'Line one,' the staffer said.
'Fine, thank you,' Lisa Abercombie nodded. She pointedly waited until the staffer had exited the room and closed the door before reaching for the phone.
'Abercombie,' she responded in a gruff, neutral voice.
'Lisa?'
'Al, how are you?' Lisa Abercombie smiled, her voice softening with genuine pleasure as she sat down in the thickly padded chair. She pressed a tab on the console marked 'Secure' and watched as a small green light began to blink, confirming that the two-point link was secure from taps or traces.
'I'm fine. How are you doing? I understand that you're had some adventures these last few weeks.'
'Nothing as exciting as crewing for a deranged skipper in the Gulf Stream,' Abercombie replied, referring to the sailing trip that she had taken with Albert Bloom during the previous summer. Intent on consummating their intricate political relationship in the luxurious suite of a Freeport hotel, they had sailed straight into the teeth of a sudden and unexpected tropical storm that nearly sank the thirty-six-foot skiff. They had fought the storm for almost sixteen hours, losing the engine and trying to stay afloat with sea anchor, rudder, and torn sails, when suddenly the surging winds and waves and dark clouds had given way to an unlikely calm that left them collapsed in their safety harnesses, soaking wet, shivering and exhausted.
Somehow they had been able to maneuver the boat into the shelter of a small cove, where they dropped anchor and staggered down into the shambles of the main stateroom ready to collapse. Instead, they had found themselves caught up in a frenzy of survival-enhanced sexual passion that continued on intermittently through the night and well into the next morning.
They had never made it to their luxurious hotel suite, and had never regretted it for a moment.
A1 Bloom laughed easily. 'I'm sitting here in my office, getting ready for a one o'clock appointment on the Hill, and now I won't be able to concentrate on a damn thing.'
'I have a similar problem,' Lisa Abercombie said. 'Perhaps we should get together to discuss it.'
'Unfortunately,' Bloom said, 'Senator Talkins has expressed an interest in doubling the budget for ICER.'
'You mean our official budget?'
'A seven-and-a-half-million-dollar increase. Isn't that nice?'
'No, it's not,' Abercombie said fervently, all thoughts of sex immediately forgotten. 'For God's sake, Al, we've got commitments for at least five billion from the private sector. And more on top of that if we need it. At this stage, any kind of add-on from Congress, no matter how small, will just attract attention. And that's the last thing we need right now.'
'Yes, exactly,' Bloom agreed. 'But one thing we do need is more contingency support, and Talkins is just the man to handle some of the more sensitive inside maneuvers.'
'In exchange for a good-sized contribution to his campaign fund?'
'Precisely,' Bloom said.
Lisa Abercombie hesitated, and the finally said: 'I hate to say it, but I think it's worth it.'
'So do I, but not if it means taking on one of his people.'
'He's asking for that?'
'Yes.'
'No way,' Abercombie said firmly. 'This one's too touchy to be run by committee. You know that. And besides, it's ours.'
'I'm glad you feel that way, because that's exactly what I planned to tell him,' Bloom said. 'But that's not really why I called. We may need to advance the start date for Counter Wrench.'
Lisa Abercombie blinked in surprise. 'But I-'
Bloom interrupted her. 'We just received an interesting report from one of our internal sources. It seems that there may be an alliance forming among the primary opposition groups.'
'Earth First! and Greenpeace are linking up?' Lisa Abercombie whispered in a quiet, shocked voice.
'As well as Headwaters, Wind/Rain/Storm, and Le Natur. It seems that the environmental terrorists are finally getting some professional advice.'
'We expected that,' Lisa Abercombie said, forcing her voice to remain calm as her analytical mind raced.
'Yes, of course we did,' Bloom agreed. 'But not this quickly. How soon can you be ready?'
'The entire assault group is here now. It's just a matter of completing the briefing and determining the priority of the assignments,' Abercombie said. 'I would say two days at the outside.'
'Give yourself three, just to be sure. We are dealing with very emotional people who are suspicious of everyone. I think that a few judiciously placed rumors should keep them from forming their alliances too quickly.'
'Albert, you're malicious,' Abercombie laughed. 'Just my kind of guy-'
Bloom chuckled. 'What about the training situation?'
'Training won't be a factor. Not with these people. All we have to do is get them coordinated, aim them at a target, and then turn them loose.'
'Intelligent, self-guided, counterterrorizing missiles. The ultimate weapon.' Blood nodded in satisfaction. 'They will go through those self-righteous bastards like a hot knife through butter.'
Lisa Abercombie shivered at the vivid memory of the bloodied and horribly sharp triangular blade sticking out of the back of the Bengal tiger's massive head.
'And they won't even know they've been cut until it's much too late,' she whispered.
'No, they won't,' Bloom agreed. 'Tell me, does Wolfe still think that he made the final selections?'
'I'm sure he does,' Abercombie said confidently. 'We spent several hours going over the lists, but the choices were pretty obvious since I yellow-highlighted the relevant points. I only had to make a couple of gentle suggestions to keep him on track.'
'Does he still think he's in charge?'
'That was what you wanted, wasn't it?'
'Reston Wolfe's a good man,' Bloom said. 'Right family background, good contacts, good political instincts, willing to be a hard ass when he has to be.'
'But not very smart, and therefore expendable as far as this project is concerned,' Lisa Abercombie finished.
'You must never forget, my dear, that we are all very expendable as far as this project is concerned,' Bloom said. 'But I think everyone on the committee agrees that Reston is a special case. If it weren't for his extremely useful connections… speaking of which, how is your, uh, side project coming along?'
'It's progressing nicely. Do you want a full report?' Abercombie teased.
'Good Lord, no,' Bloom chuckled. 'I don't think that I could stand to hear about it right now. Tell me later.'
'I'll do better than that,' Abercombie promised.
'Yes, I'm sure you will,' Albert Bloom sighed, and then turned serious. 'Listen, my dear young friend, please make sure that you never forget one thing. What we're doing is extremely dangerous. You must be firm in maintaining absolute control, but above all else, you must be careful. Do not make any mistakes.'
'Don't worry, Skipper,' Lisa Abercombie said in a soft, seductive voice. 'You taught me what to do. Anybody gets in our way, we go right over the top of them.'
'That's my girl. I'll call you soon,' Bloom said, then hung up the phone.
Dr. Reston Wolfe, newly appointed executive director of ICER, had thought long and hard about where the all- important first meeting of Operation Counter Wrench should be held. There could hardly have been a more ironic choice than the very jewel of protected lands, a site whose very name was synonymous with care and trust and hope for the future.
Yellowstone National Park.
Because the potential risks were enormous and the potential rewards beyond imagination, enemy surveillance had to be avoided at all costs. In this respect, Whitehorse Cabin was a good bet. Set off by itself on a high, wooded hillside, surrounded by huge clearings, the cabin was supposed to be impossible to approach in the daytime without being observed. It was further isolated within a two-and-a-quarter-million acres of federally protected wilderness. Dr. Wolfe was not one to take chances, however. He had the authority and the means to clear the grizzly bear range of any campers, hikers, biologists, and the like who mistakenly believed that they had a
