the man, a choppy, military bow.
'General.'
'Please, Luther, it's 'Bull.'
' Ventura suppressed a smile. Yeah, he thought it was bull, too.
'I don't want to break discipline in front of the men.'
'Understood,' Smith said.
Ventura didn't know how much of the pure race crap Smith really
believed, if any. The money and power were probably a lot more
attractive, since Smith's history, military and otherwise, didn't show
any particular contention with or hatred of any of the 'mongrel' races
until lately, but--you never knew. Pushing sixty, ole Bull here had
been at this militia game for about ten years. He was living high on
the hog, considering the location. Good food, good booze, women, toys,
and the admiration and obedience of a couple hundred men, give or take.
There were a lot worse ways to spend your time if you were an old
ex-sergeant with no other skills.
Five years ago, when Venture had still been in the assassination
business. Smith had contacted him the usual roundabout way, and they
had struck a deal. A certain influential politician in the Idaho
statehouse--if that wasn't an oxymoron--had been standing in the way of
Smith's acquisition of this very compound, something to do with land
use, or butting up against state forestry property or some such. The
politician, a state senator, knew what Bull and the boys were up to,
and there was too much of that going on in Idaho already, the state was
getting a real bad reputation. Tourists didn't want to come and see
the boys playing war games--at least, not the kind of tourists the
state wanted. It was bad for business if little junior went out
picking berries and got mowed down by a bunch of gun-happy paramilitary
goons who mistook him for an enemy, or Bambi, as had happened at least
once.
If he couldn't stop it legally, there were some shadier ways to get
things done, and the senator knew how to do them. This, of course,
played right into Bull's conspiracy fantasies.
So. The politician died in what the coroner said was an accident, and
Smith got the property he wanted. And Bull was not a man to forget
somebody who'd done him a service.
'General, I'd like to introduce Professor Morrison. The doctor here is
doing some secret work for the Navy and Air Force, and naturally we
don't trust them to keep him safe for our mission.'
'Understood,' Smith said. He offered his hand to Morrison, who took
it.
'There are traitors everywhere.'
'Sad, but true,' Ventura said.
'I'll have my adjutant show your people where to bivouac, and you and
the professor can join me for dinner.'
'Excellent idea. General,' Ventura said.
When Smith was a few yards ahead of them, Morrison said, 'How are you
going to explain a Chinese agent coming here' to see me?'
'What, a turncoat chink double-agent? We're feeding false information
