Rod frowned; he’d gotten to know the subtle cues in Smith’s voice over the past few weeks, and Smith was nervous.

“So what’s the problem?” he asked cautiously.

“Sleighbow hired a Private Investigator to make sure you didn’t know there was real trouble before the bombing,” Smith said. “He’s looking for conspiracy to commit fraud—that’s not just civil, that’s criminal.”

Rod didn’t see the problem. “What’s the big deal?” he asked. “There’s nothing to find. There wasn’t any conspiracy, remember? We made it all up.”

“Yeah, and that’s the problem—that there isn’t anything. You don’t have any way to substantiate this terrorism shit.” Smith definitely was nervous. “If there isn’t anything there, the P.I. just might look deeper, and find some of our tracks. Or else clue the cops in.”

“No problem.” Rod had dealt with small-timers a lot; he knew how to handle them. “We just wait until he doesn’t find anything, slip him some change under the table to quit right there and—”

“The big deal is the P.I. he hired,” Smith interrupted. “For starters, this one isn’t on the take. She’s as clean as they come. It’s a woman, a local, and she’s likely to know what to look for. And she’s Indian, so you can bet she’s going to be looking for things that will clear her people. I’ve got a file on her right here—Romulus hasn’t ever done work with her before, but one of the companies we bought out not too long ago did. According to this, she not only refused a payoff, she had herself wired by a security firm, and reported the bribe with the tape as evidence. She got some Olympia people fired over that one. She’s straight, and she could be trouble.”

But the moment Smith revealed his opposition’s sex, Rod knew he had the situation sewed up. Indian and female—uneducated, unthinking, relying on instincts; no way was this chick going to give him a hard time. “No woman is going to be trouble,” Rod said arrogantly. “I haven’t seen a bitch yet I haven’t been able to outclass and outthink. But I need more information—I need to know where I can get some leverage on her. See what you can dig up for me, and see if you can have someone at your end throw her a red herring. Get somebody to tell her there really was trouble with Indians before the explosion.”

Smith snorted; he was clearly not that confident. But then, he didn’t know Rod, did he? “All right—” he said reluctantly, “but it’s your funeral if you screw up.”