Alien in the Family (3) Page 10

  “There is no ‘back’ in that sense.” He didn’t sound flippant, he sounded regretful. My throat got tight. This was not a conversation I wanted to hear, or have Martini hear. I busied myself with staring at the mystery food.

  “Huh. That’s not what my daughter said,” Melanie replied. Oh, great, Lorraine had filled her mother in on my love life.

  “Well, it was a long time ago.” I recognized his tone of voice. Chuckie wasn’t enjoying this conversation, either.

  “Nice to see you both, glad you’re staying, think you could stop torturing the two of them? And me?” Martini didn’t sound angry, at least not with me or Chuckie.

  “Just protecting your interests, Jeff,” Emily said with a laugh.

  “Right. Look, I hate him, he hates me, but even I’m sensitive enough to realize that standing here rubbing in who’s got the girl isn’t a great way to work together. And we have to work together.” Martini put emphasis on the last sentence.

  Dazzlers of all ages were two things—gorgeous and brilliant. Melanie and Emily were no exceptions. They got the point. “Fine, fine. Well, how do we get a room?” Melanie said with a sigh.

  “Reader’s probably got that covered,” Chuckie said. Our latest female additions wandered off to find him. “Thanks, I think,” he said to Martini.

  “Don’t mention it. Really, don’t mention it. I hate having to remember you’re not the antichrist.”

  “Yeah, I can relate. I hate having to remember that you’re not a moron.”

  Play-nice time was over. Time to swallow the lump in my throat and keep things moving along smoothly. “Jeff, Emily and Melanie think this is a dish from your home world, but they’re not sure.” I was still staring at it. It was still unappetizing. It also hadn’t moved, so I decided I could sleep again.

  “We’ll have my parents take a look when they get here.” Martini came over to me and stroked the back of my neck. “I’m not upset,” he said very softly.

  I looked up at him. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Any inroads he made were my fault. Hard to be upset with you about it.”

  “Jeff, that was six months ago.”

  “Seems like yesterday.”

  “Sometimes. Not always.” I took a deep breath and tried to relax. “So, have we found out who infiltrated what?”

  Martini grimaced. “In a way.”

  “In a way?”

  He sighed. “It’s both not as bad as we feared and worse.”

  “Oh, good. Routine.”

  CHAPTER 15

  WE WERE ALL GROUPED AROUND the conference table again, Melanie and Emily included. The rest of Chuckie’s suite had been declared clean of alien stuff, and Martini and Christopher had done some additional checks using hyperspeed, so we all felt there were no human bugs other than the ones Chuckie had removed before the rest of us had arrived.

  “Okay, we have at least one rogue imageer,” Christopher told us, and it was clear he was furious. “They’re damned good, too. The reason my team was so slow and confused was because ‘I’ had just been there an hour or so prior and given them different directions.”

  “More than one rogue.” Chuckie, Reader, and I said this in unison.

  Christopher rolled his eyes. “Why?”

  “You all move fast, but not that fast. What was going on here required someone in place to catch any phone calls you made that would have tipped you off. So whoever was impersonating Christopher in Nevada or New Mexico wasn’t the same person.”

  “New York,” Christopher said.

  “Pardon?”

  “Imageering bases out of New York and some out of Los Angeles. The media centers?” His snark was on full. “You know, you’ve worked with us for a year, you’d think you’d know that.”

  “But you base out of Area Fifty-One and Dulce.”

  “I’m on Alpha Team.” He looked at Martini. “Can you explain it to her later?”

  “Sure, but she’s right. It’s more than one.” Martini sighed. “They imitated his voice, too, which is hard.”

  “Not really,” Reader said thoughtfully.

  “Why so? I sound that average?” Christopher clearly didn’t find this amusing.

  “No. But recording devices are easy to come by. And what orders did they give? Something you would normally?” Reader was playing with his phone.

  “Apparently I said to pull all field imageers away from their empathic counterparts. I’d never give that order. I never have given that order.”

  Reader nodded. “But you’ve used all those words at one time or another. If girlfriend’s right, and we all know she usually is, then whoever’s doing this has been around for at least six months. Plenty of time to get everyone’s voices recorded.” He flipped open his phone and hit a button.

  “Pull all field imageers away from their empathic counterparts.” It was Christopher’s voice, and not tinny at all.

  Reader closed the phone. “The prosecution rests.”

  That sat on the air for a while. “Um, if that’s the case, then they can impersonate any one of us.”

  “How long can a strong imageer keep up that kind of facade?” Chuckie asked.

  “Depends.” Christopher shook his head. “Not long enough to fool someone who knows the person well.”

  “What do you mean?” Chuckie’s voice was getting the knife in it again. He didn’t like the delays one-sentence answers provided.

  Christopher sighed. “Okay. I’m the strongest imageer on the planet. Maybe whoever’s infiltrated is stronger, but let’s just go with the idea that they’re not, at least for the moment.” Everyone nodded. Christopher’s eyes narrowed and all of a sudden, I saw Chuckie sitting there, next to himself.

  “Wow, you’ve been practicing.”

  “Yeah.” It was weird hearing Christopher’s voice come out of Chuckie’s mouth. “No one else on my team can do anything to this degree, but I figured if you could think of it, I should probably make sure I could do it well and that we knew how to counter. Imitation seemed like the obvious extension to drawing on the air.”

  “Thanks, I think. And, I have to say, it’s kind of creepy.”

  “Glad you think so,” Martini said quietly.

  “I can’t do Reynolds’ voice,” the Chuckie that was Christopher said. “But, okay, it looks like they’re two of us here, right?”

  “Right.”

  Christopher stood up. “Come with me for a minute,” he said to Chuckie. They both got up and walked out of the room. A few seconds later they both walked in and stood in front of us.

  I got up and walked to them, and Martini came with me. I pointed to the Chuckie on the left, Martini to the one on the right.

  “This is the real Chuckie.”

  “Yep, because this is Christopher.” Martini grinned. “The heartbeats are a giveaway.”

  “I’m more interested in how Kitty knew who was who visually,” the real Chuckie said.

  “Because he doesn’t walk or stand like you. Close, but you saunter and Christopher doesn’t, so he had to imitate your movements, and he was good but not quite right. Same with how you stand.”

  “Fine, but you’ve known me a long time.”

  “Yeah, but I think Christopher’s point is made. I still had to study you two. If he’d just walked in as you, I wouldn’t have questioned right away.” I looked up at Martini. “But now the test is, how easy is it to tell two identical A-Cs apart?”

  The image of Chuckie shimmered, and Christopher was there again. “Harder, because of heartbeat signature.” All of a sudden, I was looking at another Martini. Christopher jerked his head, and the two of them disappeared into the bedroom.

  “This’ll be a fun test for you,” Chuckie said under his breath.

  I’d been thinking the same thing. “Yeah.”

  Two Martinis walked out. I had to remind myself that having a fantasy about this wasn’t going to make the real Martini happy with me, since he knew who was impersonating him.

  But it was ha
rder. Christopher had spent his entire life with Martini. There were no differences in walk, stance, or even expression. They were both grinning at me, and they weren’t speaking. “Wow, um . . . I hate this.”

  Chuckie put his arm around my waist. Both sets of Martini eyes narrowed. “Huh, that didn’t work.” He took his arm away.

  “Oh. Duh.” I went to the fridge and pulled out two sodas. I threw both of them at the heads. The Martini on the right dodged and caught the can. The one on the left just put up his hand and caught the can. “Jeff’s on the right, Christopher’s on the left.”

  The one on the left turned back into Christopher. “Good plan.”

  “Only works because I know you’re shorter than Jeff. Look, what this is proving is that whoever’s out there can imitate whoever the hell they want to, at least for a short while. And in a crisis situation, a short while will be all they need.”

  Christopher disappeared and Reader was there. “Yeah, but I can’t sound like anyone else.” It was Christopher’s voice coming out of Reader’s mouth.

  “That is beyond freaky. Please stop now.”

  Christopher was back, grinning. “Okay. By the way, it’s really draining. I’m pretty much ready for a nap now.”

  “Really?”

  “Manipulating an existing image is one thing—I can do that for hours and not get tired. Drawing an image on the air is another. It’s harder and requires total concentration to create and keep it there. Creating a three-dimensional image that has to move and function like a living being? That’s hard as hell. I don’t want to do it again today, for example. I could if our lives depended on it, but I don’t want to discover what that adrenaline shot to the hearts feels like.”

  My stomach clenched. “It would make you that tired?”

  The real Martini stepped in between Chuckie and me and started to massage my neck. “Relax. He’s fine.” I saw him shoot Christopher a look.

  “Yeah, just being dramatic,” Christopher said quickly, as his eyes looked anywhere but at mine.

  Lorraine didn’t buy it either. She came over, grabbed Christopher’s arm, and dragged him off into Chuckie’s bedroom. “Claudia, med kit, please.” Claudia went in with her.

  I could hear Christopher protesting that he was fine. “OUCH! Stop doing that!” He didn’t like it, whatever it was.

  “Think they’re harpooning him?”

  “No. He wouldn’t be coherent.” Martini sighed. “They’re just giving him some rejuvenating fluids. They hurt, they’re just not agonizing.”

  My throat felt tight again. I had to harpoon Martini on a regular basis. I knew it was horrible, for him and for me, but I hated hearing that it was the agony I’d always suspected it was and that he remembered how much it hurt.

  He hugged me. “Stop. I’d rather be alive.”

  “Me, too,” Chuckie said. “And it’s starting to sound like we may have a challenge achieving that.”

  “Good point. What was the goal of pulling Imageering away from Field?”

  Martini shook his head. “No idea.”

  “Disruption. Ability to put rogue agents in place. Ability to murder Field agents or leave them exposed.” Chuckie was saying these things as if he were making a shopping list. “Destabilizes existing structure. Creates lack of faith in leadership. I could go on, but I think you get the idea.”

  “So, what is it they want? I mean, is this going to turn out to be the usual, where there are at least two plans going on at the same time? You know, one where we have a psycho in charge and the other where we have a total megalomaniac running the show?”

  “Could be,” Martini said. “My vote’s for megalomania, of course. You don’t show up on another world by choice unless you have a reason. We’re handling the good reason. That only leaves a bad reason for anyone else from the home world to make an appearance.”

  “Yeah, but why are they doing all this? Are they hoping to replace you or White with a double?” Chuckie had his conspiracy hat on, I could tell by his voice.

  “I’d notice if someone impersonated Jeff.”

  “In time?” Chuckie shrugged. “Maybe. But in time for what? To not marry an imposter? To save his life?” He jerked his head toward Martini. “To save the world? Can’t say. We don’t know enough yet.”

  “Maybe we’ll get more when my parents arrive,” Martini said. “And, if not, we’ll have the fun of my mother complaining about how far behind we are with the wedding preparations. So, you know, a good time should be had by all.”

  CHAPTER 16

  ROOMS WERE ASSIGNED, luggage was handed out, and people settled in. Martini and I went to our side of the floor. It was pretty much a mirror image of Chuckie’s suite, including the full wall mirror I’d missed before.

  “See the big mirror?” Martini asked as he came up behind me. “We don’t take our top off in front of the big mirror unless Jeff is the only other person in the room.” He wrapped his arms around me and nuzzled my neck.

  “Mmmmm, okay.” He switched to nibbling my neck, which doubled as my main erogenous zone. “Whatever you want.”

  “Thought you were going to argue.” His tongue was tracing a pattern.

  “Uhhh . . . oh, God, Jeff . . . ohhh . . .” So much for arguing. Maybe later.

  He spun me around and kissed me, and I melted against him. I was ready to go for it, but he pulled away after a few minutes. “I have to make sure the room’s safe. And,” he added morosely, “my parents will arrive any time.”

  “Okay.” What good was a suite if we weren’t going to get to have sex on every available surface? But I decided voicing that thought wouldn’t be fair. He’d been as ready to go as I was.

  Martini hypersped through the place and checked for bugs. We all had an alien-detector now, thanks to Chuckie. Nothing found, human or alien. I was shocked, but I figured the foray into Catering had alerted the rogue that we were onto him or her, so she or he was lying low. Or causing havoc elsewhere.

  “So, what’s your plan?” Martini asked me after we’d hung up our clothes in the walk-in closet that was part of the humongous master bedroom. This hotel room was larger than the Lair, let alone the apartment I’d lived in before I’d met Martini. Our meager assortment of clothing looked sad and lonely in the huge closet.

  “I want to go shopping.”

  He laughed. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” He pulled out his wallet. “Uh . . . do I have to go?”

  My turn to laugh. “No, not if you don’t want to.” He handed me a wad of cash. “Jeff, I have my own money.”

  “Right, and there’s more of it in your hand. It’s not cheap here from a cost standpoint.” He looked worried. “Do you need more?” He opened his wallet again.

  “I have no idea, but stop throwing money at me.” I wondered how much of this was because Chuckie was right next door and figured a lot of it.

  “Okay, you have the credit cards, right?”

  “Yes, but I don’t think I want to use them here, just in case.” Just in case I’d have to look at the bills a month later and ask myself why I’d bought something I could only wear in one place and spent that much money for it. I’d been here a lot more than once, after all.

  “Well, do if it’s something you really want.”

  “I really want you in something other than a suit.”

  “I thought you liked how I looked in the suit.” He sounded hurt.

  “I do. I like how you look naked, too. I also liked how you looked all of the two times I could get you into jeans.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t feel comfortable in them.”

  “Did you wear suits as kids, too?” I asked with a laugh.

  Martini looked embarrassed. “Yeah, we did. We were at the Embassy a lot . . .” His voice trailed off and he looked miserable. “I’ll wear whatever you want.”

  I hugged him and felt like a total jerk. “Oh, Jeff, I’m sorry. You look great in the suit, you know I think so. It’s not like we’re going to a playground or somethin
g.”

  “So, when we have kids, you won’t want me in the suit at the park or anything?” He sounded panicked.

  “Baby, stop. We’ll worry about it when we have to.” I felt like crap for making him feel like crap. This wasn’t exactly going as planned, not that I’d had a plan. I nuzzled his chest. “I think you’re just as handsome when you’re dressed casually. But it doesn’t really matter. It’s not the end of the world. If you didn’t want to wear a tux for our wedding, that would be a problem.”

  “No, I’m fine with a tux. White or black?”

  “I don’t know.” The panic about my lack of a dress, or even the idea of a dress, hit me. “I sort of wanted to decide once I knew what I was wearing.”

  “Well, shop for that here, too.”

  “Huh?”

  “It’s Vegas. Lots of weddings. Lots of shops with dresses. Take the girls and go shopping.”

  A thought occurred. “I don’t want the girls, actually.” I dug out my phone. “James, you guys settled in?”

  “Yeah, girlfriend. Nice digs. I’ll give the C.I.A. this much—they live for the first-class treatment.”

  “I think it’s Chuckie more than the agency.”

  “Maybe so. So, what’s up?”

  “You, um, indisposed right now?”

  “No, we’re not having sex. Paul’s tired. ACE is really upset and it’s worn Paul out. Why?”

  “I want to go shopping, I want someone whose taste I can trust along with me, and Jeff doesn’t want to go.”

  “Calling in Gay Fashion Support, are we?”

  “You know it.”

  “It’s one of the reasons I know you’re smart. I’ll come up. I don’t want you wandering this place by yourself.”

  “You wandering is okay somehow?”

  He laughed. “I’m a guy.”

  We hung up. “James will be here in a minute.”

  “Well, at least you won’t be by yourself.”

  “You can come if you want to.”

  “Nah. I hate shopping.”

  “I know, you’re male.”

  “James is male, too.”

  “James is a former fashion model. He understands clothes. And the need for clothes. And how to be sure what you buy looks good.”