“You can take a picture if you want,” Matt said behind, snapping her out of her reverie. She turned and smiled.

  “It’s fabulous. Is it all the ranch?” She obligingly dredged out her tab and took a few pictures. She’d send them to Mom and Dad.

  “Everythin y’can see on this side of the river. The ranch boundary’s on the river in some places, and in others it’s as far as a mile on the other side. Here I think it’s beyond the river. Grab your pack and we can sit on these rocks.” He indicated a couple of flat rocks the size of plywood sheets projecting a foot or so out of the grass. “It’s been sunny, so they may’ve warmed up a bit.”

  Shel enjoyed their relaxed, chatty lunch on the big, flat rocks, surveying the valley. Matt pointed out some interesting features, the way to Great Falls and to the ranch headquarters, and he told stories of hunting in the forests. He seemed to have genuine affection for the land. As they packed up to return to the ranch headquarters, she asked if he came here often.

  “When I need t’ have some space in the wide open, this is a good place t’ come. Sometimes I’d rather be more contained, and I’ve got a few canyons and forest spots that work for me then.” He smiled and looked around once more before they mounted their quads to head back down the slope.

  **

  That was fun, Shel thought as she drove home. And the ranch—it was fabulous, not like any place I’ve been before. The ants were interesting. I hope the pictures are good, and I’ll send them to Colin.

  Matt. He’s pretty laid back, friendly, treats me like a child but wants to help. Damn. I’ll have to keep pumping him for information. Whatever. He knows all about the ranch and its animals and plants, that’s cool.

  She was getting used to the seemingly empty expanse of land along her commute, with its pleasantly rolling hills. Cars passing her in the opposite direction didn’t disturb her thoughts, but the first stop sign did. It was a big red reminder that she was back among the people of the world. As she drove through the outskirts of Great Falls, she reflected again on her day at the ranch, the thrill of seeing the ants up close, and felt a twinge of regret about Matt.

  **

  Sunday morning was cold and overcast. Remnants of Saturday night’s rain showers lingered, but they were light enough she didn’t need a raincoat or umbrella. There was a breeze from the west, so when she arrived at the coffee shop she went straight indoors. Some of the locals endured the weather at tables outside, but she wasn’t yet that well acclimated. She ordered her usual tall coffee and a croissant and surveyed the room for empty seats. When her order was ready, she took it to a corner seat by a window and got her viewer out of her purse.

  It folded out to a twelve-by-eighteen-inch display and still left space on the table for her coffee and roll. She had subscribed to the local news feed when she’d arrived in March so she could get a better feel for the area. Since then, Shel had learned more than she ever imagined needing to know about the Air Force (Malmstrom Air Force Base was a big part of the local economy), farm-equipment sales, Lewis and Clark (the annual festival was little more than a month away), and the various issues of a tourism-oriented economy. Most important to her, she was starting to get a sense of the local environmental issues. Even though she had no plans to stay in Great Falls permanently, she felt it was part of her mission to understand as much as she could about the area so she could put the ranch and its work in perspective.

  After the news feed, Shel looked on the shopping feed for some new boots and maybe a broad-brimmed hat for outdoors—a real cowboy hat! Then she walked to the big nearby mall where the shopping feed had told her what she wanted was available. As she walked she began to compose in her mind the report she would write this afternoon for Colin, whom she thought of as her grumpy and irascible control. After all, if I’m going to be a spy I need to have a control, but wouldn’t it be better to have handsome, gentlemanly M than short and crabby Colin Elliot?

  Shel returned to her apartment in the middle of the afternoon with new boots, a couple of pairs of new jeans, the hat (about which she was almost giddy with excitement), and a few groceries. Even though she worked an office job on the ranch rather than a physical one, she found she was losing some weight and becoming more toned—hence the new jeans. On work days, she frequently had to walk around the ranch headquarters area chasing paperwork and supervisors. On weekends she got around town with public transit and walking through the flat streets.

  Once the clothes and groceries were put away, she went to the linen cupboard in her bathroom, reached in under the towels on the bottom shelf, and took out the tab Colin had sent her. It was a very nice one, larger than her own at eight by ten or so, sleek—sexy, even. She thought it odd that there were no identifying marks, no brand or model names or even a serial number. It told her nothing about itself. The nameless man who had delivered it during her second week here had spent an hour examining and searching her apartment to be sure it was bug free, set up his own security monitor in the bathroom medicine cabinet, and told her only to use the tab in the bathroom because his monitor would warn if any bugs or cameras had been installed. The tab had a direct satellite uplink for high-level security.

  He had taken her pocket tab and verified it was the recycled one Colin had told her to buy on the net. He connected it to his tab, and, he told her, loaded in security and data-handling apps. He gave her two pairs of sunglasses and two pairs of reading glasses and explained briefly how the hidden cameras worked. The app in her tab would store the images securely and out of sight. Next he opened a large box and handed her what looked like a hockey goalie’s helmet except the face guard was clear plastic instead of mesh—an acoustic damper and scrambler for secure voice communication, he told her. Finally he had given her a necklace (with a clunky chain of oversize links, she noted—Colin had no taste) and a turquoise and silver pendant an inch or so across. He explained that any files she wanted to send through the secure tab had to go to the pendant first via wireless proximity link to be scrubbed, then another proximity link to the tab. She thought the whole exercise a bit over the top, but as long as she was going to play Colin’s game she figured she’d go by his rules.

  She was a member of the Friends of the Natural Order, an activist environmental group in Boston that was particularly focused on threats posed by genetic engineering of plants and animals. Shel had been active, not a leader but a committed follower, attending numerous rallies, hearings, protests, and other events to move their agenda forward. A mutual friend had introduced her to Colin, and over the short period of a month or so she had become as friendly as one could with him. He was bad tempered and fiery, but he was totally opposed to the genetic engineering of animals and promised to do something about it. He had made her a proposition: would she be interested in a somewhat adventurous project? It would involve taking a job in another part of the country for a company associated with AstroGene, the largest animal genetic engineering corporation in the world. Colin’s group knew the company was working on a secret, possibly illegal but certainly illicit, animal-breeding project. She would work in a normal paying job there for a year, maybe two, and report back on what she saw, heard, or could find out.

  The promise of change, of new surroundings—she didn’t care where—after her breakup with Rick, appealed to her as much as her long-held goal of saving the world from the ill-conceived runaway commercialization of genetic technology.

  Now, five months later, here she was sitting on the toilet in an apartment in Great Falls, Montana, typing a report of her covert activities into Colin’s anonymous device.

  April 8, 2040

  Colin:

  I’ve attached a copy of my notes and pictures from the management meeting we had with the PAS project manager for the new construction at the ant farm. Pictures include his presentation items and some detail on the outside work, but he wouldn’t say anything about what’s happening inside or what kind of animals they are messing with.

  My general take is that the project isn’t of much interest to the regular employees because it doesn’t impact their jobs, and spring here is pretty busy for them. The first thing is five miles of fence to enclose the ant farm area. That much fence could enclose as much as 1,200 acres by my calculation.

  More screen shots of data system and software info pages. With what I’ve sent before I think this is about all I can get. Maybe your guys can find me a way around the firewalls. Let me know if you have ideas of more to look for. I think I need to be careful because I don’t know what the security systems are tracking.

  My access is only to the ranch admin system for purchasing, general expenses, and HR. I don’t have access to the management system or the communication system. I can do a balance sheet but it’s ranch only, isolated from other parts of AstroGene. The ant farm is on a separate system, and I’ve never seen even a login page for it. I don’t even know if it is accessible to anyone from here. When they come to us for minor items like repairs it’s all by messaging. I’ve sent you the messaging domain names.

  With the construction work coming up this summer I expect I’ll have to deal with more overlap, but nobody’s told me how that will work. The only hardware here is a few servers, two in a closet, one for the admin system and one for management. I finally found the com system server above the bathroom in the warehouse shed. Its information is in the attachment. No idea where the wires go, but there’s several dish antennas behind the shed. I think I’ve seen everything in the HQ area. It all uplinks to satellite, there are no ground-level cables or connections to the outside. The general communication system is separate, so I have no access to messages, current or backed up (except my own). I assume all that goes through the satellite links also.

  Cash flows seem normal for this time of year as far as I can tell by comparing to past years. Enough money on hand and no past dues. Steve, the manager, is really big on paying bills timely to maintain good relations with our local suppliers.

  No news of changes to management or staff here. Everyone continues to be friendly. I had lunch with the caretakers of Mr. Bell’s house, and they say he’ll be starting monthly visits in May.

  Yesterday Matt Parker, the maintenance and construction supervisor, took me out on the ranch. He wanted to show me around now that the snow has mostly melted. We saw the ant farm from a distance. Pictures attached of the farm and antiquus herd and a tab screen of the ranch geolocation system with chipped ants and bison. The ants really are a lot bigger! Matt says the regular plains bison are tough enough for our winters so there’s no point in engineering weatherability improvements into them. He had nothing to say about doing that with cattle. But it was a thrill. I didn’t see anything to indicate construction or other activity at the ant farm. Matt says there’s a couple of biologists stationed there to watch the ants, otherwise nothing.

  Michelle Perry

  She reread the message, verified she had loaded the images and her other files properly, checked the status monitor on the security device in the medicine cabinet, and sent her message. Finally she put the tab away under the towels and went to make herself a drink before dinner.

  She read for a while, made a simple dinner, watched the news on her viewer, and was cleaning up the kitchen when her tab beeped with a message. It looked like a typical piece of useless advertising junk, but she recognized it as a coded notification from Colin. She went back to the bathroom, checked security, and pulled the tab out from under the pile of towels. There was a message:

  I didn’t send you out there to be a tourist and see the sights. We need hard information. If you can’t figure out the data systems, my guys here can. I don’t expect you to know everything, but I need something to work with if we’re going to find out what AstroGene is cooking up. Forget the ants! They are history—we want to know what’s coming next! And send me your usernames and passwords so once we find the outside connections we can get in. I already have names of most of the employees, but if you can get their usernames and passwords that would help too. This is all too important to wait!

  CE

  Thanks to you too, dickhead. She was irritated but not surprised. Maybe Colin’s activist buddies could hack in. Whatever. She added his requests to her to-do list for the coming week and put the secure tab back under her towels. Thinking ahead to her workweek, she saw a couple of times when she expected she’d be alone in the office and could get what he needed.

  Chapter 4

  “His name’s Spitfire,” Matt told Shel as he handed her the horse’s lead rope. The flash of surprise on her face amused him. “Don’t worry, he’s the calmest horse on the ranch.” They were in the wide aisle of the barn, next to the tack room door, and Matt had just brought the horse out of his stall to where Shel was waiting with several large carrots in one hand. “You two get acquainted while I get Daisy,” he said as he took another lead off the halter rack.

  As he walked away Matt heard Spitfire slurp in the first carrot and grind it in his mouth. Shel was saying something, then there was the sound of a second carrot. Matt snapped the lead onto his horse’s halter as it stamped its feet in the stall, then he led it out and up the aisle. When Matt returned Shel and Spitfire were discussing the weather.

  “This is heavy, a lot heavier than the saddles we had when I was a kid,” Shel said as she carried the saddle Matt had given her out of the tack room. She turned her body to one side as she reached Spitfire and swung the saddle up onto his back.

  “I’ll get the other side for you,” Matt said as he walked past her. He put his saddle on Daisy and turned back to Spitfire, pulling the cinch down and passing it under the horse to Shel. “Think of it as the cowboy’s office chair—designed t’ be comfortable for a whole workin day. For man and horse.” He fastened and adjusted his cinch then checked Shel’s, coming around to her side and, after another check, tightening it one more notch. He went back into the tack room and returned with a couple of bridles. He handed one to Shel, who held it up for a moment.

  “Where’s the noseband?” she asked.

  “We only use ’em for breakin and trainin. Once the horse knows what t’ do y’don’t need ’em. You’ll see.”

  She looked again at the bridle, shrugged, and after watching Matt put his on Daisy, put hers on Spitfire and removed the halter. Matt came over and looked at it, nodded, and led the way out of the barn.

  “Mountin block?” he asked once they were in the corral.

  “No, I can manage,” she said, sharply, as she stood beside her horse and put her left boot in the stirrup. She gripped the saddle, pushed with her right leg, and almost made it. Mattwas standing next to Spitfire’s head, holding the reins for her, and he kept a silent, straight face. The second time he reached out and gave her thigh a boost at just the right moment, and she was up.

  “Thanks,” she said. “A little practice and I’ll be fine.” He checked the stirrup, looked at her leg, and let out the leather another inch.

  “That’ll make it easier next time. We ride with a straight leg. You had ’em a little short.” He went around and adjusted the other side. “OK, just walk him around t’ get the feel of it all. I know it’ll be different than what you remember, but he’s still just a horse.”

  She nodded, took one rein in each hand, and gave a gentle nudge with her heels as she leaned slightly forward. Spitfire began to walk.

  Matt watched for a few moments, trying to decide which mistakes to point out and correct first. He knew she had experience, but he also knew it had been fifteen years and she hsd never ridden Western. He mounted up and walked beside her.

  “Keep your back straight and let your legs hang down, relaxed, just touchin the stirrups,” he said. She glanced over and adjusted her posture. “Straight up and down. And both reins in your left hand.” She looked again, brows furrowed. “That’s what we do, and what he’s trained t’ expect. Leaves the other hand free t’ rope cattle or eat your lunch,” he explained with a grin. They went around the corral a couple of times. He could see she was on edge, but she was following his instructions. She stopped after a few minutes, took an earband out of her jacket pocket, took off her hat so she could put it on, and replaced the hat.

  “Is it still winter?” she asked.

  “No, it’s spring,” Matt replied with a laugh. It was May but the morning was chilly and overcast. The big round barn thermometer read forty-one degrees, and there was wind. “If you’re cold I can go over t’ my prefab and get you some long johns,” he said with a grin.

  She shot him a sour look. “No, I am quite all right. In Boston we had colder weather than this, just not in May.” She started the horse again and seemed focused on keeping Spitfire moving in the right direction and finding a comfortable seat. “It’s the wind that’s so cold.” He and Daisy were walking beside her with about five feet between them, Matt watching to see that she was maintaining control and giving the horse proper direction. She had shown up bundled against the cold, now including the earband, and at this point he wished he had something for his own ears. With the wind chill they were pretty cold. Too late now.

  They went around the other way, then after a few minutes of that it was figure eights, turning left then right, over and over. He had her give the horse another nudge to start him trotting. He could see she was unsure, and they had a brief exchange about the slower Western trot and not posting. She tried it. After half an hour he thought she was doing well enough to go out on the ranch road. “Ready for open country? Not still cold, are you?” he asked.