Alien Diplomacy (10 page)

“Probably not. Not in a good place to fill you in, either.”

“Everyone’s safe?”

“Yes. Still heading to the shopping area.”

He sighed. “Fine. Try to not burn down the shops.”

“Oh, ye of little faith.”

Jeff snorted. “Never forget, baby, I know you.”

W
E JOSTLED ALONG.
To be polite I put my iPod back into my purse. I didn’t think discussing the limo’s explosion, the potential assassination attempt, our chase through the streets of D.C., or who Mr. Joel Oliver thought was following him were wise topics, so we chatted about the weather.

Len, Kyle, and I weren’t in favor of the cold. Oliver liked it because wearing coats gave him more places to stash film, media cards, cameras, and so forth. I refrained from making snide remarks, proving that at least Aunt Emily’s Diplomacy for Beginners class was paying off.

Len asked why Oliver still used film, and we got a brief but informative lecture on why some shots still came out better using traditional photography methods and why some didn’t. Oliver carried what seemed like every type of camera on him, so he was ready for any shot, at any time, whether it be artistic and up for a Pulitzer, digital and catching a celebrity without her underpants on, or anything in between.

In a short time we were at the shopping area, got off the bus, and started strolling around. “Okay, no one got on the bus with us, no one got off the bus with us, I see no taxis with poorly disguised drivers around, so if whoever else was following you is still on your tail, they’ll need to park. So, who
is
on your tail?”

Oliver looked around. “I believe they’re with the C.I.A.”

Len shook his head. “Mister Reynolds doesn’t tail you, and he doesn’t have people tailing you.”

“Ah, but you’d say that, even if he did,” Oliver said pleasantly.
“However, I don’t think they’re on Mister Reynolds’ side of the alien question.”

“There are no aliens.” Hey, I was going to do my best to get us back to some sort of security level.

Oliver chuckled. “Of course there are. You’re married to one. But to make you feel better, let’s just refer to them by the nice name everyone uses around here. I believe those who have targeted me are not friendly to American Centaurion. Nor are they friends of those who are friends of American Centaurion.”

“That doesn’t exactly narrow it down.”

“Whoever’s in charge will be at the President’s Ball.”

“To watch the fireworks, make sure nothing goes wrong, or to pull the trigger?”

“I have no idea. My informants were all clear about the ball being the place where the major situation is going to go down. And while I doubt whoever’s in charge is the person or persons following me, I got a glimpse of shadowy figures and nothing more.”

“Then why do you assume they’re C.I.A.?” Len asked.

“It’s a safe bet,” Oliver said dryly. “Plus there was…something about them…”

“Lurking in nice suits?”

He shook his head. “No. C.I.A. field operatives are trained to blend in.”

“They didn’t blend if you saw them.”

Oliver stared at me. “That’s a very good point.”

I considered this. “You think they wanted you to see them?”

“Why would they want that?” Kyle asked.

Len pursed his lips. “To flush him out, send him to whoever he thinks will protect him or want his information.”

Oliver looked chagrined. “And I did exactly that.”

We were in front of Cartier’s, and I stared at the nearby dress shops. “Did you? Because I know who you wanted to run to, and he’s not here or even close.”

“So does that mean they thought he was?” Kyle asked. “Or did they think he’d run to you, Kitty?”

“Or did someone blow up our limo for an entirely unrelated reason?” It was a legitimate question. In my experience, there was never just one scheme going on around us at any time.

“Until we know otherwise, I’d assume that there was a connection,” Oliver said. “Unless your limousines routinely explode.”

“Not unless someone’s trying to kill us. And who were the dudes in the taxis working for? Were they part of the blow-us-up gang, or were they merely trying to kidnap us for different, nefarious reasons?”

“No idea. I don’t believe we have enough information.”

“We should have grabbed one of them.”

“I don’t think either Mister Reynolds or the ambassador would have liked that,” Len said.

“Oh, they’d have liked it if we’d gotten some decent, accurate intelligence out of the experience.” Ah, well, another potential opportunity missed. I chose not to worry about it and instead made a command decision. “Let’s hit this shop.”

I forged in before the males could protest. It was small and loaded with expensive clothes. I had a little trouble getting in the door with the stroller. None of the salesgirls came to help, but, fortunately, Len was there to handle it.

For some reason, I expected to get someone asking me if I needed help finding anything. I wasn’t exactly dressed up, but then again, I had three men with me, two of whom looked official, and we were in a town loaded with foreign dignitaries. But it was as if I weren’t there as far as the salesgirls seemed concerned.

I looked at a few dresses, held them up and stared in a mirror, but I didn’t feel enough love to try them on. The boys were on lookout, but Oliver was trying to help.

“That’s pretty,” he said for the tenth time as I held up the tenth dress I wasn’t enamored enough to try on.

“It’s okay. I guess.” I liked shopping with Reader. I could trust his taste. I didn’t think Oliver or the boys wanted me to look bad, but they weren’t former top international male models, either. Football players and paparazzi had one thing in common, though—anything revealing I held up got the thumbs up sign. Great. I needed to look like an ambassador, or at least the wife of one per Mrs. Darcy Lockwood, not like I was auditioning to be the next Bond Girl.

I looked around. “Excuse me, could I get some assistance, please?”

One of the girls deigned to leave the clutch of salesgirls and come over. “What price range are you looking for?”

“I’m looking for something that looks good.”

“Yes. How much are you planning to spend?”

I gave her a long look. She looked about twenty-one or so. “You ever seen
Pretty Woman
? The movie with Julia Roberts?”

She sniffed. “No, I don’t watch old movies.”

“Really? Wow. It’s probably considered a classic of some kind now. You really should rent it or catch it the next time it’s on TV.”

“Why is that?” she asked, sounding uninterested in the reply.

“Because I’m going to drop a freaking fortune on clothes today. But not in this shop.” I dropped the dress I was holding on the floor, grabbed the stroller, jerked my head at the males, and headed for the door.

Len opened it as one of the other girls came over. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but our store is just likely too expensive for someone of your means.”

“Excuse me?”

She gave me a patronizing smile. “There’s nothing in here that’s less than a thousand dollars.”

“And your point is?”

“People who ride the bus usually can’t afford to shop anywhere but Ross,” the first girl snapped. She was holding the expensive dress I’d dropped and looked affronted by my treatment of it.

“Girls, I point you again to the educational film,
Pretty Woman
. Now, excuse me, we supposedly poverty stricken need to stop sullying your fine establishment.”

As I said this, I heard the sound of a camera snapping. Sure enough, Oliver was taking pictures. He grinned at my expression. “Being with you is good for my career.”

“How so?”

He shrugged. “I should get the lead with this story. Boutiques refusing to serve an ambassador? That’s always good for the front page.” He got some quick snaps of the salesgirls. “You mind waiting outside while I get their names?”

“Not a problem,” I said cheerfully as I looked at their expressions, which were all kinds of horrified. “Wouldn’t want them misspelled so their parents miss out on how well their daughters listened to their lessons on politeness and treating everyone pleasantly.”

Len and Kyle escorted me out while the salesgirls started complaining that they’d been misunderstood, and my money was just fine. I took a deep breath. “Hanging with Mister Joel Oliver has its benefits.”

“Yeah, but you still don’t have a dress, we don’t know what’s going on, and we have to take the bus back to the Embassy,” Kyle pointed out.

My phone rang. “Hey, James, what’s up?”

“Hold your position, girlfriend.”

“Why?”

As I asked this, a gray limo pulled around the corner and slid to a stop in front of us. “Because your ride is trying to find you.”

“I
T’S HERE, I THINK ANYWAY.”
A man I vaguely recognized as one of the many human operatives I hadn’t enjoyed got out of the driver’s side and tossed the keys to Len.

“Good. Now, there’s a surprise inside.” Reader sounded pleased with himself.

“There was a surprise inside my last limo. I didn’t care for it.”

“You’ll like this one. I hate the dress shop you were in, by the way. Great for going back to Vegas, completely inappropriate for the President’s Ball.”

“You don’t hate it as much as I do. I didn’t buy anything, don’t worry.”

“Good.”

“I wish you were here. I need Gay Fashion Support. Desperately.”

“I know. And, like Reynolds, I’ve got a fix that will help you not only with shopping but with the Washington Wife class, too.”

“Oh, yeah? There’s an Uzi in the backseat?”

Reader laughed. “Nope. Something much, much better.”

“Yeah? What?”

“You’ll find out. Love you, babe.” Reader hung up.

The driver opened the door, and a slim, reasonably attractive man got out. I felt my mouth drop open. He smiled at me. “Kitty, darling, you look radiant. Motherhood agrees, I see.”

“Pierre!”

“In the flesh, darling, in the flesh.”

“What are you doing here?”

He grinned. “What I do best, darling. Saving the day.”

I shoved Len at the stroller and ran and gave Pierre a big hug. “I can’t express my joy.”

He patted my back. “So Jimmy said, darling.” He took my shoulders and held me at arm’s length. “Still have our wonderful, feminine figure, I see.” Pierre shot a derisive look at the dress shop. “But clearly Jimmy was right. You need a guardian before you get lost in the forest of heinous fashion choices.”

I introduced Pierre to the boys as the limo’s former driver, and his A-C shotgun, wandered off and then came right back, armed with another limo filled with A-Cs. Clearly Alpha Team had decided we weren’t to be left alone, and Jeff had decided that Len was required to function as a shield when we weren’t driving.

Oliver joined us, grinning from ear to ear. “That was fun.”

“Pierre, Mister Joel Oliver, head paparazzo for the
World Weekly News
. MJO, this is Pierre, the best hairdresser, deejay, and all around fix-it man on the planet.”

They shook paws. “Jimmy’s told me all about you, Mister Joel,” Pierre said. “I happen to love your articles. You also capture your subjects extremely well. You’re a clear talent in a field filled with dilettantes.”

Oliver opened his mouth, cocked his head at Pierre, and laughed. “Mister Joel is acceptable under the circumstances. And thank you. It’s rare to find anyone who appreciates what I do.”

Pierre grinned. “So pleased. And trust me, dearest, people do appreciate, particularly those of us in the beauty business. Clients do love to escape while they’re under the dryer, don’t they?” He rubbed his hands together. “Now, while you load up the car, I hear there’s a precious little princess who needs to meet her Uncle Pierre.”

I got Jamie out and let Pierre hold her. She cooed and giggled. “So, Pierre, not that I’m in any way unhappy to see you, but what are you doing here? We’re a long way from Vegas. Are you vacationing or something?”

Pierre made a goo-goo face at Jamie, then looked over to me. “Darling. Please. Jimmy explained all about your new mission and how you and your compadres are not, shall we say, managing as well as we could hope.”