Gave Prince some major loving while Buchanan sent a text. “He just wants to protect us.”
“I just want to know what’s going on,” Chuckie said. “Why are we going to Bermuda when Angela wants to meet with us?”
“Because she’s there,” Buchanan said as the elevator arrived and we all loaded in. It was a tight fit, and Buchanan forced our Secret Service details to take other elevators.
Evalyne shook her head. “You’re planning to go to Bermuda without us, aren’t you?”
“I’m not,” I said loyally.
Buchanan shrugged. “Yes. Because the Head of the P.T.C.U. has another assignment for all of you. However, I’ll give that to you upstairs.”
Dulce went down fifteen floors. Way back when and what, these days, seemed a lifetime ago, Jeff and I had lived on the fifteenth level in what I called his Human Lair. There were many days I still missed the Lair, though our family was now too big to live there comfortably. But I’d have been willing to give it a try and, based on Jeff’s expression when Buchanan hit the button for the top floor and Jeff looked at the button for Floor 15, he’d have been willing to try, too.
We exited and, true to his word, Buchanan waited for the Secret Service contingents to arrive. As they did, Buchanan sent another text, and two more A-Cs joined us.
One of them I knew—Francine Alexis was Colette’s eldest sister, one of Raj and Serene’s most experienced troubadours, and the A-C we used as my body double. Which was a total compliment to me, because Francine was a Dazzler and therefore far hotter than me. But if you’re told it’s the FLOTUS and the double looks close enough, rarely does anyone question.
The man with her wasn’t someone I’d met. However, he did resemble Jeff. He was clearly an A-C, though he wasn’t quite as handsome as Jeff was. Then again, I felt that Jeff was the hottest guy in the galaxy, so I might have been a tad biased. He was introduced as Craig Rossi. Showing incredible self-control, I didn’t make any Martini & Rossi jokes, but it took a great deal of effort.
Craig was dressed like every other A-C or human agent working with them—in the Armani Fatigues. Francine, however, wasn’t dressed like me, but instead was in my FLOTUS Uniform—an iced blue blouse, black skirt, and comfortable black pumps. Her hair was down and actually styled, and she had makeup on. Clearly the idea was that I’d changed and primped after fighting Apache helicopters in the desert. Could not argue with the mindset.
“You’re escorting these two,” Buchanan said to our Secret Service details, nodding at Francine and Craig, “back to the White House. In a very obvious manner.”
“Are we flying?” Evalyne asked.
Buchanan shook his head. “No, it’s too dangerous right now. However, you’re going to go back to Pueblo Caliente and make a brief appearance where the President will shake hands with the mayor to show continued support. Then you’re going to Sky Harbor and being seen to be getting onto a private supersonic jet.”
“But we’ll use hyperspeed and actually go to a gate in the airport,” Francine said. “So everyone needs to be prepared for that because we have to exit after we’re all on board but before the exit ramp goes up.”
Joseph nodded. “We’re used to that kind of timing these days.”
“Then you’ll all go back to the White House complex and wait for when you have to ‘arrive’ at Andrews,” Buchanan continued. “Colonel Franklin is prepped for all of this.”
“Who’s providing the jet?” Chuckie asked suspiciously.
Buchanan grinned at him. “You are.”
“I don’t own a private jet,” Chuckie said flatly.
Managed not to share that in Bizarro World Chuckie and his family did indeed own a private jet. “Private jets are cool, and I’m sure someone can pay you back.”
Chuckie shot me the “really?” look. “I can afford to buy one, Kitty. I just never saw the need.”
Buchanan shrugged. “It’s a need now, and Pierre says to tell you that he got you a fantastic deal using contacts provided by Beaumont.”
“You know Vance has all the right contacts,” I said quickly. “And I can promise that he didn’t let Pierre buy some drug dealer’s used plane.”
Chuckie relaxed. “True enough. And, okay, if Pierre approved this, then I’m fine with it.”
“Who’s actually flying the jet back to D.C.?” Jeff asked.
“Airborne,” Buchanan said. “So it’ll be in good hands.” He shot the Secret Service a stern look. “And you know these two will also be in good hands, so no complaints about your assigned roles. The Head of the P.T.C.U. expects you to ensure that this fiction flies in all circles.”
The agents all nodded, then they encircled their new charges. Buchanan had them go off to Pueblo Caliente first. Once they were confirmed to be with the mayor and so forth, he gave the gate agent our coordinates.
We did the whole sordid gate transfer thing again, and this time was definitely longer, so worse for my stomach. However, where we landed wasn’t what I was prepared for. At all.
CHAPTER 37
WE WERE ON THE DECK of a large boat in what sort of looked like the middle of the ocean. I could see islands in the distance, but Jeff and I weren’t about to discover if we liked Bermuda’s beaches more than Cabo’s.
All the various things we’d had to handle in Pueblo Caliente and at Dulce had taken several hours, and by coming back to the East Coast we’d lost an additional three. The sun wasn’t setting yet, but it was definitely thinking about it. Figured we had no more than an hour of good light left, if that.
Had a pang of worry, since the sun set late at the start of July. Jeff and I had undoubtedly missed dinnertime with the kids. Sure, that just meant that Colette and Francine’s middle sister, Nadine, had ensured that Jamie, Charlie, and Lizzie all ate at the Embassy, which was where the kids did dinner anytime Jeff and I weren’t able to be with them. And sure, the kids enjoyed their now-special time with Pierre fussing over them. But still, it wasn’t the same as having their parents there.
Shoved all the Bad Mommy thoughts away. Right now, I had to meet an alien race. Another alien race. Before meeting a lot more alien races. And trying to get the entire world to be enthusiastic about all these other races. Yeah, time to focus on the things going on in front of me. Plenty of time to beat myself up later.
The boat was definitely government-issue, but also just as definitely the kind of government-issue that was supposed to be under the radar. It had at least three decks and looked like any other rich person yacht—unless you noted the gun turrets all around. And you had to actually look to note said turrets. Had no idea which drug lord this had been confiscated from, but was glad the boat was now on the side of good.
Mom was here, looking official in her P.T.C.U. baseball cap and vest. Jeff put me down and I trotted over and gave her a hug.
She hugged me back tightly. “You’ve had a busy day, kitten.”
“Yeah, it’s been a thrill a minute, Mom. Meet Muddy.” I indicated the Turleen.