In a trim grey suit and dark horn rimmed glasses, Jaime looked every inch a real secretary. The glasses were the final touch - and though they lent her an appropriately studious air, when the magnificent white edifice of the McCready hotel came into view in the distance she saw it through a smudgy, streaky haze. A real secretary would surely clean her glasses.

She swung the rental car around to the entrance, and before she knew it she was standing at the front desk, having been relieved of both car and bags by fit and cheerful young men in grey and black uniforms.

It was a little odd not knowing what exactly was up, but at this moment she wasn't complaining. She knew her main purpose was to keep Oscar safe from some as yet unexplained menace - Russ told her the boss himself would illuminate her. He had handed her one of the new tiny datacoms, said that help was minutes away if she needed it, and packed her off to Colorado - to the McCready hotel.

And what a hotel it was – built in the grand style in 1899 by an eccentric who had made a fortune in copper - a massive, rambling edifice, tucked away in the Colorado Rockies. It was only open in late spring, summer, and early fall – keeping the roads cleared of snow in winter was practically impossible.

The young man at the reception desk was similarly bright eyed and enthusiastic, and in a few minutes the bellhop was leading her to her room, beaming at her from under his ludicrous pillbox bellhop hat.

As she pressed a tip into his palm, she commented that he was part of the most exuberant hotel staff she had ever seen, and he explained they were all students, working here during the summers so they could take advantage of the unbeatable hiking and mountain climbing on their days off. Jaime was momentarily envious, remembering her own easygoing college days.

After wiping her glasses and tidying her hair, she set out to find Oscar. She knew he had a meeting set for later in the day, so presumably he was at loose ends till then – if Oscar was capable of being at loose ends. He was not in his room, which left her with the daunting prospect of finding him in one of the many huge communal areas that made up much of the building – if he was even inside. There was a library and a ballroom and a lounge, two dining rooms and a sunroom - not to mention the numerous nooks and crannies designed for introverted guests to nestle into with a good book. The hotel had gone through a make over in the fifties, and it was now overdue for another. Threadbare and outdated, it was like a favorite pair of shoes that had once been worn on formal occasions and were now more suited for a walk to the coffee shop. She liked the place better for it.

The exploration was enjoyable, so she wasn't discouraged when she didn't find Oscar right away. The hotel was lively but not, she guessed, filled to capacity. There were a number of families, a gaggle of rugged looking senior citizens, an awestruck tour group from Japan, and a few packs of serious looking men and women in suits, presumably engaged in some sort of business. What or who in this environment could Oscar possibly need protection from?

Finally, in the back of the big white breakfast room, she saw a solitary figure, mostly hidden by an open newspaper, coffee cooling on the table beside him. She didn't need a closer look to identify him – she knew those long legs and big feet so well.

"Mr. Goldman?"

The paper dropped, revealing an astonished face. His mouth was already set in position to say the word What… doubtless to be followed by are you doing here? but he said nothing as he sized her up, his expression becoming more bemused as he assessed her outfit.

"Miss…?" he asked finally.

"Sumner. I'm sorry sir. I realized after you'd left that I hadn't given you the complete package of documents you needed for the meeting."

"Really?" He glanced around the room. There were enough people nearby to preclude any sort of discussion there. "Well, Miss Sumner, I was just about to take a stroll in the great outdoors. Perhaps you would care to join me."

"Yes, sir."

Stepping outside into the clean mountain air and bright morning sun, they both breathed deeply at exactly the same time.

"Okay, so why are you really here?" Oscar asked, once they were out of earshot of the hotel.

Jaime did a quick turn to make sure no one was following them. "Russ. He was worried - he said you were here alone and he wasn't happy about it. So…what's the deal? He didn't tell me what it was about – he said you would."

"He did, did he?" Oscar grumbled. "I might as well have hired my mother, the way that guy fusses. You shouldn't be here and he knows that - I had specific instructions to come alone, and as I am trying to demonstrate trustworthiness, your presence could blow the whole thing."

"Well, just the fact that you were asked to come alone tells me that you shouldn't have." Jaime replied reprovingly. She was often startled by Oscar's lapses in caution – particularly regarding his own safety. It was one of his well known quirks.

"Jaime, I am not entirely unprepared." he retorted, as though he had heard her internal musings. "I had Intelligence go over the whole situation with a fine tooth comb, and they gave me the go ahead."

"Well," Jaime shrugged defiantly, "it couldn't be helped. Being your new secretary and all, I made a mistake, didn't I?"

"Uh huh."

"So are you going to fill me in? I'm here. I might as well do my job."

Oscar frowned and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I don't know…"

"You're not getting rid of me, so come on – out with it."

"You're not coming to the meeting."

"Yes I am. Now why don't you tell me what it's all about?"

He cast his eyes over the mountains, and set his jaw. "It's…it's the…uh…weather control device… Dr. Franklin's weather control device."

"What?!" Jaime gasped. The very mention of the infamous Dr. Franklin made her shudder. "That project is dead, isn't it? What about it?"

Oscar glanced at her uneasily. He knew exactly what her reaction would be, but somehow he had to see it anyway. It was like prodding a sore tooth. She suddenly seemed a couple of inches taller, and her face, which was usually animated in some way, dropped all expression. Even though there was no frown, no grimace, no gritted teeth, she still managed to look incredibly disapproving, and worse yet - disappointed. He felt shifty and shameful, as though he were sitting in a very small desk, his head bowed over the exam he'd cheated on, Miss Sommers looming over him. And how are you going to explain this, not-so-young man?!

He cleared his throat. "Franklin evidently had a partner, whom he alienated before they could complete their work together - a couple of years before Franklin started work at the OSI. He naturally thought he could solve all the problems with the device himself - but as we know, he couldn't."

"No kidding. So you're meeting this partner." Jaime said, unable to hide her distaste. "Alone. And why haven't you known about him before now?"

Oscar shot Jaime a resentful look. "Franklin used to pull stunts like this. He had people working with him, but he kept them hidden away so that he could absorb all credit – part of that debilitating egotism he suffered from. So this is not really a surprise. This man – Doctor Milo Prochazka – has been lying low since the Franklin debacle, precisely because he felt that he and his work were tainted by association. He finally got up the guts to call me a couple of months ago. And yes, by the way, his name is Czech," he added, preempting her next question, "but he has lived in upstate New York for most of his life - and he's a citizen."

"Why here?" she asked, gesturing around her. "It's isolated. I don't like it."

"He's skittish. He thinks everyone is after him – the Soviets, the CIA. I've worked long and hard to get him to trust me, and as he was comfortable meeting here, I agreed."

"So what wondrous thing is this man is going to do for our country?"

"Prochazka's work centers on the control part of the equation – in effect making a limiter as to how far the device can be pushed, and also a predictor of effects of whatever weather system it creates. Before he can finish though, he needs Franklin's plans to integrate the system."

Jaime had hardly registered what he had said. "Oscar," she said emphatically, "I thought that program was through. It's dangerous…you know it's dangerous. Not to mention wrong…and crazy! And now you're reviving it? I can't believe you're doing this."

"Try to look like it's me chewing you out, will you?" Oscar said, glancing back over his shoulder.

"Sorry." she muttered, dropping her head and sloping her shoulders into a more apologetic pose. "Don't forget I've been subjected to that weather device, and it wasn't pretty. And besides - it's weather. We have no right to control the weather. It belongs to everybody - like water and air."

Oscar hated defending himself and as a rule tried to do it as little as possible - it only sounded desperate. But when it came to Jaime, he couldn't help himself. "Imagine the good it could do." he protested, "Droughts, floods, hurricanes, tornadoes…could all be nipped in the bud, before they caused damage."

"And they all could be turned up to cause maximum damage too."

He could hardly argue with that. "True."

"Well then why are you doing this?" she blurted, entirely forgetting that she was supposed to look humbled.

"Somebody is going to develop this technology. Would you prefer the Soviets got it first?"

"I would prefer nobody got it first. It's just wrong!" Jaime protested.

"Well be that as it may, somebody will get to it first!" Oscar replied, his voice rising in frustration. "Listen, I would love to live in the same world of moral certainty you do, but I don't. The plain fact is that I have a Presidential order to pursue this damned thing, and it's not something I can ignore."

"I know, I know." she grumbled, rolling her eyes. The slight guilt she felt for needling him into anger was combined with an odd satisfaction. Though she was reluctant to admit it, she liked knowing that she could get to him – that he was not impervious to her influence.

They walked in silence a few moments, and then with an odd calm, Oscar said, "The President may want my head served up on a platter if I don't come through for him."

"Really? Why?"

"Blew my budget again this year. Nobody is amused."

"Your life is just a laugh a minute, isn't it?"

"Look…I know it's not admirable." Oscar replied, finding himself on the defensive again. "It's a lot of bartering and back scratching and I just try to make it all come out on the right side of the ledger in the end."

She supposed she did have influence over him - Lord knew he didn't have to explain anything to her. He was one of the most powerful men in the country, and she was just an uppity schoolteacher. "I know it's tough." she conceded. "I know you do your best. I promise won't cause you any trouble. And you know," she added after a pause, raising her eyebrows, "there might be certain compensations to having me here."

"Such as?" Oscar asked, regarding her carefully from the corner of his eye.

"We have a couple of hours before the meeting?"

He checked his watch. "Yeah. We meet at two."

"Well then, um, if you're not busy… I have a very nice collection of etchings in my room, and you might like to see them." She gave him a knowing smile, which stopped him in his tracks.

"Etchings? I thought you might be too disgusted with me to…uh… talk art."

"You know how much I love art." she replied, and they simultaneously did an about face back to the hotel.