Wild Fire (42 page)

Kate shook her head. “That is insane.”

“Yeah? Do you see FBI SWAT teams descending on the Custer Hill Club?”

“No . . . but . . . they may be waiting for the right time—”

“If that’s true, they may have waited a little too long.” I reminded her, “Harry was at Custer Hill Saturday morning. Madox’s meeting with his friends was Saturday and Sunday. Putyov showed up on Sunday morning to tune up the nukes. Madox’s aircraft landed on the West Coast Sunday night. Monday was probably the day the nukes were making their way to Sandland. Today is Tuesday, and Potsdam Diesel is finished tuning up the generators.” I concluded, “Sometime tonight or tomorrow is detonation day.”

Kate didn’t reply.

“And Madox is not acting alone. It was not a coincidence that his weekend guests included two, possibly three, and maybe more high-ranking men in the government. Hell, for all we know, the directors of the FBI and the CIA are in on this.” I added, “Maybe it goes higher than that.”

She thought for a few seconds, then said, “Okay . . . but does it matter at this point who else may be involved with Madox, or who knows about this? The point is, if this is what it seems to be, then I’ve done the right thing by calling the FBI field office in LA—”

“I assume you didn’t tell your friend about Madox, ELF, or where you were calling from, or—”

“No . . . because . . . I wanted to speak to you first. What if I’m wrong about all of this? I mean, if you think about it, there
could
be another explanation for everything—”

“Kate, you’re
not
wrong.
We
are not wrong.
Harry
was not wrong. It’s all very clear. Madox, nuke, ELF. Plus, Putyov.”

“I know. I know. Okay, so now we have to contact Tom Walsh and have
him
officially notify FBI Headquarters as to the source of this information, meaning me . . . and you, and what we’re basing this—”

“Right.” I looked at my watch again and saw it was 6:10 P.M. “You do that. Meanwhile, I have a dinner date.”

She stood and said, “No. There’s no reason to go there.”

“Sweetheart, Madox is tuning up his ELF transmitter, awaiting some sort of message that his four suitcase nukes are where they’re supposed to be. Then, an ELF wave will be making its way slowly across the continent, and the Pacific Ocean—or the other way across the Atlantic—until it’s picked up by the ELF receivers in those four suitcases.” I added, “Millions of people will die, and a radioactive cloud will blow across the planet. The least I can do is try to stop this at its source.”

She thought about that, then said, “I’m going with you.”

“No, you’re going to call out the cavalry and get them to the Custer Hill Club—without a fucking search warrant or probable cause or any of that crap—by telling them truthfully that a Federal agent is on the property and is in danger.”

“No—”

“Call Walsh, call Schaeffer, call the local sheriff if you have to, and call Liam Griffith and tell him where he can find John Corey. But give me a thirty-minute head start.”

She didn’t reply.

I went to the kitchen table and got my act together by loading my two Glock magazines with 9mm rounds and clipping the two BearBanger launchers in my shirt pocket alongside my pen, and finally putting on my new socks, which didn’t seem so important any longer. Also, I couldn’t think of a use for the air horn, but I took it anyway, in case Rudy’s van horn didn’t work.

While I was doing this, Kate was banging away at the laptop, and I asked her, “What are you doing?”

“I’m sending an e-mail to Tom Walsh, telling him to contact Doug in LA, and revealing that I was the source of the information.”

“Don’t send it until you hear from me.” I added, “I hope Walsh is checking his e-mail tonight.”

“He usually does.”

On that subject, the FBI still has only internal, “secured” e-mail, so, as unbelievable as it sounds, Kate could not e-mail Walsh’s FBI account, and couldn’t reach or copy anyone in the office, such as the after-hours duty agent. Therefore, she was e-mailing to Walsh’s personal account, hoping he checked it regularly. And this is a year after 9/11.

I said to her, “Okay, I’ll call you on my cell phone when I get close to the Custer Hill Club.”

“Hold on. Okay, I sent it to a service. Delayed send for seven P.M.” She unplugged the laptop, placed it on the kitchen table, then put on her suede jacket. “Who’s driving?”

“Since I’m the only one going, I guess I’ll drive.”

She put the box of .40-caliber ammo in her purse along with the two magazines, then picked up the laptop and walked to the door. I held her arm and asked her, “Where do you think you’re going?”

She reminded me, “You said Madox
specifically
asked for me, darling. You wanted me to go. So, I’m going.”

I informed her, “The situation has changed.”

“It certainly has. I’ve done all I can here.” She pointed out, “You put me through two days of shit to get where we are—now, I want to be in on the action. And you’re wasting time.” She pulled away from me, opened the door, and walked outside. I followed her.

It was dark now and cold. As we walked to the van, I said to Kate, “I appreciate your concern for me, but—”

“This has more to do with me than you, for a change.”

“Oh . . .”

“I don’t work for you. You work for me.”

“Well, technically—”

“You drive.”

She got in the passenger seat of the van, and I got in the driver’s seat and drove toward the main house.

Kate said, “Also, I
am
concerned about you.”

“Thanks.”

“You need supervision.”

“I don’t know—”

“Stop here.”

I stopped at Wilma and Ned’s house, and Kate said, “Here. Return Wilma’s laptop. She has ten minutes before her auction closes.”

I had no idea what that meant, but it sounded important, so I took the laptop, got out, and rang the bell.

The door opened, and Wilma stood there. She looked like a Wilma, and I wouldn’t want to arm wrestle her for the laptop.

She looked me over, then glanced at the van and saw Kate. She informed me, “I don’t want no trouble here.”

“Me, neither. Okay, here’s your laptop. Thanks.”

“What do I say if the husband comes looking for her?”

“Tell the truth.” I said to her, “Do me a favor. If we’re not back by morning, call Major Hank Schaeffer at the state police headquarters in Ray Brook. Schaeffer. Okay? Tell him John left some stuff for him at the Pond House.” I added, “Good luck with the auction.”

She glanced at her watch, said, “Oh . . . God . . . ,” and shut the door.

I got back in the van, and off we went.

Kate was loading her two magazines and commented, “This van is gross.”

“You think?” I related my brief conversation with Wilma, and Kate responded, “We’ll be back before morning.”

That was optimistic.

The dashboard clock said 3:10, which may have been wrong. My watch said 6:26, and we’d be fashionably late for cocktails.

I had this sense that somewhere, someplace, another clock was ticking.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

A
s I drove, I asked Kate, “What did you put in that e-mail to Walsh?”

“I told you.”

“I hope you didn’t mention that we were on the way to the Custer Hill Club for cocktails and dinner.”

“I did.”

“You weren’t supposed to do that. Now, the posse may intercept us—or be there ahead of us.”

“No, they won’t. I told you, I sent the e-mail to a service that will send it later. Delayed send, at seven P.M.”

“I never heard of that.”

“It was specifically invented for situations like this, and for people like you.”

“Really? That’s neat.”

She explained, “You want to be
inside
the Custer Hill lodge before anyone knows we’re even going there. And by the time Tom Walsh reads my message, we are, hopefully, resolving some issues there. Correct?”

“Right.”

“And, we’ll be heroes.”

“Right.”

“Or dead.”

“Now, don’t be thinking negative thoughts.”

“Do you want to turn around now?”

I looked out the windshield. “Why? Did I miss my turn?”

“John, do you think this might be a good time for you to come to your senses?”

“No, this is not a good time for that. Did you come along to bug me, or help me?”

“To help you. But if you drive to the state police headquarters, I’d think you were very smart.”

“No, you’d think I was a chicken-livered, yellow-bellied, ball-less wimp.”

“No one would ever call
you
that. But sometimes, like now, discretion is the better part of valor.”

“Some wimp made up that expression. Look, I’m not stupid. But this is
personal
, Kate. This has to do with Harry. Plus, there’s a time element here.” I explained, “The ELF station is, or will be, up and running, and I don’t know if anyone in law enforcement could get on the Custer Hill property faster than we, who have been
invited
.”

“That may or may not be true.”

“What is true is that I want a piece of that sonofabitch before anyone else gets to him.”

“I know that. But are you willing to risk a possible nuclear incident to satisfy your personal vendetta?”

“Hey,
you
sent that e-mail on a delay.”

She pointed out, “I
can
call Major Schaeffer and Liam Griffith right now.”

“We’re going to do that right before we get to Custer Hill. For now, we need to get there without interference.”

She didn’t reply to that but instead asked me, “Do you think Madox is going to send that ELF signal tonight?”

“I don’t know. But we have to assume that our invitation to dinner has something to do with his timeline.” I suggested, “Turn on the radio and see if we hear a breaking news story about nuclear blasts somewhere. If we do, I can slow down and not worry about being late for dinner.”

She switched on the radio, but nothing happened. “It doesn’t work.”

“Maybe the ELF waves knocked out AM and FM. Try the ELF channel.”

“Not funny.”

I was on Route 56 now, heading toward South Colton, and I took the Hyundai keys out of my pocket and put them in her hand. I said, “I’m stopping at Rudy’s gas station, and you’re taking the Hyundai and driving to state police headquarters.”

She opened the window and tossed out the keys.

“That’s going to cost me fifty bucks.”

“All right, John, we’ll be there in about twenty minutes. Let’s take this opportunity to discuss what to expect, and what we need to say, and do. Plus, we should discuss some contingency plans, and what our objective is in going there.”

“You mean a game plan?”

“Yes, a game plan.”

“Okay. Well, I thought we’d play it by ear.”

“I don’t think so.”

“All right . . . well, first, don’t allow a metal scan. And certainly not a frisk.”

“Goes without saying.”

“I mean, I doubt he’d try that, unless all pretense of us being dinner guests is dropped.”

“And if that happens?” Kate inquired.

“Well, if they ask for our guns, then we’ll show them our guns
and
our shields.”

“What if there are ten of them with rifles?”

“Then, we go into our Federal agent mode and tell them they’re all under arrest. And let’s not forget to mention to Madox that the entire B Troop barracks of the New York state police knows where we are. That’s our ace in the hole.”

“I know that. But actually, no one yet knows where we’re going. And what if Madox doesn’t care who knows where we are? What if Hank Schaeffer is in the kitchen cooking, and the sheriff is making drinks? What if—?”

“Don’t make Madox ten feet tall. He’s smart, rich, powerful, and ruthless. But he’s not Superman, sweetheart.” I added, “
I
am Superman.”

“All right, Superman, what else do we need to think about to keep ourselves alive and healthy?”

I advised her, “Don’t ask for a frozen daiquiri or anything that can be drugged. Drink what he’s drinking. Same with the food. Be careful. Remember the Borgias.”

“
You
remember the Borgias. I swear, John, you’d eat chili and hot dogs even if you
knew
they were poisoned.”

“What a way to go.” I continued my briefing. “Okay, our demeanor. This is a social occasion, mixed with the unpleasant business of a Federal investigation. So, act accordingly.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning, just the right combination of being polite, but firm.” I continued, “Madox likes his scotch. Try to gauge his sobriety. If he’s not drinking much, take that as a sign of trouble.”

“I understand.”

We discussed a few more fine points of etiquette that might not be addressed by Emily Post.

When we finished with etiquette class, Kate returned to survival school. “Tell me about the BearBangers.”

“Hey, these are neat.” I gave her one and told her how to load it and fire it, and went over its possible use as a weapon of last resort if we were relieved of our hardware. I said, “It might pass a frisk since it looks like a penlight. But you might want to stick it in your crotch.”

“Okay. Can I tell you where to stick yours?”

“This is serious.”

We went through some possible scenarios, some contingencies, and some Plan Bs.

I said to her, “My original plan—which I still like—was to bust in there, through some point in the fence, and take out one or two of the antenna poles, and/or take out the generators.”

She didn’t respond to that.

I continued, “That’s a very direct solution to the ELF problem.
That
is the weak link in Madox’s plan to detonate these suitcase bombs. Right?”

“What if there are no suitcase bombs? What if that’s not an ELF station?”

“So, we apologize for the damage and offer to pay for the poles and generators.”

I let that sit there awhile as we drove, but Kate wasn’t talking, so I pulled out my map of the Custer Hill property and put it on her lap.

She looked at it. “Where did you get this?”

“Harry gave it to me.”

“You
took
this from the morgue?”

“It wasn’t inventoried—”

“You
took
evidence?”

“Cut the FBI crap. I
borrowed
it. It’s done all the time.” I tapped the map on her lap, and said, “There’s an old logging road there on the east side of the property which runs right up to the fence, then beyond. Okay, we take that road, crash through the fence, then about a hundred yards later, we intersect with this perimeter road that connects all the poles. See it?”

She wasn’t looking at the map, but at me.

I continued, “So, we run along that road, line up a pole with the front of the van, and hit it. Okay? The pole goes down, the wires snap, and the ELF station is off the air. What do you think?”

“Well, aside from this being insane, I don’t think this van would knock one of those poles from the bedrock.”

“Sure it will. That’s why I borrowed it.”

“John, I grew up in rural Minnesota. I’ve seen vans and even pickup trucks hit utility poles, and the pole usually wins.”

“Yeah? Hard to believe.”

“And even if the pole cracks, the wires usually hold, and the pole hangs there.”

“No kidding? I should have spoken to you before I got myself excited about this.”

“And if the wires
do
snap, and hit this van, we’ll be toast.”

“This is true. Bad idea.” I went on, “Okay, so, if you look at the map, you’ll see the generator house. See? Right there.”

“Watch the road.”

“Okay, now this is a challenge, because the house is made of stone, with steel doors and steel shutters. But the weak link is the chimneys—”

“Wasn’t this in the story of the three little pigs?”

“Yeah. But we don’t go down the chimney. We get on the roof from the top of this van, then we stuff our jackets into the chimney pots, which is what the stupid wolf should have done, and the smoke backs up, and the generators conk out.”

“I see three chimneys and two jackets.”

“There’s a blanket in the back of the van, plus enough other crap to fill six more chimneys. What do you think?”

“Well, technically, it sounds feasible. Did you factor in ten or twenty security guards with all-terrain vehicles and assault rifles?”

“Yeah. That’s why I bought extra ammunition.”

“Of course. So, let’s say this works, or doesn’t work. Do we still show up at the front door for dinner?”

“That depends on the results of the shoot-out with the guards. We’ll play that by ear.”

“Sounds like a plan. Where is this logging road?”

I think she was being sarcastic. There are advantages and disadvantages in having a female partner. The ladies tend to be practical and cautious. The guys tend to be stupid and reckless, which may account for the fact that there are fewer men than women in the world.

I said, “Well, it was just an idea.” I added, “I thought of it before we were invited to dinner.”

“I don’t know how you lived long enough for me to meet you.” She added, “I had hoped that evolution and natural selection had solved the problem of people like you.”

I certainly didn’t reply to that.

She continued, “But you bring up an important point. The ELF system. The weakest link in the ELF station is not the poles, wires, or the generator. It is the transmitter.”

“This is true.”

“I’m assuming the transmitter is in the lodge itself.”

“Most likely. It would be safe and secure there, and hidden from view.”

“Right. It may be in the basement. The fallout shelter.”

I nodded. “Probably.”

“So, if you want to shut down Madox’s ELF station, then
that
is where we shut it down.”

“Absolutely.” I suggested, “You excuse yourself to go to the ladies’ room—which Madox will know takes fifteen to twenty minutes—find the transmitter, and smash it.”

“Okay. And you can cover me by sticking the BearBanger up your ass and firing it.”

Ms. Mayfield was in a strangely humorous mood tonight. It must be her way of dealing with stress.

I said to her, “As I mentioned earlier, the real purpose of this visit is not social—it is to place Bain Madox under arrest for . . . give me a Federal crime that fits.”

“Kidnapping. He had to kidnap Harry before he assaulted him.”

“Right. Kidnapping and assault. The state tries him for murder.”

“Correct.”

Actually, if Madox provoked me in any way, he wouldn’t have to worry about
any
trial. I said to Kate, “It’s good to be married to a lawyer.”

“You
need
a full-time lawyer, John.”

“Right.”

“Also, to make an arrest, you need something aside from your suspicions.”

“If we
don’t
arrest him tonight,” I said, “do you want to be responsible for four nuclear explosions tomorrow? Or
tonight
?”

“No . . . but, legalities aside, an arrest is not that easy at the Custer Hill Club.” She pointed out, “There are only
two
of us, and many of them.”

“We are the law.”

“I know that, John, but—”

“Do you have that little card to read him his rights?”

“I think I can recite that without a card by now.”

“Good. Do you have handcuffs?”

“No. Do you?”

“Not on me.” I said, “We should have brought the duct tape. Maybe Madox has the shackles he used on Harry. Or, maybe I’ll just kick him in the nuts.”

“You seem very confident.”

“I am very motivated.”

“Good. By the way, why do we need these BearBangers? We have guns and shields. Right?”

“Well . . .”

“Yeah, well. Okay, John, I’m with you. But don’t get us into something you can’t get us out of.”

I may already have done that, but I said, “Just be alert, aware, and ready—like any other tricky arrest. We are the law, he is the criminal.”

She had two words for me: “Remember Harry.”

I looked at her and said, “Kate, that’s why we’re doing this alone. I really want to make this bust myself. Just me. And you, if you want.”

We made eye contact, and she nodded. “Drive.”

Kate seemed a little anxious about the evening, but she also seemed to be looking forward to it. I know this feeling very well. We’re not in this business for the money. We’re in it for the excitement, and for moments like this.

Duty, honor, country, service, truth, and justice are good. But you can do that from behind a desk.

In the end, you carry the gun and the shield out into the field for the sole purpose of confronting the bad guys. The enemy. There is no other reason to be on the front lines.

Kate understood that. I understood it. And, in about an hour, Bain Madox would also understand it.