They trudged back toward the vehicle. "Sure hope so," said Fang.

"Yeah," said Bob. "I'm tired of zigzagging all over Pierce County."

Sherrine took hold of the handle to hoist herself back into the van. Fang shook his head. "Ah, sightseeing, I don't mind. It's the blizzard that bothers me." He pointed skyward with his chin.

Sherrine jerked her eyes upward. Black clouds huddled on the northern horizon. The wind blew cold and from the north. There was a taste of ice in the air.

Yeah, she thought. Thor and Fang have no jobs. They didn't have to call in and take vacation days. They could have trucked the Angels themselves, if Bob would lend them his van. But that sunuvabitch, Bob, he had to go and volunteer to do the driving. She dropped into her seat and pulled the door shut with a slam. Was she in a contest with Bob to see who would take the most risks?

She stole another glance at the northern clouds while Bob made a U-turn on the county road. Risky business, she thought. I sure hope I'mback at my desk next week. Not that she didn't have more vacation days coming, but … Risky business, she thought again, but at least they don't know I'm involved with the Angels.

The INS was late for the meeting and Lee Arteria spent the time waiting by doodling on the scratch pad. All the seats around the table had scratch pads and pencils in front of them. Arteria had never seen anything useful recorded on one. The pencil traced a light circle, slightly oblate. Arteria studied it, grinned and added two smaller circles on the sides. Chipmunk cheeks. A tiny pout of a mouth. Two large, little kid eyes, with eyebrows twisted to give the caricature a credulous look. Not too bad for a quick sketch. Sometimes Arteria missed the art world.

"Not bad," said Jheri Moorkith over her shoulder. He stole a glance at Shirley Johnson, then whispered, "But maybe make her a trifle plumper."

And you're next. Moorkith was a good-looking man, square-jawed, square-shouldered. Arteria would have sketched him as a Flash Gordon-style hero… but her sketches never came out flattering, somehow. She changed her mind and tossed the pencil to the table. "Where's Redden? I don't have time to waste in these meetings."

Moorkith shrugged. "None of us do. But this is INS's way of reminding us who's in charge." He leaned closer and whispered, "I checked your Air Force file."

"Ah. That is illegal, isn't it?"

Another shrug. "I was curious. I like to know who I'm working with."

"Whom."

"Whatever. Didn't do any good, though. Couldn't get access. You must have some good codesmiths on your team. But I was able to look at your credit report."

"That's illegal, too." But he wants me to know he can do it.

"Yeah. The box where it asked for sex. You wrote 'Yes.' "

Arteria grunted and half-swiveled the chair to get a better look at Moorkith. "So?"

"So, why didn't you put down the right answer?"

"I did."

"You did."

"Think about it."

He frowned. "Oh. But did you mean Yes, Ihave a sex. Or, Yes, Iwant sex?"

"Whichever way you want to take it."

Moorkith paused and stepped back. He licked his lip. Arteria knew what he was thinking: Do Imake the pass? What if I guesswrong and she's a he? Or he's a she. Arteia had no idea which way Moorkith swung, and so had no idea which alternative intimidated him.

Which way would he jump? Lee Arteria sent no signals; but she never bluffed.

He hadn't made his move when INS arrived. Ah, well. He who hesitates is lost.

"We don't even know if the spacemen were in Minneapolis," Ike Redden insisted. "All you did Captain Arteria, was bust a few sci-fi crazies holding an illegal meeting."

"Strictly speaking, Mr. Redden," Arteria responded, "the meeting itself was not illegal. The warrant was for harboring fugitives."

"Sci-fi nuts," said Moorkith. "Technophiles. It should be illegal."

"Nevertheless, there is the First Amendment."

"You tell him," said the Army rep.

"Maybe we need another exception. After all, Flag-burning and disrespectful singing of the Anthem are not covered by the First. The destruction of Mother Earth is at least as important as those issues." Moorkith smiled thinly. "Got a couple of technophiles to volunteer for reeducation, anyway."

Arteria hid a wry smile. And from what I could see of those two fans, its going to be interesting as to who educates whom.

Redden rapped the table. "Please. That is not the business of this task force." He ran a hand through his hair. "We are searching for two aliens who entered the country illegally. If we don't locate them quickly, we will all look very foolish."

Translation, thought Arteria: You will look very foolish.

What must it be like to mold your entire life around bureaucratic ladder climbing? To interpret every issue in terms of attaboys and awshits on your performance appraisal? Couldn't Redden see that there were principles at stake here? At least Moorkith had principles. Wrongheaded, but principles.

"The spacemen must be in Minneapolis," insisted the State Police commander. "It's the only big city reachable from the crash site. They had to head there. They would be too conspicuous in a small town. Our man at Fargo Gap told us that a van from Minneapolis drove through there the night of the crash, and they were asking about the air scooper."

Army frowned. "The same night? How did they know about it?"

"There was a girl with them. She claimed that her grandparents lived nearby. They'd seen it come down and phoned her."

"You think they were technophile subversives going to pick up the spacemen?"

State Police hesitated. "It seems likely," he admitted and hastily added: "In hindsight."

"Got an ID on the girl?" Arteria asked.

"No. We might have, but it wasn't our detail. One of your people was in charge."

"Who?"

"An engineer captain named Scithers."

Scithers. That explains some things.

"Didn't you search the van," asked Moorkith, "when they came back? You had roadblocks up by then, surely."

State Police bristled at the implied insult. "Once we were informed that the spacemen were not in their vessel, we had to take that into account, yes. A maroon van did leave North Dakota, but there was just one man in it. It may not have been the same van."

Redden looked at the ceiling. "Two maroon vans travelling Fargo Gap in opposite directions the same night," he said to no one in particular.

"Then the others in the van must have gone west," said Shirley Johnson. "Or north, to Winnipeg."

Army grunted. "The Winnies would shelter them, all right."

"No," said State Police. "The tracks across the glacier were headed east. That's why we checked out all known technophiles in Minneapolis." He looked at Arteria. "With that sci-fi outfit meeting it looked good. Damn it, it still looks good."

"Agreed. We didn't find them though," Arteria said. They were there, though. I wonder how they worked it?

Redden waved a hand in dismissal. "The tracks were Eskimos. Illegals who crossed over from Canada. We found them in Brandon, looting." He turned to State Police. "But this van. You claim that a whole load of them went west through the Gap but only one came back?"

"That's what the trooper remembers. He was almost sure it was the same van."

"Almost sure," said Moorkith with a smirk.

Redden held up a hand to forestall any argument. "And they asked about the air scooper. We should follow up on it. Lord knows, we have few enough leads. Have you identified the van, yet?"

The State Police captain shook his head. "Just the color--maroon. The license plate was a fake. Belonged to a car registered in Brandon."