Nelson Demille - Wild fire

“Yeah?” He looked at us. “They expectin’ you?”

“They sure are. They can’t make a cocktail until we fix the ice problem.”

“They didn’t give you no directions?”

“They did, but my dog ate them. Okay, thanks-”

“Hey, you want some advice?”

“Sure.”

“I gotta warn you, but you didn’t hear it from me.”

“Okay.”

“Get your money up front. They’s slow payin’. That’s the way the rich are. Slow payin’ the workin’ people.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

We left, and I said to Kate, “We’re on Candid Camera. Right?”

“I’m starting to think so.”

We got in the car and doubled back on Route 56, entered the park, and kept an eye out for Stark Road.

I found it and turned onto this narrow road, which ran through a tunnel of trees. “You want some beef jerky?”

“No, thank you. And don’t litter.”

I was hungry enough to eat a bear, but I settled for the beef jerky, which was gross. I threw the cellophane wrappers in the rear seat, my contribution to ecology.

We were close to the Custer Hill Club, and according to Walsh, an air-and-land search was supposed to be under way around the club property, but I didn’t hear any helicopters or fixed-wing aircraft, and I didn’t see any police search vehicles around. This was not a good sign, or it was a very good sign.

Kate checked her cell phone and said, “I have service now, and I also have a message.”

She started to retrieve the message, but I said, “We’re out of contact. No messages, no calls.”

“What if they’ve found Harry?”

“I don’t want to know either way. We’re going to see Bain Madox.”

She put her cell phone back in her pocket, then her beeper went off, and so did mine a minute later.

We followed Rudy’s directions, and within twenty minutes, we turned onto McCuen Pond Road, which was narrow but well paved.

There was a big sign up ahead that stretched above the road, fixed to two ten-foot poles with floodlights attached. The sign said: THIS IS PRIVATE PROPERTY-NO TRESPASSING-STOP AT GATE AHEAD OR TURN AROUND.

We passed under the sign, and ahead I could see a clearing where a rustic log house stood behind a closed steel security gate.

Two men in camouflage fatigues exited the house as though they knew we were coming long before we got to the gate, and I said to Kate, “Motion or sound detectors. Maybe TV cameras, too.”

“Not to mention those guys are wearing holsters, and one of them is looking at us with binoculars.”

“God, how I hate private-security guys. Give them a gun and some power, and-”

“That sign says slow down to five miles an hour.”

I slowed down and approached the closed gate. Ten feet from the gate was a speed bump and a sign that said: STOP HERE. I stopped.

The gate, which was electric, slid open a few feet, and one of the guys walked toward our car. I lowered the window, and he came up to me and asked, “How can I help you?”

The guy was in his thirties, all decked out in military cammies, hat, boots, and gun. He also wore an expression suggesting he was very cool and possibly dangerous if provoked. All he needed to complete the look were sunglasses and a swastika. I said to him, “I’m Federal Agent John Corey, and this is Federal Agent Kate Mayfield. We’re here to see Mr. Bain Madox.”

This seemed to crack his stone face, and he asked, “Is he expecting you?”

“If he was, you’d know about it, wouldn’t you?”

“I… Can I see some identification?”

I wanted to show him my Glock first so he knew he wasn’t the only person carrying, but to be nice, I handed him my credentials and so did Kate.

He studied both sets of credentials, and I had the feeling he either recognized them as legitimate or was pretending he was well versed in credential recognition.

I interrupted his perusal of the creds. “I’ll take those back.”

He hesitated, then handed them to us. I reiterated, “We’re here to see Mr. Madox on official business.”

“What is the nature of your business?”

“Are you Mr. Madox?”

“No… but-”

“Look, fella, you’ve got about ten seconds to do something brilliant. Call ahead if you need to, then open the fucking gates.”

He looked a little pissed, but kept his cool and said, “Hold on.”

He went back to the gate, slipped through the opening, and spoke to the other guy. Then they both disappeared into the log gatehouse.

Kate asked me, “Why do you always need to be confrontational?”

“Confrontational is when I pull my gun. Argumentative is when I pull the trigger.”

“Federal agents are trained to be polite.”

“I missed that class.”

“What if they don’t let us in? They can refuse us access to private property if we don’t have a search warrant.”

“Where’s it say that?”

“It’s actually in the Constitution.”

“Ten bucks says we get in.”

“You’re on.”

The neo-fascist came back to our car and said, “I’m going to ask you to pull up through the gate, and park your car to the right. A Jeep will take you up to the lodge.”

“Why can’t I take my own car?”

“It’s for your own safety and security, sir, and because of our insurance policy.”

“Well, we don’t want to mess with your insurance company. Hey, you have bears on the property?”

“Yes, sir. Please proceed through the gate and remain in your vehicle until the Jeep arrives.”

Did this idiot think I was getting out with bears around?

He signaled to the guy at the gatehouse, and the steel gate slid open.

I drove into the property and turned onto a gravel patch. The gate slid closed behind us, and I said to Kate, “Welcome to the Custer Hill Club. You owe me ten bucks.”

She joked, “Twenty says we don’t get out of here alive.”

A black Jeep with tinted windows approached. It stopped, and two guys wearing holsters and camouflage fatigues got out and came toward us.

I said, “I need odds.”

One guy came up to my window and said, “Please exit, and follow me.”

This seemed like the kind of place where someone would put a tracking device or a bug in your car, so I had no intention of leaving the car there. I said, “I have a better idea. You lead, I’ll follow.”

He hesitated, then replied, “Follow me closely and stay on the road.”

“If you stay on the road, I’ll stay on the road.”

He went back to the Jeep and turned around, and I followed him up a hill through a cleared field with big rock outcroppings.

Kate said, “I assume you didn’t want them installing unwanted options in the car.”

“When you see this level of security, you need to be as paranoid as they are.”

“You always know how to handle a bad situation that you’ve gotten us into.”

“Thank you… I think.”

The road was lined with pole lights and I also noticed a series of utility poles running from the tree line across the open field and into the next tree line. The poles carried five wires, and as we passed beneath them, I saw that three of the wires were actually thick cables that must have been major power lines.

About halfway up the hill, I could see a huge lodge, the size of a small hotel. In the front of the lodge was a tall pole flying the American flag, and below the flag flew a yellow pennant of some sort.

Beyond the lodge at the top of the hill, I saw a tall tower that looked like a cellular relay tower, which explained why we had reception here, and why Harry should have reception if he was alive and well. I wondered if this tower belonged to the phone company, or to Bain Madox.

We reached the lodge, in front of which was a gravel parking space where another black Jeep was parked, along with a blue Ford Taurus, like the one I was driving. But this Taurus had an “e” sticker on the rear bumper, which I knew meant it was an Enterprise rental car. So maybe some weekend guests were still here. Also parked was a dark blue van-probably the same one that Betty had mentioned.