“You went through our house? Bert must have loved that.”
“Your husband has been in jail since early last Sunday morning. We made sure he would learn nothing about the search.”
“Bert’s in jail? Again?”
“It seems your husband was in no condition to drive at the time he had an accident.”
“Oh, Lord,” Benita said, ducking her head. How to be terminally embarrassed before the eyes of the world in one easy lesson!
The FL patted her arm, saying seriously, “Are you worried about him? Are you terribly concerned at not being there?”
Benita gritted her teeth. “At one time I would have said I was concerned. I’ve learned there’s nothing I can do for him, so my concern is wasted.”
The FL nodded. “There are all kinds of addictions, and we can’t help the addicted if they don’t want to be helped, Ms. Alvarez. We need to save our concern for things that need doing.”
“Please call me Benita,” she said. “Or just Bennie.”
“Actually,” murmured the SOS, “it would be better if we called you the intermediary, as the aliens requested. Everyone here is supposed to be trustworthy, but there’s always the unlikely event that one of us is a spy.”
Benita flushed. “Call me anything you like. I’m finished being Mrs. Bert Shipton, though. And you’re right, I am upset about a lot of things.”
“Well, don’t be upset about the bureau going through your house,” said the SOS, soothingly. “It was a very quiet investigation just so we could be sure you were who and what you said you were. Think about it. Aliens arrive and are announced by someone we don’t know. If we had to bet our lives on it, and those of your family, which we may be doing, wouldn’t we be remiss not to check?”
She considered it. “I suppose. Seeing how they can take any shape they like.”
“Did you hear what our other alien guest talked about during dinner?”
“Small talk,” Benita murmured. “The general’s very interested in environmental issues. He’d recently attended a world conference on global warming. They talked about that. And since he’s a rancher, he’s interested in restoration of grasslands and riverbanks, the whole ecological bit.”
“Interesting,” said the FL. “Did you overhear Indira asking about Afghanistan and the treatment of women there? In the Pistach culture, she said, someone would intervene to stop men behaving that way, and why hadn’t we done so.”
“I don’t think they understand yet that we have a lot of separate cultures,” said Benita. “Either that, or they’re just confirming that fact. Their people are evidently more . . . uniform than we are.”
“We told her Afghanistan wasn’t the only place that enslaves women, and we tried to explain about national sovereignty, that short of going to war, we have no right to meddle in foreign countries.”
The SOS remarked, “She knew quite a bit about the things she was interested in. She wasn’t asking out of real ignorance.”
“I don’t think they’re allowed to,” Benita said. “As they’ve pointed out to me, they’re ethical beings. It wouldn’t be ethical to pronounce on some subject without knowing a great deal about it.”
“Oh, wouldn’t that put an end to congressional debate,” grated the SOS. She frowned. “Forget I said that. Now where’s this place you’ve picked to live?”
Benita told them about the bookstore job, and the loft above it. The SOS demanded a full description, produced a little notebook and had Benita draw a sketchy floor plan. “Since the envoys have requested it, why don’t we see if we can speed things up for you?”
“Simon, he’s the owner, said he’d do it right away.”
“Right away could mean next week or next month or whenever he can get a contractor. I spoke with the Attorney General earlier today. Chad Riley willbe our liaison with Justice, and he can probably arrange to get this done in a day or two, complete with a good cover story for your boss. The aliens want you moved quickly, so let’s try to hurry things up.”
“It seems an imposition . . .”
“Are you going to refuse to work for the ET’s?” the FL asked.