Alien Diplomacy

femme fatale, trust me, I really think he must be involved somehow.”
    White cleared his throat. “I think we need to pay attention to other matters.”
    I thanked God for the conversation shift as the rest of us looked where he was, at the Romanian Embassy, which was across the street from ours. It was big and blocky, nicely done, but nothing ornate, not one of the “look at me” Embassies. It was, however, sparkling clean, which, since it was bright white all over, was pretty impressive.
    However, White wasn’t observing the building’s architecture. There was someone standing at a window on the second floor. Standing there, watching us. And, now that we were all looking, whoever it was waved and made the “come here” sign.
    “Interesting. I think someone wants a visit.”
    “No,” Chuckie said flatly.
    “It’s Romania, not Paraguay. I doubt they’re still harboring a grudge over that party.” The person was waving more insistently now. I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. “Is the waver wearing gloves?”
    “Yes.” Chuckie sounded impressed with me. I wondered if this meant he’d let the walk to the Paraguayan Embassy and my slowness to share slide. It was unlikely, of course, but a girl could dream. “That’s why we can see the hands well, but not the face. I think he or she is taking care to be hard to see.”
    “But Richard saw them.”
    “Yes. I remind you that A-Cs have enhanced eyesight. I truly believe whoever’s up there wants to speak with us.”
    “So why doesn’t whoever it is come out?” Kyle asked.
    “Maybe he can’t,” Len said. “Or…maybe he’s afraid of being spotted.”
    I decided I’d had enough standing around wondering. We were across the street from the Embassy, and at least three of the men with me were packing heat. Plus, I had four big dogs and an assortment of Stealth Poofs.
    I shoved the stroller toward the front door. A little faster than I’d intended, but fortunately White was able to catch up and grab me before I slammed us into the building.
    This meant, of course, that Chuckie and the boys had no choice but to follow us. Which was good, because I didn’t even have to knock. The door opened the moment we reached it.
    There was no one there.



CHAPTER 61
    “H ELLO?” I WASN’T CROSSING the threshold until I knew we weren’t heading into the Romanian House of Horrors.
    A young woman’s head peeped around the door. I realized she was behind it. “Please come in, Ambassador.”
    It was such a shock to hear someone, anyone, refer to me as an actual ambassador that I gaped for a moment. Recovered quickly. “Thanks. Don’t let the stroller roll over your toes—it’s heavy.”
    She smiled. “Not to worry.” She looked at the dogs. “Could you, perhaps, take your pets around to the back?”
    “No,” Chuckie said. “Get the dogs back home,” he told Len and Kyle. “Advise the ambassador that we’re visiting neighbors.”
    The boys shot worried looks at me, but they nodded and headed to our Embassy. The young woman looked a little disappointed for a moment, then put a welcoming smile back on.
    We trooped in. It was nice inside. A big mahogany visitor’s desk dominated the entry room, with a staircase curving up behind it, very Turn of a Couple of Centuries Ago—though I didn’t spend a lot of time looking around. I was fairly sure Chuckie was handling that part of the festivities.
    Once the door closed behind us, the girl bobbed her head. “The Ambassadress would like to speak with you. If you’ll wait a moment, I’ll fetch her.”
    She trotted upstairs while we all exchanged the standard “what’s going on?” looks.
    “You know her?” Chuckie asked.
    “No.” I got Jamie out of the stroller. She had her Poof in her hands, and I decided that was probably smart. It looked like astuffed animal, after all, and that way, if needed, her Poof could activate without issue. “Harlie, Poofikins, into Kitty’s purse. Other Poofies, guard Richard, Chuckie, and the stroller.” Poofs disappeared into male pockets as I put the diaper bag where Jamie and the Poofs had been and put my purse over my shoulder. “Chuckie, Fluffy’s with you, right?”
    “Right,” he mumbled. Jeff always acted like this about the Poofs, too, which cracked me up. I refrained from singing “Macho Man.” Out loud. It was playing in my head, though.
    White, unsurprisingly, had no issue with a couple of Poofs. “I don’t recognize the young lady,