Alien in the House (42 page)

“H
OW'D YOU KNOW?”
Stryker asked.

“Our luck runs no other way, Eddy. So, do they think Pia was the one who set the bomb or do they think she was dead before the bomb went off?”

“They don't have enough to be able to guess. They're lucky they can identify the body at all. The blast was huge and burned hot. She had some weird dental work, which was all that was left of her.”

“Dental records can be faked,” Chuckie said.

“We've done her background check, Chuck. Unless someone altered all of it in advance of this, that was her in the car.”

“Now what?” Jeff asked.

“Now we all go back to bed,” Chuckie said. “Though I should probably ask why you two sound so wide awake.”

“There are five of us here, actually, and we're all terribly alert because we've been working. I'm now convinced we have a Mastermind and I know why all the representatives have been killed.”

“Can I get this in a very high level right now?”

“Yes. We have a Sith Lord trying to control the Imperial Senate, and I think he, or she, is out their Apprentice. Meaning that there are others in line to be the next Sith and we need to figure they've been helping in anticipation of a move up the Sith Corporate Ladder.”

There was a pause while everyone in the room stared at me, each one giving me their version of the “you so crazy” look. I ignored them. The person I'd tailored my answer for wasn't confused, I was sure. He was just processing.

“You think Pia was the Apprentice?” Chuckie asked finally.

“Yeah. I think she either blew something when she was supposed to kill Cliff, or she was tossed into his car already dead so she could blow up with him, probably being punished for failure, possibly for the fact that Eugene passed along her name to me and I'm still alive.”

“That theory would explain the long-running nature of the conspiracies,” Stryker said. “The Sith Lord who started it all could be dead and his Apprentice, or the Apprentice's Apprentice, could be in charge now.”

“That makes a lot of sense,” Chuckie agreed. “Especially since the indications were that the Mastermind had been around for decades.”

“What in God's name are you all talking about?” Jeff asked. A-Cs avoided science fiction shows and movies, presumably because they looked at them as being inaccurate or boring documentaries about stuff they already knew.

“
Star Wars
movies.”

“Seriously?” Tito asked, clearly speaking for Jeff and my dad, too.

“Yeah. Lucas based a lot of that on how he saw politics working, or not working.”

“I agree,” Nurse Carter said. “Not that they're going to show up with lightsabers or something, but that a setup like the Sith makes sense for a shadowy Mastermind situation.”

“Moriarty had a few lieutenants,” Dad said, coming around to my side of the explanation house. “But most didn't know who he really was. And it took a lot of work for Sherlock Holmes to determine who he was and then to stop him.”

“Yep. So, Chuckie, that's my theory. Our Professor Moriarty is a Sith Lord. So, go get 'em, Sherlock Skywalker.”

“I'm going to get a migraine. Thanks for the theory. I don't know what's worse, that you've offered up a Sith Lord Theory or that I'm actually considering it as a viable explanation. Stryker, I know you've bought in. What's the vote from the rest of you in the Computer Lab, who I know are listening in?”

“We figured you'd want them in the loop,” Stryker said quickly. “Guys, show of hands, who's in for the Sith? Yeah, it's unanimous, Chuck.”

Chuckie sighed. “Oh, good. Okay, I'd like to get more sleep before I have to figure out how we find a Sith Lord in Washington.”

“No ideas here, but that would be a great title for a comic.”

“Good night, Kitty.”

“Mister Reynolds is off the com, Chief,” Walter said. “Would you like to remain on with Mister Dane?”

“Eddy, anything else for me?”

“Just that, under the circumstances, I'd like to suggest that you go for the Princess Leia in the bronze bikini look again sometime. You can still carry it off.”

“My husband is sitting right here, Eddy, and I think he's going to go for killing you with his bare hands.”

“Oh, no,” Jeff said pleasantly. “I'm focused on the words ‘again' and ‘still.'”

“She wore it at a few Halloween parties,” Stryker shared. “I'm sure I can find the pictures pretty easily. Stryker out.”

“Mister Dane's com is off now, Chief.”

“Thanks, Walt. Go back to bed.”

“Yes, Chief.” The com turned off.

“I don't want to witness the argument,” Dad said.

Jeff shrugged. “I'm not going to go into a jealous rage over the fact that Kitty wore a sexy costume when she was younger. And, let's be honest—the squatters aren't exactly people I need to worry about from a romantic perspective, are they?”

I snorted. “No. Not at all.”

Jeff grinned. “Then I'll be sure to make the Head Squatter give me all the negatives.”

T
HE FIVE OF US WENT BACK TO BED.
Jeff and I snuggled together but we both fell asleep before we could consider having sexy times or not.

The morning that came with sunlight arrived far too early, but we got up anyway. My phone shared another automated text reply: “In a locked-door meeting, will respond when able. If this is urgent, contact my secretary.” Armstrong hadn't left the secretary's name or number, meaning, I figured, that he only wanted to be disturbed by someone who knew said name and number. Meaning he didn't want to be disturbed by me. Always the way.

Reader had teams working on the hunt for Colonel Hamlin and the retracing of Buchanan's steps, half of Hacker International was doing a full workup on Pia Ryan and anyone she'd ever interacted with from birth through death while the other half worked with Amy on a full Gaultier breakdown, and Christopher and the Barones were still searching for the Assassination Squad.

Because we were going to brunch with a politician and former international model, I broke down and wore a dress and heels. The Elves had another nice number, this one in black, with slits up the side. Apparently this was a big look with Armani this season. Jeff, of course, was in the Armani Fatigues.

Mom came to the Embassy looking like she hadn't slept in days, so all we got was a quick set of hugs and kisses and then she went to sleep. The cats and dogs went with her, and she didn't object when half the Poofs joined them, either.

We discussed it, and Dad insisted he'd keep Jamie and stay with her and Mom in our apartment. Jamie was all for spending extra special time with her Papa Sol, so we left them having fun, which meant Dad reading history books to her and Jamie paying rapt attention. Shoved aside the worry about how an almost-one-year-old could even hope to comprehend what she was hearing, in part because I had a strong suspicion she was comprehending every word.

Jeff and I retrieved the briefcase filled with what we'd stolen at Rayburn House from Amy and took it downstairs to the kitchen. White and Raj were there, and we all started sorting through the trash, while Pierre brought us drinks and kibitzed. White had brought Pierre, and Walter, up to speed as well.

“Anyone you've missed sharing this with, Uncle Richard?” Jeff asked, as White explained that Pierre was on the same page as the rest of us.

“Not that I can recall, Jeffrey. We're not making progress, and, as Missus Martini is well aware, we work best with our entire team involved. And we did establish that it was unlikely that Pierre or the others were the Mastermind or working against our interests.”

“Jeff's just being cautious,” Pierre said loyally. “But never fear, as with every other secret or mission, I shall take the confidential to my grave and offer assistance as needed.”

“Doreen reassured me yesterday that, whatever was going on, she was on our side.”

White nodded. “She spoke with me about it as well. She fears that whatever it is, her parents were involved somehow.”

“Maybe they were, but so far, unless they're maneuvering things from beyond the graves they don't have, it doesn't seem likely that they have much to do with what's going on in terms of the deaths of all the representatives.”

Gower joined us. “What are you doing here, Paul?” Jeff asked. “Not that it's not nice to see you.”

Gower shrugged. “James is working, I was told I wasn't allowed to do any Field work on the grounds that we have assassins and mad bombers everywhere and I'm so very important. I'm bored, because being important has a lot of boring moments, and Jamie is here, meaning I have no cute little girl to babysit. So, I figured I'd come to see what you have going and if you need any help, while I ask Richard what he did to stay sane when he was locked up for his own safety.”

“I became quite good at card games,” White offered.

“You know, we could use help.” Figured I should say that before White and Gower went off into a Pontifex Standup Routine. “We need to sort this stuff, and we also need a listing of what committees every dead representative was on, or going on, and exact dates and supposed causes of death.”

“I'll get the information from the Computer Lab, you sit,” Raj said to Gower. He zipped off and was back in a very short time. “Fresh off the printer,” he said, flashing the troubadour smile. “I made copies for each of us.”

We ended up with three piles of stuff from Rayburn: calendars and planners, of which we had very few; Post-It Notes and other scraps of paper with writing; and things that were either trash or such obscure clues we'd never figure them out. This third pile every one of us looked at, Pierre included, and then we set it aside for Chuckie to enjoy at his leisure, with the assumption that if there was something in them, he'd be the only one with a prayer of finding it.

This focused us back onto the pieces of paper and the calendars and planners. Gower and I took the pieces of paper, Raj and White took the planners, Jeff had the calendars. I explained my Sith Lord Theory while we searched. Everyone other than Jeff thought it made sense.

“I believe I've found something, Ambassador,” Raj said after a while.

“Dude, what happened to Kitty?”

He grinned. “Just testing. At any rate, there are some consistent entries in all the calendars. They aren't much to go on, but every one of these has some meeting with ‘L' in them. Most are within a month of death.”

“So, our killer's name begins with the letter L.”

“Maybe.” Jeff didn't sound convinced. “But that's quite a leap, baby.”

“Is it? We know three people who could be or are involved whose names start with that letter.”

“We do?” Gower asked.

“Lillian Culver, Langston Whitmore, Lydia Montgomery. And that's just off the top of my head. I'm sure there are more.”

“I'm sure there are more, too,” Jeff agreed. “That's my point. There are a lot of people whose first or last names start with L. That doesn't mean they're the same person in each calendar entry, or the murderer. A lot of people abbreviate their appointments.”

“Do you have anything else?”

Jeff sighed. “No, not yet. And before you ask, yes, I see some L appointments.”

“If the Mastermind is as thorough as he seems, why would he leave this information for us to find?” White asked.

“Why in the world do you think the Mastermind would do office cleanup?” Pierre asked, sounding just slightly offended.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Darling, do
you
clean this Embassy? No, you absolutely do not. You are the ambassador, and the Embassy is cleaned
for
you. Does the President pick up his own dry cleaning? I sincerely doubt it, and if he does, he and I need to have a serious talk about what a personal assistant is and why the most powerful man in the world should be using one. And so on. If the Mastermind is as everyone says, then he's not going to be doing something so mundane as cleaning out the offices of his victims. That's what one has staff for, darlings.”

“Pierre makes an excellent point,” White said. “And if we go with the Sith theory, then one of the Apprentices or aspiring Apprentices would have done that work.”

“It could explain why you found less in some offices and more in others, too,” Raj added. “Different Apprentices doing the work at different times.”

The com turned on. “Excuse me, Chief, but we've been contacted about the late Mister Reyes' things. Apparently he left no forwarding address and they can't determine next of kin. The lady at Rayburn House is asking if we can take possession of whatever was left in his office.”

“Yes, Walt, tell her we will. Please tell her we'll also be sending over some people to do the packing and such.”

“Will do.”

Gower was already on his phone. “Great, thanks.” He hung up. “James is sending over some Field Teams to do the packing.”

Raj looked at me. “Would you like me to oversee that, Kitty?”

“Dude, it's like you read my mind. Please, and thank you.”

Raj handed his pile of stuff to White, then he zipped off. Gower sent a text. “James is aware and has advised his teams. Raj will handle any confusion, I'm sure.”

“Me too.” Looked at my watch. “We've got to get moving. Jeff and I are supposed to be at the Brewers' place in a few minutes.”

“They live close, at least as far as they said at lunch yesterday,” Jeff said. “Should we walk, take a gate, or take a car?”

“I'm freaked out about walking. You're such an easy target if we're on the street.”

“So are you.” Jeff shook his head. “We didn't live in fear when we were with Centaurion Division. I don't want to live in fear now, either.”

“Sorry, Jeff,” Gower said. “But under the circumstances, you're not allowed to walk around with a target on your chest. You're taking a limo. Com on!”

“Yes, Pontifex Gower?”

“Please have Len and Kyle get a car ready. They need to drop the ambassador and Representative Martini off.”

Jeff grumbled but he didn't argue. I raced upstairs to grab my purse, our coats, and his hat. Got a few more hugs and kisses from Jamie as well as a discussion of Ancient Babylonia. “Take Harlie and Poofikins, Mommy,” she said as I was finally heading to the door.

“Why?” Opened my purse. No Poofs. “I don't know that Harlie and Poofikins want to leave Jamie today.” As soon as I said their names, the Poofs appeared, though.

“They just want to be sure you want them, Mommy,” Jamie said. “Don't worry, they still love you best.”

“Mous-Mous loves you best, right, Jamie-Kat?”

“Right!” Her Poof was on her head, purring. Confirmed this meant that it was agreeing as well.

Poofs on board were never an issue. Gave Dad and Jamie one more kiss each and trotted back downstairs. The boys were in the kitchen, discussing my Sith and Dial L for Murder theories.

“I'm with Kitty,” Kyle said. “The Sith idea makes total sense, and I think the L is suspicious in the extreme.”

“I'm kind of with Jeff,” Len said. “It seems like a stretch.”

Kyle shot me a long-suffering look. “He's not into the comics like we are.”

“Oh, we'll bring him around. Richard, Paul, are you guys okay here?”

“We'll call you if we discover anything or make any new connections,” White said. “Go actually have a little fun.”

“I'll ensure you're contacted with any news, Kitty darling,” Pierre added. “Now, off you go.”

We headed down and got into a limo. “You know, have you listened to any tunes recently?” Kyle asked.

“Actually, no, I haven't.”

“Well, we can't have that.” He fiddled with something. “I made you a playlist,” he said a little shyly.

“Really? That's so awesome, Kyle, thanks.”

He beamed. “I went for songs I think will help you think.” He hit the button and the sounds of “Live and Let Die” by Paul McCartney and Wings hit my personal airwaves.

“I love you, Kyle.”

“How is this song a help?” Jeff asked.

“Just channel your inner James Bond and let's let the good times roll, boys.”