Turnabout

«The secondary team I assume that's the group Shelby and I will be with, the ones in charge of keeping our media contacts ready to mobilize their armies.» «And the ones in charge of, um, 'outing' the Special Unit to the public,' Shelby added. «Our media blitzkrieg, so to speak,' Michael said. Now he wasn't smiling. «That's right,' Max said. Like Michael, he still wasn't happy with the flip side of the media assault on the Special Unit which amounted to alerting the entire world to the fact that he, Isabel, and Michael were aliens. «I want you to be part of our media team as well,' Max added, addressing Kyle. Kyle looked both relieved and disappointed. «You sure you want to keep me on the bench, Max? I mean, everybody knows I'm not very keen on ultraviolence. But I was one of West Roswell High's most athletic specimens and I'm no coward, Buddhism notwithstanding. You might need me up at the line of scrimmage. Especially if we have to…» He trailed off, looking sheepish. «Especially if the Special Unit forces us to fire off our little ad hoc secret weapon,' Langley finished for him, referring to a last-ditch tactic the group had bandied about a little earlier. Max gave Kyle an appreciative smile. It was hard now to believe that he'd once thought of Kyle as an overbearing, egotistical lout in a letterman's jacket. «This isn't a football game, Kyle. And it has nothing to do with either Buddhism or courage.» Max looked his former rival straight in the eye. «I'm going to need your psychic party line running from a safe, remote location. That way you can keep everyone on our primary team in touch with one another but from here. And Jesse's team might need you to make direct mental contact with any of the media people who aren't answering their phones.» Isabel shook her head. «I'm not sure that'll work, Max.» Max frowned, realizing that another moment he'd been dreading was fast approaching. «What do you mean, Iz?» «So far, Kyle's third-party telepathy only seems to work when I'm physically with him.» «Exactly,' Max said. «Now wait just a damn minute, dear brother,' Isabel said, her eyes flaring. «Where do you get off telling me I have to stay behind?» He grinned. «I'm the king, remember?» She clearly wasn't amused. «I don't remember voting for you.» Michael leaned toward Langley, stage-whispering. «I want a sample of your DNA, if it's not too much trouble.» Langley looked at him through narrowed eyes. «What for?» «To see if we can inject copies of your blind-obedience genes into Iz and Maria.» «I heard that!» Isabel and Maria roared in furious unison. At the moment, Max was beginning to think that Michael's joking notion might have some real merit. «Isabel, we can't risk letting the Special Unit capture you. Or have you forgotten Liz's vision?» Isabel lifted her hands in exasperation. «Have you forgotten that Liz saw Lonnie's horoscope, not mine?» «Just because the Special Unit killed Lonnie doesn't mean they can't still do the same thing to you,' Liz pointed out, her dark eyes grave. Surprisingly, Maria now seemed to have been won over. «If.Isabel is grounded, too, then 1 guess 1 have to withdraw my 'alien chauvinism' objection.» «'Alien chauvinism,' my eye. It's more like a case of brotherly paranoia,' Isabel said, now looking as petulant as Maria had looked just a little earlier. «It's not paranoia when somebody really is trying to get you,' Michael pointed out. He turned and faced Max, an eager look on his face. «So let's go over the battle plan for our A-Team, Maxwell.» «We go to the mattresses, Michael,' Max said, quoting from The Codjather, which was a mutual favorite. «I have to give you high marks for enthusiasm, Max,' Jim Valenti said. «But a sound-bite from the Corleone brothers leaves little to be desired in terms of tactics and strategy. We're planning an armed rescue with media blackmail on top of it. And there's a very real chance we'll have to do some killing, or be killed ourselves.» Looking at Valenti, Max nodded slowly. He had already considered the possibility of having to kill or be killed. In fact, he had agonized over it ever since the group had first discussed it. But in the end, the need to rescue his and Liz's parents had won out. With Kyle's ability to link and amplify Isabel's and Langley's powers, we might even be able to kill or cripple a whole lot of Special Unit agents all at once, he thought, hoping the need to unleash the «secret weapon» wouldn't arise. With a sense of resignation, Max decided he would leave that up to the Special Unit. The MiBs didn't have to choose a fight to the death, after all; Max was ready to offer them a better alternative, one that everyone could live with. It was up to them. Michael shrugged at Valenti, then met Max's gaze squarely. «We go to the mattresses. Works for me.» Max's spirits rose as he saw that Michael was ready to follow him wherever he was going. Michael seemed to be saying that he would do whatever he had to do to rescue the Evanses and the Parkers. And to make certain that the Special Unit could never threaten anyone else ever again. «So are we going to just march right up to the Special Unit's front door?» Duff asked, scowling. «As a matter of fact… yes,' Max said. He only hoped that he and his friends had the power and the luck to pull off this crazy plan. 15. City of Industry, California After everything Margolin had seen over the past week up to and including the bizarre alien blood and the apparently normal human organs of the alien girl the medics had taken apart a short time ago he thought he'd lost the capacity to be surprised. But that was before Max Evans turned up on the very doorstep of the Special Unit's West Coast compound, apparently alone and unarmed. Why hasn't he put up any resistance? Margolin thought as he watched Bartolli assist a pair of black-suited agents in frog-marching the wiry teenager into Margolin's small office. All three of Evans's escorts still had their tinfoil caps tightly in place across their skulls. «Max Evans,' Margolin said. «Your… visit is certainly a surprise.» Max's dark eyes seemed to hold equal parts anger and fear. And there's something else there too, Margolin thought, without being able to put his finger on exactly what it was. Resolve? The teen shrugged Bartolli's restraining hand off his shoulder, prompting the other two agents to raise their lethal-looking pistols menacingly. «I'd advise you not to do anything you might regret later, Mr. Evans,' Margolin said, keeping his voice icy. «Assuming 'later' is an applicable word, in your case.» «Don't worry,' said Evans. «Trust me, if I wanted to, I could kill you before your goons could do anything about it.» Margolin nodded. «No doubt. But you'd follow me into eternity only a fraction of a second later, believe me. And where would that leave your poor parents? And Miss Parker's?» Max's eyes flashed, as though he was holding himself back only by the most strenuous expenditure of effort. «Gotta give the kid credit for having guts,' said Bartolli. «Trying to mount a daring rescue mission. And all on his own, to boot.» Margolin walked toward the Evans boy, stopping only a few inches away from him. «Is that your plan? Or have you come to surrender?» Evans smiled at that. Another surprise. «Neither. I've come to make you an offer. One that you can't afford to refuse.» I'm really into it up to my neck now, Jim Valenti thought, clenching the rifle in his black-gloved hand as he stood in the dark alley beside the building that the alien compass device had revealed as their target. The coffee was wearing off and fatigue was beginning to catch up to him. At the moment there was nothing he wanted more than a long nap. Keep your mind on the job, Valenti thought, forcing himself with sheer willpower to remain focused and alert. People are depending on you. Duff, Liz Evans, and a jittery-looking Langley were beside him. Valenti worried that the alien entertainment mogul might panic and run off, now that he was outside of Max's immediate reach. But evidently the genetically enforced commands Max had given him were preventing that. So jar, Valenti thought. A lot of things can still go very wrong with this operation very quickly. «Are they in?» Duff whispered to Langley, her black mask giving her voice a muffled, throaty quality. Thanks to the mask, Valenti doubted any of the MiBs inside the compound would recognize her, even if some of them had worked closely with her on previous FBI assignments outside of the Special Unit. Langley closed his eyes and appeared to concentrate intently. «I've got Kyle on the psychic hot line. He says the mindmelds he established with Max and Michael before we left are still holding up.» «'Mindmelds'?» Duff said. «I think you've been working in TV a little too long, Langley.» Langley scowled. «You want to hear Kyle's play-by-play or not?» «Please. Carry on.» «Michael has just reached the air duct you scoped out when you hacked their computer. The Feds haven't traced what you did and stormed my house yet, you'll be happy to know.» «I'm thrilled,' Duff said in a sarcastic tone. «Now what about Max?» «The Special Unit just put the arm on him. Captured him without a fight, just the way you planned. Tres goofy plan, by the way» «Shut up,' said Duff. But Valenti wasn't at all sure that the bald alien was wrong. «Can you tell if the Special Unit has detected Michael yet?» Valenti asked. Langley shook his head. «For some reason, I can't seem to get inside any of their heads. Neither can Kyle or Isabel, from what I hear on the alien-psychic tom-toms.» «Don't worry, Dad. Max and Michael are both all right at least so far.» Valenti felt surprise surge up his back like an accidental electrocution. He turned and looked over his shoulder to find the source of the voice he'd just heard. «Kyle?» Suddenly the alley around him vanished, and he was standing in a small, brightly lit office. Two secret-service types flanked him, while a pair of dark-suited men, one scarred and gray-haired, the other one balding, younger, and fiercer, faced him with menace in their eyes. And tinfoil caps on their heads. Valenti wondered what the hell that was all about. «Guts, indeed,' the gray-haired man was saying to Valenti/Max, a look of restrained surprise on the man's face. He and the fierce-looking man beside him were looking intently at him/Max. No, Valenti reminded himself. It's Max they're looking at. I'm just an invisible eavesdropper. «That's quite an ultimatum you just issued, son,' said the feral man with the thinning hair. «But I don't believe you can back it up.» «Over here, Dad,' said Kyle, whom Jim Valenti only now noticed was standing unobtrusively in a corner, with Isabel at his side. Valenti turned toward them, alarmed. «Kyle, what the hell do you think you're doing?» Kyle grinned at him. «Don't worry. These Tommy Lee Jones knockoffs can't see or hear me or you. I was having such an easy time keeping the line to Max and Langley open that I thought I'd see if I could conference somebody else into the Max-Michael-Langley Network, so to speak. I'm surprised it wasn't harder to