Nelson Demille - Wild fire

Madox said, “Well, here’s Detective Muller’s credential case. John, why do you have that?”

“To give it to his family.”

“I see. And who’s going to give your badge to your family after you’re dead?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

“You wish it was.”

He had our notebooks now, and I knew he couldn’t read my notes because no one, myself included, can read my handwriting. But he said to Kate, whose handwriting is very neat, “I see you have a logical mind. Rare for a woman.”

She replied, of course, “Fuck you.”

He ignored that as he flipped through her notebook. “Kate, does anyone know you’re here?”

“Just the FBI and the state police, who are on their way.”

“If there was anything like that happening at state police headquarters, I’d know about it.”

That was not what we wanted to hear.

He asked me, “John, what do they know at 26 Fed?”

“Everything.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then don’t ask.”

“You were seen speaking to Harry, Friday afternoon as you both got on the elevator at 26 Fed. What did you speak about?”

I really didn’t want to hear that Bain Madox had a source inside 26 Federal Plaza.

“John?”

“We didn’t talk business.”

“All right… I’m a little pressed for time, John, so we can continue this later.”

“Later is good.”

“But I’m not going to be so nice later.”

“You’re not so nice now , Bain.”

He laughed and said, “You ain’t seen nothing yet, pal .”

I advised him, “Go fuck yourself.”

He was standing directly over me now, with those hawk eyes staring down at me like he was in flight and he’d spotted an injured animal on the ground.

He said to me, “There are two kinds of interrogations. I don’t know about you, John, but I actually prefer the kind without blood and broken bones, and screams for mercy.” He turned from me and said, “Kate? How about you?”

She didn’t reply.

He continued on that subject. “Also, there are two ways to go through the wood chipper-dead or alive.” He informed us, “Putyov went through dead because that was just a killing of convenience. But you two piss me off. However, if you cooperate, I’ll give you my word of honor that you’ll have a quick, merciful death by a gunshot to the head before you go through the wood chipper and become bear food. Okay? Deal? John? Kate?”

I couldn’t quite see what was in that deal for me, but to buy a little time, I said, “Deal.”

“Good.” Madox said, “All right, you asked to see my ELF transmitter. So, I’ll show it to you.”

“Actually,” I said, “I’ll just take those lists of your houseguests and staff, and we’ll be on our way.”

“John, this is not funny.”

It was Madox speaking, but it could just as well have been Kate.

I could see and hear all four men moving around the room, then Madox said, “Okay, Mr. and Mrs. Corey, you can stand now. Hands on your heads.”

I began to sit up and grimaced from the pain in my ribs, which was not imaginary anymore. I put my hand behind my back to push up, palmed the BearBanger, and stuck it in the back of my tightie whities, then got to my feet. So far, so good.

I turned toward Kate, who was standing and looking at me. I said to her, “You’re going to have to bear up later.”

She nodded.

Madox reminded me, “Shut up.” He glanced at his watch, then said to Carl, “Let’s move out.”

Carl ordered, “Follow me. Ten-foot intervals.”

Carl headed toward the open doors of the card room, and Madox said to us, “Move. Hands on your heads.”

We followed Carl.

I had never walked in shackles, and even though there was some slack in the chain, it wasn’t easy to put one foot in front of the other, and I found myself shuffling, like the men on the chain gang. Plus, the metal was already chafing my bare ankles.

Also, my beltless pants were dropping, and I had to hitch them up a few times, which caused Luther to shout, “Hands on your head!”

I could see that Kate, ahead of me, was having a lot of difficulty walking, and she almost stumbled. But her tight jeans held up, and she kept her hands on her head.

I didn’t know who was following, so I glanced over my shoulder and saw Madox about ten feet behind me, his Colt.45 in his hand, swinging at his side.

Luther was bringing up the rear with his M16 rifle at the ready. Derek, the air horn victim, had stayed back in the bar, and he was collecting everything that was taken from us.

Madox said to me, “The next time you turn around, you’ll be sprouting a third eye in the middle of your forehead. Understand?”

I think I understood what he was saying.

So, as it turned out, Mr. Bain Madox was not so charming, well mannered, or even civilized. Goes to show you. Actually, I think I liked him better this way-gloves off, all pretenses dropped, and, more important, he was taking us to the ELF transmitter.

Carl halted in the middle of the card room, and Madox said, “Stop.”

Kate and I did as we were told, and I looked around. On one wall was a big dartboard whose target was a full-color photo of Saddam Hussein’s face.

Madox reminded me, “You asked when the war was going to start. Well, the operational date is March 15-the ides of March-give or take a day or two for glitches. But I’m starting it early. In less than an hour.”

“Are we getting dinner first?”

Luther, at least, thought that was funny.

Madox, who was ahead of me now, seemed a little tense, or maybe preoccupied, and didn’t reply to my question.

Anyway, Carl had slung his shotgun over his shoulder, and I got a good look at it. It was a Browning automatic shotgun, probably 12-gauge, and it would fire five rounds as quickly as you could pull the trigger and stay on your feet. For Carl, that would be no problem.

Madox’s Colt.45 automatic held seven rounds in the clip and one in the chamber. The gun was notoriously inaccurate, but if a blunt-nosed.45 slug hit you anyplace, you’d go airborne, and as my ex-military buddies liked to say, “It’s the fall that kills you.”

Luther’s M16 was another animal altogether. Very accurate at medium distances, and if Luther was carrying the fully automatic version, it could spray twenty steel-jacketed rounds at you in less time than it took to say, “Holy shit, I’m dead.”

In any case, we’d lost Derek, the air horn guy, who probably had an appointment with an ear doctor, and now Kate and I had to contend with only three guys. But they weren’t your normal run-of-the-mill street scum-like my Hispanic friends who sort of closed their eyes when they fired at me, or the Mideastern gentlemen who, I honestly believe, can’t be trying to hit anyone when they fire their AK-47s.

Anyway, not only were these three guys paramilitary but Kate and I were shackled, beltless, barefoot, and in a tight spot.

Bottom line, this was not the time to go BearBanger. And I hoped Kate understood that.

Also, we needed to get to the ELF transmitter.

I noticed that Carl was reaching under the big, round card table. Then he stepped back. As I watched, the table began to lift, and I could hear the humming of an electric motor as the table continued to rise along with the round rug beneath it and the circular section of the floor beneath the rug. I could see now the hydraulic piston that was lifting everything, and when the table legs, rug, and floor section were about five feet from floor level, it stopped, leaving a hole in the floor about four feet in diameter.

Carl sat on the floor with his legs dangling into the hole, then disappeared. Soon, a light came out of the dark space.