Universal Alien (32 page)

“W
OW.
He decided to cover all the bases, didn't he?”

“We're going to find out. He didn't tell me why he was trying to find them, by the way. And he didn't sound like he was trying to get me to incriminate either myself or you. It's clearly an attempt to frame Buchanan. He's normally not with us so much as tailing us from the shadows.”

“You sounded fine, by the way. I had to ask who it was because it didn't sound like someone you wanted to kill.”

“One small favor, but I'll take it. It's easier over the phone. No bet for how I'm going to do when we actually see him face-to-face.”

“We'll worry about that when we get there. You know, in the next few minutes. So, now what do we do?”

“Cliff wants us to use a floater gate to get home right away.”

“Meaning he doesn't want us to see what's at the other gates.”

“That's my bet, yeah.” He dialed the phone. “Hey James, sorry to wake you. Oh? Well, yeah, sorry about that, too. We need a floater. Not on my mark yet. I think it would make more sense for us to get down to the bottom of the Eiffel Tower first. Yes, I'll send you a text when we're ready. Thanks.” He hung up.

“You used the tapped line for those texts and that call.”

“Regardless of your universe of origin, we just can't put anything past you, can we, baby? Yes. Cliff expected me to get him an address and call James. Nothing says ‘we have our own phones you have no access to' like me making that call or sending that text from another line. James will know something's up—we only use the tapped phones if we have to, meaning he's on alert.”

“So, elevator or stairs to get down?”

“Honestly, based on the waiting line for the elevators, the stairs are going to be fastest.”

“Oh good. I need the exercise.”

Martini chuckled, took my hand, and we started down the many hundreds of steps. Going down was always faster than going up, and again he used hyperspeed to move us more quickly when we had sections where we were alone.

Reached the bottom and Martini and I strolled off, still not looking as if we had a care in the world. Reached some heavy foliage in the park around the Tower and then he sent a text to James.

A shimmering in the air appeared before us, Martini swung me up into his arms, I buried my face in his neck, and he stepped us through.

The trip back was just as nauseating as the trip to Paris had been. Only this time I had food and drink in my stomach. Managed not to throw up, possibly because of the hyperspeeding medicine, but only just.

We landed in our apartment, which was loaded with people, including Goodman. However, nausea had given me an idea for at least a short term way to avoid Goodman. “We'll let you yell at us later, we need to check on Jamie.”

Martini didn't even put me down, he just nodded and zipped us into her room. She was awake, with most of the animals on the bed with her. “Mommy, Daddy, did you have a fun trip?”

Martini put me down. “We sure did. And we brought you a present.”

She looked surprised. “Really?”

Pulled it out of my purse. “Really.” It was a soft stuffed striped pink cat that said “Paris, Je T'aime” in a heart on its chest. “I know it's not the same as having real kitties, but—” But it was cute and the only pink thing the gift shop had carried.

She took it from me and hugged it. “It's so pretty!” She showed it to all the animals, who sniffed it obligingly while giving me betrayed looks. Then Jamie bounded up and gave me and Martini kisses. “Thank you so much, Mommy and Daddy! I'm going to name him Stripes!”

“Great name. Let's get you dressed, Jamie-Kat,” Martini said. “Mommy and Daddy have to go to work.”

She frowned. “Couldn't Mommy and I go to the zoo today?”

“Actually, I think we're going to Australia today, Jamie. And you're coming with us.”

“Oh, okay, Mommy! Can we go to the zoo in Australia?”

“If we have time, absolutely.”

“Yay!” Jamie trotted off to her bathroom, still holding her stuffed cat.

“You stay and help her get ready,” I said to Martini. “I'll handle the others. That keeps you away from certain people longer.”

He grinned. “I love how you think. And Jamie really loves that toy, by the way, she wasn't pretending.”

“She has lots of toys that I've seen, I'm just glad she likes this one.”

He nodded. “We usually don't bring her back anything when we go on, ah, trips like we just did.”

“Ah.” Considered all that had happened. “You probably don't have time.”

He chuckled. “That's frequently true, yeah.” He kissed my cheek then followed Jamie to the bathroom.

Looked at the animals, who were still looking at me as if I was a traitor. “Having stuffed animals doesn't make anyone love the real animals any less, you know.” They weren't appeased. “It's pink. None of you are pink. That's why she's so excited.”

The animals chose to allow this to mollify them, and I steeled myself for the next round of madness and subterfuge. Hoped I could manage it without Martini or Malcolm around to help me.

Stepped out of the room to a sea of frowny faces. In addition to My Favorite Mastermind and those who'd been in the room when we'd left, Singh, James, Paul, Crawford, Lorraine, Claudia, and Serene had piled in. Decided pretending I had no idea of what was actually going on was in everyone's best interests. “Look, I know we were bad, but we found what I know will smooth things over with the PM couple. So, we snuck out. It's not the end of the world.”

“It is for eight of your Secret Service detail,” Goodman said.

“What? You can't fire those guys. It's not their fault!”

He shook his head. “No, Kitty, that's not what I mean. They went after you two—each one went to a different gate where we figured you might be. And . . .” He looked upset. I was impressed. He really was a good actor.

“And what? What happened?”

“They're all dead,” Amy said, sounding horrified. Everyone in the room looked horrified, which wasn't a surprise. “Someone slit their throats.”

“Oh my God. That's horrible. Who? Why?”

Goodman took a deep breath. “Frankly, the only suspect we have is someone you're not going to like.”

“He thinks Buchanan did it,” Christopher snapped. “However, I don't believe it.”

Points to Christopher. “I don't, either, in no small part because Malcolm was with us the entire time. He wouldn't let us leave without being right there with us, Richard, and Chuckie the whole time. As far as I know, he's still with Richard and Chuckie and several other people. Malcolm was never out of our sight until Jeff and I went to the Metro station. We got Jamie a present, and then,” I shrugged, “well, I just wanted to, you know, have a little time where no one was yelling at me.”

And points to me, because no one in the room, Goodman included, looked like they didn't believe my story. Which was, essentially, true, so go team.

“We've confirmed with my dad that Buchanan, and Reynolds, were basically never out of his sight. Neither one of them have hyperspeed, so there's no way they did some side trip, and before you try to suggest it, my dad didn't, either.” Christopher was snarling. Had the distinct impression he didn't like Goodman. Good. It would make revealing the truth, when the time came, a tiny bit easier.

“There's no way Richard would do something like this,” Paul said. “Ever.”

“Neither would Reynolds,” Crawford added. “And, frankly, Buchanan wouldn't kill anyone who wasn't a threat to Kitty or Jamie.” The Three Beauty Queens nodded their agreement.

“I think it was the Mastermind,” Amy said. “It sounds just like him. He must have been trying to do something against Jeff and Kitty and wanted their Secret Service detail out of the way.”

My jaw dropped. I hadn't credited Amy with anything like this level of ability to think. “You think so?” I managed.

She nodded. So did everyone else, including Goodman. “Actually . . . that makes sense.” He looked ill. “But that means . . .”

“What?” I asked. Wanted to see where he was going with it.

“The only being able to kill eight people at different locations basically at the same time would be an A-C.”

The whole room gasped. I didn't, but I managed to slap a look of worry on my face.

I was, frankly, hella impressed. In one minute Goodman had managed to take an utter frame-up failure and turn it into something that was now going to have every person in the room suspecting every A-C on the planet. No wonder everyone was having trouble figuring out who the Mastermind was—he was manipulating every success
and
every failure to his advantage.

“Okay,” I said slowly. “But five minutes ago you were convinced it was Malcolm. He's not an A-C. How would he have done those eight murders?”

Goodman nodded. “That's a good question, Kitty. What I'd kind of assumed was that Buchanan had followed you and Jeff and lain in wait for whoever was coming after you. Killed one, realized others weren't coming, and then gated to the other obvious gates in Paris to take care of the others.”

“Ignoring the entire ‘why in the world would he do that' question,
how
would he, since he's not an A-C?”

Goodman looked sheepish. “I guess I didn't think it through.”

Meaning he'd hoped to make the frame-up so convincing that no one would ask the obvious questions until it was too late—like after Malcolm had been shot dead for “resisting arrest” or similar.

“In this country, we demand a little thing called proof,” James said.

“And we want proof before you accuse anyone else of this heinous crime,” Singh said. His voice wasn't soothing—it was quite crisp and official. Had a feeling he wasn't happy with anyone right now. Considering he was in charge of PR, could feel his pain.

“Kitty's question's the key one, though,” Crawford added.

“A smarter way of doing it would be to kill them here,” Amy suggested. “You know, kill them right
at
the gate, then shove them through to their respective locations.”

“Wow, you've given that a lot of thought?” I asked because it seemed amazingly logical and also a likely answer for how the agents had been killed. Pondered how someone would do that quickly without any of the victims, especially victims two through eight, suspecting. A disguised piano wire at neck height would do it, especially if the killer was able to manipulate the gates quickly. Which again indicated an A-C. Decided to keep this theory to myself for now.

She blushed. “Sort of. There are so many people trying to kill us so often, I've tried to come up with all the ways they could, so that we can counter them.”

“Well done.”

She brightened up. “Thanks, Kitty!”

“The love in the room is nice,” Goodman said dryly, “but I have eight dead Secret Service agents and no clue for who the culprit is, other than that he or she is either an A-C and/or lives in the Embassy. And, that means I actually have to hold all of you for questioning, because Amy's explanation makes logical sense.”

Crap. He'd once again turned the tables and gotten exactly what he wanted. Only more so.

I
T WAS A GOOD THING
I was a fast talker and Alfred, being an A-C, could hear at hyperspeed, because there was a lot of ground to cover. By the time I was done, I was hoarse and he was both happier and sadder than he'd been before. But he was also angry. And, as I'd been learning for the past few years, anger could be a very good, powerful, and motivating emotion.

“Whatever I can do to help you stop this madman, I'll do. And I'll do what I can to help you get back home afterward. Your world sounds . . . so much better than this one.”

“It is in some ways.” Looked at Cox and Stripes and thought about Charlie and Max. “And in some ways this one is better. But what I want is to ensure that the Mastermind doesn't get to do to Earth what your father did to Alpha Four.”

“Are you advocating murdering him?” Alfred asked.

“I'm fairly sure that before we have that option he's going to have a weapon pointed at people we care about, or innocents, or both, and we're not going to have that particular moral quandary. I
am
advocating not letting him or LaRue live long enough to create the cloning process that I'm sure they're working on.”

“Incarceration isn't an option?” Alfred didn't sound hopeful so much as he seemed to be checking off boxes in his head.

“No. The problem every government has, that plays right into the League of Evil Geniuses' hands, is that when you have a brilliant mind in captivity, you want to get what you can from said mind. But that just means the bad guys are creating escape plans, takeover plans, and turn-the-tables plans. And they win more often than not, in part because there are always evil people scattered throughout every government and they can smell their own.”

“So a straight fight is likely out,” Alfred said.

“Yes, and more than that, we don't want either you or me landing in their hands, because the moment Cliff or LaRue realize that, for this world, we're superheroes, they will do all the things you're afraid the various Earth governments will do to you, only more so, with a great deal of horrific glee, and as drawn out and painfully as possible.”

Alfred shuddered. “Let's not allow that to happen.”

“We need a plan,” Cox said. “Beyond terrifying Alfred. Because I'm supposed to report to my new post in a couple of hours, and I don't know if I should or not.”

“Until we know where Cliff and LaRue are holed up, we have an entire world to search. And, hyperspeed and the tunnels or not, Alfred and I can't search all of Earth in a couple of hours. Without gate technology, I'm not sure that we can safely get off the continent.”

Harlie mewled. “Hush,” Alfred said gently.

“No, go on, Harlie.”

“Excuse me?” Cox said.

“Oh, right. I left out one specific superpower I have. I'm kind of Doctor Doolittle.”

“In addition to being Wolverine?”

“Yeah. But that's not important now. I mean, it is, because Harlie thinks it can find where Cliff hides out.”

“How?” Cox asked flatly. “And I'm asking because if you have these things in your world, why haven't they found your Mastermind already and dealt with him?”

“They're not really from . . . around here. And by that I mean they aren't from Alpha Four, either. Alfred, you probably don't know this, but the Poofs are from the Black Hole Universe. And therefore they have abilities we don't. But their original owner is a Free Will Fanatic, to put it mildly. And in order for an individual to have free will, other individuals can't do everything for our first individual, or they're taking said free will away.”

Both men stared at me. “That seems like a tenuous reason,” Alfred said finally.

“Well, there's more to it. In my world, just killing the Mastermind won't solve anything. Remember that cloning stuff I told you about? Kill him, they just make a new one and Leventhal Reid takes over again. We may have blown up their facility, but I guarantee they're back in action somewhere else, because Reid and LaRue got away.” Couldn't repress the shudder. “I'll take our current Mastermind over Reid. I'll take anyone over Reid.”

“Let's get back to what the Poof said,” Cox suggested. “How could it find someone Alfred's never seen?”

“Well, Harlie could go with you to meet Cliff.”

“Yes, but that won't solve it,” Alfred said. “You said yourself you have no idea how long you'll be here before whatever put you here will send you home. You have a small commando force, if we can even call three people and two animals that. We can't afford to take our time—we may not have much of it left.”

“I'm open to suggestions, Alfred. You're the scientific genius, not me. I'm Megalomaniac Girl, not Science Woman.”

Alfred cocked his head at me. “Okay. Then . . . if you were this person, in this world, with all the restrictions humans have—in other words, the world you
thought
you were in before you met . . . my son—where would you base your secret stronghold?”

“Great question. Gimme a mo and lemme ponder. Okay, so Cliff has to show up at Langley on a regular basis. So while a country like Belarus sounds all promising and such, as does the country of Corporation origin, otherwise known as Cuba, somewhere outside of the U.S. seems unwieldy and therefore unlikely.”

“I thought you said you were going to ponder,” Alfred said politely.

“Oh, sorry. This is how I ponder. Out loud. So you all get to share in the wonder that is my mental process. Full transparency, that's me. Some people pay money for this opportunity.”

“Your universe must be starved for entertainment, ma'am.”

“Careful, Bill. Stripes can take over the sidekick role and reduce you to mascot in a New York Minute. And while New York seems like a great choice, I doubt that Cliff's holed up there—it's just too crowded and space is at too much of a premium. And neither he nor Reid had the Corporation's resources until recently.”

“Millions of people all on top of each other means that you're more likely to be spotted somehow,” Alfred agreed.

“Right. So, somewhere with more, if not space, then privacy, and fewer potential prying eyes. Cliff has to have a residence in D.C., but he's in the C.I.A., so there's no way that he's leaving clues here for his coworkers to discover. But Chuckie, known here as Charles, has two homes, on either side of the world. Presumably because he's using the jet-setting lifestyle as his main cover.”

“Makes sense, if the Current Sidekick is allowed to chime in on the ‘pondering session,' ma'am.”

“Chime away, Lunatic Lad.”

“I'm reporting into a division that is publicly facing, meaning that Goodman is unlikely to be doing the same kind of covert or clandestine ops that Chuckie known here as Charles is.”

“Sarcasm is so unbefitting an officer and a gentleman, Bill.”

“But you've made it an art form, ma'am, and I just want to represent.”

“Fine, fine. And you're right, so that means that Cliff can't go too far afield whenever he wants to visit his Secret Lair of Evil, meaning he's probably chosen it on the East Coast somewhere. And he has to be somewhere that it's easy for him to deal with the Corporation's employees, both here and in Cuba.”

Stopped and ran that sentence back in my head. “Oh. Wow. And I'll give myself the ‘duh' on this one because Chuckie here known as Charles and Jeff aren't here to do it for me. He's freaking based out of Florida, isn't he?”

“Miami would be my guess, ma'am. He's from there originally, as was Leventhal Reid. Miami's got a huge Cuban population, and a ton of crime.”

Considered this. “Miami is the obvious choice, right? So why does it feel wrong to me?”

“So, not Miami?” Cox asked. “Just to be sure that in the moment we've found the obvious answer you immediately think it's wrong.”

“I have more experience with this kind of crap. And I don't think Miami's right.”

“Where then, and why not?” Alfred asked. “Because I'm with William—it seems like the most convenient choice.”

“Extremely convenient,” Cox said, sitting up straight. “So if I'm following Kitty's logic, he won't be based in Miami because it
is
obvious. He's smarter than that, right?”

“Right, because the first place you're going to look for whoever's running the Corporation is Miami, right?” Both men nodded. “But Cliff is a master chess player. And you don't win by being obvious, unless it's a feint that you're using to fool your opponent.” Looked at Alfred. “This universe is closer to mine than I'd originally thought. So why wouldn't things be here that are there?”

“I'm not following you, I'm sorry,” Alfred said.

“And it's only about five or six hours from where they live in my world to Miami. And there's plenty of ocean around that area and, once you're a little south of the Cape, there's an Air Force Base, which he could access with his C.I.A. credentials without issue.”

“I'm with Alfred, ma'am. Not following you at all now.”

“Well, guys it's like this—because I truly understand Ironic Justice, I'm betting I know exactly where Cliff's very large and very private estate happens to be.”