Walter looked worried. "I think I should be staying here, Chief." He sounded worried, too.

"Walt, I don't want you in danger, and we need your skills."

"But Security is supposed to leave only as a last resort."

"Fine, you can walk out last and lock the front door. We don't have a clear idea of what's going on, but I know we're going to need your help." And I didn't want Walter to be a sitting duck, all alone in the Embassy our enemies now knew how to get in and out of without issue. And who knew when Club 51 would come back with more bombs?

"None of our standard team with medical know-how are coming, right?" Tito asked, before Walter could countermand my orders out loud again.

"Right, they're at the Dome."

He nodded. "Fine. Be right back, I'm going to get my more advanced med kit."

"Probably wise."

Tito trotted off, which Walter took as his cue. "Chief, I know you don't want to hear this, but I need to stay in the Embassy." Walter sounded upset, worried, and more authoritative than I'd even heard before.

I studied his expression. He looked determined. "Why, Walt? Using words that aren't protocol, standard, or procedure."

"Because if we leave our Embassy unmanned and unprotected, then our enemies can come in and take it over, destroy it, put anything they want into it, and we'll have allowed that. My job is to ensure that this Embassy and all its personnel remain safe and protected. I'm not supposed to leave unless I have no choice."

"Gladys leaves Dulce all the time."

Walter shook his head. "She goes to another Base, where she can still monitor, and despite what you think, there are always Security personnel in every Base, even if you've been told that base is fully devoid of personnel."

"Mister White, is this true?"

"Yes. Security is the highest risk job after fieldwork. It's where our best and bravest tend to go if they don't have empathic or imageering talent."

Yet another thing no one had told me. I decided not to say this aloud, because it was probably in the Briefing Books of Boredom I'd never cracked.

"It's in your briefing materials, I'm sure," Buchanan said. "You know, the materials you've never looked at."

"I say again, you don't know me."

Armstrong cleared his throat. "I realize this technically falls under 'none of my business,' but I have to side with your Security Chief here. Leaving this base of operations with no protection at all seems rather foolhardy."

"Leaving someone to be used as cannon fodder, a hostage, or be killed sounds worse."

Armstrong nodded. "I agree. However, we determined earlier that whoever's in charge seems able to anticipate your reactions fairly well. Meaning they'd expect you to force Walter here to leave, ensuring easy access into your building."

I considered our dilemma and Armstrong's points. Sadly, he had some good ones. "Okay, Walt, if you're staying, you can't stay here alone. And I need Richard and Tito. I'm going to bring Malcolm along so I can trip him somewhere along the way and laugh as he falls flat on his face."

"In your dreams, Missus Chief."

I snorted, White chuckled, but Walter looked relieved. "I'll ask Gladys to send over Security support from Dulce, Chief. Thank you."

"No. Thank you. For still doing your job better than anyone else."

Walter looked proud. "Thanks, Chief." He nodded to the other men, then zipped off, presumably heading to his Mini-Command Center attached to his rooms.

"You sure this is okay, Mister White?"

"I'm sure that Walter's points were well made and accurate." As he spoke, a platoon of Security A-Cs trooped up from the basement. "Head to the third floor. Our Head of Security's there and he'll tell you what to do." They nodded and hypersped off.

As they did so, I felt someone watching me. Looked around to see several Peregrines, what appeared to be three mated pairs. And, while I hadn't really seen them outside of the full flock before, somehow I knew their names.

The two I knew were named George and Gracie did the head bob thing to me, then headed off. I knew they were going to join Walter in his Command Center. Han and Leia, who belonged to Chuckie, shot me very worried looks, then wandered off. I knew without asking they were on patrol. I also knew without asking they were worried about Chuckie and conflicted as to whether they should stay at the Embassy or go in search of him.

Tito rejoined us, big medical kit in hand. His Peregrines, Brad and Angie, followed him into the room. I managed not to ask aloud if they were coming along or merely guarding us while we were still on premises. It turned out I didn't need to speak. Brad gave me a long look and somehow shared that they were going to stay here once we left.

I didn't drink any more because A-Cs were deathly allergic to alcohol and I never wanted Jeff unable to kiss me. But right now, I really wanted to go to a bar and tell the guy behind the counter to make me a stiff one and keep 'em coming.

"Where are we heading?" Armstrong asked.

I thankfully pulled myself away from the contemplation of my mental breakdown and back to the matter at hand. "That, Senator, is the question of the moment." I pulled out my phone. I had no texts or missed calls. Specifically, I had no texts or calls from Jeff or Chuckie. I felt my worry spike.

Now that things were sort of handled and I sort of knew something of what was going on, taking a moment to think might be wise. This, of course, meant taking a moment to run my yap some more. Never an issue.

"You know, I want to ask one of Amy's insightful questions again. Why did Senator Armstrong get the new set of dirty pictures today of all days?"

"Because they're going to put whatever their plan of action is into effect today," Buchanan said without missing a beat.

"Right, no argument. But . . ."

"But, Missus Martini?"

Armstrong's eyes narrowed. "You're asking not only why today but when today, aren't you?"

"Yeah. They gave you time to get out of the One World Festival and get over to us."

Buchanan jerked. "Which they expected him to do."

"Right. They expected a different reaction for the first set of phony porno pics, but this time they knew he was going to come right to us."

"Right to you," White corrected. "You're who he went to before."

"So they've anticipated my actions well," Armstrong said. "But why send me away from the Festival?"

"Why did they try to keep you away from the President's Ball? My guess is that whoever it is still feels they can convince you to do what they want. Either because you have similar leanings anyway, are already up to your neck in it all, or because they can force you via blackmail."

"So, do we go to the Festival?" Buchanan asked. "Or do we go after Mister Joel Oliver like he's expecting?"

Considered the facts as we knew them. "Whatever's going on there, everything's been done to keep me and the senator away. I say it's high time we crash that party and see what's so special about it."

CHAPTER 49.

"I SUPPOSE TAKING A GATE IS OUT," Tito said.

"I think we want to be able to get away. And I don't even know if anyone would give us a floater gate without Alpha Team's permission, especially since we're not in any danger we know of." And I was positive Alpha Team wouldn't give said permission.

"My car is down the street," Armstrong said.

"How trustworthy is your driver?" Buchanan asked.

Armstrong shrugged. "Yesterday I'd have said completely. Today, I have no idea."

"We could take one of our limos and be on our way." My worry about Jeff and Chuckie grew. I sent a text to Jeff, asking him where he was and what he was doing.

"I don't want to leave my driver," Armstrong said. "Not only is Evan unprotected, but we have no idea how long he'll be sitting in the street, waiting for me to return."

"And if he's loyal to the senator, or merely unaware of what's going on, he's in danger," White added.

"If you tell him to go home and he's working with our enemies, then it'll tip them off," Buchanan said.

"Mister Joel Oliver went off to do distraction duty." No answer from Jeff. Sent a text to Chuckie.

"That doesn't mean they followed him," Buchanan said patiently. "And it also doesn't mean there was only one person or team watching us. We have to assume we're still being watched."

"Fine. In that case, let me remind you that our limos have special extras installed."

"But the senator's limo will be less obvious," Buchanan countered.

"You want us in a car without a laser shield, Malcolm?" I wasn't sure I wanted us in a car without a laser shield. Especially since Chuckie hadn't answered, either.

Buchanan looked thoughtful. "Yeah, I do. Senator, please tell your driver to pull into the Embassy's parking garage so that we can all load in unobtrusively."

"If there's a bomb in that limo, then that's what they want."

"I understand why you're worried about that, Missus Chief. However, while we were in Florida, some special equipment was installed in the garage."

"How special?"

"Spot-any-and-all-of-the-bad-things-put-into-the-vehicles special. Some of it's experimental, but it's A-C experimental."

"How do you know about all this? You were in Florida with us."

He gave me a look I could only think of as pained. "Yes. I was. We weren't cut off from all communications."

"Oh. Good point. I'm distracted."

"Use whatever excuse makes you happy, Missus Chief. Senator, let's get your man into the garage."

While Senator Armstrong called his driver, Buchanan went upstairs to make sure Walter had all the new garage scanning equipment up and running, and I checked my phone. Still no reply from either Jeff or Chuckie.

"You look worried," White said.

"I am worried. I sent texts to Jeff and Chuckie, and they haven't replied. Now I'm wondering if I should call them."

"It might set your mind at ease," White offered.

"It might disrupt them at a bad time, too."

"And it might give them a chance to tell you not to go to the Festival," Tito added.

"Oh, Tito, good point. I'll wait until we're actually at the Mall to call in a panic."

"You work well under pressure," Buchanan said as he rejoined us. "Walter cleared the senator's limo-it's clean inside though he mentioned it could use a trip to the carwash. However, dirty cars aren't a crime, and there's nothing dangerous in the dirt, so let's get to the garage."

"We can test the dirt?"

"Amazing, isn't it? What will those crazy kids from Alpha Four think up next?"

"You're in an interesting mood." I looked at his expression. "What sneaky thing are you planning, Malcolm?"

"You wound me, Missus Chief. And disappoint me."

"You mean you're upset that I haven't already figured it out yet. Fine. Let's get Jeff's beloved parrot and get moving."

The temptation to leave Bellie at the Embassy and thus make her Walter's problem, regardless of Jeff's likely reaction to the idea, was strong. Despite the presence of some of the Peregrines, she'd clearly regained her nerve and normal personality.

Bellie refused to sit on my shoulder. She refused to let me touch her. She freaked out at Buchanan, screaming that she belonged to Jeff. She almost took Armstrong's hand off, even though she'd cawed his name out as though they were long lost besties-he escaped losing fingers to the Beak of Doom only because Buchanan pulled him back at the last moment. She tried the same with Tito, but he'd learned and kept himself far enough away that Bellie missed taking off his hand by a wide margin.

No, the avian beast only deigned to sit on White's shoulder. I took this to mean Bellie was aware of who the highest-ranking male was in whatever room she was in and, since she clearly had her standards, would only be with him.

Once our horrible parrot was taken care of, Buchanan headed for the stairway that took us down to the garage, which was not the stairway that took us down to the basement. Bellie was mercifully silent, no doubt because White was giving her a lot of attention and more than a few bird treats.

"So, Malcolm, what's our plan?"

"I'm thinking we go duck hunting."

The other men stared at him. I, on the other hand, was pretty sure I knew what he meant. "You want to use Armstrong's limo as a decoy."

"That's actually a good idea," Tito said approvingly.

"How does that prevent Evan from telling our enemies, if he's in fact a spy of some kind?" Armstrong asked.

"Oh, I don't care if he's a spy," Buchanan said. "Because we're going to give him an assignment. Senator, make sure you sell it in a way he'll believe."

"Sell what? I don't know your plan."

"Malcolm wants you to sell whatever he's going to say as truth in advertising."