it became a personal mission, not just the subject of her doctorate. When the beetle had emerged as a threat to the northern forests of the United States, she and her advisor, Jack Benchley, had been recruited for the science advisory panel that determined a plan of action. From there, it had been only a short step to taking the job heading up the eradication program.
And there she’d been ever since, her name synonymous with a predator of increasing destructiveness.
“Do you think you’ve got things under control in New York?”
That was the question, wasn’t it. She moved her shoulders. “We took down a lot of trees. Will it help? I don’t know. I suppose in our own way we’re just as bad as the borer.”
“You don’t destroy trees for the sake of destruction,” Ford said quietly.
“Neither do they. They’re just going about the business of life.” But they were relentless, implacable, and every time she had to take out an acre of century-old trees it made her soul sick. “Do the sugar-makers around here know that you’ve discovered evidence of the borer?”
“We’ve done some inspections but I haven’t said anything. I thought you ought to get a look around. There’s a county growers’ meeting tomorrow night. You can fill them in on the details then, let them know what to expect.”
“When I figure that out, I’ll let you know.” Through the open door, she heard the sudden sound of voices as a group of people came in from outside.
Ford glanced out toward the central room and his jaw set a fraction. “You should be aware, we’ve also got an…official from the Vermont Division of Forestry to oversee the project.”
Hairs prickled on the back of her neck. “To oversee the project? This is a federal program. I’m running it.”
“Not in my state,” said a voice from the door.
Without turning, Celie knew who it was. Dick Rumson, the old guard head of forest resource protection for the state. Undereducated and overprotected, he was a political appointee who ran roughshod over far-more-qualified people by virtue of his connections. He’d wangled a spot on the science advisory panel for the maple borer and obdurately contested the findings put forth by Celie and Benchley. Fortunately, they’d had the data to back up every assertion, whereas he’d had only bluster. Ultimately, she and Benchley had carried all the votes, with Rumson as the lone holdout. That he still bitterly resented being shown up was obvious by the set of his beaky mouth.
“Dick,” she said smoothly, rising to put out her hand. “Good to see you again.”
“We can handle this ourselves,” Rumson said brusquely, ignoring Celie to aim a stare at Bob Ford. “We don’t need federal folks in here.”
“I think it’s too early to assume that,” Celie countered, jamming her hands in her pockets. “The staff here has reason to suspect an infestation, and I think they might be right.” Calm, she reminded herself. Calmness was the best way to get to him. He wasn’t a threat, only an irritant. Everything would be twice as hard and take twice as long with him around, but it would get done. “I’ll know more about the situation after I’ve had a chance to do some inspections.” She toyed with the items in her pocket: a coin, a paperclip, a hard cylinder she didn’t remember putting in there.
“We’ve already inspected and we haven’t found anything. You might as well save your time.”
“Now, Dick,” Ford began, “you know we’ve found—”
“You university types jump to conclusions,” Rumson said contemptuously. “I’ve got a staff of experienced forestry specialists and we haven’t found anything.”
Celie touched the hard cylinder again. The sample vial, she realized. “Really?” She brought it out. “You want to tell me what this is, then?”
Rumson squinted over at it. “What’s that?”
“A sample from a bore hole.”
Rumson gave a contemptuous snort. “That’s bark.”
“Look closer,” she invited. “That greenish powder on the top might be maple-borer fungi.”
“Or it could just be bark dust.”
“You want to come into the lab with me and find out?”
“I don’t have time for this load of time-wasting horse hockey,” he barked, a sure sign he was feeling on unsteady ground.
“I’ll be happy to call you with the results,” Celie said silkily. “I’m not doing this for entertainment, Dick. If the maple borer is in your woods, we’ve got to find it and act quickly. Unless you want to lose your entire maple syrup industry and all those tourist dollars the leaf peepers bring in the fall. How many billion dollars does that add up to again?”
Rumson’s face turned a dull red. “Now just a minute here. Don’t you think you can come in and just start clearing acres. How do I know you didn’t bring that in?”
“Careful, Dick.” Somehow, Ford’s voice managed to be both mild and steely with warning.
Rumson worked his jaw a moment in silence. “I want to talk with your supervisor.”
“I’ll be happy to give you his number. We need to work together on this.”
“I saw how you cooperated at the advisory panel meeting,” he said, his expression sullen. “I want my team overseeing everything you do.”
“I’ll go you one better. Once I’ve trained them, your team can be involved in every inspection. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover and very little time to do it in. We’re going to need every pair of eyeballs we can get.”
“If you think that—”
“What I think is that as head of resource protection you want what’s best for your forests, Dick. I’ve always thought that. How we work out the specifics is just details.” She gave him a friendly, open smile.
It stopped him for a long moment while he tried to work out a response. “Don’t think this is over,” he said finally, turning toward the door.
Celie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Trust me, Dick, I know it’s only the start.”
Chapter Two
“Sorry you had to deal with that,” Ford said as Rumson slammed out. “I was going to warn you but there wasn’t time.”
Celie shrugged. “I should have expected it. Dick and I go back a ways.” And little of their history was pleasant.
Ford studied her. “Is he going to get in the way of you getting the job done?”
“I’m sure he’ll try, but he’s never managed to be more than an annoyance so far.”
“Let me see that sample.” He reached out a hand and she passed over the glass cylinder.
Ford studied it, turning it over in his hands. “You really think this is the fungus?”
