Touched by an Alien

actually do need to know?”
    He cleared his throat. “I don’t have as much exciting information as your mother does, kitten. However, it occurs to me that what the A-Cs do to hide the parasitic activity might be helping the Al Dejahl group.”
    “You accusing us of working with terrorists?” Christopher wasn’t snarling, but he was glaring, and snarling looked imminent.
    “No.” Dad seemed unperturbed. “What I’m suggesting is that if you change a superbeing attack into a terrorist attack in the minds of the public, then you give the terrorist organization that takes the ‘blame’ more credit and airtime than they deserve. Just something to think about.”
    I’d mentioned this before myself, but right now it was bordering close to overload for me, and from the expressions on most of the A-Cs’ faces, for them, too. “I think we’ll tackle that one after we solve the itty-bitty Mephistopheles problem, Dad.”
    Mom chuckled and looked at Dad. “That’s our cue to leave, hon. We’ll be around to help if you need us, Kitty.”
    Dad sighed. “I liked this better when I thought it was just about Homeland Security.”
    I kissed Mom on her cheek, then gave Dad a hug and a peck. They nodded to everyone else and left the room. Whether this meant they were going to shadow me or actually leave me alone I had no guess.
    “Now what?” White asked.

CHAPTER 29
    “NOW, EVERYONE I DIDN’T NAME clears the hell out. You can take the book with you,” I said to Beverly. “But I’d really suggest you ask my father to help you get the translations corrected. You might find something that’ll help keep the rest of us alive.”
    Beverly pressed her lips together, snatched up the book, and then she and the rest of the Dazzlers on Book Duty stalked out of the room.
    “No one talks to her like that,” Lorraine said. She sounded impressed.
    “I teach courses in how to win friends and influence people.”
    Reader laughed out loud. No one else cracked a smile, though I got the impression Martini wanted to.
    “Miss Katt, I’d like to remind you that you’re not in charge here.” White was giving it a go. I was impressed. I’d just talked down my own parents over this issue, but he was going to try to pull rank. Fine.
    “No, I’m not. But then, you’re not, either. You’re the front, the decoy.”
    Wow. I made alien jaws drop. It was turning out to be a cheerful morning.
    “What do you mean?” Christopher asked, eyes narrowed into what I was coming to think of as Glare #3.
    I snorted. I couldn’t help it. “Please. The two people arguing about procedure and who’s in charge of what are you and Martini. Your father never tells either one of you what to do, and he also almost never tells you two to shut up and play nicely, just like he almost never pulls rank. When he does, it’s in front of someone who’s not a part of the inner circle.”
    “He doesn’t pull rank because he doesn’t have to,” Gower said. “We give him the respect he deserves without his demanding it.”
    “I’m sure you do. The head of any religious organization always gets a lot of respect.”
    Uncomfortable looks. It was great working with all these people who couldn’t lie to save their lives. I’d spent the few years of my so-called career in marketing, a profession where everyone learns to lie to the entire world within their first week on the job. If Mephistopheles actually succeeded in his plan, I wouldn’t have to kill them all—I could lie to them and make them do my bidding that way. A chilling thought, for a variety of reasons.
    Reader was pointedly not looking at me. I figured he didn’t want to get into a fight with Gower about him sharing trade secrets. Not that he had, but him confirming my suspicions would probably cause a domestic dispute.
    “We don’t have a lot of time, so I’ll just say this and get it over with. You have two distinct agent divisions—field operations and image control. And as I’ve heard them tell each other more than once, Martini’s in charge of the field and Christopher’s in charge of image control. The two divisions have to work together, clearly, but they don’t always agree about procedure. I realize there are distinct differences between A-Cs and Earthlings, but I’ve seen your bureaucracy in action, and it’s just like ours. Layers—lots and lots of layers.
    “Yet, who was at the scene when my personal flying nightmare showed up? Martini and Christopher. The heads