Universal Alien (18 page)

“W
HAT? WHY?”
Martini sounded stressed. Couldn't blame him.

“Why? Are you kidding?” Armstrong shook his head. “Don't act naïve. I realize Kitty got hurt. Right now, that's the only thing that's keeping the Aussies from rounding up their A-Cs and shipping them off to us. And if they do that, you know what happens.”

Tried hard to keep my mouth shut, but I couldn't stop myself. “I'm Jewish, so yes, we do. And I'm
so
glad that my cracking my head open was in everyone's best interests. Oh, and I have a concussion and feel like I've been in a car crash, but, seriously, don't bother to ask how I'm feeling. Anyone at all.”

“You flipped off the Prime Minister
and
you tossed your cup of coffee at him,” Strauss said. Decided I didn't like her.

“Not on purpose. Any more than Jeff spilled more coffee on him and Margie on purpose.” Martini squeezed me. Remembered that this Kitty didn't know the PM's wife.

“We know that,” Armstrong said. “And, I'm sorry, Kitty. You weren't representing well at the event to begin with. And then with everything else that happened . . .”

“You mean when I fell onto concrete and hit my head?”

“Yes, and we're sorry you got hurt,” Hochberg said, showing at least some ability to fake caring. “But you were insulting the Australians the entire time.”

“Cricket's a boring sport for those who aren't into it,” Vander said, earning my instant loyalty, even though I, personally, liked the sport. But even I could admit it wasn't as exciting as any form of football. “Golf's boring to watch too, unless you're into it. I realize that Kitty was bored. From what I've heard, half of the Australian people find cricket to be boring. Choosing to create an international incident over this screams ‘easy opportunity' much more than real insult.”

“It was the combination of events,” Strauss said. “My office has been deluged.”

“So sorry to put you out and force you to do your job and all, but, my God, how juvenile are all of you people? This is something that I'm sure can be resolved, easily, by simply apologizing in whatever stately way we're required to.”

“Exactly!” Armstrong beamed and I got the feeling I'd just locked us into doing whatever he wanted. “Which is why you and Jeff need to get on a plane to Australia immediately. Bring Jamie, too. I think the whole family representing will be better. I hear Margie likes kids.”

“She has three, I'd think she's fond of them, yeah.”

“Vince, I'm not against our going,” Martini said. “But why right away?”

“Because, just like Vander said, we think this is being used as an excuse,” Goodman answered. “American Centaurion has a lot of enemies and they're all jumping at the chance to show how horrible all aliens are.”

“I'll be going with you,” Strauss said, ensuring that I was going to hate this trip. “To ensure that the two of you actually manage to stay on script.”

That did it. I'd dealt with people treating Charles like dirt when he was so much smarter and more successful than they were. I wasn't going to allow anyone to do the same to Martini, not if I was his wife in this universe. I pulled away from him and got right up into this woman's face. “You will rephrase that or you will get out of my house. Forever.”

Strauss looked shocked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Yes, you'd better, only in a believable fashion. I don't care how important you think you are, but the man in this room who actually
is
a heartbeat away from the Presidency is my husband. Therefore, you will speak to him, and to me, and to our friends and family, with respect or you will get your happy ass out of my home or I will set the dogs on you. Is that clear?” There were four dog beds. That meant there were real dogs around somewhere, I hoped.

The room had gone incredibly still. It was clear everyone was waiting for Strauss' reply. I was holding eye contact with her—and though she was a worthy opponent, there was no way she was going to win. We played the Staredown Game at home for fun. Sure, Charles usually won, but not always. No one other than him or my mother had ever been able to beat me and this woman wasn't going to make it into that hallowed echelon.

Sure enough, she broke first. “I'm very sorry . . . Kitty. And Jeff. I didn't mean to come off as insulting or to indicate that I felt my position was higher than that of the Vice President. I honestly wasn't prepared to have to deal with fallout from this event—normally, you two are always on top of your game.”

Based on everyone's reactions at the hospital when they'd thought I was “their” Kitty, I found this last one hard to believe. However, I knew when to take the apology and move on. “Thank you, Monica. It's been a very difficult day for everyone.”

I went back to Martini. The two female Secret Service agents shot little “atta girl” signs to me. Decided they were joining Vander in my Instant Loyalty section.

“I really think we need to wait at least a day,” Martini said. “Just to be sure that Kitty's feeling alright.”

Realized he was hoping my CA and I would switch places before a trip to Oz. But I couldn't believe I'd been sent here just to hang around. No, if I was here, I was supposed to do something—and saving the A-C's diplomatic day seemed like it was probably my cosmic job.

“I'd like the time so that we can determine the right things to do and say in order to apologize. Us stampeding to Canberra in order to beg forgiveness without a good plan—a plan that clearly needs to involve me in a big way, I must add—seems remarkably stupid. Along the lines of making someone who is not a trained actress pretend to love a sport they hate and then being shocked,
shocked
I say, when she doesn't succeed. I ask again, just how juvenile are all you people?”

Everyone in the room, including all the Secret Service agents, stared at me. “Ah, what Kitty means—” Singh started.

The President put up his hand. “What Kitty's saying is that we're acting like a bunch of immature assholes. And she's right. And, by the way, I realize I haven't really said this properly. Elaine and I are both sorry you were hurt, and I'm relieved to know you've bounced back as you always seem to. Elaine will be relieved, too.”

Didn't take genius to figure that Elaine was the First Lady. “Thank you. Yes, we'll go to Australia. No, we are not running off like crazed wolverines just for the thrill of it all. We will, in all haste, determine what we feel is the best way to apologize, run it by everyone in the room, and then, once we're confident we have a Plan A, B, C,
and
D in place, then we will head off to Australia to make things right.”

“Cliff and I will work with you on the planning,” Vander said quickly. Armstrong and Hochberg nodded, Strauss looked relieved. Really hated her. Wondered if my CA could stand her or not. Decided it didn't matter right now, but I was betting on no.

“Sounds good,” Charles said. “Now, if we can, I'd like to suggest we adjourn, because Kitty needs some rest.”

Tried not to shoot a loving look toward him, but it took effort. I was fine thinking of Martini as my husband when I was angry, apparently. The moment I wasn't, however, it was difficult, especially with Charles right there.

Paws were shaken all around, then Martini walked Armstrong, Strauss, and Hochberg out, trailed by their many Secret Service agents.

Goodman clapped Charles on the shoulder. “Nice job. We'll get it handled.” What interested me was that Charles allowed and even seemed to like it.

Charles smiled. “Yeah, thanks for the support. I do think Kitty needs to rest. Why don't we get started and then she can weigh in once we have something?”

“Sounds good to me, buddy,” Goodman said with a wide grin. Charles didn't object to the friendly term, which was hugely shocking.

Vander nodded, but looked a tad uncertain. “The apology will directly involve Kitty. I think she needs to be involved the entire way through. Kitty, what do you think?”

I thought that I liked Vander, wanted to kick Goodman in the balls, and was really wondering how different things were in this world. “I'm with Vander. I think the idea of a bunch of men figuring out how I should apologize to anyone, let alone the PM couple, sort of screams of chauvinism. Don't you think?”

Goodman laughed. “That's right, you're our feminist throwback.”

“I wouldn't call it a throwback,” Singh said. His tone was very soothing. “Feminism isn't exactly nonexistent right now.”

“And it's still very necessary, since some men seem to think they're the boss of everyone, not just themselves.” Decided that—regardless of what Martini had said and how Charles seemed to feel—I wasn't loving Goodman. At all. I'd spent too many years identifying who was trying to befriend us because they wanted to use our money, connections, or Charles' brain without giving us any form of reciprocation in terms of loyalty, support, or real friendship. Goodman struck me as one of these. Plus, I knew what he was in my world. Sure, some people here were different, but he wasn't striking me as one of them.

Goodman seemed to catch on that he'd pissed me off. “Sorry, Kitty, and you're right. Believe me, I know who I'm the boss of and who I'm not. And you're right—everyone has their part to play, and yours is the biggest right now. So, what do
you
want us to do?”

“Nice recovery. Frankly, I'd like to work with Vander, Evalyne, and Phoebe on this. And Raj and Pierre, of course. Only.” Vander looked pleased, the two female Secret Service agents looked shocked and flattered, and Singh looked relieved. Goodman kept a very pleasant, bland expression on his face. Interesting.

“Why no one else?” Charles asked, looking slightly worried.

Shrugged. “Because a smaller team of people who get what's going on and can advise me will be better than a gigantic room full of talking heads.”

“Can't argue with that,” Martini said as he rejoined us. “As always, I just figure whatever Kitty wants to do is the right thing. So far, I've never been wrong about that.” He gave me a smile that told me he was incredibly pleased with and proud of my performance. Felt myself flush like a schoolgirl. Hey, he was incredibly handsome and had bags of charisma. I was starting to see how my CA had fallen for him. “Baby, you want to start that now or take that nap you wanted?”

“Frankly, that Strauss woman pissed me the hell off and I'm no longer tired. So now will work. Depending on how fast we can come up with what to do, I'll sleep at night or on the plane.” It seemed unlikely we were going to take a gate for this, but who knew? However, figured I should err on the side of assuming that the VP was going to have to look as normal as possible for this excursion.

“Figured,” Martini said with grin. “Pierre is prepping as we speak. He said to tell you that he has a gigantic amount of my mother's brownies hot out of the oven, lots of milk, plenty of Cokes and other sodas, plus other snacks all ready for you.”

And it was nice to see that some people were exactly the same in this world. “As always, Pierre's the best.” Looked at my smaller team. “Let's go eat. And plan. But eating sounds like our first order of business.”

Martini laughed. “Only my girl.”

H
APPILY,
we were doing our meeting in the humongous kitchen. Peter had everything Martini had described and more on the table. Martini kissed me on the cheek, and then he and the others, including the male Secret Service agents, left us alone.

“Any chance of some tunes around here?” I asked as I devoured a brownie. They were, possibly, the best I'd ever had. I needed this recipe. For when I got home. So I could give it to my Peter. As if I was going to make these, or have any shot of them turning out as delicious if I did?

This question got me some looks. “Kitty's having some memory issues due to her concussion,” Singh said smoothly. “Just shout ‘com on' like you always do and ask Walter for whatever you want to listen to,” he told me with a reassuring smile.

“You sure you're up to this right now, Kitty?” Vander asked, sounding concerned.

“Yeah, I think so. I'll let you know if I'm not, okay?” Everyone nodded. “Great. Com on!”

“Yes, Missus Vice President Chief?”

Decided not to question this kid's choice of titles. “Hi Walter. Can I have some music, please?”

“Sure, Chief. What do you want to hear? Band or playlist?”

Dawned on me that this was a big test moment. If I chose a band my CA didn't actually have or like, I was going to have to spend a lot of time on explanations. But she was me, so that had to mean we liked a lot of the same music. The 80s seemed like a safe choice—all the oldies stations were big on 80s music at home, and I had to figure it was the same here. “How about the Psychedelic Furs?”

“You got it, Chief. You want only them or the playlist that has them and some others?”

“Let's do the playlist.” That way, I'd get an idea of some of the other bands my CA liked. The sounds of “All That Money Wants” hit the airwaves. Singh and I both relaxed. “Thanks Walter. Com off.” Hoped that was the right thing to say. Singh remaining relaxed indicated it was. Go me. “So, in the opinion of the three people who witnessed my screwup firsthand, how bad was I, really?”

The blonde Secret Service agent who I took to be Evalyne shrugged. “You were about the level of the first President Bush barfing on the Japanese.”

“That bad, huh?”

The one I was hoping was Phoebe shook her head. “That wasn't the worst thing ever. It was more embarrassing for the President personally than anyone else.”

“So, what Vander said is right—them getting all offended is an excuse.”

“Maybe,” Singh said. “But you did flip them off. I know you don't know that the way you did the V for Victory sign was insulting, but it was.”

“Frankly, you and Jeff showering them with hot coffee had to have been worse,” Vander said. “It just came off cartoonish, Kitty. But yes, I think it's an excuse.”

“I believe that some of their reaction may be because the general consensus of the Australian people is that you're both heroes,” Peter said as he slid another brownie my way.

“How so?” I asked with my mouth only sort of full.

“Since discovering what happened, I've had everyone in the Zoo monitoring. From what they tell me, the majority of the Aussies think you and Jeff are fantastic. Your popularity scores are going through the roof.”

“Wait, so why is everyone freaking out?”

“
Your
popularity is high,” Evalyne said, as “Sins of My Youth” by the Neon Trees came on. “But Prime Minister Costello's is not, and this is feeding the very vocal constituency that doesn't like him.”

“Meaning, you made him look bad and his people loved it, so he's even more pissed,” Phoebe translated.

“Ah. So, politically, we're great if Jeff and I wanted to run for office in Australia, but we've made our ally look bad and because his people loved it, he wants to make a point.”

“Pretty much,” Vander said. “It's fixable, Kitty. It always is.”

“So you guys always say.” Figured this was a safe bet. Everyone's grins indicated I'd guessed right. Go me. I was batting a thousand. Did
not
expect this winning streak to last.

“So, what are our thoughts?” Singh asked. “Obviously we need to craft a very good apology, but we also need to give them some kind of gift.”

The others started brainstorming presents, some grandiose, some small, all expensive. But as the Psych Fur's “House” came on, I ignored them and thought back. We were talking about people I knew well, and it was wounded pride that was giving special interests a wedge in they were capitalizing on.

If we wanted Tony back on our side, we needed Margie to come around first. And Margie wasn't going to come around based on some lavish gift. She'd want something personal and meaningful, not something that was showing off.

So what could we get a couple who had pretty much everything? Thought about what was in their home. No, that wasn't right. Matching wasn't the key.

As “The Ballad of Mona Lisa” from Panic! At The Disco came on, I thought farther back. When we'd first hit Australia we'd run into Lulu, their eldest daughter. She was younger than us, but we'd hit it off and hung out, met her friends, and their friends, and had found ourselves within a group where we fit.

When we'd found out I was pregnant, both my mother and Chuckie's were far away. Lulu had introduced us to her parents then, and Margie, the mother of three, had taken me under her wing. She'd become our “Australian mother” even though she was a little too young to
be
our mother. But she filled that role happily and willingly, and we loved her for it.

And, to thank her for that, I'd given her a gift on Mother's Day. It was a gift she treasured, and I knew this because it hung with the things her own daughters had given her over the years. And every year, when we exchanged gifts, she still told me that this first Mother's Day gift from me was her favorite.

Touched Singh's hand and leaned toward him. He leaned in to me, so I could speak softly. “Do we have a way to see if there's something specific in the PM couple's home? Without their knowing, I mean.”

“Yes. Why?”

“Because I think I know what will work, but first, I have to make sure they don't have one already.”

“If you can describe what they're looking for, I can have their house searched in the next fifteen minutes.” He grinned at my expression. “Yes, we're really that fast. And yes, they'll never know
because
we're that fast.”

He got me a pad of paper and a pencil and I scribbled a description and even did a serviceable drawing. “It's made of crystal, and if it's there, it should be hanging up.”

“I'll have them search everything in case it's packed somewhere.” Singh took the paper and walked off, presumably to make the call.

As he left, “Sugar, We're Goin Down” by Fall Out Boy hit the airwaves, and Malcolm came in. “Hi, where have you been?”

“Around.” He looked at the others. “Can I steal Missus Chief away for a minute?”

“Sure, everyone else is handling the brainstorming.” I got up and we also left the kitchen. Singh was nowhere around. “Where did Raj go?”

“His office,” Malcolm pointed to a nearby door. He walked us down the hall toward the basement.

“Uh, why are we going here?”

“I need to talk to you, and I don't want anyone else hearing us.”

“Okay. Why?”

“Because I saw how you looked at one of the people in the room today.”

“How could you? You weren't there.”

“No, I wasn't. However, I was watching.”

“Why?”

“It's my job. Watching over you and your daughter is my mission. Period. I generously include your husband, both of them,” he added with a grin. “But only because they matter to you.”

“Well, that's nice. You know, do I know you? In my world, I mean. You seem . . . familiar. Beyond having met and interacted today, I mean.” We headed downstairs to the dark and creepy basement.

“You probably do. Like I told you, your mother recruited me out of college. She assigned me to watch Missus Chief and Baby Chief when you all came to Washington. But if you were married to our resident genius as young as you say and were living half the time in D.C., I'd bet Angela assigned me to watch over you then. So you may have noticed me, off and on, but we'd never have actually interacted unless I had to physically get you out of danger.”

Malcolm flipped a switch and there was light. Which didn't make the basement any better but at least it was a lot less creepy now. Also noted that I couldn't hear the music down here, which was disappointing.

“Ah. Okay. And no, not that I can recall. So, why are we here?”

Malcolm sighed. “Because I don't just think the Mastermind is a human—I know he is. In fact, I'm pretty sure I know
who
he is. And while both of your husbands think this situation with Australia is top priority, I don't. Stopping the person responsible for every action against Centaurion Division and, by extension, the P.T.C.U. and other organizations is the most important priority we have.”

“How do you know that if the others don't? And if you know, why haven't you told them?”

“I know because I look at people, things, and situations very differently from the rest of the people involved. And I'm willing to believe the word of a parrot.”