Read Online Alien Diplomacy by Gini Koch - Free Book Online Page B

than we’d used to get here.
    “Stay on the phone with me.”
    “I kind of have my hands full.” I tried to send an emotional signal that I didn’t want to have to share more with Oliver than I had to. I wasn’t sure if I was doing it right—exploding cars tended to shake me up for some reason.
    Jeff sighed. “Got it. I understand, you don’t want to give away more than we already have to the so-called journalist.”
    “You mean the guy who’s clearly right?”
    “Yes, yes, Reynolds seems to think he’s worth listening to.”
    “He’s the reason we’re alive.”
    “Fine, fine. I hate this,” he muttered.
    “I know. Me too.” It wasn’t the danger. It was the fact that we weren’t able to do what we both wanted. In the good old days of three months ago, Jeff would already be here, our people would be cleaning up the scene, and we’d be off kicking butt and taking names. Now? Now we had to play pretend because there were a lot of people hiding in the shadows in D.C., literally and figuratively, and Jeff and I were no longer shadowy figures working in the background—we were the faces of American Centaurion.
    “I love you, baby. Be careful.”
    “I love you, too, and we will be.” We hung up, and I took a deep breath. “Do you boys know where a bus stop is?”
    “Really? We’re taking the bus?” Kyle sounded shocked.
    “I have no better plan for how we’re going to get back to the Embassy.”
    “Taxi?” Len suggested.
    Oliver and I exchanged another look. “Do you want to do the honors or shall I?” he asked politely.
    “I’ll cover it. Dudes, you know all those conspiracy theories Chuckie undoubtedly drilled you on?” The boys nodded. “He’s never wrong. So whatever he told you about exists, and therefore all the techniques to avoid capture he likely taught you need to be something you’re taking very seriously. Also, someone’s just tried to kill us. They either used a timer or they were watching us and decided we were clued in, hit the super-duper send button, and gave us a big, noisy message. In case the latter option is what’s going on, the next assumption you make is that any taxi stopping for you is driven by one of the bad guys.”
    “Like in the movies?” Len asked skeptically.
    “Just like. In all my time with American Centaurion, though, I’ve never, ever seen anyone take a bus. Ipso facto, we take a bus, we’re reasonably safe.”
    The boys didn’t look convinced, but they didn’t argue, either. Len pulled up the bus routes on his cell phone and we walked on.
    “We’re a few blocks away from a bus stop,” Len said uncertainly. “But I don’t think it’s a route that’ll take us back to the Embassy.”
    He showed his phone to me. “Dude, I’m clueless here, still. The streets confuse the hell out of me.” They did. Pueblo Caliente, Arizona, where I’d been born and raised, was set up on a nice grid system. It made the streets less “interesting,” but it was hard to get lost there.
    D.C., on the other hand, seemed to live for winding streets that turned into circular turns and ended up dead-ending when you’d swear they should take you somewhere. I could no more look at the bus routes Len was showing me and know which line we needed than I could design a rocket ship. I’d probably have better luck with the rocket.
    Oliver took a look. “He’s correct. Though we can do several transfers.”
    I considered this. Taking the bus and going somewhere made sense. Taking the bus and then transferring several times didn’t seem like a way to stay under the radar. “Where would the bus we’re close to take us?”
    “One of the nicer shopping districts,” Oliver replied. He looked at Len’s phone again. “I believe the next bus will be arriving right about the time we’ll reach the stop.”
    “Super.” I pulled my phone out and dialed. “Hi, Jeff, where are you?”
    “Still in the car, heading back to the Embassy. Where are you?”
    “Heading to a