Alien Diplomacy

who Mr. Joel Oliver thought was following him were wise topics, so we chatted about the weather.
    Len, Kyle, and I weren’t in favor of the cold. Oliver liked it because wearing coats gave him more places to stash film, media cards, cameras, and so forth. I refrained from making snide remarks, proving that at least Aunt Emily’s Diplomacy for Beginners class was paying off.
    Len asked why Oliver still used film, and we got a brief but informative lecture on why some shots still came out better using traditional photography methods and why some didn’t. Oliver carried what seemed like every type of camera on him, so he was ready for any shot, at any time, whether it be artistic and up for a Pulitzer, digital and catching a celebrity without her underpants on, or anything in between.
    In a short time we were at the shopping area, got off the bus, and started strolling around. “Okay, no one got on the bus with us, no one got off the bus with us, I see no taxis with poorly disguised drivers around, so if whoever else was following you is still on your tail, they’ll need to park. So, who is on your tail?”
    Oliver looked around. “I believe they’re with the C.I.A.”
    Len shook his head. “Mister Reynolds doesn’t tail you, and he doesn’t have people tailing you.”
    “Ah, but you’d say that, even if he did,” Oliver said pleasantly.“However, I don’t think they’re on Mister Reynolds’ side of the alien question.”
    “There are no aliens.” Hey, I was going to do my best to get us back to some sort of security level.
    Oliver chuckled. “Of course there are. You’re married to one. But to make you feel better, let’s just refer to them by the nice name everyone uses around here. I believe those who have targeted me are not friendly to American Centaurion. Nor are they friends of those who are friends of American Centaurion.”
    “That doesn’t exactly narrow it down.”
    “Whoever’s in charge will be at the President’s Ball.”
    “To watch the fireworks, make sure nothing goes wrong, or to pull the trigger?”
    “I have no idea. My informants were all clear about the ball being the place where the major situation is going to go down. And while I doubt whoever’s in charge is the person or persons following me, I got a glimpse of shadowy figures and nothing more.”
    “Then why do you assume they’re C.I.A.?” Len asked.
    “It’s a safe bet,” Oliver said dryly. “Plus there was…something about them…”
    “Lurking in nice suits?”
    He shook his head. “No. C.I.A. field operatives are trained to blend in.”
    “They didn’t blend if you saw them.”
    Oliver stared at me. “That’s a very good point.”
    I considered this. “You think they wanted you to see them?”
    “Why would they want that?” Kyle asked.
    Len pursed his lips. “To flush him out, send him to whoever he thinks will protect him or want his information.”
    Oliver looked chagrined. “And I did exactly that.”
    We were in front of Cartier’s, and I stared at the nearby dress shops. “Did you? Because I know who you wanted to run to, and he’s not here or even close.”
    “So does that mean they thought he was?” Kyle asked. “Or did they think he’d run to you, Kitty?”
    “Or did someone blow up our limo for an entirely unrelated reason?” It was a legitimate question. In my experience, there was never just one scheme going on around us at any time.
    “Until we know otherwise, I’d assume that there was a connection,” Oliver said. “Unless your limousines routinely explode.”
    “Not unless someone’s trying to kill us. And who were the dudes in the taxis working for? Were they part of the blow-us-up gang, or were they merely trying to kidnap us for different, nefarious reasons?”
    “No idea. I don’t believe we have enough information.”
    “We should have grabbed one of them.”
    “I don’t think either Mister Reynolds or the ambassador would have liked that,” Len said.
    “Oh, they’d have liked it if we’d gotten some decent, accurate intelligence out of the experience.” Ah, well, another potential opportunity missed. I chose not to worry about it and instead made a command decision. “Let’s hit this shop.”
    I forged in before the males could protest. It was small and loaded with expensive clothes. I had a little trouble getting in the door with the stroller. None of the salesgirls came to help, but, fortunately, Len was there to handle it.
    For some reason,