"He sounds more my type. Send him my way when the affair crashes." Felicia sipped at her drink. "It must be tricky, maintaining your political purity in front of the voters while seeing a lover on the side."

Loren's cheeks turned crimson. "It is difficult," she admitted. "I never was very good at intrigue."

"You could say to hell with what people think. Most women do these days."

"Most women are not members of Congress."

"The old double standard again. Congressmen can get away with anything as long as it doesn't show up on their expense account."

"Sad, but true.," said Loren. "And in my case, I represent a district that is heavily rural. The voters still believe in the Sears catalogue, Coors' beer. and the Eleven Commandments."

"What's the eleventh?"

"Thy Congresswoman shall not screw around if she expects to win the next election."

"Where do you and Pitt meet?"

"I can't take the chance of a male's being seen leaving my apartment along with the milkman, so we meet at his place or drive to some little out-of-the-way country inn."

"You make it sound like a bus-stop romance."

"As I said, it's difficult."

"I think I can eliminate all the bullshit for YOU."

Loren looked at Felicia quizzically. "How?"

Felicia fished in her purse and came up with a key. She pressed it into Loren's hand. "Here, take this. The address is taped to the top."

"What is it for?"

"A pad I leased over in Arlington. It's yours anytime you get horny."

"But what about you? I can't expect you to get lost on a moment's notice."

"You won't be imposing," Felicia said, smiling. "I'm the houseguest of a dude across town. No more protests. Okay?"

Loren studied the key. "God, I feel like a hooker."

Felicia reached over and folded Loren's hand over the key. "If just thinking about it gives you a deliciously obscene feeling, wait until you take a shot of the upstairs bedroom."

"What do you make of it?" asked Daggat. He was seated at his desk. Hiram Lusana stood across the room and leaned over a highbacked chair, his expression anxious.

Dale Jarvis, director of the National Security Agency, pondered a few moments before answering. He looked up with a friendly, almost fatherly face. His brown hair was streaked with gray and he wore it in a crew cut. He was dressed in a tweed suit and a large red bow tie beneath his Adam's apple drooped as though it were melting.

"My guess is that this Operation Wild Rose is a game."

"A game!" Lusana rasped. "That's crap!"

"Not really," Jarvis said calmly. "Every nation with a sophisticated military establishment has a department whose function is solely to dream up what is generally referred to in the trade as 'feasibility games.' Improbable schemes. ultra crepidam, beyond the depth or grasp of likelihood. Strategic and tactical studies invented to combat unforeseen events. Then shelved against the unlikely day they are dusted off and put into action. "

"And that's your opinion of Wild Rose?" Lusana asked with a certain acidity.

"Without knowing all the details, yes," answered Jarvis. "I daresay the South African Defence Ministry has contingency plans for phony insurgent raids on half the nations of the globe."

"Do you really believe that?"

"I do," Jarvis said firmly. "Don't quote me, but nestled in some deep, dark crevasse of our own government you'll find some of the wildest scripts ever devised by man and computer; conspiracies to undermine every nation on the globe, including our Western friendlies; measures to plant nuclear bombs in the ghettos in case of mass uprisings by minorities; battle plots to counter invasions from Mexico and Canada. Not one in ten thousand will ever be utilized, but they're there, waiting, just in case."

"Insurance," said Daggat.

Jarvis nodded. "Insurance against the unthinkable."

"You mean that's all there is to it?" Lusana exploded angrily. "You're just going to write off Operation Wild Rose as an idiot's nightmare?"

"I'm afraid you've taken this thing far too seriously, General." Jarvis sat unmoved by Lusana's outburst. "You've got to face reality. As my grandfather was fond of saying, you've bought yourself a pig in a poke."

"I refuse to accept that," Lusana said stubbornly.

Jarvis casually removed his glasses and inserted them in their case. "You are. of course, free to ask for neutral opinions from other intelligence organizations, General. but I think I can safely say that Wild Rose will get pretty much the same reception wherever you present it."

"I demand you verify De Vaal's intent to set the operation in motion!" Lusana shouted.

Controlling his rising anger, Jarvis rose, buttoned his jacket, and faced Daggat. "Congressman, if you will excuse me, I must get back to my office."

"I understand," Daggat said. He came out from behind his desk and took Jarvis by the arm. "Let me show you to the elevator."

Jarvis nodded at Lusana, diplomatically forcing a friendly expression. "General?"

Lusana stood trembling. his hands clenched tightly, saying nothing. He turned and stared out a window.

As soon as they stepped into the elevator foyer, Daggat said to Jarvis, "I apologize for the general's erratic behavior. But you must understand the tremendous strain he has shouldered these past months. And then there was the long flight from Mozambique last night."

"Jet lag has been known to make men testy." Jarvis arched an eyebrow. "Or could it be he's suffering conscience pangs over his back-door entry."

Daggat moistened dry lips. "You know?"

Jarvis smiled amiably. "Routine. Don't worry, Congressman. Our job is to keep tabs on men like the general. The NSA is not in the business of prosecuting civil violations. What Immigration doesn't know in this case won't hurt them. A piece of advice, though. If I were you, I wouldn't let the general hang around Washington too long. Befriending a radical revolutionary might prove embarrassing to a man of your reputation."

"General Lusana is not a radical."

Jarvis shrugged, unimpressed. "That remains to be seen."

The red "down" light flashed above the elevator. Jarvis started to turn. "There is one more thing," said Daggat. "A favor."

The elevator bell rang and the doors parted. The interior was empty. "If I can," Jarvis said, his eyes shifting from Daggat to his only means of escape.

"Check out Operation Wild Rose. I'm not asking for a maximum effort from your people," Daggat hastened to add. "Only a few probes that may or may not confirm its validity."

The doors began to close. Jarvis held them open, one foot in, one foot still on the foyer floor. "I'll instigate an inquiry," he said. "But I warn you, Congressman, you may not like what we find."

Then the doors clanked shut and he was gone.

It was ten o'clock when Daggat came awake. He was in his office alone. His staff had long since left for home. He looked at his watch and figured he had dozed for nearly an hour. He rubbed his eyes and stretched as he vaguely heard the outeroffice door open and close. He didn't bother to look up, thinking it was the cleaning crew. It was only after he failed to tune in the familiar sounds of wastebaskets being emptied and vacuum cleaners humming that he became aware of a strange presence.