Alien Research

CHAPTER 44

THE HORRIFIED SILENCE was filled with a scream, from Naomi. I assumed many people were screaming, but we could hear Naomi. She was screaming her brother’s name.

Dier slapped her. “Shut up. Your brother was an idiot. Brave, but an idiot. As if I haven’t been training in how to deal with you people?” She shook her head. “Heroics. That’s what you’ll all get if you try anything else. You’ll get dead.”

“I don’t care what it’ll take,” Brian said evenly, though he was pale and shaking. “But there are a lot more of us than there are of you. We’ll hunt you down and kill you for this. I’ll hunt you with my last breath for murdering my best friend.”

Forced myself to look away from the screen. Jeff was holding Paul, who was sobbing silently. Chuckie was clutching Serene and vice versa, White was holding Reader who, like Gower, was crying. Everyone else in the room had looks of shocked, stricken horror on their faces, even Rahmi and Rhee.

Other than Adriana. Her eyes were narrowed, and she came up to me. “What now?” she asked quietly.

“Now? Just what Brian said—that bitch must pay. And the son of a bitch who hired and trained her is going to pay, too. They’re all going to pay, because I’m going to kill them all or die trying.”

She nodded. “Grandmother would agree. And I agree as well. Count me in.”

A crashing sound made everyone look back at the screens, and the cameraman turned toward the door. So we got a jumbled but fairly clear look at Walter, Jennifer, and Jeremy busting in.

The camera dropped to the ground on its side. Apparently that was a requirement of the cosmos.

More shots were fired, but Walter was trained Security, and the Barones were a trained Field team. The fight was over fast. Only this time, the people on the ground were Dier and the cameraman. The Barones tied them up, with a great deal of unnecessary extra violence I wholeheartedly approved of.

Walter got Melanie and Emily untied first and they both started doing CPR on Michael. Because of the way the camera had fallen we could see this, albeit everyone who was watching had to tilt their heads to the left.

“We need to get medical to them,” Tito said. “If we can—”

He was interrupted by Emily taking her hands away from Michael’s body as she started crying. Melanie joined her in that as Naomi and Abigail threw themselves onto Michael’s body, sobbing.

“We’re going to stop filming,” Gladys said, voice shaking with grief and anger, as she picked the camera up off the ground. “Because I don’t want our people witnessing what we’re going to do next.”

But before the camera could be turned off, more people came into the room. These people were Marines.

An older man I knew very well entered the room. “We’ll take it from here,” he said gently.

“No,” Gladys snapped. “This is our business.”

“No, ma’am, it’s not. I’m Major General Mortimer Katt of the United States Marines and we now have jurisdiction. Per Angela Katt of the Presidential Terrorism Control Unit.”

My phone rang. I answered it. “Missus Chief,” Buchanan said, very gently, “Mahin gave us the location. I’m sorry the Marines arrived a . . . little late.”

“Yeah. So, is she on our side or just didn’t want anyone tortured or killed while she was watching?”

“Your father and I aren’t sure yet. Do you want us to keep working her or do you want us to come back to be with you at the Embassy?”

“I don’t know, Malcolm. I—you decide, okay? Whatever you think will get us to the brains of the operation the fastest. So I can kill him.”

Buchanan cleared his throat. “Ah, can I speak to your husband?”

“No. He’s trying to console his cousin over an inconsolable loss. I’m fine, Malcolm.”

“No,” he said gently. “You’re not. Just promise me that you’ll call me before you roll any plan, okay? Call me and run it by me first.”

“Okay.”

“Promise me, Kitty,” he said sternly. “No one is emotionally okay right now. You’re all willing to do whatever sounds right, and that’s dangerous for everyone.”

“She killed Michael’s Poof like it was a toy target.”

“I know.”

“Now Caroline won’t even have Fuzzball to remember Michael by.” The tears were starting. I didn’t have time to cry.

Adriana put her arm around my shoulders. “Let me speak with him, please.” Handed her the phone. She hugged me. “Cry. Let me handle this side for right now.”

While Adriana had a conversation with Buchanan I couldn’t even focus on, I watched the screen with tears streaming down my face. For some reason, the camera was still going, now being handled by a Marine. Probably to keep our people from killing Dier and the Swarthy Slapper.

Marines were escorting our people out, two to an A-C, presumably because the A-Cs didn’t want to leave Michael’s body or Dier alive and the Marines were having to use a gentle form of force.

Brian knelt down next to Michael, picked up the cage that Fuzzball was in, and tried to open it. It required a lot of strength, because I could see his muscles straining. But he got it open finally.

He took the Poof out and gently placed it on Michael’s chest. “Make sure this travels with him,” he said to the Marines around him. “It was his pet, and it died trying to protect him.” He held onto the cage.

“We will do, son,” Uncle Mort said. He helped Brian up and gave him a hug—Uncle Mort had known Brian since I was in high school, after all. “Let’s get you home to your family, Brian.”

“Yes, sir.” Brian let Uncle Mort lead him out.

Once all the hostages were out of the room, the Marines brought in a stretcher. Walter looked into the camera, blocking what was happening from us. I knew it was intentional. He looked older than he ever had before. “Chief, I know you’re watching. We’re going to stay with Michael and ensure he’s returned to the American Centaurion Embassy.” He looked down, then back up. “I’m sorry we were too late to prevent this.”

“It wasn’t Walter’s fault, or the Marines’ fault,” I said to no one in particular. “It was my fault. If I hadn’t asked the Poofs to get involved, Fuzzball wouldn’t have gone, wouldn’t have been captured, wouldn’t have been killed, and then Michael might not have had enough rage to break free when he did.”

Someone took me away from Adriana, who was still quietly discussing strategy and tactics with Buchanan. But the someone wasn’t Jeff.

“It’s not your fault, Kitty,” Christopher said as he hugged me tightly. “You were the only one with ideas. And your ideas worked.”

“In the wrong way.”

“In the right way. There’s no way you could have known our enemies had found a way to trap the Poofs. But the Marines are there, and based on who you were talking to, that’s because they were sent by Buchanan or your father.”

“Dad. He always calls Uncle Mort when things are dangerous.”

“Right, and they could only do that because you had the idea to send the feed to them, so they could get Mahin to break.”

“But Michael’s dead. And so is Fuzzball. What am I going to tell Caroline?” I started to sob. Christopher put my face into his chest and rocked me.

“You’ll tell her the truth. That she was the only woman who made him stop playing the field, that he was a hero, and that he died a hero. He died trying to protect his family and friend and to avenge the senseless murder of his pet. There’s no shame in any of that.”

“None of it brings him back.”

“No. It doesn’t.” He kissed my head. “And we’ll make them pay. But right now, we all need to get home.” He sighed. “We’re back to where we were when you joined us.”

“How do you mean?”

“We’re fighting an enemy who knows us, has us at a complete disadvantage, and who we know little to nothing about. And either our enemy or circumstances have set us up so that the things we used to have that gave us the extra edge are gone.”

I pulled back a bit and looked at him. “That sounds far more like the Mastermind than Ronaldo Al Dejahl.”

“The Mastermind’s had plenty of time to regroup. And we need to regroup, too.”

“We do,” Tim said, as he came over to us. “Christopher, you need to help Jeff. I don’t think Paul can really walk right now, he’s too upset.”

Christopher nodded and handed me off to Tim. Who hugged me. “Christopher’s right, it’s not your fault.”

“Feels like my fault.”

“I know. Kitty, we all feel that way. I know this isn’t a great time, but I don’t want us to forget this.”

“Michael’s murder? I think I’ll remember.”

“No, I don’t want you or me to forget what I’m going to say right now. The Poofs are guardians, right? When we were in Paris and this same sort of thing was going on, the Poofs were with you. In fact, you told me they knew where we were and were why you and Richard arrived in time.”

“Right.”

“Okay, so this time, the only Poof that left the Embassy was Michael’s, and only because of your direct order. You asked for Poofs, but only one Poof came, the one you’d specifically asked for by name.”

“Not making me feel any better or less guilty, Tim.”

He shook his head. “That’s not my intention or my point. My point is this—why didn’t the Poofs leave the Embassy? Or, put another way, what or who were the Poofs keeping out? Or keeping in? And why did it take literally all of them to do so?”