Gabriel's Stand by Jay B. Gaskill Page B

pointed to a path near the Club that led to the Jackson Building. “We can chat while I walk, if you don’t mind. I really am late for class.”
    â€œWe have excellent funding sources,” Thomas said, walking behind them, head down as if she was talking to herself. Berker waited for Thomas to catch up, and Snowfeather slowed.
    Berker sensed the opening. “Cynthia is right about funding. And we are a very well-disciplined organization. Actually, we are two organizations.”
    Snowfeather’s curiosity was piqued by the prospect of excellent funding sources; she stopped on the path next to an outdoor bench. “We are Environmental Opinion Associates, which I run, and our newer political action committee, the Women’s League for Earth’s Restoration is where the real action takes place.”
    An impish smile crossed Snowfeather’s face. “WOLF-EAR?”
    Berker looked puzzled then she actually smiled. “You have a gift.”
    â€œFor acronyms or humor?”
    â€œBoth, it seems.”
    â€œWe could use that,” Thomas added.
    No kidding! Snowfeather thought. Then she remembered what Dad had said, Watch the white eyes who have no humor, Little Princess. Those are the dangerous ones . “You just mentioned funding sources,” Snowfeather said out loud. “Are we talking about local money or what?”
    â€œWe have some very generous contributors…world class, as a matter of fact. Would you like to join us for a meeting with one of them?” Berker was now playing with Snowfeather like a trout.
    â€œMaybe,” Snowfeather answered. She knew she was being played, but her own ambition was now fully aroused.
    â€œMr. Rex Longworthy will be there and one of his backers.”
    Snowfeather knew the Longworthy name well. “I’d be happy to come,” Snowfeather said.
    â€œThen we should stay in touch. Here,” Berker said, producing a business card bearing a logo consisting of a line drawing of the earth, holding a green eye centered under the words: “Earth’s Sisters.”
    Snowfeather glanced at it. “Not the Women’s League?”
    â€œSame address. The ‘Sisters’ are the governing committee, in effect.”
    Snowfeather nodded, “And you are the Big Sister, I assume.” Then she slipped the card into her jeans. Snowfeather did not offer one in return. She waved as she turned to head down the path. “Nice to meet you.”
    â€œWill you have any time to meet this week?” Berker asked.
    Snowfeather slowed, calling out, “Day after tomorrow? In the afternoon?”
    â€œExcellent. You are staying at Gates Hall, I believe.”
    Snowfeather stopped walking. “You seem to know a lot about me. I really am running late.”
    â€œWe’d like you to know more about us. Five o’clock?”
    â€œOkay.” She took out the card. “I see you are in Pioneer Square.”
    â€œYes. Can we pick you up?”
    â€œI’ll manage to find you, thanks anyway.”
    Snowfeather stepped up her pace. After a moment, she glanced back at Berker’s purposeful, retreating form, followed by her slightly uncoordinated companion. Both disappeared into a parking structure. Snowfeather trotted on her way, lost in speculation.

Chapter 11
    It was a dark Seattle winter afternoon, and the streetlights dimly glowed in the damp air. The office of the Women’s League was an unmarked walk-up behind the Earth Planet bookstore. The store occupied a poorly illuminated niche between an office supply and a vacant business.
    Snowfeather nodded to the bored clerk in the bookstore and opened a rear door that revealed a dim, musty stairway. As she approached the top of the stairs, she could see Cynthia Thomas and Louise Berker standing near the doorway of the Women’s League office.
    â€œCome in, Snowfeather,” Louise Berker said, holding the door to the small office. “It