Alien Diplomacy

mostly horrifying, and also somewhat hypnotic. “My Abner’s described you perfectly.”
    I jerked myself out of my almost stupefied study of her looks and back to the present moment. “Really? I’m sort of amazed that all of your spouses and friends are interested enough in me to talk about me outside of class, let alone to all of you.”
    “Oh, don’t be so modest,” Brewer said. “You’re one of the youngest ambassadors on the Row, maybe the youngest. And I think you’re the highest-ranking politician in the class, therefore.”
    Social climbing. Well, there were worse reasons for these people to come calling. I was pretty sure they all had those worse reasons in mind, though.
    Gadoire had saved himself for last. The men got hearty handshakes. I, on the other hand, got a sweeping bow and the back of my hand kissed. He didn’t do it very well, and I resisted the urge to ask for a moist towelette.
    “Madame Ambassador, it’s truly an honor. My Vance says your wit and charm makes everyone around you laugh all day long.” He spoke in a French accent I was 99% sure was faked.
    I had to censor the first ten responses that came to mind. “Does he? How sweet,” was all I could manage that wouldn’t fall on the snide or sarcastic side of the house. I was certain, however, that if I was around Gadoire for too long, I’d certainly be laughing all day long. Or washing my hands constantly. Or both.
    Chuckie and Jeff both looked as if they were controlling their gag reflexes. “Cantu, while this is very pleasant, I’m wondering why it couldn’t wait until the President’s Ball tomorrow night.”Chuckie’s tone was very light. “The ambassadors have a tight schedule today, and you’re disrupting it.”
    The entire gang put expressions of dismay and chagrin on their faces. I didn’t buy it for a New York minute. Culver’s expression mirrored the Joker’s when he was pretending he was sad that he’d killed one of the Robins or put Batgirl in a wheelchair. It was official—this woman creeped me the hell out.
    Culver took the lead. “I’m so sorry. Blame me, Mister Reynolds. We wanted a chance to talk to the ambassadors. American Centaurion is very influential in circles that affect us, and we just wanted to be sure we could start off on the right foot. We’re also here for you, any of you, should you need help navigating these new waters.”
    I was sure the nine sharks in front of us would be more than happy to help us swim right into their maws. But I didn’t say that. “What influence are you hoping we’ll exert for you?” Hey, it was a lot better than calling them all Great Whites or something or, in Culver’s case, calling her Joker Jaws. To her face.
    Joker Jaws waved her hand in that “it’s no big deal” way. Pierre did it a lot better. “There are certain…programs moving forward that represent the next evolution in protection of individuals and municipalities. We’d like to have American Centaurion’s support for these—in terms of defense, your little principality carries a great deal of sway.”
    “In return,” Brewer said, “we’d of course look closely at any issues American Centaurion might be having and do our best to…smooth them over.”
    “Would you?” Jeff asked. I could tell he was controlling himself from tossing them onto the street. We were saved by the bell. “Who’s here now?” Jeff asked.
    “I’m not expecting anyone.”
    “We were expecting to be gone by now,” Chuckie added meaningfully. I couldn’t blame him. I wanted to have been gone at least fifteen minutes ago.
    “Oh, that’ll be Zachary,” Cartwright said. “He had to travel separately from the rest of us.” She smiled at me. “The traffic’s been so terrible that we all carpooled.”
    I managed not to ask how Cartwright, who worked at the Pentagon, was in a carpool with any of these people. The answer was obvious—they’d been plotting somewhere together before storming our particular castle.
    Instead, I took an educated guess as to who our straggler was.“You mean Senator Zachary Kramer?” Also known as Marcia Kramer’s husband. Fabulous. With him joining us, the only spouse missing from this little group was Jack Ryan’s wife, Pia. I wasn’t disappointed that she wasn’t along—we were at Marx Brothers occupancy in the room as it was. Of course, for all I knew, Pia Ryan was on her way and just stuck in traffic.
    “Yes, indeed,” a man’s voice boomed out. Sure