"WHO?" THIS WAS CHORUSED by everyone in the room other than Colonel Franklin. Even by Naomi and Abigail. Interesting. Out of everyone, I'd have thought Chuckie would have shared this bit of intel with them. Apparently not. But then again, he'd told them to come to me in this type of emergency.

I got myself under control. "Stryker Dane is probably the most famous conspiracy theorist going. He's the guy who writes the Taken Away books. About his being abducted by aliens and taken to their world for experiments, that sort of thing. I think there are like ten books in the series, maybe more. He also runs a pretty popular website and an even more active blog. Kind of an underground celebrity."

"Oh, him." Tito nodded. "I think he's done book tours that came to Vegas. I never went. But why is that funny? I mean, you were laughing like a hyena."

"Pardon me. I just find Chuckie's sense of humor funny."

"How does this have anything to do with Reynolds, in that sense?" Buchanan asked.

"It's a message from him. I don't know why Stryker's down as the next guy on the list, but I have a guess."

"At the edge of our seats, so to speak," White said.

"Chuckie must have been able to influence what went into his part of this briefing book. And Colonel Hamlin wasn't someone he trusted or liked."

"So?" Franklin was stepping onto the impatience wagon.

I resisted the urge to sigh. "Stryker Dane is from Arizona." I waited. No looks of comprehension. "Chuckie's the Conspiracy King." Still nothing. Maybe they were all too worried about Jeff and Chuckie and the impending space invasion to make the connection. "He knows Stryker. Very well. And trusts him, more than most of those he deals with on a daily basis."

"He trusts a nut job?" Oren asked.

I coughed. "Have you not been paying attention? I mean, I realize you all got dragged into this sort of unexpectedly, but still. Aliens exist."

Jakob shrugged. "We've heard certain rumors already, so finding out about what American Centaurion really is, that's not that much of a shock. But those Taken Away books . . . they're all full of sh-" He looked at Mona. "Untruths."

She chuckled. "I've heard the word. And used it. More than once. But Jakob does have a point, Ambassador. Those books are works of fiction."

"Yeah, they are. Because Stryker's a great fiction writer. But, ah, well, he's also not exactly wrong. And he's very pro-alien."

"You think." Buchanan didn't sound convinced.

"No, I know." More blank looks, other than from Oliver, who looked both like he believed me and that one of his greatest dreams was coming true. "Gang, really. I'll say it slowly. Chuckie's been my friend since ninth grade. My best guy friend since we were thirteen. We went to high school and college together." Blank looks that indicated annoyance was coming up fast. I gave in to the urge to sigh heavily. "I know Stryker. Personally."

"Great." Tito didn't sound as though he meant it. "So what are we supposed to do? Race to Arizona, dig out the head wacko, and ask him for help?"

"No. We're going to make a phone call and then probably drive over to see him." The blankness in the room was awe-inspiring. "He lives here now. He's made a good living off those books."

"You keep in touch with him?" Buchanan seemed to be trying to channel Jeff, just to keep me on my jealousy toes. Oliver, meanwhile, was salivating. I was sort of surprised that he didn't know Stryker personally, but then again, I knew Stryker, and Stryker trusted fewer people than Chuckie did.

I couldn't hold out any longer and rolled my eyes. "I keep in touch with Chuckie, to put it mildly. Chuckie keeps in touch with Stryker. The page our friend the Colonel is looking at is there solely for a situation such as this-why would anyone, ever, read that gut buster otherwise? Something's gone wrong, we don't know what to do, so pull out the big book and see what's in there. Chuckie wants Stryker contacted either because he's briefed Stryker on something or because said contact will alert Stryker to something he has to do for Chuckie."

"You're sure, Missus Martini?" At least White didn't look annoyed.

"Pretty darned." I pulled my cell out of my purse and found the number on speed dial. The number Chuckie had insisted I program in right after Operation Confusion. I let the phone ring three times, then hung up. Then let it ring twice and hung up. Then three, two, four, and then one.

"What in God's name are you doing?" Buchanan asked.

"Secret ring code."

"So, Reynolds wants us to contact a lunatic. Great, just great."

"One man's loon is another man's head of the Extra-Terrestrial Division of the C.I.A., let me just say." Dialed again. This time, I let it ring.

Phone was picked up on the fifth ring. "Hello?"

"Eddy! How's it going, big guy?"

"Kitty? Is that you?"

"In the conspiratorial flesh, so to speak."

"What are you doing, using the secret password?"

"Chuckie gave it to me."

"Why are you using my real name?"

"Because I can. We're at DEFCON Worse, well, really, DEFCON Oh My God, and for some reason, Chuckie's left instructions that when he's incapacitated, you're the man for the job."

"What's happened to Chuck?" He sounded suspicious and more than a little scared. Some things never changed.

"He's disappeared. Along with my husband. And, no, they're not gay. I think they've been kidnapped. Sort of."

"Taken from the solar system?"

"Not that we can tell."

He was quiet. "Is Chuck in danger?"

"Dude, what part of kidnapped and cannot find didn't register the first time?"

"Are you in danger?"

"Currently in danger of freaking out about the whereabouts of my husband and oldest friend. Otherwise, no. The moment I leave this building? No guess." Now wasn't the time to mention the impending invasion. I knew Stryker far too well, and we clearly needed his help.

"Am I in danger?"

"If you don't freaking tell me why Chuckie has you down as the go-to man, you're in danger of me coming over there and kicking your butt in a serious and nasty fashion. Otherwise? No clue. You still dating that chick with all the piercings?"

"No, we broke up. Years ago," he added resentfully.

"Good choice on your part."

"She dumped me."

"You never learned how to do the spin, did you?"

"Is this relevant?"

"Just wanted to know if I had to warn the people with me not to make eye contact with your, ah, lady friend."

"No current lady friend, so they're fine. What people?"

"Good friends. Eddy, I feel no closer to knowing why Chuckie wanted you contacted in this kind of emergency. Do you remember how I used to get when you would try to be all mysterious with me?"

He coughed. "Yeah. So, what's the plan, Kitty?"

"No clue. That's why I called you. You are listed as the person to call when we have lost Chuckie. Ergo, I am calling. Ball's in your court."

He was quiet again. I let him sit there in silence. Stryker was good at it, but I'd been trained in how to sell-and one of the top five rules of selling was that whoever talks first after the offer has been made loses. I just gave Bellie some bird treats that White had on him and gave Bruno a good scritchy-scratching between his wings. It took three and a half minutes by my random count, but he finally sighed. "Fine."

"Excellent. We coming to you or are you coming to us?"

"You know I don't leave the bunker."

"Dude, you write published books. You have an agent and so forth. You leave the stupid bunker all the time. Stop acting. Two of the most important men in my life are missing and believed to be in life-threatening danger. Stop making me want to take out my fear and worry on your person."

"You do and I won't tell you how to get here."

I snorted. "Dude, seriously. Ask yourself-between the two of us, who does Chuckie both like and trust more?"

He was quiet again for a long minute, then started cursing up a blue streak. "He told you where I am?"

Well, not so much, but I knew better than to admit it. "And gave me your number, and the secret code, and all that jazz." Stryker kept on ranting. "Eddy! Enough with the blah, blah, blah. Focus! You here or us there?"

"Where is your there, exactly?"

"Andrews Air Force Base."

There was a significant pause. And then an embarrassed clearing of the throat. And then another cough.

"Eddy, what don't you want to admit? Surely you know how to get to Andrews."

"Oh, yes. I know."

I looked at Franklin. He was flipping through another book, smaller than the Encyclopedia Centaurion. He felt me looking at him and looked up. "I don't find a Stryker Dane."

"Try Eddy Simms."

"Kitty, you're under oath not to reveal my true identity!"

"Eddy, dude, you are not Superman. But, just to make you feel better, I'm kinda Wolverine. With boobs, of course."

"Of course. They still nice and perky?"

"Dude, Chuckie and my husband both will break your neck if you ask me that question again."

"He always was jealous."

"My husband? Yeah, how'd you know?"

"I meant Chuck. Told me you were his and I was never allowed to make a move."

I managed to refrain from sharing that in the Possible Alternatives to Jeff Olympics, Stryker's chances were slimmer than the Jamaican bobsled team's and let this one go. Sent a mental thank you to Chuckie for preventing an embarrassing and beyond gross situation in the past. Figured I'd handle the upcoming one with more grace and style than when I was younger-I had a lot of extra muscle with me.

Franklin cursed quietly. "Here it is. Edward Simms. Christ." He stood up. "Let's go."

"Be there shortly, Eddy."

"Kitty, I'm not prepared to receive visitors!" He sounded panicked.

"Pity. 'Cause I'm coming right now." I looked at Franklin's expression and felt I had all the confirmation I needed. "With a bunch of tough guys . . . and your boss."

CHAPTER 67.

I HUNG UP AND DROPPED my phone in my purse. "I'm assuming we can walk it, Colonel?"

He nodded. "Yes. The 'bunker' is close by." Franklin looked seriously pissed.

"Do we want everyone to go?" White asked.

I considered. "I think we can use the addition of the skills, experience, and mindset of the Bahraini Royal Army, and that goes double for Mossad. Ambassadress, are you up for it?"

"Absolutely, Ambassador. As long as you call me Mona."

"Works for me, and call me Kitty. Everyone else I feel is needed, Mister White. Unless you think we need someone protecting Colonel Franklin's office or the gate within."

"It's been secure all this time," Franklin said. "I believe we can leave it."

I wasn't so sure, but this was Franklin's call, not mine.

"I actually was wondering if you wanted to leave the parrot and Mister Joel Oliver," White said dryly.

"Oh. MJO, I'm betting wild horses wouldn't keep you away."

"Correct as always, Ambassador. I'll do my best to keep the lovely Miss Bellie quiet."

Bellie nuzzled up against him. "Bellie likes Mister!"

"Bellie, you cheap slut. What is Jeff going to think when he sees you cheating on him?" I hoped he'd think that Bellie needed to stay with Oliver, but I doubted my luck would be that good.