Universal Alien (26 page)

D
ID MY BEST
not to think about Charles, and so was able to get into the white T-shirt and blue pajama bottoms Martini said were standard issue for sleepwear. Jamie had been in the little girl version of this. Aliens were kind of weird, but at least they chose unisex options for going to bed.

We discussed it. Both of us were used to sleeping next to our spouse. I had nights where Charles was gone, but Martini basically never did. Decided to trust him—apparently I could merely scream “com on” or for the Operations Elves if he stopped being a gentleman and help would show up. Besides, we needed to get to sleep and get some rest, not spend hours fretting about intimacy.

I turned my back to his side, my neck and head on his impressive bicep, and snuggled up against him. It was different than being next to Charles, but it wasn't uncomfortable. He wrapped his arm around me and held onto my shoulder. A few little adjustment moves, and we were set. The two Poofs joined us, snuggled next to my chest.

Bruno was in the room, too. He settled on one of the pillows, watching. He made eye contact with me, nodded, and winked slowly. “Uh, I think Bruno just told me you were okay, I didn't need to worry, and that he'd claw you up if you tried anything I didn't want.”

“He probably did.” Martini kissed the back of my head. “He's protective. Rightly so.”

“Hey, can we listen to music to fall asleep to?”

“Sure, what do you want?”

“How about Jack Johnson?”

“Ah, Kitty, my Kitty, hates his music. I don't think we have any of it.”

Managed not to say anything derogatory about her taste. “Uh, okay. What about Amadhia? She has to have her stuff.”

“Never heard of that artist. Com on!”

“Yes, Mister Vice President?”

“Walter, can you get all of Amadhia's records loaded into the sound system somehow?”

“Searching . . . ah, I'm sorry, but there's no such recording artist listed. Anywhere.”

“What? Really?”

Martini hugged me. “Shhh,” he said quietly. “You're positive, Walter?”

“Yes. I've searched every database and outlet. No one listed by that name is a recording artist. I tried a variety of spellings, too, and searched internationally.”

“Okay, Walter, thanks for trying. Com off.”

The white noise that was quietly in the background when the com was on ceased. “I don't understand. She has the most beautiful voice—better than Enya or Florence or Adele or any of them. She's my favorite female singer. I can't believe Amadhia's not here.”

“She may be in this universe, but she may not be a singer in this universe. Or at least, may not have a recording career.” He hugged me again. “I'm sorry. You want me to have Walter load in Jack Johnson?”

“No, not if my CA hates him. He's the coolest guy, by the way.”

“I'm sure he is. Kitty says he puts her to sleep.”

“And yet she doesn't have his music.”

He chuckled. “I usually find other ways to tire her out. Anyone else you can think of you'd like to listen to?”

Pondered. “Jewel, I guess. She
has
Jewel, right? Jewel
is
a recording artist here?”

“Yes. And yeah, Kitty uses her to sleep to a lot. Hang on.” He rolled over, fiddled with something, and the sounds of “Foolish Games” started. “Huh.” Martini went to the door, opened then shut it. Sugarfoot jumped up onto the bed. “He wants to sleep with you tonight.”

“Works for me.” We snuggled back up the way we had been, alien animals included, and Sugarfoot settled himself at our heads. With cat and Poofs purring quietly, Peregrine watching, and Jewel singing, I fell asleep.

The sounds of Panic! At The Disco's “New Perspective” woke me up. We both groaned, but managed to roll out of bed. I showered first since Martini was going to be able to get ready at hyperspeed.

The same clothes as I'd put on the evening before were waiting for me, though it was obvious they'd been cleaned while we slept. “Fine,” I said quietly. “If this is the only look you want me in, I'll go with it. Thanks for all you did for Jamie, by the way. Her room looks amazing.”

The purse was waiting for me on top of the hamper. Zipped up the hoodie, grabbed the purse, and headed out. Martini was out of his shower, towel wrapped around his waist. Yeah, it was easy to see why my CA had fallen for this guy—the term “hardbody” had been created to describe him. Muscled but not overly done like a bodybuilder, just the right amount of hair on his chest to be manly without being a total rug, and a tantalizing Happy Trail running over a perfect six-pack and leading down to where my eyes did
not
need to go.

“I'll, ah, meet you outside.” Zipped out of the room as fast as I could. It was one thing to have what had amounted to a platonic sleepover. It was another to have all-out lust going for this guy.

Of course, because this was just how it worked around here, apparently, Charles was standing there as I exited the bedroom. I jumped and slammed the door behind me.

“Sorry,” he said with a rueful smile. “Didn't mean to startle you. Richard said we were leaving at three in the morning and I didn't want to get left behind, since I was apparently the last man added to this team.”

“It wasn't an insult.” Hoped I wasn't looking totally like a cheating wife. Felt as though I probably was.

He noticed, of course. “It's okay.” He stroked my cheek. “I'm not really your Chuckie and you're not really his Kitty, but it's awkward for all of us no matter what.”

“You seem almost totally like my Charles. Only . . . you're sadder than he is.”

He nodded. “I probably am.” Charles turned and went to sit on the sofa. The others weren't here yet.

I joined him and took his hand. “I'm sorry. It must be very hard to be a widower so fast and so young.”

“Yeah.” He squeezed my hand. “And we'll make sure my counterpart doesn't have to face that, so don't worry. We'll all protect you.”

“We're going stealth shopping in Paris and then to a diplomatic apology session in Canberra. I don't see a lot of danger in either one of those scenarios.”

He chuckled. “You haven't been here that long. Just stay aware of your surroundings and make sure you're never out of reach of either Jeff or Richard.”

“Why not you or Malcolm? Honestly, I'm used to running to you for protection.”

He looked flattered. “Well, we don't have hyperspeed and superstrength. They do. That makes them better protectors. Buchanan and I will be there, too, but every human working with Centaurion has learned to keep near to an A-C as much as possible.” He smiled. “But if you run to me for protection, believe me, I'll protect you.”

“Just like always.”

“Yeah.” He squeezed my hand. “I guess the me in your world asked you to marry him better than I managed with the Kitty in this world.”

“No idea. We were in Vegas, right after he sold his convenience stores to Circle K for a ton of money. He suggested getting married by an Elvis impersonator. I laughed, because I thought he was joking. He grabbed my hand, said he wasn't joking, at least about marrying me, and that he loved me and always had and always would, and went down on one knee. In the middle of the Bellagio. But we got married at the Mandalay Bay because that's where we were staying.”

Charles looked a little ill. “So if I'd just had a few more seconds of boldness here, in this world, we'd be married.”

“I suppose you would be.” Had no idea what else to say. Apologizing for my CA picking a different and seemingly also awesome guy seemed wrong. But acting like I could totally understand her throwing Charles over for someone else was wrong, too.

“Yeah.” He squeezed my hand. “I'm glad that I was man enough to tell the girl I loved that I did love her in another universe.”

“Me too. I know you lost your wife here very early, but I know without asking that she loved you with all her heart.”

“I loved her with all of mine, too.” He looked utterly sad again.

“You'll find someone else.”

He shook his head. “I don't know that I'm supposed to be . . . happy here. Maybe that's my role in this universe—to always be the guy who's alone.”

Martini came out of the bedroom, moving us off of this heartbreaking and depressing subject. Martini eyed us and I let go of Charles' hand. “You up to this, Chuck?”

Charles nodded and stood up. “Yeah. Thanks. Where are the others?”

“Waiting for us in the basement. Uncle Richard thought it would be smarter.” He went to the door and Christopher and Amy came in. Martini showed off Jamie's new digs while Charles woke up Len and Kyle.

“Jamie's room is beautiful,” Amy said to me as she and Christopher took over the couch.

“Thanks. It's what she wanted, I didn't have a lot to do with it.”

“You said yes to it,” Amy said with a shrug. “That's a lot more than I guess you think.”

“Are you saying that my Cosmic Alternate didn't want Jamie in her own room?”

“No. I just think it was kind of beyond time. I'm glad you recognized it, too.” She smiled. “Our Kitty doesn't care about some of the ‘regular girl' things the rest of us do.”

“I guess. Well, gotta go. Thanks for babysitting.” Turned and went to the door.

As I waited for Martini and Charles, heard Amy give a sad little sigh and also heard Christopher murmur to her. “It's not the same Amy,” Charles said quietly as he and Martini joined me at the door. “Any more than you're the same Kitty.”

“I know it's a lot to ask,” Martini said softly, “but if you're able to, throw her a bone, baby.”

“Oh, fine. Hey, Amy,” I said in a louder voice, “if you see anything that Jamie missed in her room, or think of something you know she'd like or that my CA would like, would you have the Operations Team add it?”

She looked shocked and really happy. “Absolutely, Kitty! Have fun shopping!”

“Will do. Uh, anything you want from Paris?”

She shook her head. “No, I'm good.”

Martini took one of my hands and Charles took the other. “Did you give her a hyperspeed pill?” he asked Martini.

“Yeah, with all her other pills. So you shouldn't get sick this time, baby.” With that we headed off at a speed that made my head spin. We were downstairs in about a second and Richard and Malcolm were waiting for us.

I gave them a rough idea of where the shop was and Richard nodded. “I'm sure we can find the area with ease.”

“Amy lived in Paris for several years,” Charles said, as Richard fiddled with something I couldn't see. “And her father's facilities there hold some . . . bad memories for all of us. I mention this because I want to point out that she didn't tell you about this just now. Again, personal growth.”

“Okay, I'll try to stop hating on her.”

“Good,” Martini said as he swung me up into his arms. “Because we need to focus all our energies on finding this mysterious shop that sells the only thing you think is going to fix things with the Aussies.”

Richard went first, then Malcolm, and Charles. Martini fiddled with the same thing I couldn't see, and then we stepped through, too.

It was farther from D.C. to Paris than from D.C. to New Mexico, and I could tell because the time I spent totally nauseated was longer. My face was buried tight in Martini's neck when my stomach finally stopped screaming at me.

He put me down and I looked around. Sure enough, it was daylight, and we were standing in an alleyway surrounded by what surely looked like Parisian architecture. The many signs nearby in French also confirmed we'd arrived where I'd wanted us to.

We were definitely in the area I was hoping to be. Sadly, the shop wasn't just sitting right there in front of me. It so figured. Turned around and looked. Nope, not on this little street.

“Let's start searching. I'll lead, you guys follow.”

“Or,” Richard said, “as we call it, routine.”

C
AROLINE INSISTED
on taking her car and Pierre insisted on taking his, meaning we were a small parade by the time we left. Chuckie had the kids and their stuff, Reader had Dad and his stuff, Caroline had Aunt Carla and
her
stuff, Pierre had all the rest of the luggage and foodstuffs, Buchanan had the arsenal and related spy stuff in the car with him, and I had Stripes riding shotgun. Stripes totally felt I'd gotten the better deal.

Was happy my animal communication skills were still working here in Bizarro World. I was grateful to Jamie for mentioning the cat, too, because I'd gotten really used to rolling with some kind of animal along for the ride. Wasn't sure if Jamie knew this, or just wanted a cat and knew there was a homeless one waiting for someone to notice him, but decided to enjoy the small wins as I got them.

Thankfully all the cars had GPS and Bluetooth in them. Not that I thought the streets would be different here than in my world, but they could be, and if the Israeli Embassy wasn't where I thought it would be that could be more than awkward—it could be dangerous for everyone I was trying to protect.

Based on his skills and willingness to shoot first, Buchanan was bringing up the rear. Reader was in the lead. And I was sort of floating along, sometimes on the side, sometimes out in front, occasionally in the rear with Buchanan. Hadn't had to do this kind of work a lot in my time with Centaurion but it was amazing how helpful TV and the movies were as training for my actual life experience.

Though Stripes and I were totally ready, nothing interesting happened on the drive. This was good, because hopefully it meant that Cliff and LaRue hadn't caught on or Raul wasn't late checking in. Had my doubts that things could be that smooth, but maybe I had better luck in Bizarro World.

Fortunately, the Israeli Embassy was right where I expected it to be. They headed us into underground parking, and our cars were checked carefully for bombs. Thought they were going to fill Buchanan full of holes when they found the arsenal, but Chuckie and Oren managed to calm that situation down.

Stripes settled himself into my purse. He was heavier than Poofs by a lot, but not by as much as he should have been—the cat needed some fattening up. He looked good in the Coach bag, though, I had to admit.

Leah introduced us to everyone and I gave up on remembering names immediately. Some were the same people I knew from my world, which was great, but the Israeli ambassador was different, which potentially wasn't. But he was gracious and shared that anything Angela Katt's family needed was A-okay with Israel.

Dad seemed happy in here, so that was one for the win column. They had enough spare rooms right now that we could all fit, as long as Reader and Buchanan bunked with Jakob and Oren. So Dad and Pierre were in one room, Aunt Carla and Caroline were in another, and Chuckie, the kids, Stripes, and I were in the third. Dad and the others were sharing a connected bathroom, but we had one in our slightly larger room. This embassy wasn't up to American Centaurion standards, but for Bizarro World it was great.

Leah was a cat lover, so all was good in that respect. She had food, both wet and dry, and a litter box in the bathroom for Stripes all set up. He chowed down, purring the entire time. “You going to keep him?” she asked as the kids petted him while he ate.

“Gently, kids. And, I don't know. I hope we can. But our travel schedule isn't great for pets.”

“If he's housebroken, he could stay here when you're in Australia.”

“Really? You'd share Stripes Ownership?” Stripes stopped eating, mouth full, and looked over at me. “Sorry. You'll let Stripes hang out with you when I'm not around?”

She laughed. “Yes. I know that cats aren't actually owned.
They
own
us
.”

Stripes gave us both a friendly purr and went back to the business of eating.

Once he was done and snoozing on the nice cat bed Leah had acquired from somewhere, so did we. And the Israelis had pulled out all the stops. We had a lovely dinner, complete with Jewish specialties, some of which were like other Middle Eastern or Mediterranean specialties but better, because they were like my mother, father, or Nana Sadie made them.

I was ready to head off after this to find Cliff and, hopefully, kill him, but Pierre put his foot down. “You had an accident where by the grace of God you all survived, and then we had those horrible people attack us. You're all staying here, where it's actually safe, and sleeping. Save the world tomorrow.”

“We never argue with Peter when he's right,” Reader said with a grin.

Chuckie nodded, and so did Buchanan. “Rest, safe rest, would be advisable,” Buchanan said.

“Then it's settled,” Chuckie said. “Let's get the kids into bed,” he said to me, specifically.

“Aww, do we have to?” Max asked. “It's so cool here!”

Oren grinned. “Let us show the kids around for a little bit first.”

“Well . . .” Chuckie said.

“Pleeeeeeease?” all three kids said in unison. Jamie included. Her brothers shot her pleased glances.

Her asking was what I was sure convinced Chuckie. “Okay.
If
your mother says it's okay.”

Looked at the time. “I do, but no more than an hour, and then it's all the bedtime stuff and right to sleep. Got it?”

The kids agreed that they were fine with that plan, Oren assured us that he'd keep an eye on the time, and they scampered off. Several of the people I'd met and a few I hadn't went with them. “Mossad,” Leah said quietly to me. “Your children are very safe.”

“Thanks. So, can the adults get a tour, too? Or at least web access? We're trying to find some other . . . allies.”

She nodded. “We weren't joking—your gift of those four assassins has given you unlimited credit with our government.” She leaned over and spoke quietly to Jakob, who nodded and got up and spoke to the ambassador. Who, after a few moments, nodded as well. “You're in,” Leah said. “Shall we?”

Chuckie, Reader, Buchanan, and I excused ourselves. Pierre heaved a dramatic sigh, but Dad, Aunt Carla, and Caroline were in happy, animated discussions with the people around them and didn't seem to notice or care that we were leaving. Felt the love.

The Israeli embassy had their Super Spy Lab in the basement, too. Several normal layers of passwords and doors later, we were inside. It looked like any other mini command center I'd ever seen—lots of computer terminals, a couple big screens, personnel intently doing work or scurrying about.

“I want to discuss backup,” Chuckie said to Jakob. “Because, based on everything that happened today, we think we've identified a C.I.A. mole.”

“I want to search the web. I wasn't using it as an excuse. I'm looking for people.”

“I'll help Kitty,” Reader said. “You two handle things with Jakob.” Chuckie and Buchanan went off with Jakob, while Leah took us to a couple of free computer terminals.

She got us online. “No one can trace your searches. And yes, I'm sure.” Jakob called for her and she sighed. “Holler if you need me.” Then she trotted off to the others.

“Who are you looking for?” I asked Reader as I started putting in names again.

“Your people, Cliff Goodman, all his aliases, and that woman. Using her two aliases to see if I can figure out what name she started life with. Who are you looking for?”

“Um, one person at a time, I'll tell you that.”

“Hey, not my fault all your friends have really common, generic names, girlfriend.”

Considered this while I ran through my Human Roster in my mind. “You know, what are the odds that LaRue's real name is something like Mary Smith? Something dull, boring, and common? She's extremely vain and also extremely brilliant.”

“Well, the best anagram program around shares that unless her real name is Emeraude Stoner, she didn't create either of her names that we know of based on her original name. However, other than wondering what boring name she might have started with as a way to fall asleep, this seems like a dead end.”

“Figures. I have a couple that aren't common, at least not here, but I can't find them.”

“Give it to me and I'll try.”

“Olga Dalca. She's older, probably in her sixties or seventies. In my world she's the wife of the Romanian ambassador.” And my Oracle. If Olga was here, I had a shot of finding Cliff, because she'd know what was going on and I was sure she'd handle the idea of the multiverse calmly. She probably already knew it existed. “The other is Mona Nejem. She's the Bahraini Ambassadress in my world.”

“Sorry,” Reader said quietly a minute or so later. “I think I found your Olga. Was she KGB in her younger days?”

“Yeah, she was.”

“She was caught spying and executed, along with Andrei Dalca and Zoya Darnell.” He cleared his throat. “Ah, Israel is the country who caught and executed them. This happened near the end of the Cold War, by the way. So decades ago.”

“Oh.” Didn't know what else to say. No Oracle. No Chernobog, either, then. But also, no Adrianna. This world was missing so many people I cared about it was hard not to get depressed. Of course, Jeff wasn't here to be affected by it, so if I wanted to be down, I could be, darn it. But I preferred action to wallowing. “What about Mona?”

“She's not in an embassy, anywhere in the world. If she's here, she's still in Bahrain.”

No help there, then. Mona the diplomat's wife I could get help from. Mona the Bahraini citizen wouldn't trust me, and I couldn't blame her. And no Mona meant trying to find Khalid would be an even worse dead end. Probably emphasis on “dead.”

We kept on searching while the others continued to powwow. Had no idea why it was taking them so long, but it was taking me and Reader even longer, so they could strategize and fret as much as they wanted.

“How about Herman Melville?”

“Dead authors are magically alive in your universe?”

“No, his parents were literary. He's a police officer in D.C. Part of the K-Nine squad.” I was typing as I was talking, and D.C.'s roster came up. No Melville. No one I recognized at all. Even the dogs didn't look right, though it was hard to be sure with German Shepherds. But I knew Prince well, and Prince wasn't in the pictures. “But he's not a K-Nine cop here.”

“Hmmm . . . looks like he might have joined the military. This him?”

Checked it out. Sure enough, it was. “Yes! That's him. And that's Prince, his dog, too. Is there a picture of their unit?” Reader tossed up some pics. “Yes, that's all of them. Well, not all of these guys are familiar, but most of them are. Great, they're good help to have. Where are they stationed?”

“Arlington,” Reader said quietly. “The entire squadron was wiped out by suicide bombers when they were doing a search for civilian casualties in Kandahar.”

My throat was tight. “Dogs too?”

“Dogs too. Buried with their handlers, though. So there's that.”

“Yeah.” We were quiet for a minute while I did my best not to cry and Reader waited for me to lose it. Got it under control. Barely, but there. “War, what is it good for?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Say it again. So why are we all always fighting?”

“Don't know. The prevailing thought is that aliens would come and show us a better way.”

“Aliens came and were instantly turned into something to fight over.”

“People are people, babe. That's all I've got for you.”

We went back to searching. Found Mr. Joel Oliver easily. He was a hugely respected journalist and was in the Middle East, covering the war. Sure, we could contact him, but if he wasn't The Crazy Conspiracy Reporter here, then he either wouldn't believe us or we'd ruin his reputation. Shared this with Reader, who agreed.

“Leave the ones with good lives alone, girlfriend. It's a good motto to stick to. Huh.”

“What?”

“Your Tim is around our age?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Look over here, is this him?”

Leaned over to see a picture of a cute, grinning guy I recognized. Hair was styled a little differently, and he was in a blue shirt and contrasting blue tie, but otherwise, he looked the same. “Yes! That's him!”

“Really.”

“Why do you sound so down about this? He's alive isn't he?”

Reader sighed. “Oh yes, he's alive. I found him by accident. He's just won an award, which is why he popped when I did a new search.”

“Super, an award for what?”

“He's the best kindergarten and first grade combined teacher in Los Angeles.”