Alien vs. Alien

by Naomi and Abigail. Interesting. Out of everyone, I’d have thought Chuckie would have shared this bit of intel with them. Apparently not. But then again, he’d told them to come to me in this type of emergency.
    I got myself under control. “Stryker Dane is probably the most famous conspiracy theorist going. He’s the guy who writes the
Taken Away
books. About his being abducted by aliens and taken to their world for experiments, that sort of thing. I think there are like ten books in the series, maybe more. He also runs a pretty popular website and an even more active blog. Kind of an underground celebrity.”
    “Oh, him.” Tito nodded. “I think he’s done book tours that came to Vegas. I never went. But why is that funny? I mean, you were laughing like a hyena.”
    “Pardon me. I just find Chuckie’s sense of humor funny.”
    “How does this have anything to do with Reynolds, in that sense?” Buchanan asked.
    “It’s a message from him. I don’t know why Stryker’s down as the next guy on the list, but I have a guess.”
    “At the edge of our seats, so to speak,” White said.
    “Chuckie must have been able to influence what went into his part of this briefing book. And Colonel Hamlin wasn’t someone he trusted or liked.”
    “So?” Franklin was stepping onto the impatience wagon.
    I resisted the urge to sigh. “Stryker Dane is from Arizona.” I waited. No looks of comprehension. “Chuckie’s the Conspiracy King.” Still nothing. Maybe they were all too worried about Jeff and Chuckie and the impending space invasion to make the connection. “He knows Stryker. Very well. And trusts him, more than most of those he deals with on a daily basis.”
    “He trusts a nut job?” Oren asked.
    I coughed. “Have you not been paying attention? I mean, I realize you all got dragged into this sort of unexpectedly, but still. Aliens exist.”
    Jakob shrugged. “We’ve heard certain rumors already, so finding out about what American Centaurion really is, that’s not that much of a shock. But those
Taken Away
books . . . they’re all full of sh—” He looked at Mona. “Untruths.”
    She chuckled. “I’ve heard the word. And used it. More than once. But Jakob does have a point, Ambassador. Those books are works of fiction.”
    “Yeah, they are. Because Stryker’s a great fiction writer. But, ah, well, he’s also not exactly wrong. And he’s very pro-alien.”
    “You think.” Buchanan didn’t sound convinced.
    “No, I
know
.” More blank looks, other than from Oliver, who looked both like he believed me and that one of his greatest dreams was coming true. “Gang, really. I’ll say it slowly. Chuckie’s been my friend since ninth grade. My best guy friend since we were thirteen. We went to high school and college together.” Blank looks that indicated annoyance was coming up fast. I gave in to the urge to sigh heavily. “I know Stryker. Personally.”
    “Great.” Tito didn’t sound as though he meant it. “So what are we supposed to do? Race to Arizona, dig out the head wacko, and ask him for help?”
    “No. We’re going to make a phone call and then probably drive over to see him.” The blankness in the room was awe-inspiring. “He lives here now. He’s made a good living off those books.”
    “You keep in touch with him?” Buchanan seemed to be trying to channel Jeff, just to keep me on my jealousy toes. Oliver, meanwhile, was salivating. I was sort of surprised that he didn’t know Stryker personally, but then again, I knew Stryker, and Stryker trusted fewer people than Chuckie did.
    I couldn’t hold out any longer and rolled my eyes. “I keep in touch with Chuckie, to put it mildly. Chuckie keeps in touch with Stryker. The page our friend the Colonel is looking at is there solely for a situation such as this—why would anyone, ever, read that gut buster otherwise? Something’s gone wrong, we don’t know what to do, so pull out the big book and see what’s in there. Chuckie wants Stryker contacted either because he’s briefed Stryker on something or because said contact will alert Stryker to something he has to do for Chuckie.”
    “You’re sure, Missus Martini?” At least White didn’t look annoyed.
    “Pretty darned.” I pulled my cell out of my purse and found the number on speed dial. The number Chuckie had insisted I program in right after Operation Confusion. I let the phone ring three times, then hung up. Then let it ring twice and hung up. Then