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of work, too.’
    ‘I know. I saw their rap sheets.’
    ‘It goes a long way beyond that. At first, we had them down as your typical racist malcontents, preaching the usual gospel of reclaiming America for the White Man. But that’s pretty routine out here. I have a feeling this goes much farther.’
    Kelly pulled herself back up into a sitting position.
    ‘Are they still holing up in that compound or whatever out in the country?’
    ‘Yeah, most of the time. We can’t get close to it. It’s fenced in, and they have guards with some impressive fire power. So we’re watching from a distance. Oh, and get this, Kelly. The last couple of days, they’ve had visitors in dark suits carrying briefcases. Definitely not your usual paramilitary types. Stood out a mile. And Carlson and Rogers seemed to be rolling out the red carpet for them.’
    ‘So, what do you think? Mob?’
    ‘I don’t think so.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘They don’t have that look. More like Wall Street. Anyway, I can’t see what angle the Mob would have with these guys.’
    ‘Who might show up at a paramilitary compound dressed for Wall Street?’
    ‘I don’t know. For some reason, I’m getting the impression that these people might not be Americans. We’re trying to get some decent pictures. We have satellite coverage 24/7, but they’re a bit camera-shy and we haven’t had much luck with close-ups as yet. If we do, I’ll send them to you. If you can’t identify them, could we ask the Agency?’
    ‘Sure. Are they using mobiles?’
    ‘Not a lot. These guys are very aware, very discreet, but we have our analysts ready in case they do break cover.’
    Hammond paused.
    ‘What?’ Kelly asked.
    ‘I’m thinking, the only way to get to them may be to go in undercover.’
    ‘Jesus, Phil,’ Kelly said. ‘You need to think about that. It could be very dangerous. And you would need authorization from the top.’
    ‘I know. I have to report to the Director anyway. I’ll probably fly back for a couple of days on Friday. At least that way I can enjoy a weekend of civilization.’
    ‘You’re just an East Coast chauvinist. There’s nothing wrong with Portland.’
    ‘Come out and savor it with me.’
    ‘Gee, I wish I could, Phil,’ Kelly grinned. ‘I’m sick that my schedule’s so full here.’
    ‘Yeah, right. Look, I’ll call in tomorrow.’
    ‘OK. Take care, Phil.’
    ‘You too, Kelly.’
    Kelly hung up. She was almost ready to go to bed for the night. But something was troubling her and, try as she might, she could not work out what it was. She lay back down on the sofa, switched on the television, and finally fell asleep where she lay, watching a late-night talk show.

4
    C ONGRESSMAN G EORGE S TANLEY , his face an angry red, was pacing furiously around John Mason’s office. Stanley was short, and had trouble staying with the diets his wife continually planned for him.
    ‘I don’t know why we waste our money supporting this so-called think tank when you people can’t ever think of anything,’ he shouted.
    Mason, sitting calmly behind his desk, was wearing a faint smile. In his mid-thirties, he had already built a successful legal career in Washington, representing the interests of the Party. For now, his reward was the directorship of the Wilson Foundation. Very few decisions at the highest Party levels were made without input from the Wilson Foundation, which meant that Mason was privy to most of the Party’s secrets. He also knew where most of the bodies were buried, which meant that some influential people had good reason to be grateful for his discretion. For now, he was content to enjoy his large office, substantial salary, and almost limitless expense account. Somewhere down the road, at a time of his own choosing, he would call in the favors he was owed and walk into elective office. Mason was tall and effortlessly self-assured, his gray-blue eyes piercing. He was well past the point of being intimidated by average