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wanta see it, dey’ve declared war on us. We got good officers don’t want to go down dere because dey know dey won’t get no support. Even county and Troops don’t go down dere unless dey got to. Dis Order Seventeen’s got no teeth.”
    Service saw that Captain Metrovich looked uneasy and heard a shift in his voice. “All right, while it’s accurate that Order Seventeen does not carry criminal penalties, I will remind all of us that there are license revocation procedures clearly outlined, and these will be adhered to, understood?” the captain said. “Due process, gentlemen, due process.”
    Stone grimaced. “No offense, but you call dat strategy, Cap’n, to act like gentlemen wit’ a buncha rats?”
    The supercilious Metrovich glared at the sergeant. “We do not have to become the animals we hunt,” the captain said haughtily. “This is not the good old days when game wardens did their talking with their fists.”
    Stone said, “Wit’ all due respect, Cap’n, whatever it is we’re doin’, it ain’t workin’. Maybe it’s time to go back to da old ways, or give da boys somepin’ different.”
    Service saw that even Lieutenant Dean Attalienti nodded at this. The other lieutenant, Cooper Edey, showed no reaction. Edey was responsible for the district that contained the Garden Peninsula, but he was retiring soon, seldom showed emotion, pretty much went along with what Metrovich wanted in order to get along with him, and, Service had heard, never went on risky patrols with his men. Technically, Edey was his boss, and so far, with the single exception of his one unscheduled Garden run, Edey and his sergeant had left him alone in the Mosquito, which suited Service just fine.
    â€œThe strategy,” Metrovich said, “is stated thusly: Only a fool pokes a stick into a hornet’s nest.”
    Stone huffed audibly. “Dis ting’s about money, Cap’n, and I say if it’s about money, den we need to make some dents in dere bloody wallets.”
    Attalienti stepped up beside the captain. “What have you got in mind, Len?”
    â€œOrder Seventeen is administrative wit’ no criminal penalties, and only if da bad guys repeatedly violate da rule, can we start proceedin’s to revoke dere licenses. But all dis takes a long time, and meanwhile da bastards keep dere stuff and dey’re out dere still takin’ fish and makin’ good money. Dose rats down dere tell da newspapers dey take fish to keep off welfare, which is a buncha hooey, eh. Dose rats got fifty-t’ousand-dollar houses, got new trucks, got new snow machines, and dey got new boats wid two-hunnert-horse motors dat leave us suckin’ wind. Seventeen says where and when dey can fish and what dey can fish for, so I say we see anyting even suggests dey’re violatin’, we move in, seize dere nets, take dere boats, grab dere motors, secure dere snowmobiles, seize anyting dey need to fish and impound da whole stinkin’ bloody lot and immediately start condemnation proceedings.”
    Captain Metrovich was shaking his head, trying to reason with Stone. “Proceedings take a long time, and what you’re suggesting surely would be reversed by the courts. It would undoubtedly be characterized as illegal seizure—and harassment.”
    â€œMaybe,” Stone said, “but we all know dat dose courts don’t move so fast, an’ every day we got dere gear, dose assholes down dere to da Garden won’t be takin’ fish. We don’t need no criminal penalties in Order Seventeen. All we gotta do is grab dere stuff an’ trow it all inta da courts and make da rats hire lawyers ta get it back.”
    The room began to buzz and Captain Metrovich had to hold up his hands to reassert control. “We have a policy,” he repeated. “We will make our patrols and enforce the laws we have and, if