Alien Proliferation

so damned good at it.”
    “I’m sure the company helps as well.” We kept on running. “One thing still confuses me, Missus Martini. Well, more than one, but this in particular. Who was after Tim, and why were Miss Young’s apartment and her parents’ home ransacked?”
    “My guess? They want our DNA. It’s a standard evil medical supergenius plot in the comics. Get the DNA of the major good guys, create the clone army programmed to destroy the good guys with their own powers.”
    “Not following you. At all.”
    “Tim spotted Camilla, heard Clarence use an official drug name, maybe saw some other things, put two and two together. The wedding video’s the tip-off. He wanted me to focus on people who were at or around our wedding—the Diplomatic Corps, I’m sure, even though they were thankfully, removed before the ‘big event’. But also Chuckie and you, people Alicia would only have seen there. They were after her for one main reason—she had something with our DNA on it, at least, so they believed.”
    White was quiet. “Oh. She caught your bouquet, and Jeffrey took the garter off your leg with his teeth. Michael, who caught the garter, put it back onto Miss Young’s leg. I remember the guests found that all quite hilarious.”
    “Truly, you’re going to join active field duty after this. Yeah, because whoever catches the garter’s supposed to be the next to get married. Alicia kept the garter—it actually has none of our DNA on it any more because I know she washed it. She’s going to wear it at her wedding for good luck. However, Tim was looking for it, because he could offer it to the baddies—doing his own version of double-agenting. Maybe he made a deal before he left, just to be on the safe side. He’s the one who ransacked her place, to find the garter and also to leave a big message for us. Nothing says ‘danger’ like someone’s place being trashed.”
    “And her parents’ house?”
    “I imagine he and the other agents did that, too. Again, sticking with the theme. The A-Cs could trash it in about five seconds, we knew to look for clues there, since he freaking told me with the musical clues that I was so slow to catch on to.”
    “So, who was after him? How did his phone get shot? Why did he finally leave a message when a voicemail earlier would have been more helpful?”
    “Figure the bad guys caught on. Guns are human weapons .  . . the C.I.A. was alerted by Chuckie sending his guys out. The ones trying to kill Chuckie and my mom sent goons after Tim. He left a message because he was pretty sure he was going to be captured. And, since he likely had the garter on him, the bad guys know it’s useless by now. But it bought us some time.”
    “Makes sense, Missus Martini.”
    Had to jump a few more holes, climb over some rocks, and in one case, move a rockslide while we were discussing Tim’s ability to outthink the rest of us. “Guess it’s a safe bet that whoever has our people isn’t using this route.”
    “It does appear that way.” White tossed another big hunk of rock, climbed up, hauled me up, jumped down, lifted me down, and we kept on moving. I was totally impressed. Tim needed a promotion, and White needed to get out and kick butt a whole lot more.
    We reached an intersection. We could go straight or turn left. “Poofies?” Harlie jumped down and went to the left. We followed, Harlie jumped back into my purse. “Interesting. Where are we going?”
    “No idea. You’re the one who studied French, supposedly.”
    Thought about it as we ran on for what seemed like another forever. “We’re still on Ile de la Cité. So, what else is here? Oh, duh. The Palais de Justice.” Thought about it. “And the Conciergerie. Where they held prisoners during the French Revolution. You know, right before they beheaded them. Tourists are kept out of most of it. I’ll bet the philanthropist Ronaldo Al Dejahl gets to visit when and where he wants, though.” We sped up.
    We finally reached another set of stairs. These led up. They also looked ancient. “The stairs can be slippery,” I shared.
    “Oh? How do you know?”
    “The brochure said so about the ones in the cathedral going up to the gargoyles, would make sense these are the same, and they look like the ones in the pictures.”
    “Then we’ll exercise caution.”
    We started up. Stair charges had been a part of my life for years, because I’d had the most sadistic track coaches in history. There were