"Establishing what's gone and going on. We have nothing else to work with, unless and until the K-9 cops track down Casey or her cronies, and let's admit it-that's a real long shot based on the firepower that came to back them."

"What was their purpose?" White asked. "They seemed to achieve nothing."

"Ah, but, Mister White, you fail to realize-that's the Club Fifty-One way."

"They flushed us out," Christopher said. "Just like Senator Armstrong said."

"And Malcolm, too. And the K-9 cops. I didn't realize Malcolm had them on speed dial."

"Mister Buchanan does seem to work in mysterious ways," White said. "Sadly, though, I'm inclined to wonder if this was a stalling or distraction tactic only."

"No. I think it was doing double duty." Something about that nudged at me. "We need to get back to the others. Whether or not Club Fifty-One was trying to blow the block sky high or just waste our time, we have a lot of questions that remain unanswered."

"I'm still questioning why we have those stupid birds," Christopher said. "They didn't do a damn thing during this incident."

"Missus Martini told them to sit and stay and guard," White said. "They obeyed, as far as we can tell."

"Have you told the others about the birds yet?" Christopher asked as he opened the door.

"Oh, no. They're still a super special secret just for the few of us."

He sighed. "I feel so lucky."

CHAPTER 37.

WE HEADED BACK UPSTAIRS to find everyone calm and safe. Jamie was happy to see us and demanded kisses from all three of us to make up for our long absence. Then she demanded to go back to Olga while Christopher compared notes with the others about what they'd seen differently from us-nothing-and where we thought this put us-nowhere.

Christopher grilled Armstrong, but he seemed to know no more about Club 51 than the rest of us. He might have been lying, but we had more immediate questions and concerns, so I chose to believe him for the moment.

Jamie happily back in Olga's lap, I decided to get us back onto some kind of track. "So, Senator, enough about our good friends from Club Fifty-One. I'd like your thoughts about why someone would have given me a bizarre test in place of the real HSAC."

"How bizarre? You didn't give me many details before."

"It was a psychological profile."

"They all are."

"They aren't all like this. Every answer was set up to ensure I'd sound like a psycho, no matter how I answered. It was easily triple the length of everyone else's tests. And the questions at the end related to Chuckie and Cantu. Nothing relating to Club Fifty-One, by the way, for those keeping score."

Armstrong's eyes narrowed. "That makes absolutely no sense. Why didn't you question it?"

"Because she's Kitty," Christopher replied.

"Ah." Armstrong seemed to be considering. "Triple the length . . . you weren't done when the attack started?"

"I wasn't even close to done when the attack started." I thought about it. "I'd skipped ahead, though, and read the last page. That's what triggered Sandra, I think."

"Why did the android attack with witnesses present?" Armstrong was asking some good questions.

"Well, maybe she had to. I was supposed to be in a separate room, but the instructor found me and insisted I join the others."

Len jerked. "The weird test you got-that was Plan B. They wanted you separated from the rest of us to kill or capture you. But in case you were in the room with everyone else, they had Plan B in place."

"But why give her some bizarre test?" Armstrong asked. "Why not just give her the real one?"

"Because she'd have finished it along around the same time as the rest of us," Kyle suggested.

"That seems like a kind of . . . weak idea, really," Christopher said. "And hard to base your entire plan on what Kitty would do with a weird test."

I thought about it. "Maybe Plan B was only to delay things?"

"How do you mean?" White asked.

"An attack squad was sent to take out Chuckie, remember? Maybe they just wanted to be sure he'd be dead before I finished."

"Why?" Armstrong asked. "What would that do?"

"Piss me off more than you can possibly imagine." And the bad guys wouldn't want that. Any of them who'd gone up against me pissed off these days were no longer around to talk about it.

"That can't have been the goal." Armstrong shook his head. "To me, that test seems key."

"Maybe they really wanted her answers," Adriana suggested.

"Why?"

She looked thoughtful. "You said it was a psychological test."

"Yes, but it wasn't a normal one. Seriously, no one taking this test could answer in any way that would avoid sounding like a serious security risk and likely serial killer." Come to think of it, maybe they'd given me the entrance exam for Club 51.

"There's no way results from a test that biased would be allowed," Christopher said.

"True enough," Armstrong agreed.

"The last page was the weirdest, and that's saying a lot."

"That was the one asking you about Esteban and Reynolds, right?" Armstrong asked.

"Right. I didn't actually do most of the test and I didn't answer anything on the last page, so I don't see what anyone would get from it, other than a delaying tactic."

"No one goes to that much trouble to create something so specific without a related specific goal in mind," Armstrong said firmly. "It would have been easy enough to delay you. An official phone call, a requested high-level meeting, any number of other options. Why have a bizarre test that no one in their right mind would believe was the real thing?"

"Um, I believed. Sort of."

He gave me a rather derisive look. "For how long?"

"A few pages."

"And then?"

I sighed. "Yeah, and then I started reading ahead. Especially when everyone else was done so quickly."

Armstrong cocked his head. "What do you mean the others were done quickly?"

I looked at White. "Well, Richard was done fast. I figured you used hyperspeed."

"I did. And I rechecked my work three times. The test was very brief."

Armstrong sat up straight. "How many pages?"

"Twenty."

White considered twenty pages brief? Maybe so. Mine had had at least a hundred pages, after all.

Len and Kyle looked at each other. "Mine was thirty pages," Len said.

"Mine, too," Kyle added.

I dug out my phone and dialed. "Ames, have a second?"

"Yes, but I can't tell you anything about what I'm doing."

"No worries. How many pages was your HSAC test?"

"Excuse me?"

"Work with me here. How many, do you remember?"

"Yeah, around twenty-five pages or something. Why?"

"Usual crap. Talk to you in a few." I hung up and dialed again. "Malcolm, how many pages was your HSAC test?"

"Hi, Missus Chief. Great to hear from you. It's been so long and all."

"Dude, seriously, as if our skirmish from only a few minutes ago wasn't enough, we've got the standard DEFCON Bad stuff going on. Pleasantries later, after I choose to forget your crack about my weight. Just answer the question."

"I was only teasing, you're still a thing of beauty and a joy forever. Thirty-six pages, which is standard. Why?"

"Tell you later. I think. You okay?"

"I'm supposed to ask you that, but it's always nice to know that you care."

"I do. Don't be too far away, I think we're going to need you soon."

"My entire job now consists of not being far away from you. Trust me, I'll be nearby."

We hung up. "Okay, Amy's test was twenty-five pages. Malcolm's test was thirty-six, which he said was standard."

Armstrong nodded. "It is. Every test should have been thirty-six pages."

I looked at White. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

He nodded. "I believe I am, Missus Martini."

"What's that?" Christopher asked.

"My test was indeed Plan B. If Sandra the Android could have taken me out where the others didn't know about it, that would have been better. They'd have gotten what they wanted anyway. But with me in the room, that meant that the others would know about her attack. And, since she wasn't trying to kill most of them, would survive."

"So?" Christopher asked. "I mean, glad everyone survived, my wife in particular. But I don't see where you're going with this, Kitty."

"No, you probably don't. At least, you haven't had to for a while. Think back to fugly fighting. When you were dealing with an in-control superbeing, what would you do to stop it? I mean before the tanks and artillery showed up?"

"We'd try to distract it away from any civilians and also try to limit the damage it would do. We did that with the newly formed ones, too, when needed. You know that. Why are you asking?"

I looked at Olga. She nodded. Nice to know I was right, at least about one thing. Looked at Armstrong. He nodded as well. "Your test was meaningless, in that sense."

"Yeah, I think whoever created it-and my money's on your 'associate' Cantu, by the way-was having fun." I looked at Christopher's expression and decided to be kind. "My test was the distraction. What they wanted, and have, were the answers the rest of the team gave."

CHAPTER 38.

CHRISTOPHER'S EYES NARROWED. "You sure?"

"Malcolm's test was thirty-six pages, which Senator Armstrong verifies as the right length. Malcolm was also the only person taking the test who had ever taken it before. Therefore, he got a real test."

White nodded. "The rest of us were given different tests, I presume, anyway, based on length."

"Why were Len and Kyle's tests the same length?" Christopher asked.

"Because they're friends, went to college together, were on the same football team, are now doing the same job, basically, and they'll talk to each other. Boys, am I right that, if this hadn't gone completely haywire, you'd have compared notes?"

Kyle looked sheepish. Len shrugged. "We already did."

"But my father's test and Amy's test were different."

"Amy would compare with me. Your father wouldn't compare with anyone."

White nodded. "Very true."