Free Double Blind by Ken Goddard

could've detected it with the gear he had with him during the exercise."
    "Even so, I would've expected him to know about the new technology, and be prepared for the unexpected," Halahan commented.
    "That's pretty much what he said, too, although he wasn't that polite," Moore agreed. "And as for Woeshack . . . well, I'm still of the opinion that he shouldn't be allowed anywhere near any federal government motorized vehicle, much less a goddamned airplane. All things considered, I find it truly amazing that he's still alive."
    "He claims he comes from a long line of Eskimo shamans who provide the necessary spiritual guidance when he flies," Halahan explained. "OAS just recertified him, so maybe there's something to it."
    "You mean like Paxton's poor black sharecropper ancestors who used to practice voodoo on the plantation?"
    "No, that's pure Paxton bullshit." Halahan smiled for the first time that morning. "So what's your take on what happened out there?"
    "You mean why does older, slower, half-crippled, and otherwise handicapped Bravo Team take the flag every time, no matter how we stack the deck?" Moore shrugged. "The obvious, I suppose. They watch out for each other. Play off their obvious strengths. Cover their known weaknesses. Continually adapt to the situation at hand. Refuse to give up. And, of course, they cheat."
    "You mean the septic tank?"
    "One of many examples, as I recall." Moore resisted the urge to chuckle. "In fact, looking back over the past week, I think the only thing they haven't cheated on is the restriction on live ammo."
    "I thought you said you were going to compensate for the cheating — put more emphasis on the fundamentals?" Halahan reminded him.
    "I thought I had." Moore grinned apologetically. "Hell, I even designed this last exercise myself, based on some input I got from Boggs."
    "Wilbur Boggs?"
    "Yeah. He called a few days ago to bullshit and bat around a couple of ideas for a project. He didn't say so directly, but I got the feeling he's hoping to borrow one of the teams for something he's got going out in Oregon."
    Halahan's eyebrows rose as he recalled the details of the training scenario he'd just witnessed. "Something involving a congressman?"
    "That's the way I read it," Moore acknowledged. "Don't you?"
    "What did you tell him?" Halahan stopped leafing through the evaluations and observed his deputy expectantly.
    "That I'd get back to him later after we finished in-service."
    "Good answer." Halahan nodded his head approvingly. "So tell me more about this exercise that Boggs helped you design."
    "Yeah, well, the basic idea was that Lightstone and Paxton would make the contact at the campsite, recognize the congressman and his girlfriend, spot the payoff situation and the illegal dough, then handle the situation in a diplomatic manner that might actually result in a decent case with admissible evidence and a minimum number of follow-up Congressionals."
    "And presumably without getting themselves or their partners killed in the process," Halahan suggested wryly.
    "That was the general idea." Freddy Moore smiled. "According to the script, backup agents are available, but radio communications are out. The girlfriend is unpredictable and may be armed and dangerous — Marashenko, by any definition. Donato and LiBrandi were born to the roles of sleazy congressman and lobbyist/bagman. Wu steps onstage as the ever-faithful congressional aide who doubles as a bodyguard, and LiBrandi brings along his own street-smart baby-sitter — a role played to perfection by our genuine Harlem street kid Antone Green — to keep an eye on the money. I figured all that just might make our boys sweat a little for a change."
    "You think Bravo Team came up with a legitimate solution to the problem?"
    Moore shrugged. "Depends on how you look at it. Starting out by poisoning the opposing team leader's lunch isn't exactly what I'd call a textbook solution."
    "They actually poisoned Riley?" Halahan interrupted,