Camp Alien (14 page)

T
HE ROOM WAS SUDDENLY
loaded with a lot of fluffy cuteness and feathered beauty.

Poofs were small, fluffy animals with black button eyes, no visible ears and tails due to fur fluff, and were basically the cutest things in existence. Everyone else thought they were Alpha Four animals. However, I knew they were really from the Black Hole Universe and had been brought here by Algar. In addition to being the most adorable things around, Poofs were able to go Jeff-sized with a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth.

The Poofs attached to whoever named them, and they sort of chose what they considered a name. I looked at this as a way to determine when we really had a new ally or not.

Peregrines, on the other hand, were indeed Alpha Four animals, and resembled peacocks and peahens on steroids. The males were colorful, the females all white. In addition to being fierce fighters, Peregrines could also go chameleon and were, therefore quite good at stealth protection. They also used their keen animal senses to determine friend from foe as best as they could.

The Peregrines reported to me, and, as such, I was the one who named them. All of them. Any new Peregrine chicks who were born were brought to me for their Royal Naming Ceremony. At least, that was what Bruno, the Head Peregrine, had told me, and who was I to argue?

Since the Peregrines tended to be in Stealth Mode until needed and the Poofs had the ability to all be in my purse or in someone's pocket without you even feeling their weight, for all I knew the easily twenty-five Poofs and eight
Peregrines who were in here with us had been with us all along.

Buchanan, Siler, and Wruck all knew about and possessed their own Poofs—Wruck had gotten his the day before, as a matter of fact—so they weren't freaked by the sudden Animal Kingdom Arrival.

Drax, on the other hand, apparently had not been briefed on our animal situation. Because he jumped and gave a little shriek. “What are those?”

“Protection and insurance.” Knelt down. “Thanks for coming, Kitty would like a word.”

Got their full attention and a blast of the Sea of Animal Love. Never an issue and made me feel a whole lot better. “First off, can anyone confirm for Kitty if Gustav here is someone Kitty and Jeff should trust?”

They all stepped back and began conversing.

“Excuse me,” Drax said, “but are you actually talking to those fluffy things and those birds?” He sounded amazed and freaked out.

“Metal being sentient, it's no big. Me being Doctor Doolittle? That's somehow the biggest shock in the multiverse.”

Of course, what I wasn't sharing was that while the animals could always understand me and I could absolutely understand them when they wanted me to, when they didn't, it was just so much mewling, purring, squawking, and scratching. Which was what they were doing now.

Waited. Some things were worth taking time, and verifying if someone was or wasn't a real ally was right up there at the top of the list. Wruck took the time to explain the situation to Drax. Wruck had only joined up with us in the past week, so this new information was top of mind for him. He was rather proudly showing off his Poof, which he'd named Vaya, which apparently meant “calm” in Ancient.

Buchanan's Poof, presumably not wanting him to look Poofless, jumped onto his shoulder. “Help the others, Killer,” Buchanan said with a grin. The Poof purred, rubbed against his neck, then jumped down with the others, though Vaya stayed with Wruck.

Siler merely grinned. He actually had three Poofs, something I'd discovered only about a day ago. Apparently the Poofs had adopted him, the Dingo, and Surly Vic without my knowing during Operation Epidemic—basically, once
Lizzie had gotten a Poof, those three had had Poofs appear, clamoring for attention which they'd duly received, since even hardened assassins couldn't resist the cuteness that was the Poofs.

But their Poofs had been off helping with the rest of the Poof Herd during the endgame of Operation Epidemic, so they hadn't been there to prevent Annette Dier from torturing all three of them and murdering the Dingo and Surly Vic.

Shoved the sorrow thinking about this gave me away again. Sure, they'd been the top assassins in the world. But they'd become my Uncles Peter and Victor, and they'd died to protect me. They'd had a kind of Viking funeral, but it wasn't enough. I didn't know what would be enough. Time, maybe. Though I doubted it.

At any rate, the two other Poofs had attached to Siler. Which was probably nice for him and Lizzie both. They hadn't been able to have pets, because pets tend to cramp the Assassin Lifestyle. But Poof abilities meant you could have a herd of Poofs and, as long as you had meat for them to eat and a convenient litterbox, they were incredibly easy to care for.

The animals seemed to reach a consensus, and Bruno came forward. Squawked, scratched the carpet, flapped wings, squawked again, then cocked his head at me.

“Ah, gotcha. And yes, before anyone gets mouthy, I'll translate.” Bruno shot me a wink and I gave him a scritchy-scratch between his wings while I talked. “The animals think Gustav is okay, but they aren't really sure because they hadn't had a lot of time to check him out. They feel that Stephanie is absolutely no good—so score one for you again, Malcolm—and because Gustav was associated with her, they aren't sure about him. The suggestion is that you guys will travel with several Poofs in addition to your own, as well as four Peregrines, and the animals will observe and report.”

“Works for me,” Buchanan said.

“You're taking security direction from animals?” Drax asked.

“Sentient ones. So, you should be able to relate, seeing as you have smart metal hanging about and all that. And my animals all can and do think for themselves.” Gave the
Poofs pats and the rest of the Peregrines their scritchy-scratches, then stood up as there was a knock at the door and Len and Kyle came in. “So, you guys handle the Drax stuff, and we'll convene later.”

We all left the Vice President's office together, but since we were in the West Wing, the Spaceship Recovery Team left us and zipped off, Siler providing both hyperspeed and his own form of chameleon camouflage. While the boys and I walked slowly back to the Top Level Meeting in the White House, I filled them in on what had been transpiring.

I'd met Len and Kyle in Las Vegas during the fun festivities that had happened right before my wedding. They'd helped me avert disaster, and, despite being on the USC football team—Len as quarterback and Kyle on the line—and expecting very promising pro careers, they'd opted to join the CIA immediately out of college instead of going into the NFL. As Kyle liked to joke, they'd just chosen a different Alphabet Agency to align with.

Chuckie had hired them and assigned them to be my driver and bodyguard. The boys were smart and brave and, as Len liked to say, Trojan Football was always there to help.

Because it was Len and Kyle and they weren't going to bawl me out, I also told them all about the trip to Villanova's apartment and my concerns about the Kramers being involved in some way, as well as my fun phone call from Talia Lee. I was extremely good at being Recap Girl, so I was done before we reached the conference room we'd been in before lunch. Or else the boys had been wandering the White House complex with me in order to get all the pertinent details. Still wasn't sure where I was in here, so that was quite possible.

“So, what is it you really want to do?” Len asked as I finished up. “Right now, I mean. In the grand scheme of things, I know you want to foil the bad guys.”

“Honestly? I really want to go see Jamie and Charlie and pretend none of this is going on.”

“That doesn't sound like you,” Kyle said. He blushed. “I don't mean I don't think you're a good mom, Kitty. You are. I just can't believe you don't want to get in on the action.”

“Well, I did that already. I can't go with Malcolm and the others on Mission: Move That Ship. I also can't go on Mission: Examine Drax Industrial's Swell Digs. I know without
asking that Jeff wants more than the three of us to be the ones to talk to Stephanie. The Android and Kitty-Bot comparisons are happening in Dulce and I know without asking that if I go there without Jeff or James I'll be hearing about it for a long time. And I'm willing to leave the determination of whether or not Kendrick has an android that stole the helicarrier to wiser minds.”

“You are?” Len asked. Kyle's expression of shock matched Len's.

“Yes, because the real action right now is at the Zoo. Well, so to speak.”

“What do you mean?” Kyle asked.

“I had the girls give the pictures we took at Villanova's apartment to Hacker International. And they also have the stuff from the shredder. If there's anything to be found or learned in regard to that situation, it's there, not here.”

The boys looked at each other, then back at me. “You're sure there's been an android of Kendrick created and that it's the android that fooled Drax,” Len said. “That's why you aren't interested in interrogating him anymore.”

“And you know that Jeff can monitor you if you're in the complex,” Kyle added. “But with all that's going on, he might not be able to when you're at the Embassy.”

“Oh, don't sell Jeff short. But it's nice to know that both of you think I'm using seeing my children as an excuse to do things that the menfolk don't want me to.”

Len shrugged. “We know you, Kitty.”

“I'm going to resent that. I can't deny it, but I can and do resent it.”

“You'd better let Jeff know before we leave,” Kyle said. “I don't think he's going to want you to go.”

Heaved a sigh. “Probably not. I'm so not ready to be the FLOTUS.”

“He's not ready to be the President,” Len said. “But he's doing it well, and you are, too. Better than either of you think.”

“Yeah, it's been like a week. I guarantee that we're not doing as well as most people think we should, and I literally cannot wait for the media who don't like us to start their reporting.” The boys looked at each other. “Oh goody. It's started already?”

Kyle nodded. “Raj said that no one is allowed to show
you or Jeff any media, and we're to try to keep it away from Mister Reynolds, too.”

“Chuckie hasn't had a mood swing or migraine since the fun Train Ride O' Doom.”

“Doesn't mean he's cured,” Len pointed out. “Just that he had so many other things going on that he was forced to focus.”

Considered this. “You know, I wonder if Cliff getting outed to the world has helped with Chuckie getting better. Because stress and pressure was what seemed to trigger him most of the time these past long months.”

“Maybe.” Len shrugged. “That's Tito's job, really, Kitty, not yours.”

“I'd rather work on Chuckie's issues than the political stuff.”

“Shocker.” Like everyone else in my circle, Kyle had a sarcasm knob. “And a week without an episode doesn't equal cure, Kitty. It just means that he could be better, or a worse attack is just around the corner.”

“Wow, thanks for that, Mister Sunshine.” Though I had to admit that Kyle was, sadly, probably right. “Anyway, let's get what needs to be done for the Presidential Dog and Pony Show here then get over to the Embassy.”

We rounded a corner and went into the room everyone had been in before. It was completely devoid of people.

T
HE EXPRESSIONS ON
the boys' faces said that this was not what they'd expected. “Uh, maybe they went back to the dining room?” Kyle suggested.

So, we went there. No people. The room was all cleaned up, though, and ready for the next gigantic meal.

“Maybe we're being punked? Because that makes as much sense as what usually goes on in our lives.”

“I kind of doubt it.” Len looked around. “I don't see anyone hiding behind the drapes.”

“Maybe they left us a message,” Kyle suggested.

So we trotted back to the meeting room to see if anyone had left us a note or something. Nada. It was neat and tidy, though. If we'd been in the Embassy, I'd just have assumed the Elves had cleaned up. But humans did the work here, and none were around or about.

“Okay, before I start panicking, any guesses as for who's gone where and why?”

“They weren't in the West Wing,” Len said, voice tight. “We went through there to get you and come back and we'd have spotted everyone, even if they were in a room.”

“And we should have heard them even if we didn't see them,” Kyle added. “There would be no reason to go to the East Wing. That's your area, Kitty, where the First Lady runs things.”

“Maybe Vance wanted them to check something out over there?”

“Why take everyone?” Len asked.

“No clue. Um, link up, I think it's time to do the
hyperspeed check of the entire building, because I'm not spotting any White House staffers anywhere, either.”

Right before we took off I felt something nudge my leg. Looked down to see Bruno there. He bobbed his head, fluffed his feathers, and squawked quietly.

“What's the word?” Len asked. The boys were less freaked out by my Dr. Doolittle talents than most others. Yet another one of their sterling qualities.

“Huh. Well, the first word is ‘phones,' as in we all have them and Bruno is wondering why we haven't bothered to send a text or make a call, but the second word is East Wing, as it turns out. They're over there to watch a movie or similar. Apparently. I have no clue. But everyone is fine. And not missing us.” Well, not missing me. Which was both okay and sort of disappointing. Focused on the okay side.

The okay side shared that I had two people with me who were legitimately assigned as protection who were also game to actually do something and break the rules, and no one around to tell me not to do something. I wouldn't have long—sooner rather than later, someone would want to know why I wasn't coming to join the rest of them. But I'd have long enough. Besides, who knew when I'd ever get an opportunity like this again?

But, what was I going to do with it?

Had no ideas other than to head to the Embassy complex and visit Hacker International, which now seemed anticlimactic. I could get there without permission any time. However, I was out of clever ideas for what things to do that no one wanted me to do.

Was about to give up and let my one golden opportunity pass me by, when my phone beeped. Bruno looked smug. Ignored him. “Huh, Stryker has intel.”

Stryker Dane was the unofficial head of what I'd nicknamed Hacker International—a group of the top five hackers in the world. Stryker was also the author of the “Taken Away” series, where he wrote about being abducted by aliens. He wrote good fiction, basically.

Chuckie had ferreted out that Stryker Dane was Eddy Simms and found where he lived—Pueblo Caliente, just like us—when we were in high school, and even though Stryker was a decade older than us, he'd become one of Chuckie's closest confidants. I'd known Stryker just as long,
of course, and had found out where he'd been living and working during Operation Destruction—Andrews Air Force Base. Due to a variety of circumstances, he and the rest of Hacker International had ended up living with us in the Zoo portion of the Embassy complex.

But these days we had the True Number One Hacker in the World living with us as well—Chernobog the Ultimate, thought to be a boogeyman myth until we'd had her existence confirmed during Operation Infiltration. We'd found her during Operation Defection Election and, because of the deal I'd brokered, she was considered officially dead and was happily living in the Zoo—under watchful guard—and finally using her talents for good.

Made the call and put it on speaker so the boys could hear. “Hey, Eddy, how're they hanging?”

“Well like always, Kitty. Look, all that stuff you sent over? It's interesting.”

“I figured. I want to know how interesting it is.”

“Very interesting. First off, she shredded the file folders as well as the documents. We put those together first because there was less and it was easier and faster to do. But all the folders were marked and the names are all indicative of robotics research.”

“Robotics versus androids?”

“Yes. There is a distinction.” Could hear voices in the background. Arguing. Which was The Way of Hacker International. “Chernobog says they're distinctly different, so they are,” Stryker said with finality.

“I agree. I don't want the nuance, so don't tell it to me. But since all we have are folder titles, while this is interesting, I don't get why you're excited.”

“I'm excited because we have more than titles. But before I get to that, you should know that we monitor the police bands. An anonymous tip was called in about a possible abduction. The police are at the scene.”

“K-9 squad?”

“No, and you should be thankful, because those dogs know your scent and they'd actually incriminate you.”

“Good point, not that we did anything wrong.”

“No? You stole shredded classified documents.” Stryker sounded smug.

“Yeah? How do you know that?”

“I know because we've gotten them all put back together, not just the folders, because the A-Cs assigned to us are excellent.”

I was impressed. I'd had no idea Stryker was capable of buttering someone up, but apparently he had hidden depths.

“True enough. So, what's the word?”

“The word is that the shredded documents are schematics for robots. Robots who are supposed to imitate people.”

“Always nice to be right. So, what else?”

“We could make a functioning robot from these—I have no idea what this information was doing at the home of the Assistant to the Secretary of State, but these papers shouldn't have been there. The police feel, just like you guys did, that something's off at the crime scene and that it's staged. However, no one's seen Marion Villanova for over two weeks, and so they're investigating it as a missing persons case while also trying to figure out what's going on. The blood is hers, by the way, and there's a lot of it.”

“A full thermos, as memory serves.”

“Right, that's a lot. Enough to insinuate that she's dead.”

“Or else she's been donating blood on a regular basis until they had enough.”

“I'm not following you.”

“Evan came to the apartment today. Not two weeks ago, not one week ago, but today. He searched for what we'd already taken, found nothing, tossed the blood around, and then, and only then, did the police get their anonymous tip. They were waiting until she'd given enough blood to the cause to ensure that police would feel that she was potentially dead before her body left the apartment.”

Heard voices again. “Yeah, okay, everyone agrees.”

“I didn't realize I was on speaker.”

“You're not, we're just all hooked into the call. Only I can talk to you, though.”

“How extra special.”

“What we don't agree on is why. This makes no sense, really. A scene staged as much as this one is—it's highly suspicious. The police aren't sure what's going on, but they know it's something fishy, fishier than an abduction.”

“Maybe that's the goal. And don't ask me what that goal is. My job in this scenario is to try to figure that out, but it's not like I know the plans, I just have to foil them.”

More voices. “Chernobog says she has every faith in you.”

“Boggy's my favorite. Okay, so the police are as suspicious as we are, and we can now make robots from the shredded papers. It's more than we had.”

“Why leave diamonds in ice cubes?” Len asked. “That seems stupid and pointless both.”

“They were left there to be found. Evan looked for them, so he was expecting to find ice cubes in those trays and presumably the diamonds inside them.”

“But why? Clearly it wasn't a payment to him, because he did the rest of whatever he viewed his job to be.”

“What's this about diamonds?” Stryker asked before I could reply. “No one mentioned diamonds.”

“They must have forgotten about them.” Or figured I hadn't wanted Hacker International told about them. Explained the four diamonds I'd found and how. “Why do you care?”

“I care because the robot brains need diamonds to function.”

We stared at each other as Kyle's phone beeped. He grunted. “Mister Reynolds just asked if we're okay.” His phone beeped again. “And now there's Mister Buchanan, verifying that we're not idiots. I told them both we're in here, talking, and will join the rest of them in a little while.”

“It's hard having two bosses, I know,” Stryker said, sympathy oozing. “Chuck can be quite the pain to deal with and, frankly, sometimes Jeff can be worse.”

“Yeah, yeah, and all your bosses are slave drivers and you know better than they do—”

Stopped speaking. The boys stared at me and it was silent on the phone. “What?” Len asked finally.

“Two bosses. What if Villanova and Evan have two bosses? Or more? Or a new boss who took over once Strauss was dead? What if they're in it together somehow and trying to play or appease those different bosses?”

Everyone was quiet, a shocking thing, really. A-Cs were normally silent when thinking, but humans weren't always. Hacker International in particular liked to run their yaps almost as much as I liked to run mine.

“That could be,” Stryker said slowly. “But if so, who are their bosses and what's really going on?”

“The boss they liked was Strauss,” Len said.

“Why do you say that? Not arguing, just asking.”

Len shrugged. “Because they were already rolling it and always could have come to you for help, meaning they were happy to be involved.”

“Precedent has been set for enemies coming to me for help, so . . .”

“Villanova's been her assistant for as long as you've been in D.C., right?”

“Longer.”

“You think this was rolling when it was because that's when Strauss gave the go order. So, why keep it going now that she's dead?”

“If you think it's to honor her, I don't buy it.”

“No, I think someone else knew about it, and is making Villanova and Evan continue the plan.”

“Kitty,” Stryker said, “the robot schematics are general for the most part, however, they have two significant things that stand out beyond their needing diamonds to function—they're all supposed to explode and they're all for women.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. The ‘original prototype' was a female. We figure that's the Kitty-Bot.”

“Why have them built only to explode?” Kyle asked. “That seems awfully wasteful.”

Shrugged. “Of the diamonds, yeah, but it's effective otherwise. We've already figured out how they were going to use the Kitty-Bot. It's not a leap to assume that a woman's going to be able to get closer to certain people or in certain situations than a man.”

“Agreed,” Stryker said. “But there are a couple that are very specific, and we know this because they were named.”

“Really? Who?”

“Janelle Gardiner and Amy.”

“Amy who?”

“Amy Amy. Our Amy.”