Alien Education Page 6

  “Speaking of freaking out, I cannot even imagine Lizzie’s father’s reaction to this.” Frankly, I could imagine it. Siler was a trained, expert assassin. The reaction was easy to extrapolate. “Let alone Jeff’s.” Jeff was hugely protective of Lizzie and he wasn’t above Berserker Rage. “Or my dad’s.” My father would go into a protective lecture mode of epic proportions. “Though my mom’s reaction will definitely, hands down, be the worst.” Mom might kill Wasim with a look. Mom could kill Wasim with a look. Wondered how I was going to prevent Wasim from being murdered by the people Raheem had sent him to for protection while simultaneously keeping his mitts off of Lizzie.

  “We’ll handle him,” Kyle said darkly. Len nodded his agreement. Both of them had put Lizzie firmly into the Little Sister Category. They might actually be higher up on the Threaten To Dismember Any Boy Who Looks At Lizzie food chain than Jeff.

  “Probably not a good idea,” Abner said worriedly, clearly sharing my “don’t kill the kid” mindset.

  “Your mom will handle it,” Lizzie said, sounding relieved. She had her phone out and was texting like mad.

  “Who are you talking to?”

  “Nana Angela.” Yeah, Lizzie got to call my parents by their Grandparent Names. “I figure it’s better to tell her first, versus my dad.”

  “Wise choice?”

  “I’m also letting Aunt Amy know.” Amy Gaultier-White was one of my two best girlfriends from high school, and married to Christopher. Who, as I thought of it, was probably going to be right in line after those players previously named to terrorize any boy looking at Lizzie.

  “Why?”

  “She has insights. Like, she said not to tell Uncle Christopher yet.”

  “Oh, good to know.” Tried not to let this hurt my feelings. Kids didn’t always go to their mother with issues, and while I wasn’t Lizzie’s real mother, I was in that role. So what that she wanted insight from my mother and bestie, versus from me? Jamie probably would, too, as she got older. Did my best not to feel depressed. Failed.

  Lizzie looked up at me and grinned. “You have insights, too. And, I’ll want them. But I can tell that you’re freaked out and Aunt Amy probably won’t be. At least not as much. And if she is, I can’t tell from her texts.”

  “I was just not prepared for this. You’re just a kid. I mean, you’re our eldest kid, but still. You haven’t even started really dating yet.” Because our lifestyles hadn’t allowed for it. Felt bad and like a real failure as a surrogate parent of any kind.

  She tossed her head. “Dating’s fine when I want to do it, but right now, we’ve got way cooler things going on. Some rich prince isn’t going to get to me. Remember, I’m the one who kicked butt at my last school. For all we know, I already kicked this kid’s butt. But if I haven’t, don’t worry—I can and I will.”

  “Good to know.”

  “Besides,” she said with a shrug, “he’s probably not even cute.”

  “We can but hope,” Abner muttered.

  “You can’t kick his butt,” Vance said. “Unless he makes one single move on you that you don’t want. Then, kill him, and we’ll figure out what to do.” Good to know that Vance had also moved himself onto the Lizzie Protection Squad.

  Mrs. Maurer cleared her throat. Which got our attention. “I think you’re all overreacting just a bit. We are talking about a young man who’s been sent across the world, away from his family and friends, to go to a strange school in a strange country. I’m sure he’s no more excited about his grandfather’s matrimonial attempts than Elizabeth is. Perhaps if we greet him as what he truly is—an exchange student—things will go smoothly. Or more smoothly than currently being imagined.”

  Colette nodded. “I think killing him would be a last resort and by last I mean only if it turns out he’s an evil android or similar. And even then, my recommendation wouldn’t be to kill him.” She looked at Lizzie. “Decide if you like him for him once you know him. But he will need a friend. It’s frightening to come into a tight group and try to find your place. Having someone who’s there to help you adapt is a wonderful thing. If it leads to romance, then it does. But friendship is, many times, far more important.”

  “But if he does anything inappropriate, breaking his arm isn’t out of the question.” Hey, that was advice Mom was going to give, because she’d given it to me, Amy, and our other bestie, Sheila, when we were in ninth grade. Might as well beat her to the punch on this one.

  “That’s what Nana Angela said.” Lizzie waved her phone at me. “She said that she’s proud that this is freaking you out.”

  “Um, excuse me?”

  Heard the door open and turned to see my mother coming into the room. “I’m pleased that you’re having maternal reactions, kitten, that’s all.”

  “Thanks. I think.”

  “So sensitive.”

  “You tend to give me reasons. At least some of the time.” Mom came over and gave me a hug. “Mom, thanks for getting here so fast.” Hugged her back. Things were always a little bit calmer with Mom in the room, less than stellar feelings about my parenting skills notwithstanding.

  “I was already on my way, kitten.” She let go of me and hugged Lizzie. “The Office of the President wants to get your debrief sooner as opposed to later.”

  “That’s nice, but they have to wait.” Quickly explained what was going on in terms of Wasim’s arrival.

  Mom heaved a sigh. “Why am I not surprised? However, what I am surprised about is that we weren’t given the heads-up about this.”

  Had to agree. “Yeah, I haven’t heard a peep from Mona, or from any of the Israelis, either.”

  “And Mossad didn’t advise me,” Mom added, sounding slightly pissed.

  That she was taking messages from the LSR to me or that she expected Mossad to contact her wasn’t because my mother was a meddling busybody who was shoving herself into all our affairs. Rather it was because she’d written the book on counterterrorism and was, as it had turned out, the head of the clandestine and very kick-butt Presidential Terrorism Control Unit. She’d been running the P.T.C.U. for far longer than I’d known about it, and far longer meant decades. She reported directly into the Office of the President, and had for at least three administrations before my husband had assumed office. Every other government agency that dealt in any form of security, CIA and FBI included, dotted-line reported into her as well.

  My mother was also the only non-Israeli, non-Jew to ever be in the Mossad. And she was, from all I’d gathered and seen over these past few years, highly regarded by current and former Mossad agents and treated as the living legend you didn’t mess with. She was treated like the woman who could kill you six ways from Sunday by everybody else.

  The Israeli Diplomatic Mission had several Mossad agents on staff, and we were close friends with three of them, who were, in turn, close friends with Mona Nejem, the Bahraini Ambassadress, and her bodyguard, Khalid. That neither Oren, Jakob, nor Leah had contacted us about this new wrinkle in all of our lives was just as weird as the fact that Mona and Khalid hadn’t.

  The com came on. “Excuse me, Chief First Lady, but you have visitors requesting entrance.” Walter Ward, who’d been the Head of Security when we were living in the American Centaurion Embassy, now had the same Eye in the Sky role at the White House. He technically reported up to Malcolm Buchanan, whom Jeff had appointed as the official Head of White House Security, but Buchanan was mostly hands-off with Walter, because Walter had proven himself far more often than the rest of us usually managed. He was also a slave to titles.

  “Hey Walt, if it’s Mona and her entourage, send them right in.”

  “Ah, it’s not the Bahraini Ambassadress, Chief First Lady. Or anyone else that’s on Mister Buchanan’s Automatic Entry list.”

  “Malcolm has an automatic entry list?”

  “He does. He said to tell you, when you asked
, that it’s a far shorter list than yours. However, the Bahraini, Israeli, and Romanian Diplomatic Missions are all on that list.”

  “Huh. We’ll compare lists later, I guess.” Pondered this and heaved a sigh. “Who is it that wants to see me who is also clearly not on Malcolm’s Fast Pass list?”

  “Someone who’s also not on your list, Chief First Lady. Ansom Somerall is waiting for entry at the main guard station.”

  CHAPTER 9

  ANSOM SOMERALL WAS the Chairman of the Board of Gaultier Enterprises. At one time he, Quinton Cross, and Janelle Gardiner had been a Gaultier triumvirate dead set against Amy’s desire to take control of her late father’s company and turn it away from evil.

  But Cross had been felled by the Mastermind’s supervirus during Operation Epidemic and, once her protector was dead, Somerall had turned on Gardiner. We’d found and saved her from becoming God alone knew what during Operation Madhouse. But not before Somerall and his new cronies had created a Fem-Bot version of her.

  Gardiner was under Mom’s protective custody and literally hiding away from the world. She was running her side of things both business and personal via Amy, of all people, but her life was pretty much one of being hidden nicely, which sucked. She wasn’t our friend, but by now she wasn’t exactly our enemy anymore, either.

  Amy was, therefore, assigned a protective detail to rival my own whenever she ventured out of the Embassy. Our enemies had really done a lot to cramp our styles, and none of us liked it.

  Somerall was also the leader of the “let’s get Lizzie” team. Apparently the kids Lizzie had taught severe lessons to at her last School For Gifted Minors were all related to a lot of international movers and shakers, most of whom were friends or friendly with Somerall and the rest of those whom I called the Dealers of Death—those lobbyists who handled all the bad things and, therefore, the bad people who ran those bad things.

  Somerall had tried to get me to give Lizzie up to them when she’d first arrived during Operation Epidemic, and hadn’t given up hope despite having literally no success. Perseverance was a virtue, so he had at least one.

  “So, I suppose we can’t just shoot him and pretend we were confused about who he is?” I asked the room in general.

  “No,” Mom said regretfully, “that’s not an option. Besides, we’re still tracking down what’s going on between him and the NSA.”

  We’d discovered a Fem-Bot Factory and more at an NSA black site during Operation Madhouse. Sadly, we hadn’t been able to find the people who were really responsible. I mean, we knew that Somerall and Talia Lee, the chief lobbyist for the firearms people and Gardiner’s former bestie, were behind it. We just didn’t have concrete proof, or the name of who at the NSA had chosen to go to the Dark Side.

  “Should we get Lizzie out of here?” Colette asked.

  “I’m not afraid of him,” Lizzie snarled.

  “We won’t let him touch you,” Len told her.

  “True on both counts, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be cautious.” Considered our options while Vance showed his phone to Mom. “Walt, what are the odds I can say that he doesn’t have an appointment and so I’m not able to see him?”

  “He’s not alone, Chief First Lady. Talia Lee is with him.” Think of the Devil and she appeared.

  “Neither of them have an appointment with the First Lady,” Mrs. Maurer said.

  “Anyone else with them, Walt?”

  “No. They were dropped off by a limousine. Technically they’re on foot and have no way of leaving.”

  “They can always call for an Uber or a Lyft.” Looked at Mom. “Your call.”

  She shrugged. “I’m here with you. Len and Kyle are already here, and Malcolm, John, and Benjamin will be here shortly. We can let these two in. Walter, just be sure they’re frisked with extreme prejudice, and by that I mean I want them wanded with an OVS and sniffed by bomb dogs.”

  “Yes, ma’am, Director Katt. It’s being done as we speak.”

  “Call in the K-9 Squad!”

  “Already done, Chief First Lady, per Mister Reynolds’ instructions for situations like this.”

  “Good job, Walt. Let us know if anything else is going on.”

  “Will do.” The com shut off.

  “Who called Team Tough Guys in?” I asked the room in general.

  “Me,” Vance said.

  “Which was someone following protocol for these kinds of situations,” Mom said approvingly. “It’s nice to see that we have some team members who are able to follow instructions.” Len and Kyle both looked a little hurt. Mom noticed and rolled her eyes. “I see Kitty’s sensitivity is rubbing off on you two. I realize you were both busy being protective of Lizzie. It’s not a mark against your competence.”

  “Call Me Maybe” by Carly Rae Jepsen sounded before I could give a snappy comeback. That was my ringtone for Jeff, so I quickly dug my phone out of my purse. “Hey, sorry, I’m going to be late. Or, rather, not early for my scheduled time with all of you.”

  “I know, baby, Walter just advised us. Buchanan, Siler, and Wruck running out of the room was also a clue. Do you need me, Chuck, or Alpha Team, too?”

  “Nah, Mom’s here, the boys are here, and,” the door opened and Team Tough Guys entered my chambers, “the dudes have arrived.”

  “Tell Mister Executive Chief we’re on top of it,” Buchanan said. He reminded me a lot of Jeff, in that he was big and broad and handsome for a human, though he had straight brown hair and blue eyes. He also had Dr. Strange powers, in that if Buchanan didn’t want you to see him, then you didn’t see him. I’d long ago given up trying to figure out how he did it and had just accepted that he could and that it was always to my benefit.

  “Will do.”

  Jeff grunted. “Buchanan may know what he’s doing, but does he always have to be so smug about it?”

  “Yes, he does. They’ve all earned the right to be smug about their massive competence.”

  Siler grinned at me. “Tell Jeff that we’re sorry we’re making him look bad.”

  Lizzie’s adoptive father was a hybrid—half human, half A-C. Of course, his A-C half was Ronald Yates, aka Jeff and Christopher’s grandfather, aka the First Mastermind. Siler’s mother was Madeleine Siler Cartwright, and she’d been an Evil Power Behind The Thrones in her own right. At least until our side had killed her right before she could kill me.

  Siler’s fab parents had done weird experiments on him before his uncle had rescued him. So while Siler looked like a normally attractive man who could be from pretty much anywhere, with olive skin and dark hair, he didn’t age normally. He could also go chameleon, what he called blending, so that you couldn’t really see him or anyone else he was touching for as long as he could hold the blend. This had helped him greatly in his uncle’s profession of assassination. It helped us all now in any number of ways.

  “I’m not stupid enough to share that, Nightcrawler.” Technically I should be referring to Siler as Wolverine, but since I was officially the team’s Wolverine With Boobs, I’d chosen to focus on his blending talent. So far, only Siler and one bird species from Alpha Four could blend, and only I had the Dr. Doolittle powers. We weren’t sure if Siler and I were just special or if the talents were just so rare that we hadn’t hit others with them. I voted for special, because I needed the occasional win to keep going.

  Jeff grunted. “They’re full of themselves, aren’t they?”

  “You’d be the one who’d know.”

  “True.” He chuckled. “Wruck, on the other hand, remains humble. I like him best.”

  “I’ll let John know. John, Jeff likes you best.”

  Wruck wasn’t a human, hybrid, or A-C. He was an Anciannas, what we’d been calling Ancients for decades. They were the elder race that was in a war with the other elder race, the dino-birds named the Z’porrah. Their initial friendship and then w
ar was what had basically caused most of the anguish and accomplishments in the galaxy.

  Among their other qualities, the Anciannas were shapeshifters. Wruck tended to look and sound like a European, but could and did alter his looks and voice as needed. He rarely went into his natural form, though, which, considering all the Anciannas looked like Biblical versions of angels, was a good thing for the mental well-being of Earth’s human population.

  Buchanan and Siler both snorted, Len and Kyle looked a little crestfallen, but Wruck smiled at me. “I’m sure that the President likes all of us equally.”

  “I don’t,” Jeff said. “Though apparently I just hurt the jocks’ feelings. Tell them I like them best, too.”

  “Jeff loves Len and Kyle, too. In fact, he’s feeling the love for everyone. This is why he called. To share the love.”

  “I don’t love your newest visitors,” Jeff said while the room chuckled. “And I don’t trust them at all. I think they’re both wearing emotional overlays, by the way. Good ones. I doubt the other empaths can tell, but Christopher, Raj, and I have spent our copious free time testing my abilities against the various overlays we have in our possession, and I’m getting better at spotting high-quality fakes.”

  “Go team. The K-9 unit is supposed to be doing our bomb sniffing and, to show you that I’m on top of things, too, I know the dogs will tell me what they got as soon as I’m with them.”

  “Yeah, Walter shared that, too. Well, that the dogs and their handlers were on their way.” Jeff heaved a sigh. “So, enough about the looming ‘fun.’ How are you doing after the show?”

  “Exactly as well as can be expected.” Pondered this. As the Super Empath, Jeff could normally feel me when I was halfway around the world from him, empathic blocks activated or not. “You can’t tell? Are the suspected overlays affecting you?”