Alien in the House

“Only she was killed, and we think it was because this murder attracted too much of Kitty’s attention.”
    “How was she killed?” Surly Vic asked.
    “She blew up in a car bomb intended for the Head of Special Immigration Services for Homeland Security.” Figured it was better to use Cliff’s title—it could trigger something for my Assassin Agatha Christies. “We don’t know, but presume, that she was dead before the bomb went off.”
    “Was the politician killed as well?” the Dingo asked.
    “No, because he used his new remote starter function. The blast was unreal. My husband and I and one of our friends would have been in the car with him, too.”
    “Was that known?”
    “No, it was pretty impromptu, so I don’t think the three of us were the targets, just Cliff.”
    “So Raul was cleaning things up,” Surly Vic said.
    “You think that’s his signature, too?” Because I sure did.
    “Yes,” the Dingo said. “As I told you, he has done much work for the C.I.A., and other government agencies. Another showy death, but presumably sending a different message than the other.”
    “You think it’s not connected to all of this?”
    He shrugged. “I have no way of knowing. However, it sounds separate, other than that your presumed aspiring Apprentice was in the car.” He shook his head. “Determine who had the most to gain from the one man’s death, or from the other man’s capture.”
    The Dingo was going to say something else, when Rahmi shouted, “Down!”
    So I wasn’t too surprised when I heard gunfire.



CHAPTER 91
    F ORTUNATELY, A-Cs had really great reflexes. Despite Christopher’s lack of faith in their abilities in a Field Situation, White tackled me and Gower, Raj tackled the two assassins, while Rahmi and Rhee moved so fast they were two blurs. So the bullets missed all of us. Barely, to be sure, but barely was darned well good enough.
    The princesses were blurry, but I could still make them out. They were spinning their battle staffs while they ran in a sort of circle, creating a perimeter around us. As near as I could tell, the staffs were moving fast enough that they were deflecting bullets.
    “Two attackers,” Rhee called. “Both with projectiles.”
    “Girls, take out the projectiles if you can safely,” I shouted. This earned another flurry of bullets. I couldn’t see anyone, and that meant the probability of one of the attackers being Clarence was much higher. The princesses were still managing to deflect and avoid bullets.
    The six of us were still on the ground, though now all of us were on our stomachs. The two assassins had gotten their guns into position before they’d hit the ground. We scooted and scrambled and got behind a couple of large headstones nearby. They weren’t offering a lot of shelter, but something was better than nothing.
    “Do you have a secret hideout nearby that we can get to?” I asked as I dug my Glock out of my purse and hooked said purse over my neck.
    “We’re blocked from it,” the Dingo replied tersely.
    “That’s Raul shooting at us, isn’t it?”
    “Probably. He’s anticipated us.”
    “And has likely discovered our hideout,” Surly Vic added.
    “Awesome. Think he’s figured out you’re trying to protect me?”
    “Or that we’re trying to stop him,” the Dingo said. “Either way, either he or we die tonight.”
    “Super. Let’s make sure that it’s him. Richard, Raj, Paul, I think it’s time for us to do something here.”
    “Raj, protect the Pontifex,” White said. “Missus Martini, I believe I can see our shooters, and I meant the plural.”
    “Oh, good. Raul’s new chick’s along for the ride?”
    “Presumably. Can you see where the shots are coming from? I can, but I want to make sure you can as well.”
    “They’re in some trees. Dude loves to perch, doesn’t he?” As I said this, it occurred to me that I had no idea where Bruno was. Or Harlie and Poofikins, for that matter. “So, do we run up into the trees or just shake them really hard?”
    “You both stay down,” the Dingo said, as he aimed and fired. The bullets didn’t stop coming at us.
    Something was wrong with all of this. It was like we were in an Old West shootout. We had the poorer ground—we were low, the enemy was high. And yet, the bullets weren’t really coming near us. If we’d been standing up we’d likely be shot, but the shooters hadn’t altered their aim. At all.
    Meaning there wasn’t anyone actually