Crawford did the horrible slow fade thing and then it was my turn. "You can do it, baby," Martini said softly from behind me.

Nodded, took a deep breath, and stepped through.

It had been bad enough being held. Walking through on my own meant I felt the entire transfer. I made the mistake of keeping my eyes open, meaning not only did I see nothingness in front of me, but I could see the world literally rushing by me in my peripheral vision. No wonder my CA never went through this alone or without her face buried in Martini's neck.

But in less than two seconds my lead foot hit terra firma and the horrible feeling of the world racing past me at faster than hyperspeed ended a moment later. I gagged, but didn't throw up, and Crawford was waiting for me, to help me stay up and move me out of the way.

"Hang in there, Kitty," he said nicely. "Hopefully that's the worst today has to offer."

"Gaack. Sorry. Yeah, a girl can dream, right?"

Making me green, well, greener with envy, Amadhia and Aaron both had no issues with the gate. They both thought it was the coolest thing ever and chattered about how they had to write a song about the experience. Apparently they were musical soul mates and literally loved each other's ideas all the time. Hoped the honeymoon phase would last a long time.

To their credit, when they saw how sick I looked, Amadhia hugged me and Aaron offered me a peppermint. Accepted both, both of which made me feel somewhat better.

We'd landed in the middle of a Qantas Airlines executive lounge that had been cleared for us, which was nice and, per my entire lifetime's experience, typically Australian. It was going to be unsettling, meeting Aussies who were angry with me and mine. I was used to my family being greeted like the Prodigal Reynolds Clan whenever we came back to Sydney and Canberra. To have people I loved not know me and not like me was going to be harder to handle than the gate transfer.

Entourage a.s.sembled, we headed for ground transportation. Apparently the A-Cs had their own worldwide fleet of limos, and, as we went to the area where dignitaries and celebrities got to go-in other words, where the average person and the paparazzi couldn't-saw at least a dozen gray limos waiting. The entourage heading for them without hesitation indicated these were our sweet rides.

Martini, Jamie, Charles, Richard, Singh, and I were ushered into the back of one limo together. Len booted the driver and Kyle took shotgun. We weren't the lead car, but one a few back. Was surprised that neither Malcolm nor the Secret Service were with us. Looked around-Malcolm and the Secret Service were getting into impressive-looking black SUVs. "We're going to look like a parade. Or a funeral."

"Let's stick with parade," Charles said.

"Do you live here? I mean part time."

He nodded. "I do. I used to have a place in Sydney but once the A-Cs were outed, so was I, so I gave up my cover home in Sydney and now I have a nice flat in the Forrest suburb of Canberra."

"Oh, we looked there. Decided to stay in Sydney and just fly into Canberra when we needed to. Our house is in Darling Point."

Charles whistled. "Nice location."

"You felt we deserved the best. Besides, it's not like you're suffering in Forrest."

He grinned. "No argument."

Singh sighed. "You two need to stop that and stop it now."

Shot a guilty look up at Martini. "Sorry."

He shrugged. "All they're doing is talking about real estate, Raj. However, Kitty, remember that we don't have a home here."

"Right, we live at the Emba.s.sy. Why there and not the Naval Observatory?"

"Due to the anti-alien groups we have all over, we felt it was safer for the Vice President to remain in the Emba.s.sy," Singh said. "And as you're still the Amba.s.sador, it made sense that way as well."

"Is that normal? To have the wife of the VP remain as an amba.s.sador?"

"When the king of a solar system that has faster-than-light travel and many different kinds of impressive battle cruisers says he's watching to be sure his relatives aren't being abused, certain allowances are made," Richard said with a twinkle.

"Especially when those battle cruisers saved the planet from other aliens who weren't so nice," Charles added.

Decided I'd better change the subject before they all went into Information Overload Mode. Especially because I'd just remembered something. "Uh, did we actually bring the gift along?"

"Yes," Singh said with a smile. He knocked on the gla.s.s part.i.tion and it lowered. "Kitty needs rea.s.surance. And keep the gla.s.s down." Kyle pa.s.sed a nicely wrapped box back, which Singh handed to me. "It's wrapped very well, so even if you drop it, the contents shouldn't break."

"Thanks for that vote of confidence." Put the package into my purse. "So, we're heading to the Lodge?"

"Yes," Singh confirmed.

"We're really obvious. Is no one even the teensiest bit worried about someone, ah, choosing to make a statement?"

Richard shook his head. "You and Jeffrey are still incredibly popular with the general populace."

"Yeah, Kitty," Len said. "Take a look out the window."

Did so, and saw there were some people with signs along the side of the road. "Martini for PM!" "Aliens not Costello," and "Aliens Speaking For Us All" seemed to be the main slogans.

Martini groaned. "This isn't going to help us with the actual Prime Minister, is it?"

"Probably not, but if we can find a way to turn it into a joke, Tony might get over it."

"And that, baby, is why we're looking to you to save the day."

"But no pressure."

Richard chuckled. "Don't worry, Katherine-around here, you saving the day is just routine."

CHAPTER 74.

IN MY WORLD, the Lodge was a sore point with everyone-it needed renovations and they were, of course, taking far longer and costing much more than planned.

Apparently having aliens on the planet made many things go much more smoothly, and one of the favors that the A-Cs had done for Australia was help renovate the Lodge. However, that had been a couple years prior, right after the world got to find out lots of aliens existed all over, so the grat.i.tude was long gone.

Sadly, the nearer we got to the Lodge, the more people with signs there were. But these weren't nice signs. The anti-alien protestors had chosen to camp out closer to the Lodge, for obvious political reasons.

However, our ma.s.sive fleet of limos and burly SUVs kept them back, and no one threw anything, so all things considered, it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been.

Jamie had been quiet for most of the trip and I hugged her. "Are you okay, sweetie-pie?"

She looked up at me and she looked worried. "Mommy, if you had to stay here, would that make you sad?"

"I honestly don't know. I love being with you, and Nona Angela. But I miss my family."

"But Daddy and I could be your family." Jamie sounded worried.

I hugged her again. "And if that's what has to happened, then we'll make it work. But this isn't something you should be worried about right now, okay?"

"Okay." But she sounded doubtful.

Martini looked worried, too. "What is it?" I asked him quietly.

He shook his head. "Not sure. But you're right, it's something to worry about later."

We reached the entry gate and went through. So far, so good. There was plenty of parking, and we pulled in. But no one got out of the car. Everyone seemed on edge until the last vehicle was through and the gates were closed. Then, I felt all the men in the car relax.

Secret Service and our Field agents got out of the SUVs and fanned out. Only when Evalyne and Phoebe came to our car were we allowed out, and Len and Kyle got out first, then opened the doors to help us out. This was being done for every limo that I could see.

Once out, I carried Jamie and Martini kept his arm around me, while Evalyne took the lead, with Len and Kyle on either side of us and Phoebe behind. Charles, Richard, and Singh had similar coverage-Secret Service in front and back, Field agents on the side.

I should have felt safe like this. But I didn't feel safe at all. I felt like the most exposed target in the world. Not because I saw any danger, but because everyone was acting as if we were one second away from someone tossing a bomb at us.

However, we made it into the Lodge without issue.

We were greeted by staff, taken through part of the Lodge, and then taken outside again and led to a lovely patio area, complete with set tables. Apparently we were going to eat outside.

This boded for a variety of reasons, sunburn being only one of them. While there were umbrellas over tables, every seat left for us was in direct sunlight somehow. That screamed planning, not accident. Was thankful Akiko had given me that lovely sunhat, which I put on. Sadly, there was no hat for Jamie, meaning I was going to have to try to shield her as best I could or have her sit under the table within ten minutes.

What boded even more was that the press was here, complete with a lot of cameras. Sure, this was a big deal, but it seemed set up to make us look bad-or keep us on our best behavior. But press around meant that there was no way to actually relax and be real people. Everyone would be forced to be a politician all the time. The only positive was that I saw no video cameras, meaning they'd get stills only. So one small favor.

But we did the paws shake, brief though it was, cameras flashing. "It's nice to see you under better conditions," I said to Margie, who flashed the briefest smile ever and didn't reply. Okay, they were really p.i.s.sed.

Having seen the footage, I understood some of it. But the rest had to be because their people currently thought Martini and I were the greatest. Or else they were really happy to buckle to the anti-alien contingent. This wasn't like the Tony and Margie I knew, but things were different here.

We made some idle chitchat for a while that didn't address any of the issues. Any time Martini or I tried to apologize, we were ignored or the conversation shifted away to the lovely weather or how cold it was or wasn't in D.C. at this time of year.

The food was set up as a buffet, which was casual but awkward considering how everyone was dressed. Well, awkward for me and Jamie, anyway. Everyone else was apparently used to dressing formally every day of their lives.

After fifteen minutes of awkward and uncomfortable chatting, during which neither Tony nor Margie smiled even once, they suggested we all eat. They sent us through the buffet line first, supposedly to be polite. But of course that meant we were going to look like pigs in the many photos being snapped. Fine, whatever. Got a small plate of food for me and for Jamie. Martini was still in the food line, chatting with the waitstaff, all of whom seemed to enjoy speaking with him, marking them as non-politicians.

I went back to our seats in the sun, but Jamie had spotted the dessert table and like any other little child, had headed for it. A waiter gave her a gigantic piece of cake, and she came back with it, all excited. "Mommy, look! It's a pink cake!"

"Very pretty, and I'm sure it'll be delicious, but you have to eat your lunch first."

"Okay," she said cheerfully as she went to set the cake on the table. Only, she was three and the table was high and she missed. And I missed catching the plate as it went down, right onto her.

The cake went all over her dress. Jamie looked up, round-eyed and horrified, tears already there. And the cameras snapped like crazy.

"Well," Tony said. "I see like mother and father, just like daughter."

Jamie burst into tears. "I didn't mean to spill on my pretty dress!"

I hugged her tightly, regardless of the fact that cake would get on my pretty dress, too, and kissed her head. "It's okay, baby. Clothes can be cleaned, and there's always more cake somewhere." I picked her up and handed her to the nearest person in my entourage, who happened to be Evalyne.

"Cyclone is on the move," Evalyne said urgently into her lapel. "All hands."

"Yeah, call in everyone. I'm about to create a true political event." I marched over to the press. "Give me the film."

They all kept on taking pictures. "Freedom of the press, my Sheila," one said.

"Yeah? That's fine. Insult me and my husband all you want. But our daughter is a little girl. You don't get to humiliate her for being a child, nor do you get to share her pictures with the world, so she can be a target for every nutjob out there. Now, give me the film. Or I'll make you give it to me."

"The PM asked us here," another reporter said. "We're free to do what we want."

"Indeed." Spun on my heel and went back to our table. "You two disappoint me. And more than that, you disappoint your entire country."

"I beg your pardon?" Tony asked.

"My husband is a fledgling politician. You know that. You're not. You should be helping him learn how to deal with bad situations with grace. Instead, your tender feelers are hurt because your const.i.tuents looked at our mishap from the other day as a great way to make fun of you. You want to do the same to us? Fine. But you do not get to harm a little girl for fun or pathetic revenge." Turned to Margie. "You have three girls. How dare you allow this to happen to someone else's daughter, with your permission, with your blessing? And to think I spent time trying to find a gift that would show how badly we felt and how much we valued your friendship. Well, screw that."

"You already flipped me off-" Tony started.

But I'd realized why my CA had done what she'd done. "Oh, bull. I saw some older men making that sign and I thought it was your way of doing V for Victory. Clearly it wasn't. But, just so you know, this is how you flip someone off in American."

With that, I flipped him the bird. With both hands.

CHAPTER 75.

I WAS IN THE ROOM in a nanosecond. In fact, I was going so fast I wasn't on the floor-I was on the wall. And then I was on the ceiling, to avoid trampling the equipment. Not that I wasn't willing to destroy it-I just didn't want to destroy something we were going to end up needing.

The positive of this speed was that I was going to be hard to spot and harder to hit. The negative was that it was still harder for me to see the stationary objects in the room than it would be for an A-C.

So, the first part of my rescue consisted of me running around the room several times. Sure, it only took a couple of seconds, but I felt like an idiot. At least I hadn't shouted "cowabunga" or "yippee-ki-yay m.o.f.os" or similar.

Thankfully, they really and truly weren't prepped for hyperspeed, because there were no nets, tripwires, rods, or baseball bats set up for me to run into. Thanked the powers that be for the favor and did my best to pay attention to the layout.

This place was textbook Bond Villain Lair. The room was a long, large rectangle, with all sorts of machines, torture devices, and cases, refrigerated and regular, that seemed to hold viruses or body parts or, in the case of one, Cliff's trophies from his amateur softball league. I was going too fast to be sure, and figured I'd leave the categorization of all the c.r.a.p to Alfred, since he was likely to know what it all was and actually enjoy the task.

Completing the look, the room also had a nice "In Case of Fire" box with a fire extinguisher and an ax. So Cliff was practicing fire safety. A responsible Supervillain, how refreshing.

The prisoners, aka my family and friends, were strapped onto what looked like metal autopsy body trays, cranked up at forty-five degree angles, presumably so they could see the ongoing and upcoming torture but not get free easily. The straps looked both st.u.r.dy and efficiently locked, going by the fact that the men were struggling but barely moving. All six of them were wearing nightclothes of some kind.

The kids were on one side of a nasty-looking machine that Cliff was literally stroking, and the men were on the other. There were just the six of them in here, along with Dr. No, Ms. Crazypants, and the a.s.sa.s.sination Squad.