"Yeah, Lillian Culver said the same thing earlier."

"She thinks quite highly of you."

"Oh, fantastic. She's one of the Dealers of Death, you know."

"I do. However, we need her and she needs us. And of course Monsieur Gadoire."

"Two out of three ain't bad, right?"

White stopped walking and looked at me. "There's another Dealer, correct?"

"Alcohol, since Lillian covers weapons and Gadoire tobacco. Probably others. I don't pay a lot of attention."

"I'm shocked to my core."

"Sarcasm is still such an ugly trait in a Retired Pontifex."

"And my shame still knows no bounds. Who is the person in charge of the Alcohol lobby?"

"No idea, I'm sure Lillian or Vance know. Why?"

"Why hasn't that person tried to curry favor with us?"

"Because we don't drink?"

"We don't smoke, as a rule, either. And yet, Monsieur Gadoire wants us on his side."

"The Cabal of Evil didn't include an Alcohol person, that's true. But why does it matter? Or, more importantly, why does it matter right now?"

White sighed. "Gideon Cleary's family own one of the top distilleries in the world. Per Mister Joel Oliver."

"Other than pointing out how at odds with him we are and how well funded his campaign will be, I'm still not seeing your point."

"We've been on this planet for decades. The assumption, which no one has said anything to alleviate, is that those who approached you and Jeffrey when you became the ambassadors were those who already had relationships with the former Diplomatic Corps. And yet whoever lobbies for the quite large, powerful, and wealthy alcohol collective has never approached either one of you. I find that odd."

"I find myself again thinking you should be our Head Diplomat. I also find myself thinking that we've wandered this entire lovely park and haven't found our target. I realize you're passing the time by trying to make me think of whatever you think the bigger picture is, but honestly all I see is a lot of crap flying at us from all directions, and all I really want to do is hunker down and avoid getting hit."

"Could that be the plan?" White asked.

"It does seem like everyone wants us herded to Dulce, yeah. But why is the big question. We don't seem infiltrated, or if we are, everyone over there is acting completely naturally and doing their jobs just like always."

"I don't believe we'll be infiltrated as easily, or at least in the same way, again," White said quietly. "Gladys killed Ronaldo and sacrificed herself for a reason."

Prince pricked up his ears and listened intently before I could reply. It wasn't exactly silent around here, so I wasn't sure what he was picking up, but he was clearly hearing something. Something that, as he shared while he trotted toward the street, we needed to investigate immediately. He waited for us and we crossed the street together, going into the main Gardens.

"Think she went in here or was taken here?" I asked White as we trotted along behind Prince, who remained quite intent.

"I think it's the most secluded and likely to be unpopulated area around here, at the moment."

"Normally I'd disagree with you, because this is prime wandering the gardens time if you're a tourist. But what with all the bombs going off, I'd bet most tourists and everyone else are trying to stay inside. It's sure less crowded around here than I'd have figured, especially since there was a protest nearby not all that long ago."

White and I looked at each other. "That would seem to be the case, wouldn't it?" he mused. "And as you frequently point out, our enemies like to have their attacks do double duty, at minimum, if at all possible."

We were pulled away from this line of reasoning by Prince's low growl. The Gardens had a pretty, sunken water fountain at the far side from where we'd started, and we were now close to it. You took a short flight of steps down from the main Garden area and there it was, looking sort of geometric and sort of Alice in Wonderland, at least to me. It was very shallow-so shallow that a parent wouldn't worry about letting their toddler play here, not that this was a play area.

There were a few tables with umbrellas and chairs scattered about. But what Prince was growling at wasn't the tables-it was the fountain. Or, more correctly, what was in the fountain.

A woman was facedown in the water. And while the water wasn't all that deep, it was deep enough for someone to drown in if they were unconscious.

White and I didn't hesitate, we both ran to her at hyperspeed. He picked her up and got her out of the fountain. He had her down on the ground and was doing CPR on her within a second.

To prevent myself from cursing the fact that I hadn't insisted Tito come with us, I looked around. There was no blood that I could see, either in the water or around the fountain. Did a fast check for lurkers nearby-none.

Prince did his own check and I went with him. He went to the edge of the street and stopped. The assailants had taken off, probably in a car. "Good try, boy. We'll find them later. I'm pretty damn sure they work for her son's campaign."

We trotted back to White. Our victim was sitting up. She looked soaked in front and banged up, but miraculously she both wasn't bleeding and was breathing. The tightness in my chest relaxed. "Squeaky?"

She nodded. "I said I was going to meet a friend in here. Those thugs insisted on coming with me. I went to look at the water and someone hit me on the back of my head and shoved me down. I . . . I don't know how you found me."

Patted Prince's head. "We have the best police dog in the world on our team. Squeaky, meet Prince, the Dog Who Always Saves the Day."

Prince gave me a lick to show his appreciation for his Special Title, then trotted over to Mrs. Maurer and gave her a good sniffing. He then snorted, growled, and wuffed.

"Yeah, got it. Richard, Prince says the scent he was following is on Squeaky here, too. He'll recognize it if he smells it again. Apparently her assailant is dedicated to the entire line of Axe Apollo products and has a particularly icky sweat signature to go along with his less than stellar taste in personal fragrances."

"I'm overjoyed to not have a canine's sense of smell," White said. "How did he recognize the specific personal body care product, though?"

"Officer Melville is very thorough. Prince can identify every manufactured scent on the market today. Along with every illegal substance. He's The Super Sniffer." As he'd proved during Operation Sherlock. I had full faith that if Mrs. Maurer's assailant was in range, Prince would find him.

"Impressive. We need to get Missus Maurer to Doctor Hernandez."

"I feel fine, now that I'm conscious and can breathe. I'd like to get into some dry clothing, though."

"Not sure we want to take you home. I'd normally suggest that we just take you back to our Embassy and have our people outfit you, but that's not an option right now."

"I think I'll go wherever you suggest, Ambassador. And Mister White." She gave White a fluttering smile while he gallantly helped her up and gave her a manly, comforting smile in return. He was dating Nurse Carter, but White was absolutely a ladies' man of the highest, smoothest order. Realized that he'd probably inherited that trait from his father and filed it away for later consideration.

As White stood Mrs. Maurer up, the sky darkened. Not a lot, but as if there were cloud cover. In Arizona, where I'd grown up, or New Mexico, where I'd lived once I'd met Jeff and the rest of the gang, cloud cover in July and August indicated a potential monsoon. We hadn't lived in D.C. long enough for my natural weather instincts to alter. I looked up, to see whether we had heat, a passing overcast, or storm clouds overhead.

Only, there were no clouds in the sky at all.

There was what looked like a sort of film, like a tint you'd put on your windows to limit the amount of sunlight coming through. The film went as far as I could see.

My gut, always on duty in danger situations, mentioned that this didn't look natural. Or good.

"Ah, Richard?" Pointed up.

"What? Oh. Oh dear."

"What is that?" Mrs. Maurer asked. "It doesn't look . . . right."

"To me, either, Squeaky. And I just want to be on record that I have a very bad feeling about this."

CHAPTER 22.

OF COURSE, I was correct. I'd have been proud of my ability to never be wrong about horrible crap happening, but I'd have given a lot to be able to say I was merely a Nervous Nellie.

The film or whatever it was got closer, as if it was contracting, and doing so at a very fast rate of speed. I was pretty damned sure that it was contracting.

In less than a minute, I felt rather than saw something go through me. Saw it go through everything else. Which was nice, since I hadn't had anything freaky happen to me for at least thirty seconds and I was feeling the withdrawal symptoms.

The film going through me felt like I'd heard people describe a ghost walking through them-like something cool and clammy had passed through my body. I was good with never feeling this again.

"What just happened?" Mrs. Maurer asked weakly. "That was rather . . . awful."

"ACE is not . . . alone in the universe, is he?" White asked, voice carefully guarded.

"No. Oh, wow, you think?" There were other superconsciousnesses out there. Some had been put in place in the same way ACE had been-by Alpha Four or another planet with some really bossy, controlling beings in charge who wanted to keep other beings firmly on their own planets. Some were different in their reasons for being. But those other superconsciousnesses were the ones who had held ACE captive, for want of a better word, before Naomi had somehow freed him.

I had no idea what ACE's release status was-we didn't talk about it, the few times we'd talked over the past year. But if it worked even remotely like our prisoner releases did, then ACE would have some kind of superconsciousness parole officer.

My hopes that said officer had come by, taken a look, and left were quickly dashed. The fountain started bubbling oddly. We all watched as the water coalesced and formed into the figure of a humanoid. Since it was literally made of water, it was hard to guess if it was supposed to be male or female, but a lack of curves indicated male.

The Water Man turned toward us. "We wish to speak to the leader." Its voice was bubbly with a weird echo, like a lot of water going down a drain quickly. It wasn't the worst sound in the world, probably no worse than Mrs. Maurer's voice. But I wasn't a fan.

"Awesome. I can call my mom and see if she can arrange a meet and greet, but before we take you to visit the most powerful man in our country, who the hell are you, why the hell are you here, and what do you expect to gain from coming here in this way?"

The Water Man stared at me. At least, I thought he was staring. He was literally made of water, features and all, so it was hard to be sure. It was easy to see through him-it was like looking at a person-sized aquarium with really clean glass-but not to see "him," so to speak. Wondered if I put my hand into him if it would go through easily, come out wet, or something else. Was so glad my mind had added these thoughts into an already overcrowded mix.

"The leader is here."

"Yes, yes, the President's in D.C. But, impressive water show or not, he's not hanging about waiting for weirdoes from outer space to drop by to shoot the crap or make bizarre demands. He's actually, you know, running the country."

"We are here to speak to the leader."

"Yes, leader, got it. Why you chose to do your big manifestation right here, in front of the four of us only, is beyond me, but whatever makes you happy. Or watery. Or whatever."

Water Man turned to White. "We came directly to the leader."

"Richard, do they think you're still the Supreme Pontifex?"

"I don't know that they'd know me," White said slowly. "If that were the case, my thought would be that they would want to see Paul, versus the President, but I could be wrong."

Mrs. Maurer spoke before I could reply. "Excuse me, but do you feel that the leader is one of us who are right here with you?"

"Yes." Water Man sounded relieved.

"I see." She cleared her throat and pointed to Prince. "Is this who you think the leader is?"

"No." Water Man now sounded like he now thought we were all idiots.

"Good," Mrs. Maurer said. "I just wanted to be sure." She put her hand on my lower back and nudged me forward. "Our leader is very modest."

"Huh?"

Water Man stepped toward me. "You are identified as the leader."

"By whom? And is that person in their right mind? Or do you now just think that I'm the leader because Squeaky here pushed me forward?" Maybe this thing expected us to pick a leader and I'd just been volunteered. Stranger things had happened-like my entire career with Centaurion Division.

Water Man stared at me. I was starting to be able to see facial features. Meaning I was pretty sure its eyes were narrowed. "Willful stupidity will not help your case."

"It's never hurt it before."

"You will not speak to us in this way. We will speak to the leader."

"Excuse the hell out of me? I don't know who or what you and the rest of your collective are, or where the hell you came from, but you're not exactly being clear with what you want, and who you want to speak to, not to mention why you're here."

Water Man raised his hand up. Had a feeling it was to slam said hand right down on my head. Had to figure this wouldn't be good. Decided not to find out. Slammed through the Water Man. Felt like a lot of water-like all the water in the fountain, and then some, was all concentrated into this one figure. Again, I wasn't a fan. On the plus side, I wasn't wet when I got out the other side. Damp, but not wet.

The Water Man reformed and came at me. "Violence is not the answer."

So saying, it swung at and hit me. Felt as bad as I'd expected it to, but I shoved through the fist and it wasn't quite like a giant wave crashing on me. Close, but more like having a Gatorade bucket dumped over me as opposed to a tsunami. Had the feeling the Water Man hadn't been trying all that hard.

"So why are you using it, then?" Spun around and got into a crouch. Fighting in the Armani Fatigues wasn't all that easy, but I'd worry about that later. Right now, I had a water thing to try to take down.

The Water Man imitated my stance. We lunged at each other. Again, going through him felt odd but I wasn't hurt or wet, just a bit damper than before.

We both landed, spun, and did this a couple more times. I was about to ask if this was some bizarre meet and greet or mating ritual from the Water Man's part of the cosmos, but before I could, and before either Water Man or I did anything else, Jamie was there, standing in between us, her hands palms out toward my assailant.

"Get away from my mommy, you mean thing!"

CHAPTER 23.

THE WATER MAN EXPLODED, as if he'd been a water balloon.

Picked Jamie up and gave her a big hug. Didn't ask how she'd gotten here-she'd proven at four months that she was able to time warp herself anywhere.