CHAPTER 33
THAT TOBIN HAD AN ULTERIOR MOTIVE wasn’t a shock. That it hadn’t dawned on us before that he’d probably be looking to protect his interests was the shocker.
There were a lot of people with provable Yates bloodline out there. All the Martini clan other than Alfred and the men who’d married Jeff’s sisters, due to Jeff’s mother, Lucinda. All the White clan other than Amy. Serene and her son, Patrick. Mahin Sherazi, who was a hybrid. Siler, if his DNA hadn’t been too altered by his parents. Nerida Alfero and any other hybrid Crazy Eights or Yates Family Players that might still be alive. Heck, even the Ronaldo Al Dejahl clone who was on Beta Eight, aka Ronaldo 2.0, probably could make a claim that would stick. Basically, there was a lot of competition for board seats, and it would make sense that said board would be fully in support of Tobin ensuring that there was no competition left alive.
But it wouldn’t take all of them. It would only take Jeff. Because if the President of the United States was now on the YatesCorp board and shared that he didn’t care for the dude running the corporation, then said dude would be out faster than Tobin could utter one of his folksy sayings.
And if the President couldn’t serve due to the requirements of office, well then, his uncle and cousin certainly could. Meaning Christopher and White were also on the Assassination Roll Call List.
Missed the Dingo and Surly Vic fiercely right now. Because they’d have known what was going on and either stopped it or told me how to protect against it.
“How would my talking to the First Lady have any bearing on this?” Tobin asked, shaking me out of my mourning for my dead “uncles.”
“All assassination requests against you and yours are still being ignored by the community,” Siler said to me, speaking softly. “I don’t know how long that will last, but for right now, there’s no assassin that would take a hit on you or anyone else you care about for fear of retaliation. And the Cuban Mob was schooled and has decided that you’re far more work to kill than you’re worth.”
“I feel the love.”
“You weren’t talking to her,” Reader snarled. “You were tracking her. And you were tracking her with intent to harm.”
“Now, son, there’s no way you can prove that. And it’s untrue as well. And, under these antagonistic circumstances, I’m not saying anything more without my legal team present.”
“James is dead on,” I said to the room and earpieces at large. “Tobin’s trying to get rid of Jeff, and anyone else he thinks might have a Yates blood tie, in a believable fashion. And nothing’s more believable than a terrorist attack, particularly one started by the Club Fifty-One Loons.”
“We can’t prove it,” Jeff pointed out. “And I can feel him clearly—he’s not going to say another word to Chuck, James, or Tim.”
“We don’t need to prove anything right now. Suspicion of terrorist activity is more than enough for Chuckie to do exactly what he said he’d do. What I want to know is this—how did Tobin know that Jeff was a direct descendent of Ronald Yates?”
“Aren’t you making a leap with this?” Jeff asked. “That he’s trying to kill me or knows who is or isn’t related to dear old granddad, I mean.”
“Does he even know Yates was an A-C?” Christopher asked.
“No idea. But my so-called women’s intuition is insisting that he likely does.”
“Stephanie might have said something,” Lorraine added.
Claudia nodded. “Or someone else. We just said that Tobin might be getting his intel from others. What if it’s not from an A-C but from a former human agent, one of those loyal to the former Diplomatic Corps?”
“The girls have good points, Jeff, and besides, I know I’m right—Tobin’s figured out that the most potent risk to his keeping his position at YatesCorp is you.”
Jeff sighed. “You’re rarely wrong.”
“True enough. Chuckie, we need to know why Tobin thinks an invasion is coming as well as how he knows that Jeff is part of the Yates bloodline. Without, of course, confirming for him that Jeff or anyone else is indeed part of that bloodline.”
Chuckie tried. So did Reader. So did Tim. But Jeff had called it right—Tobin wouldn’t speak.
“Guys, let him sit for a while and come into the room with us.” Once again everyone looked at me. Shrugged. “It’s a standard cop show tactic.”
Chuckie shot me the “really?” look, but the three of them left Tobin handcuffed to the table and joined the rest of us as requested.
“He’s not going to crack,” Jeff said when they joined us. “He’s got a very strong will, and he’s unwilling to talk to any of you anymore. And he doesn’t want to talk to an alien, either.”
Considered our options. Decided they were few and the one I wanted to go for was the right one. “Then let me talk to him.”
Mouths opened. Put up the paw. Mouths shut. Enjoyed my FLOTUS Power for a moment. “Regardless of anything else, the person he called was me. The weak link is presumed by our enemies to be me. So, let me do one of the many things I do best.”
Jeff didn’t look happy. “I don’t like it,” he muttered.
“He can’t hurt me,” I pointed out. “He’s shackled to the table and, besides, I’m more than capable of taking him. And we’re loaded with Secret Service and Field agents burning to be of service.”
“I don’t want you going in there alone,” Jeff said.
“He’s not going to talk with other people in the room. Is he aware the rest of us are watching?”
Jeff concentrated. “He feels he’s being watched, so yes.”
“Fine. Then let’s move him to another location.”
“He’s going to feel he’s being watched anywhere you put him,” Tim pointed out.
“Possibly. But not if we switch it around and put him in this side of the interrogation chamber.”
“I don’t want him observing us,” Jeff said dryly. “If that’s okay with you and all.”
“So picky. Fine, then all of you wait elsewhere. But bring Tobin in here. Jeff, I’ll pretend to be Mister Smith and use an earpiece, you can all be on a group call nearby and feed me intel, but I really want to know what he’s thinking.”
“The room’s set up for this,” Reader confirmed. “We keep Secret Service and Field outside the conference room, we all go to Imageering and observe. We’ll have the Secret Service ensure that Tobin sees we’re gone when he’s brought to Kitty.”
“I don’t want her alone in here, period,” Jeff said, Commander in Chief Voice going strong. “I realize he isn’t armed, but since we have androids and robots running around all over the place, call me a caveman but I don’t want my wife left alone with someone who could attack her or worse.”
“Oh, I won’t be alone.” Reached down and petted Prince. “I’ll have three big German Shepherds right here with me.”
Prince nudged up against Jeff, who sighed and petted him. “Fine, I’ll trust you all on this. Because we either need to get Tobin’s information, arrest him, and therefore let him advise his legal counsel, or let him go. We can’t take too much more time with this—we have a world to warn and prep.”
“And he seems far too aware of that, so, barring Chuckie having truth serum on hand, I think we need to try my plan.”
“I’m far more willing to take Tobin to Guantanamo than I am to give him sodium pentothal, and I’m less willing to let him lawyer up, so while I share Jeff’s concerns, I think Kitty’s track record says we give her interrogation skills a shot.”
“Just don’t do a lap dance this time,” Tim said with a grin.
“Oh, that was so Operation Drug Addict ago, Megalomaniac Lad. I have a different approach in mind.”
“And that is?” Jeff asked, sounding and looking unamused.
“I plan to fight folksy with folksy.” And then I’d play hardball, but that didn’t need to be said aloud.
Jeff and Chuckie both groaned. “I can see so many ways this can go wrong,” Chuckie said.
White chuckled. “Or, as we call it, Charles, routine.”