“Think about it, David,” she said impatiently. “This idiot is only looking for publicity. Anything any Indian says or does about this is just going to give him more of what he wants. A few of the media press went over to Wilma’s office this morning for her comments. Fortunately, she had a good zinger waiting for them. She simply looked at them and said, ‘I thought you guys were here for the real news,’ and gave them press releases about the improvements to the Tribal Police system.”

“She’s got to be doing more than that!” David cried.

Jennifer shrugged. “Why?” she responded. “This guy is nothing, David. The only people who believe him are people we’d never touch anyway—people who not only don’t have a clue, they couldn’t buy one if you gave them a roll of quarters. We’ve got a real problem to deal with. Let Wilma handle Bob Anger. If he keeps it up, she’ll find a way to get him put down. Probably,” she added thoughtfully, “by convincing the ‘Morning Zoo’ DJs to turn both barrels on him. What they did to Oral Roberts is nothing compared to what they can do to him.”

David shook his head, but returned to his chair. Jennifer went back to her list, crossing off “Call Sleighbow.”

“You know,” she said after a moment, “this business with Bob Anger—”

David looked at her hopefully. “We should do something about him?”

She shook her head violently. “God, no! No, now that I think about it—it smells like a trap. As much of a trap as that medicine-pouch was. We were meant to lock horns with Anger—to give his accusations some legitimacy.”

He frowned at her. “Yeah? What makes you say that?”

“The timing, mostly.” She ignored his growing scorn and took out the cassette tape to stare at it, as if by doing so she could make it give up its secrets. “Someone is getting nervous. Someone knows that you and I are working together, now. That someone is the person who tipped Anger off.” She glanced at him sharply. “And before you ask, no, it isn’t ‘just a hunch.’ It’s my own trained deduction combined with Medicine skills. I sense the hand of The Enemy here, and threat from the West, the country of war and death. Here—” She held up the cassette and shook it for emphasis. “I see a false war-trail here; The Enemy has gone elsewhere. If we follow the bluff, we will lose him.”

David shrank back a little in his chair, acutely uncomfortable. “Well … if you say so.…”

“I do,” she told him firmly.

He sighed, and although she could see that he was struggling against a sharp retort, he kept his mouth shut. “All right,” he said after a moment. “What’s the plan?”