presence of the resident park rangers and the park police. However, since their patrol activities are fairly predictable, they should not cause us any undue difficulties. Especially since they've been instructed to stay out of the Whitehorse Cabin area.'
'And the Fish and Wildlife Service?' Asai asked, looking up from his notebook.
'I honestly don't see them as a significant factor either,' Wolfe said confidently. 'The Service has a Division of Law Enforcement that is made up of less than two hundred special agents who are scattered far apart in one- or two-man duty stations. Their investigative interests are strictly limited to wildlife violations within their respective regions. The only entity within that Division that might possibly cause us any difficulty is their Special Operations branch, and they-'
'Special Operations?' Gerd Maas interrupted in his deep, chilling voice. 'What is that?'
'The Special Operations branch is made up of two five-agent teams that are exclusively covert in nature,' Wolfe explained. 'They have their own intelligence capabilities, and they have the authority to conduct their investigations anywhere within the United States.'
'Do you know who these special agents are?' Maas demanded.
'Yes, and we will provide you with that information at the appropriate time,' Wolfe said. 'But here again, I would emphasize that their investigations are strictly limited to wildlife violators. So unless one of our targeted environmental groups is involved in the killing or commercialization of endangered species, which is unlikely,' he added with a smile, 'our paths should never cross.'
'In spite of the most careful planning, things rarely happen as we expect,' Dr. Morito Asai said calmly. 'Assuming for the moment that one of these undercover teams did happen to be investigating one of our targets, would we be made aware of it?'
'Almost immediately,' Wolfe nodded. 'I have made the necessary arrangements to have both the location and investigative activities of these undercover teams closely monitored. If either team begins an investigation anywhere near one of our targets, or anywhere near Yellowstone for that matter, we will know about it immediately, and we will see to it that they are diverted.'
'You can do that?' Asai asked.
'Yes, at any time,' Wolfe said. 'They are a part of the Interior Department, of which I am a senior staffer.'
'But wouldn't your actions cause these undercover agents to be suspicious?' Gunter Aben asked.
'No, not really,' Wolfe replied. 'Like the FBI, we really can't stop them from investigating a case, but we can always redirect their efforts to a higher-priority investigation. That's a recognized and proper function of the central Washington Office.'
'But that would make them angry, and possibly more motivated, yes?' Aben suggested.
'They probably wouldn't like it,' Wolfe conceded, 'but there's really nothing that they could do about it. They are federal government employees, and they must do as they're told.'
Wolfe tried not to pay attention as Gerd Maas grunted in apparent amusement.
'But Doctor Asai spoke the truth; things do not always occur as we might expect,' Gunter Aben commented with an insolent smile on his face. 'Which is why I ask again: What are we to do if we are confronted by one of these law enforcement officers? Do we to allow ourselves to be taken into custody, or do we take any action necessary to escape?'
Lisa Abercombie shook her head firmly. 'We have spent months planning this operation to the smallest detail. We know our targeted groups intimately. We know their strengths and their weaknesses, and we know exactly how we're going to exploit both. Knowing that, we have gone to unprecedented lengths to provide you with everything that you could possibly need to do your job without being detected.
'And if we're forgotten anything, anything at all,' Abercombie added after a moment's pause, 'you need only say the word and it will be delivered to you within twenty- four hours.'
'Anything?' Aben smiled.
'Money is not a factor,' Lisa Abercombie said flatly. 'There is plenty of money available for this project. More money, in fact, than any of you could possibly use in your lifetime.'
That statement brought on murmuring and more nodding of heads. The beautiful woman from the Bronx certainly had their full attention now.
'There is only one restriction,' she went on in a firm voice. 'You must not fail. That is the one thing that cannot be allowed, the one thing that cannot be forgiven.'
Abercombie saw Gerd Maas turn again to stare in the direction of Paul Saltmann, the American team leader, with eyes that were both deadly cold and thoughtful.
'No one should be capable of stopping us, and therefore no one will be allowed to stop us,' Lisa Abercombie said in a voice that was even more cold and forceful. 'No one at all, under any circumstances, will stand in our way.'
She paused for effect.
'Is it clear now?'
'Yes,' Gunter Aben nodded happily. 'Now I understand.'
Chapter Eight
It didn't occur to Henry Lightstone, until he was just about to drive his red pickup into the private tie-down area of the Great Falls airport, that he'd forgotten to ask McNulty what Len Ruebottom looked like.
Which was unfortunate, because at least a couple dozen adult males were standing around several of the thirty-odd planes that were lashed down on the wide asphalt field.
Lightstone glanced down at his wristwatch, winced, and muttered a heartfelt curse as he reached for the binoculars in the glove compartment.
Even if he managed to link up with the resident agent- pilot within the next few minutes, he was still going to be late for his rendezvous with the Chareaux brothers.
'Come on, Ruebottom,' he muttered as he began to scan the groups, searching for some sign of recognition. 'McNulty must have given you a description of my truck, and I'm late, so you ought to be looking over here at me right-'
Then he blinked in pure disbelief.
For Christ's sake, McNulty, Lightstone thought despondently. What the hell have you gotten me into now?
For a brief moment, Lightstone seriously considered turning his leased pickup around at the gate, driving back to his apartment and calling the San Diego Police Department to check out the chances of getting his old job back. But then he remembered all the conflicts and problems that had caused him to question his law-enforcement career in the first place. And besides, he could never go back to the PD as a senior homicide detective, with zero seniority and a lock on every shit detail that came down the pike.
Sighing heavily, he put the binoculars back into the glove compartment and slowly drove the truck over to a tan station wagon parked next to a yellow-and-white Cessna.
A tall man in his early twenties, an attractive blond woman almost certainly his wife, and two young children were standing next to the plane, staring at Lightstone's truck.
'You must be Henry Lightstone,' the young man in the cap and jacket said as he walked around to the driver's side of the truck and reached in to shake hand. He was wearing a blue baseball cap and a blue windbreaker jacket, both of which bore the easily identifiable badge insignia of a special agent of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service.
'I beg your pardon?' Lightstone said, keeping his hand on the steering wheel as he stared straight into the young pilot's clear blue eyes.
'Uh…' Len Ruebottom said, blinking in confusion as he slowly brought his hand back out of the truck window. 'Aren't you Henry Lightstone? McNulty said that you'd be in a red pickup and that I was supposed to fly you to Bozeman.'
For the second time in as many minutes, Lightstone seriously considered the idea of driving off and leaving the young agent-pilot and his family standing there next to the plane and wondering what the hell was going
