The a.s.sa.s.sination Squad looked like they'd had a bad night, which I was fine with. Happily, Raul's jaw appeared to be wired shut, indicating that I'd indeed broken said jaw and also explaining why he'd sounded funny when he was talking. Even though the Israelis had been all nice and given him medical attention, I knew without asking that he was probably a little bitter about this turn of events.

Wished Buchanan and I had just killed all four of them when we'd had the easy chance to do so and prayed the others at the Israeli Emba.s.sy were somehow safe. But I didn't have time to think about anyone not in this room.

As I ran around the ceiling for a while, I focused on the machine. A cube about six by six feet made out of four-inch metal pipes made up the framework. There was a large, round, golden metal ball that really resembled a giant cartoon bomb in the middle. And there were pipes running from each section of the frame into the metal ball, so that it was supported and held in the center of the cube.

Per what Alfred had said, I could get down to a microscopic level using the goggles. I didn't want to see the atoms, though. I wanted to see what was going on inside that golden sphere. A roiling ball of white-hot energy circled what looked like a blinking cube. But this was all I could spot, and I couldn't look at it too long because it was blinding. Whatever was in there, it wasn't good.

There was a bank of TV monitors along the wall behind the prisoners, showing various places in the compound. One was clearly in the tree that had the secret entrance. So they'd seen us coming right then. There was also a view of the concrete room where the projector had been, and of the start of the Underground Path of Potential Doom. The other cameras were focused on exterior and interior shots of the houses and such in the compound.

All this room was missing was the wall of water and/or lava, and the pool with sharks. However, what it lacked in sharks it made up for in alligators.

There was an alligator enclosure against the far wall, next to the stairway that I presumed went up to the ground level. The enclosure was complete with a whole little herd of gators in it. Checked using Alfred's Super Shades-yep, those were real alligators, not animatronic fakes. Didn't figure I'd luck into seeing Alliflash or Gigantagator here, but one never knew. Was careful not to run on the Gator Gla.s.s, just in case.

The bad guys were clearly expecting company. LaRue had a gun right out of a Justice League Unlimited episode-a six-shooter that really had six separate mini guns that radiated out from the main gun via flexible metal arms. And Cliff appeared to be getting off on whatever that machine was. They weren't cackling, but I a.s.sumed that was because they hadn't seen me yet or were saving it for when my team came into the room. Or they'd gotten tired of cackling at the prisoners and were taking a short cackle break before starting up again.

By comparison, the four a.s.sa.s.sins looked sane and normal. If, you know, I didn't note that Bernie had guns pointed at Max and Charlie's heads, and that Sanchez, Lopez, and Raul were doing the same with Buchanan, Reader, and Chuckie, respectively. This was in addition to LaRue's super six-gun, which a quick Super Shades check confirmed was real and likely working. By comparison, Jamie was in the least immediate danger because she was only covered by LaRue. This hour's textbook definition of d.a.m.ning with faint praise.

In my world, the Mastermind wasn't a baroque supervillain. Clever and evil, yes, but while Marling and Gaultier had had a lot of aspects of this behavior, the Mastermind-whether he was Yates, Reid, or Cliff-was just a cold, brilliant, vicious b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

But that might be because Yates had been an A-C and, combined with Mephistopheles or not, Bad Guy of Bad Guys or not, A-Cs were, at their cores, formal conformists. Could imagine what Yates would have to say about this particular setup, and the term "cutting insult" didn't begin to cover it. And if he saw this, Mephistopheles would hurt himself laughing.

This didn't mean it was any less dangerous. But it did mean that Cliff had given in to something that, in my world, LaRue had in spades but he'd kept at bay-vanity. And vanity could always be played upon.

Did one more pa.s.s around the room and this time I raced up the stairs, just to see what was up there. The ginormous, 6-car garage with one SUV in it was what was up there, but no more a.s.sa.s.sins and no hired goons, either. No tripwires or bombs, either. This was good news, because it was going to be a lot easier to get out this way than back through the Underground Path of Potential Doom. You know, relatively speaking.

Back down into the Secret Sanctum Insanitorium. Nothing much had changed. However, my return rattled the gator gla.s.s, just a little. But it was enough, if every bad guy head in the room turning toward the sound was any indication. Always the way.

"I know you're in here," Cliff called cheerfully. "And while you might be fast enough to save one of them, I don't think you're fast enough to save all of them."

Sadly, because of how close the guns were to everyone's faces and heads, Cliff was probably right. But Mom was a great teacher, and along with her "never drop your weapon" advice, she'd also mentioned that if the enemy didn't know where you actually were, then it behooved you to continue to keep them in the dark. Kept on moving.

"If I'm jostled even a little I pull the trigger," LaRue said nastily. "And then you can watch them all die." She smirked. "But they're not really yours, are they? So what will you care?"

She was baiting me. Probably. But if she knew I wasn't the real Kitty from this universe, what else did she know? And how did she know it?

"Or you can stay hidden," Cliff said, "and just watch us kill everyone."

Right on cue, Cantu came in through the doorway at the other end of the room, gun at the ready. Heaved an internal sigh. Had I not told him to wait in the dark corridor unless it seemed like I needed help? Surely my lack of screaming was a clue that I still had things in hand. Cantu was proving why I hated working with men who hadn't caught on that women were at least as competent as they were.

Naturally by the time he'd fully entered the room LaRue's weird guns were extended and floating in front of the face of each of the prisoners, basically right at their noses. All guns in a.s.sa.s.sin hands were c.o.c.ked. And Cliff was swinging a part of his favorite machine toward Cantu, who wisely froze.

"We'll kill him," Cliff said conversationally. "Unless you turn off your invisibility device and show yourself."

So they'd taken the hyperspeed to indicate an invisibility machine of some kind. And that meant Cliff was saying that, as a human, I couldn't save everyone. Good. Not that even Christopher would have a shot of saving everyone at once in this situation, based on where the guns were in relation to the prisoners. But the less the bad guys knew I could do, the better.

"Clifford Goodman, you're under arrest for treason." Had to give it to Cantu-he didn't sound scared.

"That's nice, Esteban," Cliff said genially. "Do you know what I have here?"

"No idea," Cantu said.

"It's a death ray."

Cantu snorted. "Seriously?" He was speaking for both of us.

"Oh, very seriously. It's a disintegrator, a laser with enough power to dissipate quite a lot of matter. A human being's worth isn't even close to its full ability. Would you like a demonstration?" Cliff's voice was like honey.

"No, I wouldn't," Cantu said. "I'd like you to surrender and give yourselves up so that I don't have to use excessive force."

"You and what army?" LaRue asked with a laugh.

Decided I should take that as a cue. And considered a key fact-the prisoners were raised off the floor. But the bad guys were standing. And if there was one thing I liked, it was the cla.s.sics.

Ran to the gator's window and did a flying bicycle kick feet first right into the gla.s.s.

Results were immediate. And interesting. Not necessarily in a good way.

CHAPTER 76.

AS THE GLa.s.s SHATTERED, the gators, sensing something interesting happening, headed toward their new door. The a.s.sa.s.sins, sensing a much more immediate threat than six captured prisoners and one desk jockey with a gun, started shooting at the oncoming alligators.

And I slammed into the other wall, feet first. And stopped.

This was more than jarring, and I'd probably need to see a chiropractor when I got home, but accelerated healing meant that my spine and joints settled themselves back into place quickly.

Fortunately, increased strength meant I could extract myself from the wall I'd jammed myself into reasonably quickly. Once free of the wall, I had to dodge bullets, but even the ones I couldn't dodge didn't do much. Alfred's Super Kevlar was amazing-the bullets just bounced off. They stung when they hit, but I'd take feeling like someone was throwing pebbles at me really hard over leaking blood from a hundred different orifices. And most of the bullets were being sent at the gators anyway, who were getting seriously p.i.s.sed about being shot at and therefore charging.

One was near Cliff, who swung the nozzle of his Death Ray toward it and hit the b.u.t.ton. A blinding light flashed, and then the gator was no more. He did this to all the rest of the gators. The machine was quite exact and all the zapping took very little time. There were tiny piles of dust where the gators had been, but that was all. Felt everyone in the room get very still.

"You will stop hiding," Cliff said, presumably to me, "you will put that gun down, and you will come here, or I will turn this on again." He aimed the nozzle at Charlie. Who winced but didn't cry. Max and Jamie just looked terrified and angry, but they didn't make any noise. Awesome kids. The men were also thankfully silent.

In this case, decided dropping the big gun was the way to go. Tossed it to the edge of the gator enclosure, right by the broken gla.s.s. "Sure, okay. Turn that on me, though, not on the kids."

Cliff shrugged. "Since you insist. Oh, and Esteban, in case you didn't notice. Raul's got his gun pointed at you. He won't miss. Don't try anything heroic. And you others who are hiding in the hall-I want you in here, too. Or the kid dies."

Alfred and c.o.x stepped into the room, c.o.x holding Stripes.

"Take those ridiculous masks off," LaRue ordered. The men obliged. "Off the stupid animal, too." c.o.x took Stripe's mask off. Stripes hissed at LaRue but not for the obvious reasons. He didn't think she smelled right. LaRue turned back to me. "Mask. Off. Now."

"My hair's kind of a mess. I'd like to keep it on." At least as long as I could. Was trying to figure out where the off switch was on Cliff's Death Ray machine or if there was anything I could do to it that wouldn't hurt everyone in the room I cared about. Sadly, I wasn't Alfred. I wasn't Chuckie, either. There were many things in there, but they were just so many weird, moving parts to me.

"Take the mask off or say goodbye to the little boy," Cliff said as he swung the Death Ray back at Charlie.

Took the mask off, though I kept it in my hand. Sadly, this meant that I no longer heard Tina Turner in the background. On the other hand, Cliff was ensuring I could stay enraged, so that was good. "Okay. Again, stop threatening a little kid. You want to threaten? Threaten me."

Cliff turned the nozzle back my way. "If you insist."

"I do." I was tensed to leap and run and I kept Rage right there in front of me. Hoped I would be fast enough to escape the Death Ray but avoiding finding out was my preferred plan.

"Where are you from?" LaRue asked.

"Arizona." Well, this was true.

"That's not what I mean and you know it," she snapped. "Where are you from? And when?"

"I have no idea what you mean."

"You're not from around here. And the tech you're using, it's not from around here, either. So, when and/or where are you from?"

So they thought I was a time traveler? Maybe that would help. Had no idea how, but hope liked to spring eternal. Mercifully, no one was looking at Alfred, though he was doing well with keeping his expression neutral. "No idea what you mean." Get her talking, figure out what to do.

"Don't worry. We're going to use your DNA, and hers," she nodded toward Jamie. "You'll ensure that we can live forever."

This boded. "That's impossible."

"Hardly," Cliff said. He sounded smug and excited. "Cloning isn't even a new process. But adding in special genetics makes it work so much better."

d.a.m.n. They were talking about cloning themselves. Could not allow that to happen here. This world had no defenses against them. "So, you want to clone me over and over again? I get why, I mean, 'cause I'm awesome and all, but still, it seems a little pointless."

LaRue laughed one of those low, nasty laughs. She was really good at them, in any universe. The a.s.sa.s.sins, picking up a cue, all sn.i.g.g.e.red along. LaRue shot them a look and they shut up. "I've been waiting a long time for someone like you."

"How do you mean? Someone who isn't impressed with your c.r.a.p? I cannot have been the first."

"No, you idiot. A genetic leap. Or a visitor from another planet, or another, future time. You're one of those."

Ah. So they didn't know who I was, just that, somehow, I could do things that were unheard of on this planet. Hence why they thought I was an alien or a time traveler. She hadn't included Alfred, c.o.x, or even Stripes in this, meaning they were thinking everything we had and were doing was from me. It was a small favor, but I was willing to take it.

"It's a nice compliment, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You can go invisible and make other things invisible," Bernie spat out. "And you have increased strength."

"Oh. That. Well, it's a long story. But, LaRue, I'm more interested in your story."

"Really?" She sounded mildly surprised.

"Why do you care about her?" Cliff asked. He sounded just a teensy bit peeved. "I'm the one who created the Death Ray."

Vanity. His weakness was absolutely vanity. And hers probably was, too. One didn't become a Bond Supervillain with without a h.e.l.l of a lot of vanity egging you on, after all.

"Are you? I'm not so sure. I mean, usually-and LaRue and even Bernie can probably back me up on this-men like to take the credit for what women create and think up." Madeline Cartwright had certainly felt this way, and since I wasn't in the best position to bargain, it was time to channel Cartwright and see what I could come up with.

"LaRue a.s.sisted," Cliff said.

Her eyes narrowed. "I more than a.s.sisted. You're not a scientist."

"It's my design, and my plan," Cliff said airily. But then, LaRue was looking at me, not him, so he couldn't see her expression. If he'd seen her expression, he might have apologized.

"And Cliff's vendetta, too," I added helpfully.

LaRue looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, why in the world do you care about hurting anyone in this room? I get why Cliff's upset-my mother killed his father-figure and that can get a person into a Kill Bill kind of mindset." I was certainly in said mindset, for example. And, sure, Chuckie had said he'd actually killed Reid. But now was not the time to remind anyone with a weapon about that. "But no one here has done anything to you, LaRue. I don't think anyone here other than me knows who you are."

"Who am I?" she asked with a smirk.

"You're the brains of the operation, the power behind the throne, and the person who should probably rightfully be called the Mastermind."

LaRue smiled. A small, funny, proud little smile. "You're much more insightful than you seem." Sent a mental thank you to Cartwright, wherever she was.

"Oh, please," Cliff said derisively. "LaRue is my partner, yes, but I'm the one in charge. And I can see what you're doing. You're trying to drive a wedge between us. Well, it won't work. LaRue is more than my partner, she's my woman."

"That's what men like to say when they're taking credit for your ideas, isn't it?" I said in a "just girls" tone.

"Where are you from?" LaRue asked me, fairly nicely. "Seriously, I want to know."

My brain nudged. She was asking this too much. She did want to know, but her att.i.tude no longer seemed supercilious, or even curious. She sounded just a tiny bit hopeful. And Stripes felt she didn't smell right, and he wasn't pa.s.sing judgment on her perfume.

When Cartwright and I had been chatting, we'd gotten along, because we'd actually understood each other. In my world, LaRue had been an adversary for as long as I'd known her-Amy's father's mistress wasn't going to be my buddy. But here, we'd never crossed paths. So, in that sense, this was a fresh relationship.

My father had always instructed me that when you were asked a question you didn't know how or didn't want to answer, it was more than acceptable to answer that question with another question. It was sound advice that had served me well.

"Where are you from?"

LaRue's eyes widened just a bit. "Far away. And you?"

"Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning."

"Ah. I'm from farther than that."

And she hadn't read the cla.s.sics while she'd been here. Which was interesting. Alfred was a stranded alien, and he'd read and watched everything, as near as I could tell. Algar was the same-per my King of the Elves, there wasn't a book, movie, record, or TV show he'd missed. But LaRue appeared to have no idea I was quoting from Peter Pan. Which showed an amazing lack of interest in the arts of this world. And art reflected and affected society, which was part of why Alfred and Algar had paid attention to Earth's art.

In my world, when LaRue had left Alpha Four in a stolen starship, she'd headed to parts unknown and had returned with the Z'Porrah, who were enemies of mankind. They were also enemies of the Ancients. And yet, they'd come across the galaxy to help LaRue, who certainly looked like a human, try to take over Earth. And LaRue's hair had still been the same dyed color when she returned as it had been when she'd left.

Chuckie was the Conspiracy King and he'd trained me well. And, per Sherlock Holmes and my "uncle," Peter the Dingo Dog, when you removed all the other possibilities, the one that remained, no matter how bizarre, was the truth.

There could be many reasons why LaRue smelled wrong to an Earth animal. And there were a lot of good and bad reasons to clone. But there was one reason that made sense for both-she wasn't a human or an A-C, and if you had no one else to mate with, cloning was your only option to continue your race.

"It's hard to be the last of your kind, isn't it?"

She got a funny look on her face. "Some still exist."