Alien Research

CHAPTER 58

GOT UP AND GAVE Caroline a big hug. “That’s my girl. And I’m still sorry . . . for everything, up to and including the fact that I won’t be there with you.”

She hugged me back. “It’s okay. None of this was your fault. You’re going to be doing what needs to be done. Just . . .” She hugged me tighter. “Don’t let them get one of my best friends right after they’ve taken my fiancé, okay?”

Swallowed the latest lump in my throat. “I’ll do my best, I promise.”

Naomi grabbed me next. “I’m so sorry,” she said quietly as we hugged each other.

“It’s okay. Really.”

We separated and I sat back down next to Jeff and my purse, while Caroline and the Gower Girls settled in next to Chuckie in our ever-widening Campfire Circle.

“What about me?” Doreen asked once everyone other than Buchanan, Len, and Kyle were once again on their butts.

“You, I’m of two minds about. You’ve proven you can handle the fieldwork along with the rest of us. But you’re also one of the only Embassy A-Cs who can believably lie. And you know everyone, and that means you’ll know people Amy and Caro don’t.”

She nodded. “I’d like to go with your team, but I think you’re right, I’ll probably be of more use at the funeral itself.”

“Okay,” Jeff said with a sigh. “I give up. You’re all going in, fine. But explain how you’re planning to use our friends the protestors to ensure that the various corporate heads we want at the funeral actually will attend.”

“If I may?” Oliver asked.

“Go for it, MJO.”

“While freedom of speech is our country’s watchword, the majority of people in this country don’t agree with the so-called religious who are busy protesting that Michael deserved to die because he was an alien and his older brother is openly gay. They’re a small, hideous, quite vocal group, but the operative word is ‘small.’ Most corporations—and certainly huge ones like Gaultier, Titan, and YatesCorp—aren’t going to give in to these people’s demands. It does their businesses more good to oppose them.”

“That’s true,” Amy said. “And, as Len said earlier, Gaultier prides itself on being a very open company. At least in its PR.”

“Reality’s always different than the marketing hype, Ames. I think it’s to our advantage that the Religious Asshats Du Jour are creating a love connection with Club Fifty-One. Sure there are plenty of people out there who may agree with the Club Fifty-One nuts, but a lot of them will not want to be associated with the Religious Asshats. And vice versa.”

“So their collective power gets diluted,” Oliver agreed. “Then, all it takes is some well placed media commentary, and you can get a firestorm of support going. Which is what my part of this operation will entail.”

“Exactly. They either attend Michael’s funeral, or all these corporate heads and politicians are flat out saying to the world that they support Club Fifty-One and the Religious Asshats. Most of them won’t be willing to risk that.”

Chuckie nodded. “In this case, I think you’re correct. While there’s still plenty of anti-alien activity going on, even someone like Langston Whitmore wouldn’t be able to avoid the fallout he’d get from non-attendance.”

“Yeah, let’s make sure someone’s keeping an eye on our beloved Secretary of Transportation, because he’s also high on my list of potential Apprentices.”

“The P.T.C.U. will be out in force, as will other protective government agencies,” Buchanan said. “They’ll be watching everyone. This funeral will have the potential to be the site of another attack.”

“In which case, our men will hustle the women to safety and then kick some butt. At least, that would be my plan. Jeff?”

“I’m sure we can handle it,” Christopher answered for him, sarcasm knob already at eleven and heading for twelve, “should Michael’s funeral devolve into chaos like everything else we do.”

“I have to ask this,” Kyle said, looking and sounding embarrassed. “I don’t understand how all of you are so calm about this plan.”

“Funerals don’t mean the same things to us that they do to humans,” Jeff said, clearly happy with the subject change. “Michael’s soul has left his body. There’s no great glory in honoring his corpse.”

“Funerals do more than that,” Kyle said. “They honor the person’s life.”

“They do,” White agreed. “But we’ll have made our peace with Michael’s death well before the official funeral. So, for us, using the funeral as a way to get our team inside Gaultier and able to hopefully retrieve our stolen data is a more palatable reason to have the funeral than the ones we have to give lip service to.”

“But that lip service must be given to Gladys. I’m not sure how her talents work, but we have to do everything we can to keep her believing that we’re all actually there, at the funeral, not doing a guerrilla raid.”

“How?” Amy asked. “I’m surprised she didn’t realize we were all up to something earlier.”

White shook his head. “Her talents don’t work like Jeffrey’s, even though she’s an empath. Her dream reading talent is dominant, meaning she reads most emotions when she’s asleep. Because of that, she learned young to go in and out of sleep without issue. I believe the term is ‘cat naps,’ but basically she sleeps in short bursts throughout the day and night.”

Well, that explained a lot about why the A-C Security team worked in the way they did. “That must be how they’re getting her, via her dreams.”

“Perhaps,” White acknowledged. “But we don’t know for sure.”

“If Sis and I were back to normal, we could combat, counter, or protect her,” Abigail said regretfully. Naomi nodded.

“But you’re not, meaning Paul’s likely the only one who can.”

“Not without ACE’s help,” Naomi said. “Paul’s a dream reader, not a manipulator. ACE could help him, but I don’t think he could do it on his own.”

Had an overwhelming urge to look at my iPod. Went with it and dug it out while the others discussed ways to circumvent Gladys’ powers. Didn’t bother to put my earbuds in, just turned it on and looked at the song. “I’m Not Sleepin’” by Big Bad Voodoo Daddy. And, just in case I wasn’t clear, the next song was “I’m Not Sleeping” by the Counting Crows. Clearly Algar thought I was a little slow.

Or else, he was suggesting that more than Gladys not sleep. Sleep deprivation wasn’t a good plan for most people, be they human, A-C, or hybrid. So had to contemplate what he was going for here.

Thought about the songs’ lyrics. The Big Bad Voodoo Daddy one was about not sleeping to avoid dealing with problems and memories of the past. But the Counting Crows song was about being haunted by someone.

Algar might be referring to Michael having visited me in my sleep, but I still wasn’t sure if that had been real or my subconscious, though it had felt more real. Had a feeling I was going to need to really listen to both songs, potentially more than a few times.

Of course, Algar could simply be telling me he wasn’t sleeping on the job, but per what he’d told me he also wasn’t “on” the job, either. Unless I wanted a Coke or a snack. Huh.

“I’m getting something to drink,” I said quietly to Jeff. “You want anything?”

“Not that the Operations Team can deliver.”

Had my doubts about that, but trotted off into the kitchen area. There were several huge refrigerators housed here. Chose the one farthest from the group and looked at it. “A Cherry Coke and a little help, please and thank you.”

Then I opened the door.