Alien vs. Alien

was confirmed by catching Chuckie giving Amy a little nod.
    Chuckie and Amy were working together and I was out of the loop? Could this homecoming get any worse or more bizarre?
    Pierre threw up his hands. “No idea. The building’s owner was practically sobbing. He had to refund all deposits to the lovely Czechs, understandably of course, but he now has no capital with which to do the repairs. A broken man, if you ask me, financially and emotionally, poor thing.”
    There was general murmured consensus that plumbing issues sucked, and everyone felt bad for the building’s owner and glad it wasn’t us going through this homeowner’s nightmare.
    I’d figured we’d finished with all the gossip, but I was wrong. “Pierre, what happened with the Bahraini Embassy?” Amy asked. I would have sworn she’d spent all her time since we got back to D.C. in bed with Christopher or in the debrief she couldn’t talk about in front of me, but clearly they’d spent the time reading the last four weeks’ worth of gossip columns instead of doing the deed.
    “A break-in, darling. But nothing was taken. At least nothing the Bahraini Ambassador will admit to.”
    “Did they catch whoever did it?” Hey, I could still ask questions.
    Pierre shook his head. “Not yet. Of course, the Israelis are being blamed. But they insist they had nothing to do with it.”
    “Did anyone ask my mom?” All heads turned to me and everyone gave me the “what the hell” look. Why? It seemed like an obvious question to me. “Um, she’s former Mossad. If anyone would be able to confirm Israeli guilt or innocence on this break-in matter, I’d think Mom would be the one to do it.”
    “There are other suspects,” Pierre said. “Including some of the other Middle Eastern diplomatic missions. As well as the idea of a common thief.”
    “I’ve seen the Embassies in that area,” Kyle said. “They’re all protected like Fort Knox.”
    This was pretty much true. We were housed in the area nicknamed Embassy Row. Embassies were everywhere, interspersed among homes, businesses, hotels, and more. Half of the Embassy doorways were practically at the street. Most were architecturally pretty, some saying “look at me,” some just going for the understated look so popular with Old Money. Our general Embassy neighborhood was a friendly-feeling area.
    However, the Israeli and Bahraini Embassies weren’t really in our part of town, so to speak. I thought of the section where these particular Embassies resided as The Bunker.
    In The Bunker’s section of D.C., every Embassy was gated and secured, the buildings set well back from the street and no doorway was close to the gates, and the buildings weren’t nearly as pretty as the ones in our area—because they looked as though they’d been built for stolid usefulness and defensibility as opposed to architectural beauty.
    “That might be why they’re thinking it’s the Israelis,” Len said. “It takes real skill to break into an Embassy set up to keep you out.”
    “Mossad aren’t the only ones with those skills,” Chuckie said. “There are plenty of options. There’s also always Middle East intrigue going on. But it’s a police matter, not something the head of the P.T.C.U. needs to worry about.”
    I was going to ask if this was standard intrigue or intrigue related to what I now no longer got to know about when Jamie yawned. Widely.
    “Time for someone to go to bed.” I handed her back to Jeff, who put her gently onto his shoulder. Jamie snuggled her little face right into his neck and sighed happily.
    “Time for you, too, Kitty,” Tito said sternly. “You overdid it today and didn’t take the nap you were supposed to.”
    Under most circumstances I would have protested, but frankly Tito was both right and ensuring that I at least had a hope of getting to see my husband outside of his clothes. “Okay, Tito, whatever you say, you’re the doctor.”
    “I expected more of an argument about it,” Tito said with a grin. “But I can understand why you’re more tractable than normal.”
    Jeff stood up holding Jamie with one hand while he took my hand in the other and gave it a squeeze. “I’m going to turn in, too, then. Have to take care of my girls.”
    Everyone at the table gave us looks that said they knew exactly what we were going to be doing the moment the baby was in bed. I saw no reason to deny the obvious.
    “So, don’t knock or call unless it’s a dire