Alien Research

CHAPTER 46

LET THAT SIT ON THE AIR for a bit. “It so figures.”

“I cannot wait to take over that company and clean house,” Amy said. “Literally and figuratively.”

Was going to say something else when Tim’s phone rang. He answered and blanched white. Knew whatever was going on wasn’t going to be good.

“I see,” Tim said finally. “Do we need to send a team? Okay, keep me posted. Any detail, no matter how small. And . . . send our condolences, please.” Tim hung up, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “The prisoners have escaped.”

My stomach clenched. “Were they already at Guantanamo?” Because if they were, then that meant that Dad and Buchanan were in danger.

“No. Still on their way.” My stomach relaxed a little. Tim closed his eyes. “They were in a military jet, because your Uncle Mort didn’t want them to risk a gate, in case of tampering.”

My stomach reclenched. “Is Uncle Mort . . . ?”

“No.” Tim opened his eyes. “He came back with Brian and the other hostages, to protect them. Thank God. Because the jet was attacked in the air. No one knows by what yet, but it didn’t appear to be another aircraft. Prisoners were removed. The pilot was good, but it’s hard to land a plane safely when there’s a huge hole in it. They haven’t found all the bodies yet, but all personnel on board are presumed dead.”

“Where?” Jeff asked.

“Over the Caribbean Sea. I guess Al Dejahl wanted to save his brother.” Tim shrugged. “The copilot was able to share what happened, at least somewhat. The reports aren’t clear. It sounds like a Marine went nuts and started shooting before the plane was attacked externally, but with all personnel lost, they’ll have to recover the black box, and that could take weeks.”

Realized that I had to stop blaming myself for Michael and Fuzzball’s deaths, at least for the moment, and really think. This meant I needed to run my mouth. Oh well, surely the gang was used to this by now.

“So it’s clear why they did a strike—Dier is a highly trained assassin, and, with Raul and Bernie both dead, the only assassin out there who’s likely to work for Al Dejahl for the Personal Vendetta of the Thing reasons.”

“How can you feel confident of that?” Jeff asked.

“I have no real confirmation, but since the two best assassins in the business have essentially adopted me as their niece, it seems unlikely that too many of their brethren are going to take hits on me and mine. Not that it can’t happen, just seems unlikely.”

“I’d agree with the Ambassador’s assessment,” Raj said. “I’ve had feelers out since the end of the last operation. If there are hits assigned to our personnel, they haven’t made the standard channels.”

“I agree as well,” Oliver said. “I have informants all over the world, and they all know of my deep interest in Centaurion Division and all its many people. Your ‘uncles’ seem to have put a moratorium on you and yours. For which we should all be grateful.”

“Can’t speak for anyone else, but I’m grateful. So, the likelihood is that Dier is by now completely one with the Al Dejahl Cause. A well-trained human like that would be a hard loss to him and his plans, whatever they may be. I can get why she was rescued. But why do it in a big, showy way? Why not simply save them before they were in the air? Unless . . .” Unless we were forgetting something really important. Like the fact that good old Ronaldo had more than the ability to control minds.

“Unless what?” Jeff asked patiently.

“Unless the Swarthy Slapper isn’t Al Dejahl’s brother.” Everyone stared at me. Fortunately, or not, depending on how you looked at it, Chuckie and Reader came in as I said this.

“I just updated our status for Cliff, Vander, and anyone else who demanded it,” Chuckie said. He sounded exhausted and he and Reader both looked exhausted. “Did I leave out anything they’ll need to know immediately?”

Tim brought them up to speed on the latest suckage, then everyone turned back to me. “Explain what you mean, please, about Al Dejahl siblings,” Chuckie said.

“I don’t think there is a brother, at least not that was working the camera with the hostages. I think the Swarthy Slapper was Ronaldo Al Dejahl. Where did he go otherwise? Walter and his team didn’t see some guy lurking in the tunnel outside the new room underneath Gaultier.”

“No, we didn’t,” Walter confirmed. “And we were expecting an ambush.”

“We did see the cages,” Jennifer pointed to the one that had trapped Fuzzball. “They were all over the area near the room. But they didn’t do anything when we were near them.”

“The Marines told us they found no one else in the tunnels,” Jeremy added.

“What happened to the rest of the cages?” Serene asked.

Jeremy shook his head. “I don’t know. My guess would be that that Marines collected them, but it’s only a guess.”

“We need to find that out,” Reader said to Tim, who nodded and sent a text. “Go back to thinking out loud, Kitty.”

“Will do. So, Ronaldo was doing his imageer thing where he changed to look like the Swarthy Slapper. And he’s a troubadour, so that means if he wanted them to believe he was the loser half brother, everyone would.”

Raj nodded. “It’s one of the effects of troubadour talent.”

“The theory’s possible,” Chuckie said. “But why?”

“To keep an eye on Dier when she didn’t know he was there. To determine her loyalty and to see what she would or wouldn’t do if he wasn’t right there to stop her or give her orders.”

“Maybe not,” Tim said. “She could have been in the know. He might have thought they’d get more out of the hostages if they thought Al Dejahl wasn’t in the room.”

“Why not just mind control everyone then?” Brian asked.

“He didn’t need to. Gladys is susceptible to his powers. He let her go, so that you’d all ‘know’ he wasn’t around. He could always get her back, right? And, if the Marines hadn’t arrived when they did, what Gladys would have done after the camera was turned off was to release the prisoners and probably kill Walter, Jennifer, and Jeremy.”

“I don’t know,” Reader said slowly. “It seems like you’re reaching, Kitty.”

“It makes sense to me,” Tim said.

“I’ve missed you, Megalomaniac Lad.”

“Tim and Kitty voting for it doesn’t mean it’s the right answer,” Christopher said.

“When isn’t it?” Jerry asked. The other flyboys nodded. Nice to see Airborne continued to support their leaders, both current and former.

“Seriously,” Lorraine agreed.

Claudia nodded. “Honestly, when are they wrong with stuff like this?”

“Do we have time for me to recite the list?” Christopher snapped.

Amy leaned back and gave him a long look. “What happened that you didn’t tell me about?”

“Nothing,” he muttered.

Amy raised her eyebrow, but she let it go. “I’m with Kitty and Tim. He was pulling the same stunt when I met all of you.”

“Yeah,” I said slowly. “He was.”

Chuckie’s head swiveled toward me. “I know that tone of voice. What are you thinking?”

“He’s not very creative, is he? I mean, he’s using plays from his last two offensives against us. Both of which we know were created by Amy’s father and evil stepmother, with Madeleine Cartwright, Esteban Cantu, John Cooper, and the Z’porrah adding in, I’d assume. The scene in that room in the tunnels was like Paris all over again, only with more women than men.”

“You know, he recognized me.” Brian said slowly. “I realize that’s not significant, but it was . . . odd. He said ‘nice to see you again,’ and then he laughed. I thought he was just being a jerk. But he really seemed to be enjoying himself, and not like, say, Howard Taft was enjoying himself when he wanted to kill all of us. It was like he was having fun, playing around.”

“Ronald Regan.”

This definitely got the entire room looking at me.

“What does the Great Communicator have to do with this?” Reader asked.

“He was the only President who didn’t seem to age while he was in office. I can remember my Aunt Carla saying that he hadn’t aged because he was an actor and for an actor there’s no better role than being President.”

“Does that woman have a view that’s not insulting to someone, anyone, somewhere?” Jeff asked.

“Not really. But she has a point. Actors love a role of a lifetime, don’t they?”

Raj nodded. “And, as so many like to share all the time, troubadours are pretty much tailor-made for roles in the entertainment industry.” Saw the light go on in Raj’s eyes. “You don’t think he’s the one in charge this time, either, do you, Ambassador?”

Now wasn’t the time to tell Raj to stop it with the formality, but made a mental note to remind him later. Everyone was stressed out, and in times of stress, we all reverted to what was comfortable or familiar, after all. “No, I don’t think he’s in charge. Someone else is.” Looked at Tim.

Who nodded. “Like you said to Christopher back at the Science Center, this sounds a lot more like the Mastermind.”