human hosts, they might as well have mailed engraved invitations straight to the Office of Homeland Security.
But if the Feds wanted the freaks, then why would they take Lonnie and Ava instead of leaving them to New York 's Finest? Rath watched as some of the Feds carried small satchels into the warehouse. Within minutes, a pair of agents emerged into the parking lot, carrying what appeared to be body bags… very small ones, which could only have contained the dusty remains of some of the freaks' human hosts.
They've gotta be wondering not just who the freaks are, but also who they were shooting at… and who killed them.
His face still concealed beneath his riot helmet and gas mask, Rath spared a glance at the riot cops who were milling about nearby. Now clear of the clouds of tear gas that still permeated the interior of the warehouse, they had begun removing their gas masks and helmets.
Uh-oh, Rath thought. Pretty soon they're gonna start wondering why I'm so overdressed for this party.
He recalled the time a few years earlier when he and Lonnie had sneaked into a baseball game at Yankee Stadium. They hadn't used any of their alien powers to get past the turnstiles that day. Instead, they had simply walked in, carrying clipboards and wearing the workman's overalls they'd created by rearranging the molecules of their own clothing. 'The key to getting into places you're not supposed to be,' Lonnie had told him then, 'is to just act like you belong. “
Unable to think of anything else to do, Rath walked purposefully toward the Humvee just as one of the MiBs placed a hand on Lonnie's shoulder. A riot-suited cop, apparently a high-ranking one, stood with a hand on Ava's shoulder. A gray-haired, obviously high-ranking military officer also stood by, glaring at the policeman.
The MiB and the top riot cop appeared to be arguing pretty heatedly about something, but their words were lost in the noisy propwash of the helicopter, whose engine was still idling nearby, as if its pilot expected to receive evacuation orders at any moment.
Rath knew he had to risk walking right into the center of things if he was going to have a prayer of learning what was going on… and if there was to be any chance of keeping Lonnie and Ava out of the hands of the Feds.
'… not a very smart move, Sergeant Orman,' the MiB was saying.
'I'm not the one making the moves,' the cop said, an edge of anger in his voice. He tightened his grip on the wincing Ava's shoulder. 'These two don't look like threats to national security to me. They were probably just squatters who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. And I intend to take them downtown to sort all that out. “
'That's not gonna happen, sir,' the MiB said. He appeared to be listening to another simultaneous conversation over his earpiece, which trailed a coil of wire down into his stiff white collar. Rath realized he was now close enough to grab that wire and strangle him with it. Somehow, he resisted the temptation.
Orman fumed. 'Listen, you Feds can't just horn in on a police bust without at least offering some kind of explanation. “
The military officer, whom Rath guessed was a major or a colonel, spoke up then. 'Oh, I'm afraid we can, Sergeant. You have to defer to the chain of command, just as we do. “
Orman's eyes widened as though the military guy had just sprouted a second head. 'I do defer to the chain of command, Colonel. It's called the NYPD. “
'That's pony-league stuff, Sergeant,' said the colonel, his eyes flinty, dangerous. 'I, on the other hand, answer directly to the Joint Chiefs and the president. “
'President of what?' Orman said, not backing down a bit. Rath couldn't help but admire the man's courage.
'Watch yourself, Orman. “
Orman was apparently just warming up. 'Don't try to threaten me, Colonel. I patrol neighborhoods that make Mogadishu look like Disney World. Now, my guys and I saw some pretty weird stuff go down in that warehouse, and so did these two kids. People don't just… crumble away into ash like that. What's really going on here? Terrorist attack? Bioweapon? Alien invasion? “
'Take your pick, Sergeant,' the MiB said, chuckling. 'You're welcome to wonder about it to your heart's content. After we leave with these detainees. “
'But if you continue obstructing us,' the colonel added, 'we can easily make room for you in that vehicle as well. How would you like to be the subject of a secret military tribunal, Sergeant? I hear Guantanamo Bay is lovely this time of year. “
Another pair of MiBs appeared and began hustling Lon-nie and Ava into the open rear door of the Humvee. Orman withdrew, taking a step backward with obvious reluctance. But he obviously knew when he was beaten. The Feds were part of a huge machine that could pretty much roll over and flatten anything or anyone that got in its way.
Rath felt helpless. It had become obvious to him that there was nothing he could do to save the girls. / have gotta get out of here, with or without them. Even if that officially makes me the Royal One.
'Hey!' someone behind him shouted.
Rath sighed beneath the gas mask. Here it comes. Squaring his shoulders in an effort to look confident, he turned toward the voice.
'You can lose the gear now, buddy,' said one of the helmetless riot cops, a balding, dark-skinned man with a prominent gold tooth. He was sweating in the hot, black body armor, which gleamed in the sunshine. Rath suddenly realized that perspiration was pooling at the small of his own back, making him shiver.
'In case you missed it, the war's over in there,' the cop said, hiking a thumb toward the dilapidated warehouse.
No, 'buddy'! think the real war's just about to get going.
The other cop's smile froze in place, his entire demeanor subtly shifting from collegiality to suspicion. Feeling suddenly scrutinized, Rath wondered just how much weirdness the other man had seen inside the building… and what thoughts those sights had put into his head.
The cop let one of his hands drift toward a sidearm holster attached to the bulky Sam Browne belt he wore. Rath felt as though he'd just been caught cheating at cards.
'Why don't you take off your mask and helmet now, pal,' he said. It was obviously not a request.
Rath considered blasting him and running, but he knew he wouldn't get far with so many armed goons and MiBs around. And even if he did manage to get away, then what would become of Lonnie and Ava? Now the MiBs only suspected them of having committed the heinous offense of Breathing While Alien. If the cops, the MiBs, or the army were to capture or kill him in the act of trying to pull off a rescue, then the girls would be way past mere suspicion.
'How about it, man?' the cop said, his voice raised. He kept his hand just outside his open holster, like a gunslinger from an old grade-B Western. Several other bare-faced riot cops had drifted toward the mounting confrontation, all of them eyeing Rath curiously.
Rath noticed that Sergeant Orman was among them.
Damn, he thought, listening to a door slam shut on the Humvee. The helicopter noise was intensifying; some of the military people and MiBs were apparently getting ready to depart, no doubt intending to watch from the air while the Humvee took their new prisoners off to be interrogated and dissected.
Orman approached Rath, scowling. 'Let me see your face,' the sergeant ordered, shouting to be heard over the helicopters rising din.
Rath summoned his mental picture of the officer whose gear he was wearing. Gathering every erg of power he thought he could spare without passing out, he concentrated on morphing his face and hair to match his mental image of the cop he'd left unconscious inside the warehouse.
