Chapter 8

I thought I was getting that little bit closer to understanding Jeanne Gerard… Clarissa.

Jeanne no longer existed. Nothing about her was real or ever had been.

"What actually are you?" I asked of her as we chatted idly with steaming cups of coffee in hand. Cassie's parallel sofas in front of a pleasant fire were a comfortable contradiction to the awkward conversation that had commenced.

Clarissa shrugged and giggled like a model who had just been asked a question on nuclear physics. "I'm Clarissa! Do I have to tell you a million times?"

I nodded. "Yeah!"

"Marco," she said, slowing down her meaningless laughter. "My role has changed. So, like, I have to change what I look like. I have to change who I am!"

Santorelli, beside me, seemed to buy it. "Classic agent stuff," he uttered. "I think."

"Why this… Clarissa person?" I asked.

Cassie, who had obviously grown used to this latest disguise and was perfectly fine sitting beside it, answered, "Clarissa is Toby's new supervisor. Hayley doesn't have enough time to take Toby to every meeting, and she's got a lot of public engagements coming up. Clarissa has been well-trained and is eager to continue her new job."

Clarissa smiled sweetly and twirled a finger through her loop earring.

"So let me get this straight," I sighed, running my hands over my face. "You got kicked out of your job spying on us in an attempt to stop a war breaking out, and now you're telling a Hork-Bajir where and when not to pee?"

Clarissa chuckled. "That's silly! That's not all I do."

"You're spying on her," I accused. "How long do you think it'll take her to figure that out?"

She rolled her eyes. "Marco, you think I'm just spying? That's, like, totally not the point."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. It's all about justice, huh?"

I could sense that I'd gone some way to offend her. Her smile vanished, and her eyes averted away.

"I get it," I continued. "She has contacts in Washington, some of the most powerful people on Earth. That's why you're following Toby around now. That, and you keep in touch with us, too."

Cassie interjected before it could become more heated. "Marco, I chose this role for her," she explained. "It helps us all. Surote keeps his source of information. Jeanne…. Clarissa is still around to give us the info we need. And Toby has somebody to relieve some stress."

"Until she finds out," I added.

Clarissa grinned. "You overestimate her."

"I'm not so sure about that," I muttered.

There came a clang from the kitchen to remove us from our exchange. Ronnie appeared with a wooden tray clutched in both hands, its checkered pattern matching his shirt in all but color. He was a sturdily built guy, having spent most of his early life working on a farm. His hair was dark ginger, and his beard was neatly trimmed and groomed. A prominent smile was an outstanding quality.

"Help yourselves to fruit, guys," he offered, dropping the heaped tray between us and taking his place cozily beside Cassie.

Santorelli reached over me and grabbed the biggest apple before I could even think twice. "Thanks, Ronnie! Looks great."

Out of politeness, I took one for myself. Then I became inquisitive. Was Ronnie even aware of what was going on?

Cassie would answer that question in a subtle manner. "Ron, do you know where you put that picture from last Christmas? I wanted to show Marco."

"I put all the pictures in the attic," he replied. "Do you want it now?"

Cassie gave him a puppy-dog "yes, please" look. Ronnie dutifully got straight back out of his seat and excused himself to go fishing around upstairs.

He may have suspected something was up. He didn't strike me as a dim-witted guy. I got the feeling that he knew exactly what he was buying into when he got with Cassie and was just playing along. It didn't seem healthy to me. But it wasn't my business.

When he left, I made sure we used the time effectively. "Jake said you had something," I said to Clarissa. "Some update."

She nodded and briefly put aside the façade. She maintained the West Coast accent, though. "I've got something from Burr-Ammit. He's been keeping an eye on the Kelbrid movements around Earth."

"I bet they're here," Santorelli seethed. "Same guys they thought they caught on camera at the South Pole?"

"That's one of the bases," she said. "It's a surveillance post. There are twelve bases overall, some more dangerous than others."

"How so?" Santorelli asked.

"There are supply bases," Clarissa explained. "Five of them. They'll use them to bring in resources that will be used to create Earth-based weapons. They want to use Earth as an armed outpost. Earth has a lot of resources; more than any other planet in the Six-Sifter System, and the Kelbrids won't pass it up."

I suspected as much. I attempted to hide my nervous shiver. I knew what was coming. "Will the Andalites be able to find all these bases?"

"Not without our intervention," she answered, alluding to Surote's group.

"Sooo…"

"Surote has a better idea."

"Great," I huffed. "That involves us, right?"

"You don't look too happy about that."

"Of course I don't!" I yelped. "Why don't you tell the Andalites and let them deal with it?"

She said, "Giving out information without an expected source risks our secrecy. Besides, you're more than capable. The base you'd take out is currently in construction and hasn't got a full security complement. It's particularly vulnerable."

"You seem to forget," I grumbled. "That these Kelbrid guys can kill us just by dribbling on us. I don't think full security is something they need to be worried about."

"Hey, hey, Monkey Man," Santorelli spoke. "We've got Kelbrid morphs. Toxic won't affect us."

I dropped my chin into my palm. "Thanks, Sarge…"

Clarissa smiled. "The base is the only one on the North American continent. It's in the Colorado mountains; one of the more isolated locations. The Kelbrids won't take their supplies near large population centers in case their ships are seen."

"Got it!" Santorelli replied. When I looked at him, he was dutifully scribbling down notes on a small pad with a pencil that he'd assumedly carry back in his Bald eagle talons.

I stared hard at Clarissa, certainly not as appeased as Santorelli. "Do we really have to do this? There's no way we can get the Andalites involved? It's their war…"

Clarissa hummed sympathetically. "Surote's orders."

Thanks, Jake… I whispered privately to myself.

"Found it," Ronnie called down from the stairs as he descended.

Cassie forged a smile and shuffled to allow him more room on the sofa. She explained to us, "We found this photo the other day. It was taken last Christmas!"

Ronnie sat down and handed me the slightly blurry photo. I couldn't make out the location where he and Cassie were embracing. I assumed it to be somewhere in Yellowstone due to the pair's matching work attire and the people around them.

But not all of them were in uniform. One, in particular, stood out from the rest. Dark hair, expertly-applied make-up, big earrings…

My eyes moved from the photo to the real Clarissa. She was smiling.

How could a woman be so amazing and so creepy all at once?