“So you aligned with the good guys as an active choice. Because you could have chosen either side when you came here, couldn’t you? Or no side at all and just wandered off like you say you will should we annihilate ourselves.”
This I didn’t buy. Algar was attached to the A-Cs, more than he seemed willing to admit. Or maybe he told himself he wasn’t attached so that when he did nothing it didn’t bother him as much.
“Yes. Alfred is still unaware that I exist and I could have chosen to not let Richard know.”
“You said I couldn’t comprehend your crimes. But I can.”
Algar shook his head. “I’ve explained this in simplistic terms, as if, for my people, you were a little child. There’s always more going on than you see or are aware of, including the true nature, effect, and ramifications of choices. Layers and twists upon layers and twists. That’s how the universe works. Even when you win, somehow, you can still lose. You know that from experience.”
“True enough. So why tell me all this? Will I forget it the moment I’m away from you?”
“No, but your thoughts about me will be shielded. As for why?” He shrugged. “As I said, you’re my favorite.”
“Why?”
He smiled slowly. “You always say please and thank you. You’ve never taken what I do for granted. And I find your offers of gifts of milk or money in shoes to be somewhat . . . endearing.”
“So I not only actually called it, in that you’re more like the A-C Elves than a confusing scientific answer, but you also like me because I’m polite? Wow. Mom and Dad would be so proud. If I could tell them about this. And Christopher. I’d love to tell Christopher about this. I might even be able to do it without a lot of gloating.”
“Which you can’t. I’d say sorry but I’m not. You won’t be able to talk about me, not even with Richard or Paul, unless you’re with me and I allow it, such as I have now.”
“Or Gladys,” I added. “She knows about you, even if she can’t tell Al Dejahl about you. Which is good. But I can talk to her about you once she’s okay. I mean, we brought her back from under Ronaldo’s mind control before. We can do it again. You could do it, if you wanted to.”
Algar snapped his fingers. White and Gower were breathing again. Or we were back from whatever time hold Algar had put the two of us into. I wasn’t sure and doubted he’d give me a straight answer if I asked.
“Well, about Gladys. There’s more than a little problem with Gladys.”
“What problem is that?” Gower asked.
Algar shook his head. “You’ll get to find out.”
“But you’re not going to tell us?” Figured he wasn’t, but also figured I should ask.
“No.”
“You are just like the Q.” I’d never liked the Q, because they were pompous, capricious, all-powerful jerks. Algar had the potential to make the Q look good. And he knew it, too, and clearly wanted me not exactly liking him. Why was the question.
“In a way, I suppose. But your situation is much less like Star Trek and much more like The Mummy.” With that he snapped his fingers and the four of us weren’t in the water tank area anymore.
CHAPTER 34
WE WERE STANDING IN A ROOM that had the faint odor of sulfur and sewage along with small tanks and equipment that said “Reclamation” and “Reclaimed Water: Do Not Drink” all over them.
We were all also completely dry. The baseball mitt was on my left hand, my purse was over my neck. Opened my purse. Everything in there was dry, too.
Pulled out my iPod and earbuds. Put them in and pushed play. “MF of the Year” came on. It’d been playing when we were in the plane and the iPod wasn’t on repeat. So Algar had a sense of humor. And, I guess, wanted me to know I hadn’t been dreaming or hallucinating.
Left the earbuds in and the music playing low enough that I could still hear everyone and clipped my iPod to my belt. Needed the reassurance of tunes right now for some strange reason.
“I’m glad we finally got that hatch opened,” Adriana said. “But I’m gladder your imagination was just overactive, Kitty.”
“Ah . . . right you are.” I wanted to ask Gower and White what the hell had just happened but I couldn’t. I also wanted to ask what had happened to the water tanks, and why there were water tanks in the Science Center in the first place. Wished I’d asked Algar when I’d had the chance. Maybe next time. If there was a next time.
“I’m just relieved none of our enemies were here in the reclamation system,” White said, as if everything was totally normal. Figured I’d better follow his lead. He’d been living with the knowledge of Algar’s existence for a long time, after all.
Took the mitt off and tucked it under my arm, then dug my Glock out of my purse and made sure a full clip was in. “I’m ready to move on, then, Mister White. I think we need to find Gladys.”
“We need to ensure that the Science Center is clear,” Gower countered. “If you’re right, everyone’s here somewhere, Gladys included.”
“Yes. Back to the excitement of being under siege, Missus Martini.”
They were right. More to the point, they were trying to tell me to forget about Algar. I didn’t call on the Elves for help with anything other than food, clothes, and cleaning, and that was how it had to be. My clothes and belongings were all nice and dry. Looked down. My hands were clean, and so were my pants. Decided not to point this out.
Gower did a hyperspeed check of the reclamation area—it was clean, so to speak. Other than the hatch, which White closed, there was only one door in or out of the room. Managed not to mention that the hatch had been closed already. This spatio-temporal-black-hole stuff really messed with your head.
Had to get my head back in the game. The music changed and “Saints of Los Angeles” came on. Let the music rev me up. A few bars was all it took. Headed for the door.
I didn’t open it right away, but listened at it first. Didn’t hear anything. Opened it slowly, ready to slam it shut or open, depending, but the hallway it opened to was empty.
Realized we weren’t on the lowest level, where the room I’d dubbed Martini’s Human Lair was, where we’d lived for my first year or so with Centaurion Division. We were on the second level, the one right under ground level.
All A-C bases went down. The Science Center went down fifteen floors. Main Operations, or what I called the Bat Cave Level, were on the third floor. The ground level had the main launch area, motor pool, main gate area, and other logistical sections.
The second floor where we were had human medical. Other than when I’d had to bash in Beverly’s head with a baseball bat to prevent her from killing or sterilizing Jeff, I hadn’t spent a lot of time on this level. Possibly because it was also where a lot of standard maintenance happened, so it made sense that the reclamation equipment was here.
What didn’t make sense, any more, was how the left fork of the pipe could take us to the second floor, but the right took us to the fifteenth, and yet never went down. And none of us had noticed or mentioned it—not Jeff and Christopher when they were little; not me, Christopher and the flyboys when we crawled through the first time; not Gladys and Security; and not even my mother when she was told about how the pipe that emptied onto the equivalent of just under ground level led to the hallway just outside of where I was sleeping fourteen floors below.
Clearly Algar was in control of that pipe in some way. Maybe the pipe was still here because it was the spatio-temporal-black-hole, or its machinery.
Chose to absolutely not mention this aloud. Not because I wasn’t sure if I even could or not, but because I had to figure that Algar had put us here for a reason. He might want to say he was just a helpful observer and wasn’t involved, but he was indeed involved. Perhaps only like an observer at a baseball game, but he was involved. And he obviously had a favorite team.