to walk-his important movement had been in the 'tube,' which was convenient, anonymous, and cheap. But 'cheap' was a virtue for which he had little affection. No, capitalism had the singular virtue of rewarding people who had chosen the correct parents, or had been lucky in business. Rewarding them with luxury, convenience, and comfort undreamed of by the czars themselves. And that was what Popov had instantly craved, and wondered even then how he might get it. A nice expensive car-a Mercedes was the one he'd always desired-and a proper large flat close to good restaurants, and money to travel to places where the sand was warm and the sky blue, the better to attract women to his side, as Henry Ford must have done, he was sure. What was the point of having that sort of power without the will to use it?
Well, Popov told himself, he was closer than ever to realizing it. All he had to do was set up a few more jobs like this one in Bern. If his employer was willing to pay that much money for fools-well, a fool and his money were soon parted; a Western aphorism he found delightfully appropriate. -And Dmitriy Arkadeyevich was no fool. With that satisfied thought, he lifted his remote and turned his TV off. Tomorrow, wake up, breakfast, make his bank deposit, and then take a cab to the airport for the Swissair flight to New York. First class. Of course.
'Well, Al?' Clark asked over a pint of dark British beer. They were sitting in the rear-corner booth.
'Your Chavez is all he was reported to be. Clever of him to let Price take the lead. He doesn't let ego get in the way. I like that in a young officer. His timing was right. His division of the floor plan was right, and his shots were bang on. He'll do. So will the team. So much the better that the first time out was an easy one. This Model chappie wasn't a rocket scientist, as you say.'
'Vicious bastard.'
Stanley nodded. 'Quite. The German terrorists frequently were. We should get a nice letter from the BKA about this one, as well.'
'Lessons learned?'
'Dr. Bellow's was the best. We need more and better translators if we're to get him involved in negotiations. I'll get to work on that tomorrow. Century House ought to have people we can use. Oh, yes, that Noonan lad-'
'A late addition. He was a techie with the FBI. They used him on the Hostage Rescue Team for technical backup. Sworn agent, knows how to shoot, with some investigative experience,' Clark explained. 'Good all around man to have with us.'
'Nice job planting his video-surveillance equipment. I've looked at the videotapes already. They're not bad. On the whole, John, full marks for Team-2.' Stanley saluted with his jar of John Courage. 'Nice to see that everything works, Al.'
'Until the next one.'
A long breath. 'Yeah.' Most of the success, Clark knew, was due to the British. He'd made use of their support systems, and their men had actually led the takedown-two-thirds of it. Louis Loiselle was every bit as good as the French had claimed. The little bastard could shoot like Davy Crockett with an attitude, and was about as excitable as a rock. Well, the French had their own terrorist experiences, and once upon a time Clark had gone out into the field with them. So, this one would go into the records as a successful mission. Rainbow was now certified. And so, Clark knew, was he.
The Society of Cincinnatus owned a large house on Massachusetts Avenue that was frequently used for the semiofficial dinners that were so vital a part of the Washington social scene, and allowed the mighty to cross paths and validate their status over drinks and small talk. The new President made that somewhat difficult, of course, with his… eccentric approach to government, but no person could really change that much in this city, and the new crop in Congress needed to learn how Washington Really Worked. It was no different from other places around America, of course, and to many of them the gatherings at this former dwelling of somebody rich and important was merely the new version of the country club dinners where they'd learned the rules of polite power society.
Carol Brightling was one of the new important people. A divorcee for over ten years who'd never remarried, she had no less than three doctorates, from Harvard, CalTech, and the University of Illinois, thus covering both coasts and three important states, which was an important accomplishment in this city, as that guaranteed her the instant attention, if not the automatic affection, of six senators and a larger number of representatives, all of whom had votes and committees.
'Catch the news,' the junior senator from Illinois asked her over a glass of white wine.
'What do you mean?'
'Switzerland. Either a terrorist thing or a bank robbery. Nice takedown by the Swiss cops.'
'Boys and their guns,' Brightling observed dismissively.
'It made for good TV.'
'So does football,' Brightling noted, with a gentle, nasty smile.
'True. Why isn't the President supporting you on Global Warming?' the senator asked next, wondering how to crack her demeanor.
'Well, he isn't not supporting me. The President thinks k a need some additional science on the issue.'
'And you don't?'
'Honestly, no, I think we have all the science we need. The top down and bottom-up data are pretty clear. But the President isn't convinced himself, and does not feel comfortable with taking measures that affect the economy until he is personally sure.' I have to work on him some more, she didn't add.
'Are you happy with that?'
'I see his point,' the Science Advisor replied, surprising the senator from the Land of Lincoln. So, he thought, everyone who worked in the White House toed the line with this president. Carol Brightling had been a surprise appointment to the White House staff, her politics very different from the President's, respected as she was in the scientific community for her environmental views. It had been an adroit political move, probably engineered by Chief of Staff Arnold van Damm, arguably the most skillful political operator in this city of maneuvering, and had secured for the President the (qualified) support of the environmental movement, which had turned into a political force of no small magnitude in Washington.
'Does it bother you that the President is out in South Dakota slaughtering geese?' the senator asked with a chuckle, as a waiter replaced his drink.
'Homo sapiens is a predator,' Brightling replied, scanning the room for others.
'But only the men?'
A smile. 'Yes, we women are far more peaceful.'
'Oh, that's your ex-husband over there in the corner. isn't it?' the senator asked, surprised at the change in her face when he said it.
'Yes.' The voice neutral, showing no emotion, as she turned to face in another direction. Having spotted him, she needed to do no more. Both knew the rules. No closer than thirty feet, no lengthy eye contact, and certainly no words.
'I had the chance to put money into Horizon Corporation two years ago. I've kicked myself quite a few times since. 'Yes, John has made quite a pile for himself.'
And well after their divorce, so she didn't get a nickel out of it. Probably not a good topic for conversation, the senator thought at once. He was new at the job, and not the best at politic conversation.
'Yes, he's done well, twisting science the way he has.'
'You don't approve?'
'Restructuring DNA in plants and animals-no. Nature has evolved without our assistance for two billion years at least. I doubt that it needs help from us.'
' `There are some things man is not meant to know'?' the senator asked with a chuckle. His professional background was in contracting, in gouging holes in the ground and erecting something that nature didn't want there, though his sensitivity on environmental issues, Dr. Brightling thought, had itself evolved from his love of Washington and his desire to remain here in a position of power. It was called Potomac Fever, a disease easily caught and less easily cured.
'The problem, Senator Hawking, is that nature is both complex and subtle. When we change things, we cannot easily predict the ramifications of the changes. It's called the Law of Unintended Consequences, something with which the Congress is familiar, isn't it?'
'You mean-'
'I mean that the reason we have a federal law about environmental impact statements is that it's far easier to mess things up than it is to get them right. In the case of recombinant DNA, we can more easily change the
