Alien in the Family

“Oh. You have all your blocks up on full.”

“Right. He’s not giving off any kind of threat emotions—those I can still feel. So what if he takes pictures of us? We’re in a tourist spot, and Christopher’s people will alter anything we don’t like.”

The man had snapped several shots while we were talking. He lowered the camera and gri

“How’re you folks doing?” he asked. He had a slight twang in his voice, but I couldn’t place it, other than to say I’d bet he was from the Southwest somewhere.

“Fine. We don’t want our pictures taken.”

His grin got wider. “Pity. You shouldn’t be out of Home Base then, should you?”

Chuckie had trained me well. The only people who referred to Nellis Air Force Base or the Groom Lake portion of it as Home Base also called it Area 51. Based on how he looked, this man wasn’t an A-C, and based on how he dressed and was acting, he wasn’t a human agent, either.

“Just who are you?” I tried to ask nicely. His grin managed to get wider, indicating I’d failed.

“Mister Joel Oliver. World Weekly News.” He put out the hand not holding his humongous camera.

None of us extended ours in return. “What does a rag photographer want with pictures of tourists?” Tim asked, more politely than I’d have managed.

Oliver shook his head as he retracted his hand. “You’re not tourists.” He leaned closer. “I know who . . . and what . . . you are.” He straightened up. “And I’d love to do an interview. I’m our top photojournalist.”

“I’m sure that’s impressive to someone, Oliver,” Martini said casually. He seemed so calm and cool. Glad one of us was.

“Mister Joel Oliver, please. Full name.”

“Why?”

Oliver shrugged. “Ensures my byline’s always right, my sources are sure who they’re talking to, and I like hearing the Mister.”

“Like Mister T?”

“And for similar reasons.” Oliver shook his head. “You’d be amazed at what names I get called.”

“I’ll bet you twenty dollars none of them would shock or surprise me.”

He laughed. “I don’t take sucker bets.” Oliver looked straight at Martini. “I know your people alter my photos. But they can’t alter what I write. You have powerful friends who do that, though. But it won’t stop me.”

Martini shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a meeting to attend.” Martini jerked his head at us, indicating it was time to move on.

“With the head of the C.I.A.?” Oliver asked as we headed for the limo line.

Martini smiled. “Nope.” He clearly wasn’t lying and it was obvious Oliver could tell if the look of disappointment that flashed across his face was any indication.

Of course, that’s because Oliver hadn’t asked the question properly. Chuckie wasn’t the head of the C.I.A., so Martini wasn’t telling an untruth. He was avoiding telling the truth, which was about the only way the A-Cs could manage lying. It was nice of Oliver to have made it so easy. I didn’t want to count on that happening again.

Oliver followed us to the limo stand. “So, Miss Katt, how have you recovered from your recent ordeal?”

“How do you know my name and what ordeal are you talking about?”

“You were pursued by crazed madmen through the Arizona desert not too long ago, weren’t you? By Representative Leventhal Reid and an associate, I believe?”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” I said airily. I was human, and lying was a natural extension of my former career as a marketing manager. “I think you have me confused with someone else. As I recall, that politician was high on meth and after some poor college co-eds.”

“I doubt I’m confused. My sources say that Representative Reid was high on the idea of killing you. In a particularly gruesome way. You had a long call with Emergency Response during that time, too.”

I did my best to think about flowers, not to hide anything from Martini but so that I wouldn’t give anything away to Oliver. I’d thought that tape had been confiscated and the A-Cs had done some kind of memory alteration on the Emergency Response phone team. Guess something had slipped through. Or one of the military perso

As I thought about it, there were a lot of ways this could have leaked. Then I thought some more. The only person who seemed to think we were a story was Mister Joel Oliver. Who worked for the biggest rag tabloid in existence. I stopped worrying.

“Whatever, dude. You believe what you need to believe to get you through the day.”

Tim had two limos waiting for us now. We couldn’t really use hyperspeed under the circumstances. Martini ushered the others into one, and he and I went into the other alone. As we drove off, I looked out the back window. Oliver was still there, snapping pictures. He waved at us just before we moved out of sight.

“Why, just out of curiosity, are you so tense?” I asked as we settled into the back, far away from the driver. “You worried about our new friend, the photojournalist?”

“Not too much. No, I know why Reynolds chose this location.” Martini had his arm around me, but his body felt rigid.

“So what? Jeff, you’re worried about nothing.” I felt Oliver was a better thing to worry about, but I didn’t want to bring it up. If Martini wasn’t worried that we had our own paparazzo following us, I probably shouldn’t be, either.

“Right. He’s rich, he’s successful, you’ve known him years longer than me, you love him almost as much as me, and we have a nightmare headed toward us.”

I considered mentioning that I didn’t love any man as much as I loved Martini, not even Chuckie, and having the jealousy chat with him again, but I’d accepted a long time ago that he was always going to be possessive and jealous. Besides, it was flattering, considering he could have landed any woman on Earth.

“I don’t want any woman on Earth,” he muttered. “I only want you.”

“Good. Because I only want you.” I pulled his head down to mine and kissed him until we were lying down on the seat and about to become part of a reality TV show.

“You folks need to sign the release form,” the driver called to us.

Martini snarled, sat up, and pulled me up next to him. “Not just no, but hell no.”

“Fine. The way you two were heading, you were go

“Sorry, maybe next time.” I straightened my top. “By the way, why are you taking the long way?”

“Because I thought you two were going for it.”

“Get us there, now, or I’ll sue your ass,” Martini growled.

“Whatever.” The driver turned off the main street, and we started moving faster. We pulled into the hotel’s parking garage while I brushed my hair and straightened the rest of my clothes. “You’re sure?” the driver asked me as Martini paid up.

“Positive. I charge a lot for visual proof.”

“Ah, well, I can see why.” The driver gave me a wide grin. “Here’s my card. Call any time.”

Martini took the card from him, tore it into little bits, and dropped them back into the driver’s hand. “She’s not a hooker, she’s not a porn star, she’s not on the market, and if you don’t stop looking at her chest, I’m going to rip your throat out.”

“Have a nice day!” I called to the driver as Martini dragged me into the hotel.

“Stop flirting.”

“I’m not flirting. I’m being nice after you were rude.” A man I’d never seen before who was really great looking held the door for us. “Thanks!” He gave me a big smile and an appraising look.

Martini growled and dragged me to the desk. “I hate it here already. Just so you know.”