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  “He said to thank you, dear,” Mrs. Maurer confirmed. “He’s also relieved that Wasim remains safe.” She looked at Mossad. “He’s grateful to you as well.”

  Oren nodded. “Tell him it’s our honor to assist.”

  “He appreciates that,” Mrs. Maurer said. “He also requests that Lieutenant Colonel Daba be in charge of choosing the new bodyguards.”

  The entire Middle Eastern Contingent looked surprised by this. “Excuse me?” Khalid said politely. “I believe you’ve misunderstood. There is no Lieutenant Colonel here.”

  Mrs. Maurer waved her phone at him. “Yes, dear, there is. You must not realize you’ve just had a promotion. Congratulations. You’re not a Major any longer.”

  Wasim’s only real bodyguard quietly congratulated Khalid. The rest of them just glared at him.

  “What’s your name and rank?” I asked the good bodyguard.

  “Naveed Murad. I am a Captain.”

  “Good to meet you, Naveed. Nancy, please ensure that King Raheem is aware that Captain Murad is a credit to his army. Unlike nine others I’m not bothering to name.”

  Mr. Not My Queen shot me a snide look, then said something very nasty to Khalid. He was using native tongue, not English, but the universal translator that most of us were equipped with worked just fine. I was impressed that I could now tell that he’d spoken in Arabic even though I could understand the words. Wondered if the translator chip or whatever was installed adapted what you understood as you learned. Then realized that it was A-C created and figured that yes, it was.

  Went back over to Mr. Not My Queen. “You’re going to regret being rude to someone I consider a good friend. Especially because I understood every word you said and, contrary to what you’re hoping, Khalid is not going to be cursed with incontinence while covered in boils with horrible creatures eating him from the inside out. However, if that’s what you’re hoping for, you’ll be thrilled to know that I’m about to hand you over to the CIA. They have a lot of really fun things they like to do to confirmed international terrorists. I’m sure they have a way to give you boils all over.”

  He glared at me. “We are not terrorists. And you and your threats don’t frighten me, woman.”

  “Wow, you know, you’re kind of lucky there are other people here.”

  “So I can’t hurt you?”

  “This from the dude I used as a human bowling ball? No. So I can’t really hurt you. Permanently.”

  “I know what you are,” he snarled quietly. “You will warp the Prince’s mind, make him American,” he sneered.

  “Oh, blah, blah, blah. We went through this a couple of months ago. I might have bought that you actually were concerned for Wasim’s welfare, but only Naveed actually performed the job you’re all supposed to be doing. So, pull the other one and all that jazz.”

  “You will take him away from the true God and you will destroy our people and our world.”

  “Surely you don’t think you’re more impressive than the many religious leaders I dealt with. Or are you that full of yourself that you’re going against what, literally, every religious leader in the world is saying to do?”

  “Not every leader. What is happening in our world is the End of Days, and you have helped to bring that about. And hell will rain down upon you and yours for this.” He sounded extremely confident of this. Then again, every fanatic sounded confident. And I’d heard this, in one form or another, from our favorite homegrown fanatics for far too long.

  “That’s what the True Believers say,” Naveed said. “All of them, regardless of what God they follow. They feel all who are trying to live within the new world order need to die.”

  “Harvey Gutermuth and Farley Pecker must be beside themselves with happiness.” Mr. Not My Queen’s eyes widened. Just a bit, but I was close to him and watching for it. “Len, could you please advise the Director of the CIA that we have a new set of terrorists, both in our possession, so to speak, and worldwide, please and thank you?”

  “Already done,” Len said.

  Was going to say something more when Mr. Not My Queen’s eyes, and the eyes of all the others in custody, opened quite wide.

  So I had a fairly good guess for who was now standing behind me.

  CHAPTER 16

  TURNED AROUND TO SEE exactly who I’d expected, based on reactions and my assumptions—Christopher.

  Proving that it was really him, he was shooting Patented Glare #1 at the entire room. “What the literal hell is going on?”

  “Hold that question for just a mo’. Not that I’m unhappy to see you, but why are you here? As in, in this room and right now?”

  “William told me I was needed back here.” He eyed Mr. Not My Queen. “You think you know me, don’t you?”

  The Bad Bodyguards all sort of nodded. Refrained from mentioning how that would be a cool band name, and instead kept my focus on the matters at hand. That was me, always taking one for the team. “So, we found the footage from Dulles?”

  “Yeah,” Christopher said. “Mona, did you go anywhere before you came to the White House?”

  “We drove by our embassy, to show Prince Wasim where it was. We also drove by the Cairo, where the Prince will have a residence. But we didn’t stop. Essentially, we came directly here.”

  “We were in three cars,” Jakob said. “But one of us,” he indicated the three Mossad agents, “was in each car. Oren, Khalid, and I were the drivers, and we never broke off from each other.”

  “Good. We’re already having the cars searched. They need to be strip-searched,” he said to the Field agents as he pointed to the prisoners.

  “Not that I’m arguing with this mindset, but why so?”

  Christopher heaved a sigh. “Because ‘I’ gave them something at the airport. All of them.” He looked around. “Other than those two.” He pointed to Wasim and his lone good bodyguard. “They weren’t around at the time, just these nine.”

  Naveed cocked his head. “The only time would have been when we used the bathroom. They came with us,” he indicated the male portion of the Middle Eastern Contingent, “while the others supposedly gathered the Prince’s luggage.”

  “And we used the ladies’ facilities at the same time,” Mona added, indicating herself and Leah.

  “Oh, they gathered it, all right,” Chuckie said as he joined us in the room. “Only you have bags I’m willing to bet never came over from Bahrain. Good call,” he said to Christopher. “Lots of explosives in the bags. Even those that belong to the Prince.”

  “We traveled with nothing harmful,” Wasim said, sounding freaked out. Couldn’t blame him. “I have no idea what’s going on.”

  “It’s totes okay,” Lizzie said. “Kitty’ll handle it. You’ll be fine.”

  Wasim didn’t look reassured. Decided that the rest of that conversation didn’t need to be heard by anyone who was a Club 51 True Believer. “Yes, I will. Speaking of which,” turned to Mr. Not My Queen, “were you aware that you were taking instructions from a robot?”

  He stared at me. “What lies are you trying to tell me? He’s right here.”

  “No, he’s the person the robot was created to impersonate. I’m just curious if you knew you were dealing with a robot or if you thought you were dealing with a traitor.”

  “Answering truthfully might make things easier for you,” Chuckie said.

  Mr. Not My Queen snorted. “Now that is a lie for certain. However, no, we met with a human. Him.” He nodded at Christopher. “He is one of us.”

  Christopher rolled his eyes. “Chuck, let’s get them locked up.”

  Mr. Not My Queen made eye contact with Christopher. “Mahdi.”

  Christopher stared at him. “What?”

  The word didn’t translate, so assumed it was a name.

  “Mahdi,” Mr. Not My Queen said with more emphasis.

&nbs
p; “Means nothing to me,” Christopher said.

  “It’s the name of the Imam who leads Islam’s rapture, essentially,” Chuckie said. Noted that the entire Middle Eastern Contingent, which now included Wasim and Naveed, nodded at this. “And it’s also clearly a code word. You’re either supposed to give the countersign or react.”

  “But, since Christopher’s not the Man-Bot you’re looking for, you just get to move along right now. Can we get these creeps out of my house and into severe custody?”

  “Yes,” Chuckie said with a chuckle I knew was intentionally evil. A couple of the captured True Believer Bodyguards looked a little uncomfortable. Clearly they taught fascinating things at the Farm and other CIA training facilities. “We’ll be taking them somewhere nice and horrible.”

  “Good. Not Guantanamo, though. I may want access to them.”

  “Oh, no. Guantanamo is far too public for where they’re going.” Chuckie nodded to the Field teams and the Bad Bodyguards were trooped out. “Be right back,” he added to the rest of us, and he grabbed a spare A-C. They all zipped off at hyperspeed. Which was the first part of the punishment.

  Hyperspeed was hard on humans. It made any human who experienced it barf at best. If you went too fast too long, you passed out. Or, rather, you used to. These days, any humans working with or around Centaurion Division didn’t run that risk, because I hired extremely well.

  During the madness that led up to my wedding, aka Operation Invasion, I’d found Tito Hernandez, who was going to medical school full-time, working three jobs, and, in his copious spare time, moving up in the ranks of Mixed Martial Arts. We’d taken him away from all that and, like in Charlie’s Angels, he was now doing what he was really good at on a daily basis. And there wasn’t a day we weren’t grateful for his presence.

  Tito was exceptionally awesome and, in addition to the OVS, had created Hyperspeed Dramamine, which let any normal human handle hyperspeed without any negative side effects. Originally, we’d had to take a daily pill. Now it was a monthly shot, though the pills were still available for new people being brought into the fold.

  However, I knew the prisoners weren’t getting the Hyperspeed Dramamine. And that was more than okay with me. Really hoped they had a lot in their stomachs to barf out, because I knew without asking that Chuckie had everyone going at the fastest hyperspeed they could manage.

  Once they were gone, Christopher barked some orders to my A-C Security team, and he and the five of them did a hyperspeed check of the room. Unsurprisingly, they were done fast.

  “Bugs,” Manfred said as they all pooled what they’d found onto the table that stood in the middle of the room. It had a vase with lovely flowers in it that had, somehow, remained unscathed during all of this. Wasn’t sure who was more relieved, me or Abner, but shoved this happily into the very sparse win column.

  Only to have it snatched away. Christopher pulled the flowers out and dumped all the bugs into the water. On the plus side, Kyle took the flowers from him, divvied them up, and handed them to Mona and Mrs. Maurer.

  “Ah, thank you?” Mona said. She was clearly trying not to laugh.

  “Lovely thought, dear,” Mrs. Maurer said, lips quirking.

  “Maybe we can take the other flowers in the room for me, Leah, Kitty, Evalyne, and Phoebe,” Lizzie said, in that teasing way little sisters have. “And guys like flowers, too, remember.” Kyle gave her a very gentle punch in the arm, and she grinned. Wasim watched this closely. Really wondered what his sibling relationships were like.

  It was clear that, by now, everyone was controlling their Inner Hyena, other than Abner, who looked like he was deciding between crying or freaking out but had wisely chosen resigned acceptance, Wasim, who was observing more than reacting, and Christopher, who apparently hadn’t brought a sense of humor with him on this excursion or else was so focused he hadn’t really realized what he’d done. Or how much those flowers had cost.

  “Let’s search the entire complex,” Christopher said after all the bugs were in water.

  Looked to Mona, who was politely holding her half bouquet, though away from her body so water didn’t drip onto her clothes. “Did you all actually hit the entire complex?”

  “No, and I don’t recall anyone wandering off, either.”

  “They didn’t,” Naveed said. “If you want to bring me along, I can retrace our route.”

  Christopher nodded, then looked at me. “Does he get the pill?”

  “Yes, he does. Wasim should probably have one, too.”

  “What pill?” Naveed asked suspiciously. “The Prince will ingest nothing.”

  “Well, while I appreciate your devotion to the cause, especially after all we’ve just gone through, I’ll wager the Prince plans on ingesting food and drink while he’s here, so there’s that. Also, A-Cs move fast, as I know you know. If you want to spend your time barfing your guts out, then, by all means, refuse the pill. If, on the other hand, you’d like to not be ill all the time, especially in danger situations, take the pill.” Looked at Wasim. “Your grandfather took the pill I gave him without complaint. Because he’s very clear that he and we are on the same side.”

  “We all take it,” Khalid said.

  “Oh, I’m sure Major Murad is just being extra-cautious,” Mrs. Maurer said. “And, after all that’s happened, who can blame him?”

  “Excuse me,” Naveed said politely, “but, as I said, my rank is Captain.”

  She merrily waved her phone at him, and she’d been texting one-handed, since she, too, was holding onto her flowers. Clearly Mrs. Maurer was enjoying this particular action. “Oh, yes, I’m sorry. What with all that was going on, haven’t had a moment to advise you that King Raheem has raised you in rank as well.”

  Naveed looked shocked. Wasim, however, looked pleased. Took that to mean that Wasim actually felt safe with Naveed, which was all for the good.

  “So, what’s it gonna be?” I asked, after Khalid had congratulated Naveed. “Barfing or risking taking our evil Western medicines for the win?”

  Wasim strode over to me and put his hand out. “I will gladly take whatever Queen Katherine feels is right. My grandfather said you were to be given my utmost trust and respect.”

  Dug the pill bottle I always kept handy out of my purse and gave him one. Tossed the bottle to Naveed. Looked back into my purse. “I wonder if I have water bottles in here.”

  Sure enough, the Elves delivered and I handed a small water bottle to Wasim and tossed the other to Naveed. No one questioned, which was good, since my answer was both one most wouldn’t believe and one I couldn’t say anyway. Made a mental note to try to have a chat with the King of the Elves sooner as opposed to later, though.

  “Is there anything you don’t carry in there?” Christopher asked, as Wasim and Naveed took their medicine and Naveed returned the bottle of pills to me.

  “Nope, and for that you should be grateful.”

  He shot me a smile versus a Patented Glare. “I’m always grateful you’re here, Kitty.” His expression went back to serious. “Let’s retrace those steps right now, though. I want whatever else these people stashed here removed faster than fast.”

  With that, he and my A-C Security team zipped off, Manfred holding onto Naveed.

  Turned back to Wasim. “So, welcome to Washington. This is, sadly, what we call a normal day.”

  Wasim blinked at me. Then he smiled, rather shyly. “It seems very exciting.”

  “Oh, you have no idea,” I said as half the room snorted. “But, truly, it appears you’re going to find out.”

  CHAPTER 17

  CHRISTOPHER AND THE TEAM were back fast, with a lot more bugs to drop in the vase. “No bombs, thank God,” he said once they were done.

  “Nice to know Chuckie found all of those they’d brought in the luggage. But we had the bugs in here a while—that means whoever was listening on the o
ther end knows what’s going on. At least somewhat.”

  “That’s why they’re in water, not smashed. Serene prefers it that way.”

  “Whatever works. Speaking of which, why were you at Dulce earlier?”

  “Tell you later.” Christopher pulled his phone out and dialed. “Lots of bugs found. Yeah. Yeah. No, no bombs. Yes, I agree. You’ll be back when? Great, see you then.” He hung up.

  “Who were you chatting with?”

  “Chuck. The prisoners are exactly where you’re probably thinking they are and they have the bombs secured. The prince’s luggage is back and so is his,” he nodded toward Naveed. “Under the circumstances, we don’t want anyone else from Bahrain sent over.”

  I was thinking the prisoners were under the Pentagon, but could pick up enough of a clue not to say so out loud. “I agree.”

  A Field team I didn’t recognize came in, dropped off the presumably now-safe luggage and took the vase, presumably to send it to Dulce for Serene to play with its contents at her leisure which, knowing Serene, would be immediately.

  Looked at Mr. Watch. I had fifteen minutes before my 11 a.m. with Jeff and everyone else in the LSR, meaning before I had to do my jobs as Recap and Megalomaniac Girl. Giving me a whopping quarter of an hour to be motherly. “Okay! So, let’s get Wasim and Naveed situated, shall we?”

  “Perhaps Prince Wasim should stay at our embassy?” Mona asked. Couldn’t blame her.

  Nor, sadly, could I agree with her, because Raheem had been pretty damn clear and, after all of this, he wasn’t wrong to want Wasim with me. “While the Prince is more than welcome to do so, I know his grandfather wanted him here with us for at least a little while.”

  “The Prince has his own apartments,” Naveed reminded us.

  “He does indeed. But, until such time as his grandfather feels comfortable, I think we’ll have the two of you rough it in the Lincoln Bedroom.”