Excerpt from the novel Infiltrator by S.M. Stirling

NEW YORK CITY: THE PRESENT

     Ron Labane opened the envelope marked “personal and confidential” and pulled out the newspaper clipping within. He checked but found no note, and there was no return address on the envelope. With a quirk of lips and brows he shook the piece open and started to read. Soon he was chuckling richly.
     The article concerned a university professor who’d been found, near smothered by methane, tied to a stake driven into the middle of a lake of pig feces adjacent to a gigantic hog-factory farm. The good professor had conducted a study of such farms and had concluded that their impact on rural communities was minimal.
     I wonder if he still feels the same way, Ron thought.
     The article went on to list the complaints of the people who lived near the hog factory, including the horrible smell and the resultant drop in property values in the nearby town. A local environmentalist talked about how runoff from the lake of feces had contaminated local streams and the ponds and lakes they ran into. He also suggested that the wells that many of the area farms relied on were no longer safe.
     Ron folded up the piece and put it back into its envelope. It seemed the “fab four” had taken his advice. He looked forward to their next escapade.
     He rose and took the article to his secretary. “How could we get this picked up by the wire services?” he asked her.
     She took the envelope from him and read its contents, then laughed out loud. “Let me take care of it,” she said, her eyes dancing. “I know just who to call.”