“This I gotta see,” Jerry said. The rest of the flyboys indicated that they were looking for popcorn and front row seats as well. Chose to feel that they were being supportive, but it took effort.
Despite Jeff’s begging for ideas to the contrary, no one could come up with a better option for how to get Tobin to talk again, so I was given my Matrix earpiece and everyone other than Prince, Duke, and Riley trotted off. Tobin was unshackled and brought in to me. The Secret Service agents tried to shackle him again, but I stopped them.
“You’re not worried I’ll attack you?” Tobin asked, sarcasm knob definitely at eleven and threatening to go higher.
Shrugged as I waved the Secret Service out of the room. Then I patted Prince’s head. “I have protection if you try anything funny.”
“Yes, I’ve heard how fond of animals you are.” Tobin seated himself next to me. “And as they say, money can’t earn the wag of a dog’s tail.”
“True enough. I tend to feel that dogs are a good judge of character.” Well, Prince, Duke, and Riley were. Our dogs, the ones we’d inherited when my parents had moved to D.C. and into a no pets building, were not nearly so picky. All Tobin would have needed to do to get three out of four of them into his lap was offer a doggy treat of any kind.
On cue, Prince growled softly at Tobin. Who patted his head without seeming to have any concern. “He’s a good dog, guarding his mistress.”
“These aren’t my dogs. These are trained police officers.”
Tobin chuckled. “Doesn’t mean they don’t think that, when push comes to shove, you’re theirs and vice versa.”
“I can’t speak for the dogs,” Jeff said in my ear, “but Tobin is far more relaxed with you. Still on his guard, but this is exactly what he wanted, to sit down with you. Stay sharp, baby, he’s smarter than the average enemy you have to confront.”
Apparently it was time to move on from the small talk. “I’m curious, Amos.”
Tobin stared at me. “Beg pardon?” he asked finally.
“I’m curious about what in the world is going on. Why did you call me?” He opened his mouth. Put up the paw. He shut his mouth. Wondered if all the other First Ladies had enjoyed this power as much as me. “Don’t tell me you wanted to chat, Amos. We both know that’s a lie, and if you want to be my friend, you won’t lie to me. You were tracking me. Why?”
“I was concerned for your safety.”
Managed not to roll my eyes. “You’re a hugely successful businessman who has literally no experience in espionage. And yet, here you are, at the middle of a huge conspiracy and, frankly, looking at a frightening few months wherein you’re taken to a hole in the ground and the YatesCorp Board finds your replacement and then forgets about you. I’m curious as to how you got here. I didn’t figure you for a Don Quixote type.”
“His worry spiked,” Jeff said. This earpiece thing was working nicely. “He hadn’t considered the option you just raised.”
“I’m not tilting at windmills, Madame First Lady, and you know it. I know you’ll do whatever you need to in order to protect your husband, whether he’s right or wrong.”
“Where is my husband wrong?”
Tobin shrugged. “I understand why the A-Cs are here. But having one as President is too much.”
Leaned back and crossed one leg over the other. “Interesting viewpoint, coming from a black man.”
“My race has nothing to do with this.”
“He’s telling the truth as he sees it,” Jeff shared. “He’s honestly worried that aliens are going to replace humans on this planet.”
“Which is a legitimate concern,” Chuckie added. “Be careful what you share, Kitty.”
“Actually, it does,” I said to Tobin. “Because race is about to become a thing of the past. We’re all humans and we’d all better act like it, sooner as opposed to later.”
“And I point out that the president isn’t a human.”
“You sound like Gutermuth and Pecker.”
Tobin shook his head. “I understand why you’d think that. But I don’t hate aliens.”
“You just want them kept ‘in their place,’ right? You know, like blacks, Jews, women, gays, and so on. Or you want them to leave the planet. But only if they leave all the things they do for us and gave us that help us. Those you want sticking around.” Didn’t even try to keep the disgust out of my tone.
“No, that’s not what I want.”
“Oh, sorry, forgot who you like to hang out with. What you actually want is to control the A-Cs and, barring that, you want them enslaved or killed.”
“I am not your enemy, young lady.”
“He’s mad,” Jeff said. “He started getting angry when you compared him to Pecker—though not Gutermuth, which is probably significant—and he’s gotten angrier as you’ve continued to speak.”
“Well, old man, you haven’t exactly acted like our friend.”
Tobin’s jaw dropped. “What did you call me?”
“Old man. Seemed appropriate since you called me young lady. I presume that was to put me in my place, but, in case you haven’t been paying attention, I don’t cave for that crap.” Leaned forward, while the three dogs did the low growl thing. “Understand me, Mister Tobin. I am the First Lady of these United States and you will treat me and my husband, your President, with respect, or I will personally ensure that I find every single person in the galaxy with Ronald Yates’ genetics and get them all onto the YatesCorp Board. And then I’ll next ensure that they remove you and the rest of the Board in a New York Minute.”
Got and held eye contact with him. Time to see if he was up to Mom and Chuckie’s standards. He was good at the Stare Contest Game, but Rage had joined my party and there was no way I was blinking first.
Sure enough, Tobin finally blinked. Then he leaned back. “I see that everyone’s sold you quite short.”
“Yeah, it’s got to be hard for you to have that Come to Jesus Moment wherein you discover I’m not the weak link.” Narrowed my eyes. “In fact, you might want to consider just who you’re screwing with and rethink your various strategies.”
Jeff chuckled in my ear. “Yes, he’s reassessing you as fast as he can. He’s also impressed. He wasn’t before, but he is now.”
“Who am I screwing with?” Tobin asked.
“Self-control,” Chuckie said urgently. Knew he didn’t want me to share anything key, such as the fact that I was the person responsible for Ronald Yates’ death. Sure, Mephistopheles had let Yates die so Mephs could try to move to me, but that was likely nuance I had neither time nor inclination to share.
“The woman who can send you into the darkest hole you can imagine, or who can ensure you get to continue doing whatever it is you actually do.”
“You’re threatening me,” Tobin said mildly.
“No. ‘I’m going to rip your balls off and shove them down your throat if you ever try to track me again’ is a threat. Stating reality isn’t threatening, it’s sharing the full situation.”
“Where is Janelle Gardiner?” Tobin asked. Presumably to throw me off my game.