The Green Progression

by L. E. Modesitt Jr

  “He’s missing.”

  “I say the poor bastard’s dead. They found his car in Rosslyn. No traces, no fingerprints except his and a garage attendant’s, according to the Post. There won’t be any.”

  “How do you know?” Jonnie asked slowly.

  “I can’t tell you how I know. That’s just what my guts say. I mean, Jerry never had enough guts to run from an ex-wife who was bleeding him dry, or to stop drinking, or to stop gambling. He didn’t run from that hearing. Something stopped him. Anyway, the other thing is JAFFE. They’re moving into high tech, right in the areas where U.S. companies are being forced offshore, and they hire us. And they know exactly who Larry is and we are and what Larry did and what we do. Larry’s killed. Devenant insists on continuing. Us—not even lawyers. He just shuts out Heidlinger. And they keep tabs on what we’re doing. They’re playing for high stakes. Why? What do they know?”

  Jonnie frowned. “I’m not sure where—”

  “It’s simple. Assume there is this crazy plot, the one I hate to even think about, to destroy U.S.-based high technology, especially space and weapons stuff. That’s what you suggested, anyway. That creates incredible market opportunities. JAFFE is ready to take them, except the deal sours all of a sudden.”

  “Sours?”

  “Yeah.” McDarvid looked out the window. “The Europeans and the third-world countries start adopting U.S. environmental standards.”

  “Shit. Then…”

  “Right,” affirmed McDarvid, “there’s a delay, but the U.S. standards threaten business worldwide. What do you do if you’re a hard-bitten French multinational?”

  “You go to the root of the problem,” said Jonnie. “You really believed that about the Russians? All this rests on the assumption that someone is using environmental regulations as a weapon.”

  “It’s worse than that. I’m saying that they’re smart enough to act at the level of the underlying assumptions—the risk assessments, the critical dosages. For example, you’ll notice that they always use animal studies, even if there are epidemiological studies available. Why? Because the human exposure history studies—just like we showed with cadmium—prove the real-life effects of chemicals are not nearly as catastrophic as the extrapolations from animal studies.”

  “That would mean somebody has been doing this for years.”

  “Longer, probably.” McDarvid pulled himself out of the chair. “What could I really say? Without convincing you and the whole world that I had totally gone off the deep end?” He paused. “Maybe I have. Maybe I have.”

  Jonnie leaned forward and picked up his glasses. “I see all the pieces. There’ve even been articles on every point you mentioned.”

  “But no articles about conspiracies, right?” The older man turned toward the window and the light drizzle that cascaded down on Nineteenth Street.

  “I’ve even seen a couple of small articles about environmental protests in the Soviet Union.” Jonnie paused for a second. “They’ve gotten green groups trying to shut down industry—just like some U.S. environmentalists.”

  McDarvid shut his eyes. “Fine. They’ve grown enviro-nuts in Russia. But have you seen any articles about conspiracies to destroy U.S. industry?”

  “Haven’t seen any,” Jonnie admitted.

  “You won’t. If it is a plot, no one will say anything, and if it’s not”—McDarvid shrugged as he turned from the window—“then I’m as crazy as I seem.”

  “The facts are there,” Jonnie admitted, thinking about McDarvid. Jack jumped to conclusions. But Jonnie had learned early that you never bet against Jack, no matter how screwy his reasoning. He stood up. “I guess I need to think this over.”

  “Be my guest. Be my guest.”

  As Jonnie stepped back into his office, he looked out the window, pursing his lips. McDarvid had still not told him what he had been doing—only why. Jonnie wondered what else he didn’t know about the friendly but silently intense man he had worked with for nearly four years. Some of that was Washington, the side of the city that outsiders never saw, where people hid their personal lives because so much of their lives were public performances.

  90

  “JONNIE … JONNIE, WAKE UP.” Veronica’s voice was hushed but insistent.

  Slowly, Jonnie eased himself upright.

  “You kept kicking your legs and flailing.”

  Jonnie nodded. He continued to take deep, almost heaving breaths. “Did I say anything?”

  “Nothing that I could hear, maybe grunting. You looked like you were trying to swim.”

  Swim? Jonnie shook his head groggily.

  “Do you remember what it was about?”

  Jonnie took another deep breath. “I think I was being questioned. There were men wearing what looked like army fatigues. But they didn’t have any military insignia. Then someone started shooting—I don’t know who. I don’t think it was anyone in uniform. I picked up a dead man’s pistol and ran.” Jonnie swallowed, his breathing now regular.

  “Did you fire back?”

  “No, I don’t think so. I just ran. I knew I had to get away.” He shifted his weight and leaned toward her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” His arm went around her naked shoulders.

  Veronica snuggled closer as they leaned against the pillows propped up against the windowsill that served as a headboard.

  “It’s all right. I really wasn’t sleeping.”

  “You also had bad dreams?”

  “Guess I couldn’t relax. Stay close.” Veronica rested her head on Jonnie’s shoulder as he curled his arm around her neck. The auburn hair covered them both like a soft blanket. With her free hand, she drew the sheet up to their shoulders.

  As she closed her eyes, Jonnie looked into the shadows in the far corner of the room. His eyes remained open long after Veronica’s breathing had become soft and regular.

  91

  “JONNIE, ARE YOU GOING TO DRINK THE COFFEE or just stare at it?” Veronica asked.

  “Sorry. I was thinking.”

  “You know that gives you a headache.”

  A smile flickered across Jonnie’s face. His hands remained cupped around the cooling coffee.

  “What are you worried about?”

  Jonnie shrugged.

  “I can tell. You didn’t want anything for breakfast. I practically had to force the coffee on you, and now you’re not talking. What’s wrong?”

  Jonnie looked down into the black liquid. Reflections danced on the surface as he gently shook the mug.

  Veronica got up, walked behind Jonnie, and began massaging his neck.

  “That feels good,” he admitted, not looking up.

  “Was it the dream last night?” she asked, fingers kneading into his tight shoulder muscles.

  “No. Not the way you mean.”

  Veronica continued working on his shoulders and neck.

  “It just got me thinking. Or wouldn’t let me stop thinking. And you haven’t been sleeping too well yourself.”

  “That comes with the territory. What have you been thinking about?”

  “I think we need to talk.” Jonnie abandoned the mug and began rubbing his forehead.

  “Sure. Let’s go into the living room. Leave the dishes.” Veronica ran her fingers up his neck, then bent down. Her lips brushed his neck.

  Jonnie shivered. After a moment, he stood and took the mug in both hands. Without looking at Veronica, he crossed the kitchen linoleum, the narrow entryway, and stepped into the living room. His eyes took in the picture of Groucho Marx, and a faint smile flickered on his lips. He settled himself on the sofa under Groucho.

  Veronica sat next to him and put her arm around his shoulders.

  “Veronica, who do you work for?”

  “You know where I work.”

  “I know where you work, but I don’t know who you work for.”

  “I work for Ecology Now!”

  Jonnie turned toward Veronica and said nothing. He slowly shook his head, thin
king of J. Alfred Prufrock. “That’s not what I meant. That is not it at all.”

  “You’re strange sometimes.” Veronica wrinkled her forehead. “Ecology Now! is just what it is—a group dedicated to improving the environment. That’s what I believe in. If Cal is involved in anything besides the environment, it would be news to me.”

  “I wasn’t necessarily talking about Ecology Now! Too many other things don’t line up.” Jonnie paused. “They’re almost right, but not quite.”

  Veronica shifted her weight, withdrew the arm from Jonnie’s shoulders, drew her knees up onto the sofa cushion, and put her arms around them.

  “You live modestly, but you still spend more than a small public interest group could pay. Your dresses are the kind a junior executive wears.” Jonnie swallowed before going on. “Your coat … even the amount of new tapes and books you buy. You said your folks don’t support you financially.”

  “Is that all?”

  Jonnie pulled at his beard. “Other stuff—some of it’s hard to describe. No matter how well I may come to know you, there will always be a small intense part of you that’s locked away, that I never see. It stands out by its absence … if that makes any sense.”

  Veronica nodded—a gesture of acknowledgment, not of agreement.

  “Something strange is going on with environmental regulations. There are just too many standards and regs targeted at important industries that make no sense from a health and safety viewpoint. Jack and I have had a few laughs about conspiracies. I think he took that more seriously than I did, even though it was my suggestion. But Jack doesn’t believe in conspiracies, and he’s worried. So intense and so worried that it’s scary.”

  “Isn’t that just because of the job situation?”

  “Maybe. But I don’t think so. He’s a former Navy pilot who worked on the Hill and at EPA. Just job security wouldn’t tear him up that much.”

  “Maybe he’s the one where things don’t line up.”

  “Maybe, but that’s not what we’re talking about.”

  Veronica shrugged.

  Jonnie sipped the cool coffee before setting the mug down. “There was that business with Ray Thomas. And you never said a word about it.”

  “Ray just snapped. I can’t believe he’s a part of anything. He’s too unstable. Too much like … Peter. You know, they used to be friends a long time ago. It’s hard to believe.” She shook her head slowly.

  “That was the other thing. Peter.” Jonnie swallowed. “That day in the parking lot. Afterward, when I pressed, you said something was going to happen to him. I think you said something like he was going to be history, that he wouldn’t have any choice about it. Two weeks later he was in jail. You wanted him gone; you said he was a danger to the environmental movement. Well, he’s gone, probably for a long time, one way or another. And it was handled in just the right way to keep it from becoming a public mess. That was just too convenient.”

  Veronica wrapped her arms around her knees more tightly. “So who do you think I work for?” asked Veronica. “You just about have me convicted.”

  “No … not convicted,” Jonnie said slowly. “I didn’t want to think about it. But last night after the nightmare, I just kept thinking.”

  “And?”

  “There are two basic choices.” Jonnie waited.

  Outside in the parking lot, the rumble of an ill-mufflered truck was followed by a screech and a spray of gravel.

  Jonnie turned and looked at Veronica.

  “Two basic choices,” he repeated.

  “Us and them?”

  In turn, Jonnie nodded without speaking.

  “What makes you think that it would be us?”

  “I guess that’s what I hoped. That, and the business with Peter. You were involved, in a way that you aren’t talking about, and something that could have been nasty turned out okay.”

  “Sometimes, things work out all right.”

  “It’s not us, is it?”

  Veronica looked at Jonnie sadly and shook her head.

  Jonnie gave a deep sigh. “I guess this is the point where I’m supposed to ask why.”

  “Are you?”

  “Supposed to ask?”

  “Going to ask.”

  Jonnie sighed again. “Might as well.”

  “I suppose you think I’m a traitor.”

  “That’s one obvious conclusion.”

  “Things aren’t that simple. You can’t divide the world into us and them. It’s a lot more complicated.”

  “Actually, you’re the one that said us and them,” reminded Jonnie.

  “That’s what you were thinking. Either I work for us or I work for them. Did you think that I might do both?”

  “You’re a double agent?”

  “You still don’t understand. It doesn’t matter who I work for. What matters is what I’m working for. That’s for all of us. Everyone that breathes, regardless of nationality. I’m a loyal American. That may be hard for you to understand.”

  “You think that the Russians are interested in protecting American health? That they’re just wonderful humanitarians competing for the Schweitzer Award?”

  “No. I have few illusions about the Russians. Truth is—they’re barbarians. The one time I met a couple of them, they made my skin crawl.”

  “So why do you work for them? Are you a communist?”

  “Do I look like a communist?” Veronica laughed. “I’m not even close to being a Marxist … unless you mean a Groucho Marxist.” Veronica angled a thumb at the picture over the couch. “That’s why I put him up there. It was my own personal joke.”

  “So why?”

  “Because fighting pollution is right regardless of who I do it for. Do you remember what Churchill said, that if Hitler invaded hell he would at least put in a good word for the devil in the House of Commons the next morning? The Russians are my devil.” Veronica let go of her knees, put her feet back on the carpet, and half turned toward Jonnie.

  “I’ve also heard that if you sup with the devil you should use a long spoon.”

  “I’ve taken steps to protect myself. I’ve given this a lot of thought and some research. I’m not doing anything wrong morally or legally.”

  “Not even legally?”

  “If you want to be technical, I’m committing a minor violation of the foreign agents’ registration act. If I were exposed, the worst that would happen is having to fill out a few forms, perhaps a fine. I have no secrets, and I don’t work for the government. That gives me a pretty free rein to do as I please. I even pay all my taxes. Money, not a lot, is funneled to me through a temp agency for which I supposedly do some secretarial work. Withholding is taken, and I get a W-2 form.”

  “Still, you are working for the devil.”

  “If the CIA had asked me, I would have done the same for them.”

  “Soldier of fortune?” Jonnie immediately regretted the sarcastic words.

  “Remember what you told me about you and Jack? That you were idealists? I also have ideals, ideals I won’t sacrifice to anybody’s ideology. Including yours.”

  Jonnie looked at Veronica and ran a hand through his hair. “You still haven’t told me why the Russians would want to help the American ecology.”

  “I assume that they think they are undermining the U.S. military-industrial complex.”

  “Aren’t they?”

  “Probably. So what? If I can use the Russians to help me stop pollution, I will. I’ll get more out of the deal than they will.” She laughed softly. “Let me ask you—do you really think the Soviets are going to invade us? Their economy is in shambles, and the republics have disintegrated into ethnic fiefdoms. Do you really believe that they can conquer us or that they’d even seriously try?”

  “Then why try and damage our economy? Why spend scarce resources on a program which won’t be of benefit?”

  “Because little boys are going to play their spy games to their dying breath. And unless major action is taken to ha
lt global pollution, none of us will have that many breaths left. I just hope that someone is trying to undermine their economy the same way.” Veronica looked away from Jonnie.

  “You want to help people. You want children to breathe clean air and parents to work in safe places.” Jonnie sighed softly. “But what you are doing is hurting people. Most of those standards you promote have little health benefit. But when factories close, people go hungry. Parents beat their children. Workers who have no other hope become alcoholics; they kill themselves.”

  Veronica began to gnaw on a knuckle. “I know. I think you’re exaggerating the effects of the regs, but I know they cause some harm. I’d prefer another way, but I don’t know one. I would also prefer that our oh-so-civilized society spend a tiny bit of our resources to help those people instead of leaving them to swing in the wind. Besides, we don’t achieve everything we try to accomplish. We wouldn’t achieve anything, though, unless we tried. If government and business had more of a social conscience, things would be all right.”

  “It doesn’t bother you? What you’re doing?”

  “Of course it does. Why do you think I can’t sleep? But I have to do something. Pickets and letters don’t work. Not fast enough.”

  “You could get out of this.”

  “I could. I made it very clear that I would leave whenever I wanted to. I have no ideological commitment, and I can live without their money.”

  “You’re going to keep doing this, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” Veronica met his eyes.

  Jonnie took a deep breath, still reflecting on Peter, wondering if she would ever feel he had to go, just had to disappear. The room remained quiet. Finally, he asked, “How did you get involved in the first place?”

  “It was at school after I had interned for Ecology Now! Some people claiming to represent a charitable trust came to see me. They explained that they knew I was committed to the environment and wanted to help me follow through. If I went to work for Ecology Now! after I graduated, they would supplement my income and provide advice on policy issues.”