I'm wrong, but I know I'm not.”

“Crap. Did you just read my mind or my emotions?”

“No, actually. I just thought about what you said. There's really only one person who Chuck fully trusts aside from Kitty, and that would mean only one person who could, therefore, fool him.” He swallowed. “And the Secret Service reports up to him. And that means if one of them did some kind of random check, then they'd discover we weren't in our rooms, badger Christopher, Amy, Len, and Kyle, and they'd tell them where we went, because we trust those people. We're not telling them about
you
, but telling them about our mission to save the day? They'd tell them that.”

“Does the Secret Service just randomly drop into your bedroom?”

“They do if Cliff Goodman tells them to. He's the Mastermind, isn't he?”

There was no way I was going to hide this from Martini, not when he was asking me directly. And I could tell he'd gotten confirmation from my emotions or mind before I answered. “Yes. And, Jeff, if we let him know that we know, he's going to destroy everyone.”

Martini ran his hand through his hair. “And, per everyone, your Cosmic Alternate in particular, I can't lie. At all. I'd grab an emotional blocker, only he'll read my face and actions, won't he?”

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure he will. So, what do we do?”

“I have no idea. At all. This is usually the time when my Kitty comes up with some insane plan that usually means some or all of us, me in particular, almost die, and yet we manage to survive, most of us, anyway, and then she saves the day.” He looked at me hopefully. “So, whatcha got?”

Now wasn't the time to say that I had nada. Now was the time to Cowgirl Up and accept that if my CA could do it, then it stood to reason that I could do it, too. Whatever “it” was or was going to be.

“Gimme a mo. Need to ponder.”

For whatever reason, me saying this made Martini relax. “Take your time. Well, not a lot of time, but no rush.” He looked expectant. Remembered that they were used to my CA thinking aloud. Decided to throw the poor man a bone.

“Okay, so we can't tell Chuckie, because he will just try to kill Goodman, and even if he succeeds, we lose because he gets killed or goes to prison.”

“Right. No telling Chuck is rule one.”

“So, we need to not use his name anymore and go back to what you've been calling him—the Mastermind.” Martini nodded. “We need to figure out why the Mastermind doesn't want us making things right with Australia.”

“Why—oh. Got it. You have a fix, and if someone got one of those in the know at the Embassy to talk, they'd be focused on explaining how you have this great fix that will solve everything to explain why we snuck out.”

“Yeah. Dead bodies suggest that someone wants to ensure we can't fix things up with Australia quickly or easily, so there must be a reason the Mastermind wants this political unrest to go on.”

“Anti-alien sentiments going strong would be my guess. Get us on the run enough, and we ask Alpha Four to let us come home.”

“Sounds right to me. Where did you send the gifts, the ones we bought? Back to the Embassy?” Tried not to ask that with dread in my voice. Failed, if Martini chuckling was any indication.

“I sent them to Sydney Base, just in case. Figured it was safer for them to be within an A-C facility than in the Embassy. And no one will give them to anyone but you or me—I made that order clear.”

“And you used to be Head of Field, right? So it's like you're the retired president or head of the military for all of them. They'll listen to you even over James, won't they?”

“Depends on the order, but in this case, no one's going to override my order unless you and I are dead.”

“Let's avoid that outcome. So, okay, the gifts went elsewhere, thank God. Did you tell anyone at the Embassy about this decision?”

He grimaced. “I did. I told Christopher so he could back us up if necessary.”

“They're being harangued by Cliff, either in person or via the Secret Service, and so, yeah, Christopher says things are fine and the gifts are in Oz, what's the big freaking deal.”

“Sounds about right.” Martini stiffened. “He's with Jamie!”

Grabbed his arm just before he took off. “
Stop
!”

He froze. “Why? He's got our daughter.”

“No. If he's there he's in a room full of people who are there
only
to protect Jamie. That man's been around your daughter for as long as you've known him. He's not going to take her, not where anyone could see, not until he's either set up to win and take the prize right then, or until his hand is forced. You rampaging in will force his hand. Beside, I'm betting your plethora of animals aren't going to let anyone near her.”

“Yeah. Why haven't the Poofs or Peregrines killed him off yet? They're supposed to guard us.”

“Why does a dog not bite the friend of yours the dog hates? Because you, the owner, like that friend and tell the dog to behave.”

“But the Poofs think independently.”

“Do they? You all told me my CA has Doctor Doolittle skills. And if Charles trusts or hates someone, I trust him. Surely she's the same way with Chuckie.”

“She is. That's what you and Buchanan determined, isn't it?”

“Yeah. If he could fool Chuckie, then he's fooling my CA, and that means the rest of you are being fooled. But this is us rehashing what we know. The animals are just that—animals. Stop expecting them to think like people. They don't, and why they have or haven't done something to the Mastermind isn't our issue right now. What I want to know is how in the world he could have gotten to the bathrooms we'd be using. I mean, how would he know?”

“We have A-Cs who are . . . traitors.”

“Are they here? In France? Following us?”

He shook his head. “I don't know. We've caught some of them. But not all.”

“Why didn't we take a floater gate?”

“I wanted to stay under the radar. Using a floater requires coordination with the Dome. Using a regular gate doesn't.”

“That's it. The Mastermind knows your playbook, and he's a master chess player. So he figured out your moves, and put something in your way to incriminate you. I wonder if the other dead person is anyone you know.”

“I don't think it's safe to go back to Gare du Nord. But . . .” Martini grabbed my hand and we were off again. This time we went to the Orly airport, and, as per usual, visited one of the men's rooms.

Martini took a long look under the Special Stall and then raced us back to the alleyway we'd been to before. Now he looked grim and ill, both. Wasn't his best look, but that could be said for everyone. Was sure I was going to match this look in a moment.

“Who is it and how were they killed? I can tell you know them by your totally-not-able-to-lie expression of horror.”

He swallowed hard. “The two I saw . . . both their throats were slit. Based on the blood you said you saw pooling at the first gate, the first one's throat was likely slit as well. And . . . this third man is another from your Secret Service detail.”

I
DIDN'T KNOW ANY OF THE MEN
on my detail, but I knew my CA did. And it didn't matter. These men had jobs where they willingly put their lives on the line. To be murdered by some brilliant lunatic they reported up to in order to make his take over the world plans work better was obscene.

“He sent them after us.”

“Or they went once they realized we were gone.” Martini ran his hand through his hair again. “But, it makes no sense. Why go to these three locations? We were in a group, it's not like we'd normally split up.”

“Well, first off, we don't know that there aren't more bodies littered throughout the Paris transportation system's men's rooms. And from what I've seen, you guys split up all the time. But let's err on the side of ridiculous optimism and assume that they went to the three gates you'd be most likely to pick.”

“Yeah,” Martini said slowly. “We normally use the Metro gate because of where it's located, but there are other main Metro stations we use as well. And du Gaulle is the airport of choice, Orly would almost always be second, but there are other airports available as well.”

“Then there are either more dead Secret Service agents in the other obvious places or the Mastermind just figured one of those three places would work. The problem is that while Chuckie, Richard, and Malcolm actually have airtight alibis, you and I now do not.”

Martini stiffened. “He can't know about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the Mastermind cannot know that you ran into someone you know in your universe that we absolutely did not know in this one. You finding Amadhia altered both what we did and where we went, and how long we took, too. And it's why Chuck and the others have that airtight alibi. Because they're with Amadhia, in a recording studio with a bunch of musicians, not with us.”

Considered this. I hadn't seen Malcolm unless he'd wanted me to see him, and he told me he was probably shadowing me in my universe, too, and while he felt familiar, I didn't know him in my world, meaning he was really good at not being seen. “Is throat slitting an A-C thing?”

“No, but the C.I.A. loves it. He's not trying to frame you and me, is he? He's trying to frame either Chuck or Buchanan.”

“Call Malcolm, we need to talk to him.”

Martini nodded, pulled out his phone, and dialed. “Hi, where are you? Great. Stay there. Don't leave. Make sure all three of you stay with those people until we tell you otherwise. Yeah, putting you onto speaker.”

“What's going on?” Malcolm asked. We filled him in quickly. “Ah. I've been made. It happened during what Missus Chief calls Operation Infiltration. When . . .”

“When Naomi was killed,” Martini said quietly to me. “Got it,” he said toward the phone. “So, this is being done to frame you, isn't it?”

“I think so. I've done my best not to be noticed by the Mastermind, but—”

“I know who it is,” Martini said. “Not Kitty's fault, by the way, I figured it out based on what's going on. But yeah, if I was trying to take over, I'd want you out of the way. Because I know what the Mastermind wants is Kitty dead.”

“Go to the Eiffel Tower, and go now,” Malcolm said. “Get to the top and make out. Make sure you're seen.”

“What?” we both said in unison.

“You have to have an alibi for when the agents were murdered. We have one. You don't. You were supposedly going home. But, hey, it's Paris, it's romance, you two went to the Left Bank, walked along the Seine, and then went to the top of the Tower. Get over there, make it work. People will buy it if you weren't seen near the bathrooms.”

“We bought a present for Jamie at the Metro.”

Malcolm cursed. “I paid cash,” Martini said. “And we really weren't in there a long time.”

“We stopped to get her a prezzie, I saw a poster of the Eiffel Tower, went into a pout about us being in the most romantic city in the world and only working, we then went to the Left Bank, walked along the river, and then went to the Tower.”

“That works,” Malcolm said.

“I called on our secured lines,” Martini added. “We just need to somehow ensure that no one at Centaurion gives Homeland Security or any other agency this information.”

Malcolm laughed. “They won't. Reader hates all the Alphabet Agencies and doesn't like them in our business. We're fine. Now, get off the phone and get your alibi in place. And I mean it, you need to make out and make it real, or we're all incriminated in some way and the Mastermind knows we're on to him.”

We hung up, Martini grabbed my hand, and we took off again. “We won't have been seen at the right times.”

“No, I think we can make it work.” He zipped us by a popular coffeehouse on the Left Bank side close to the Tower. We went into the back alley, stopped hyperspeeding, and left, arms around each other, strolling along as if we'd been so for quite a while. “I'm following your CA's game plan. Let's ensure we're seen, looking relaxed and casual.”

“Works for me.”

We went in and waited in line to order. “Enjoying our romantic side trip?” he asked me in a normal voice, meaning those around us could hear him.

“Oh yes. Walking along La Rive Gauche was wonderful and so romantic. I can't wait to go to the top of the Eiffel Tower.”

He nuzzled me. “I'll make it worth your time.”

I giggled. “I know you will.”

We got cafés au lait and then left the coffeehouse. The grounds around the Eiffel Tower were beautiful, even at the end of winter, and we strolled through them, arms around each other, sipping coffee and talking about nothing of consequence other than how fun it was to be playing hooky in Paris.

While we wandered, I did my best to think if we'd left fingerprints anywhere. Only at the gift shop in the Metro. The bathrooms were the kind with open main doors, and we hadn't touched the stalls. This was all good.

Prepping to make out with a man who wasn't actually my husband wasn't. However, this wasn't adultery so much as spycraft. And since I'd just found out that my husband was apparently a spy, there was always the possibility that he'd had to make out with some glamorous female agent or asset. And even if he hadn't, it wasn't as though I was looking forward to making out with Martini.

Blithely lying to myself and prattling about Paris, we reached the Tower. Thankfully it was open every day, and we were well past opening time. We got tickets and instead of going up in the elevators, we took the stairs.

“You up to this?” Martini asked me quietly.

“Sure, I'm in shape.” I hoped.

He squeezed my hand. “I'll help, don't worry.”

We trotted up the stairs, all seven hundred plus of them. Martini used hyperspeed when we weren't near anyone else, and sometimes just to give us a little boost. It helped, and I wasn't completely exhausted by the time we reached the top. And we'd been seen by a lot of people.

The view from the top of the Tower was amazing, as always. Charles and I had come here, of course, on our honeymoon. And we'd made out up here, too, also of course. Figured that Martini and my CA had, as well, since from what I'd picked up, they'd been to Paris more than once.

We were up high, it was February, the air was cold, and I wasn't dressed warmly enough. Started shivering the moment I recovered from the stairs.

Martini opened his suit jacket and pulled me in close to him. “Let me keep you warm, baby.” He wrapped the jacket and his arms around me and I snuggled into his chest.

He was warm and his heartbeats were soothing, and I relaxed against him and snuggled closer, wrapping my arms around his waist, while he held me just a little tighter.

This was a great option—we looked incredibly romantic, intimate, and relaxed with each other—all without sucking face. I realized Martini must have been having the same adultery issues and worries that I was, had realized this was an option before I had, and had taken appropriate action.

Looked up at him. “You really are the greatest guy in the world, you know that?”

He smiled slowly. “I never get tired of hearing you say that, baby.”

Our gazes were locked and I was reminded again of how easily I could believe my CA had fallen, and fallen hard, for this man. He wasn't trying to be sexy and romantic, he just managed it naturally.

What might have happened next was anyone's guess, but we were both saved by the ringtone. Martini sighed, let go of me with one arm, and dug his phone out. Not the same phone he'd used to call Malcolm, meaning this was probably a call from someone who wasn't in the A-C Special Phone System.

“Hello? Yeah.” He moved us away to a part of the platform where no one else was. “Yes, we snuck out because Kitty didn't want this shopping trip to become a media circus. Still in Paris. At the Eiffel Tower. Because the French don't care what we do, and Kitty wanted to have an hour where we just felt like a happy, married couple, not the current black sheep of the political stratosphere.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know, we've been bad. Again. Harangue me when we're home. What? No, we didn't tell them to follow us, why would we? We have our own protection and, again, it's hard to be stealthy while being trailed by your people.”

His eyes narrowed, but he kept his tone the same. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do know exactly where he is, and has been. He's with Richard and Chuck and a room full of musicians. It's a long story. One I don't want to tell you over the phone. Yes, I can get you the address, but I have to get off the phone to do so. I'll text it to you. You want us to wait here or take a gate back? Got it.” He hung up and sent a text.

“Who was that?”

“Hang on.” His phone beeped, he grunted, then sent another text.

“Waiting impatiently here.”

“Just had to make sure I got that done. My caller was none other than Cliff Goodman. Asking me if I knew the whereabouts of all the men assigned to your Secret Service night detail.”