teletype read, in the event that any law-enforcement agency in the country ever managed to obtain a felony arrest warrant for Alex, Butch, or Sonny Chareaux, the Louisiana Department of Fish and Game would be more than happy to provide a team of four volunteer officers to kick the door.
'They said they saw no one else, but it is of little consequence, because we will be in and then out, so very fast.'
'So where do I meet you?' Lightstone asked agreeably.
'I have made reservations at the Best Western in Gardiner. Room one-oh-two is yours. I'll be next door, in one-oh-one.'
It was a canned deal all the way. Chareaux had known where the target was-in a cage ten miles east of Gardiner- for the last five days, but Lightner wasn't supposed to know that.
All of which meant that either they were playing with him-holding off until iust before the game started-or they still didn't trust him.
There was also a third possibility: that they knew he was an undercover agent and intended to kill him.
And the thing was, he couldn't just be serious. He had to convince them that he was dedicated serious. That was the key. They had to believe that he was one of those truly driven hunter-killers who would do damn near anything to expand his illicit trophy collection, or he would never pull it off. And a truly driven hunter-killer would be focused on only two things: the target and the kill.
There was a brief, ominous pause.
'Henry, it is now or never,' Alex Chareaux said flatly. 'You know how our system works. This one-the one you have dreamed about all your life-is yours, but you must decide now. Do you really want him? You must tell me.'
'I want him,' Lightstone said. He sighed one last time and then nodded. 'I'm in,' he whispered. 'See you in Gardiner.'
Chapter Five
The ritualistic killing of the fearsome Bengal by Gerd Maas turned out to be a pivotal event in the life of Lisa Abercombie and Dr. Reston Wolfe, although neither of them had any sense of that at the time.
It was only six months later, in an isolated cedar log cabin several hundred miles west of Tom Frank's hunting ranch, that the emotional aftereffect of that terrifying day finally began to surface.
There, Lisa Abercombie-a thirty-six-year-old woman with icy political savvy, visceral determination, and very special connections to a White House advisory team-did something that was completely out of character.
Without warning or hesitation, Abercombie suddenly reached under the massive six-sided wooden table, rubbed Dr. Reston Wolfe's upper thigh, and smiled.
'I'm very impressed, Reston,' she whispered in a voice that was both firmly authoritative and discreetly enticing, giving his thigh a little extra squeeze before bringing her discernibly warm hand back to her lap. 'You've made incredible progress since I was here last.'
Wolfe started to say something-anything at all-but discovered that his mind had gone completely blank. For a long, embarrassing moment, Dr. Reston Wolfe could only blink his eyes and stare.
Then, mercifully, Abercombie reached over and patted his hand in a more traditional bureaucratic greeting that finally got Wolfe's mind back in gear.
'That's all right,' she whispered, the warmth of her words reflected in her smoldering dark eyes. 'You look like you could use a long vacation far away from here.'
Wolfe, feeling very much like a love-struck fool, decided then and there that Lisa Abercombie was the most provocative woman he had ever met.
'It's been a long eight months,' he nodded, feeling his entire body surge with barely controlled lust as he forced himself to concentrate. 'But getting off by myself is the last thing I want right now.'
'You're eager to get started, aren't you?'
Wolfe desperately wanted to believe that Lisa Abercombie was aware that her words were loaded with double meaning.
'To tell you the truth,' he said honestly, remembering the press of her hand, 'I can hardly wait.'
'I assure you that the entire committee feels the same way,' she said quietly.
Wolfe looked around the huge conference room that was filled with equipment, weapons, files, and the twelve men and women he had brought together as a team.
His team.
His operation.
Reston Wolfe envisioned himself leading Gerd Maas and the rest of the ICER assault group into action while Lisa Abercombie looked on with… what?
Admiration?
Affection?
Desire?
Or maybe even… passion?
'You know what you've done, don't you?' Abercombie asked, snapping Wolfe back to the present.
'What's that?' He blinked away the images that were too absurd to even think about. Especially not now. Not here.
'You've made ICER a reality,' Lisa Abercombie said, her eyes glowing with an emotion that Wolfe had never seen before. 'These people,' she gestured out across the room, 'that you selected and brought together are going to have an impact far beyond anything we have ever imagined. They are going to realign the industrial revolution, literally change the course of history. And all because of your efforts. You should be incredibly proud of what you've done here.'
Dr. Wolfe nodded and smiled, shamelessly basking in the warm glow of Lisa Abercombie's praise.
'It's been a team effort all the way. You and I both know that,' he said, deliberately making direct eye contact. He remembered the expression on her face when she had knelt down and stroked the hot, sweaty fur of the Bengal, her dark eyes glazed as she stared at the glistening broadhead sticking through the back of the Bengal's bloodied skull.
He'd seen the blood-lust in her eyes, and he knew now just how he'd…
One of the resident caretaker staff walked up to the table and whispered something in Lisa Abercombie's ear.
'I have a phone call,' Abercombie said as she got up from the table. 'I'll be right back.'
'I'll be here.'
He watched her walk across the room, her snug jeans providing a thoroughly distracting view of her well- toned torso.
Reston Wolfe knew full well the inherent dangers of trying to establish a relationship with a driven woman like Lisa Abercombie. Yet he simply could not resist the temptation. And it wasn't just the fact that Lisa Abercombie was a beautiful and alluring woman, like so many others who were readily available in Washington.
What he couldn't overlook was the political and bureaucratic clout that Lisa Abercombie possessed and exercised in a manner that belied her youth and overwhelming physical charms.
What it all boiled down to were two very distinct and separate possibilities.
If Operation Counter Wrench was successful, then he and Abercombie would become wealthy, powerful, and influential beyond comprehension. If it all failed, he would be either a hunted felon or, more likely, dead, buried, and forgotten.
All in all, Wolfe, told himself as he remembered again Lisa Abercombie's hand on his thigh, it was worth the risk.
Lisa Abercombie followed a staffer into a small office, where he pointed out a complex-looking console phone sitting on a small wooden desk. There were three rows of yellow-tabbed buttons in the center of the console, one row of blue tabs above them, and a single red-tabbed button in the upper right corner. The red tab was blinking.
