Alien in the House

that came with sunlight arrived far too early, but we got up anyway. My phone shared another automated text reply: “In a locked-door meeting, will respond when able. If this is urgent, contact my secretary.” Armstrong hadn’t left the secretary’s name or number, meaning, I figured, that he only wanted to be disturbed by someone who knew said name and number. Meaning he didn’t want to be disturbed by me. Always the way.
    Reader had teams working on the hunt for Colonel Hamlin and the retracing of Buchanan’s steps, half of Hacker International was doing a full workup on Pia Ryan and anyone she’d ever interacted with from birth through death while the other half worked with Amy on a full Gaultier breakdown, and Christopher and the Barones were still searching for the Assassination Squad.
    Because we were going to brunch with a politician and former international model, I broke down and wore a dress and heels. The Elves had another nice number, this one in black, with slits up the side. Apparently this was a big look with Armani this season. Jeff, of course, was in the Armani Fatigues.
    Mom came to the Embassy looking like she hadn’t slept in days, so all we got was a quick set of hugs and kisses and then she went to sleep. The cats and dogs went with her, and she didn’t object when half the Poofs joined them, either.
    We discussed it, and Dad insisted he’d keep Jamie and stay with her and Mom in our apartment. Jamie was all for spending extra special time with her Papa Sol, so we left them having fun, which meant Dad reading history books to her and Jamie paying rapt attention. Shoved aside the worry about how an almost-one-year-old could even hope to comprehend what she was hearing, in part because I had a strong suspicion she was comprehending every word.
    Jeff and I retrieved the briefcase filled with what we’d stolen at Rayburn House from Amy and took it downstairs to the kitchen. White and Raj were there, and we all started sorting through the trash, while Pierre brought us drinks and kibitzed. White had brought Pierre, and Walter, up to speed as well.
    “Anyone you’ve missed sharing this with, Uncle Richard?” Jeff asked, as White explained that Pierre was on the same page as the rest of us.
    “Not that I can recall, Jeffrey. We’re not making progress, and, as Missus Martini is well aware, we work best with our entire team involved. And we did establish that it was unlikely that Pierre or the others were the Mastermind or working against our interests.”
    “Jeff’s just being cautious,” Pierre said loyally. “But never fear, as with every other secret or mission, I shall take the confidential to my grave and offer assistance as needed.”
    “Doreen reassured me yesterday that, whatever was going on, she was on our side.”
    White nodded. “She spoke with me about it as well. She fears that whatever it is, her parents were involved somehow.”
    “Maybe they were, but so far, unless they’re maneuvering things from beyond the graves they don’t have, it doesn’t seem likely that they have much to do with what’s going on in terms of the deaths of all the representatives.”
    Gower joined us. “What are you doing here, Paul?” Jeff asked. “Not that it’s not nice to see you.”
    Gower shrugged. “James is working, I was told I wasn’t allowed to do any Field work on the grounds that we have assassins and mad bombers everywhere and I’m so very important. I’m bored, because being important has a lot of boring moments, and Jamie is here, meaning I have no cute little girl to babysit. So, I figured I’d come to see what you have going and if you need any help, while I ask Richard what he did to stay sane when he was locked up for his own safety.”
    “I became quite good at card games,” White offered.
    “You know, we could use help.” Figured I should say that before White and Gower went off into a Pontifex Standup Routine. “We need to sort this stuff, and we also need a listing of what committees every dead representative was on, or going on, and exact dates and supposed causes of death.”
    “I’ll get the information from the Computer Lab, you sit,” Raj said to Gower. He zipped off and was back in a very short time. “Fresh off the printer,” he said, flashing the troubadour smile. “I made copies for each of us.”
    We ended up with three piles of stuff from Rayburn: calendars and planners, of which we had very few; Post-It Notes and other scraps of