Nelson Demille - Wild fire

“Mr. Corey?”

“You know, I’m really dying for a latte. Can you do that?”

“Uh…” He looked at Carl and said, “Ask in the kitchen if we can get a latte.”

“Or a cappuccino,” I said. “Even an Americano will do. Maybe a mocha freezie.”

I don’t drink this shit, of course, but we needed some time with Mr. Madox.

Carl left, and I now noticed a dog lying on its side between Madox’s chair and the hearth, sleeping or dead.

Madox informed me, “That’s Kaiser Wilhelm.”

“Looks like a dog.”

He smiled. “It’s a Doberman. Very smart, loyal, strong, and fast.”

“Hard to believe.” I mean, the stupid dog was just lying there, slobbering on the rug, snoring and farting.

Kate said, “He’s a beautiful animal.”

Oh, and it had a boner. I wondered what he was dreaming about. Also, Ms. Mayfield doesn’t think I’m so beautiful when I’m snoring, slobbering, or farting.

“So,” asked Mr. Madox, “what can I do for you?”

Normally, Kate and I would have already discussed who was going to lead, and what we were after. However, what we were after-Harry Muller-would tip off Mr. Madox that he was under surveillance, so this limited our questions to the weather and the World Series. On the other hand, maybe Madox already knew he was under surveillance.

“Mr. Corey? Ms. Mayfield?”

I made the decision to follow the example of General Custer and charge ahead, hopefully with better results. I told him, “We’re acting on information that a Federal agent by the name of Harry Muller disappeared in the vicinity of this club, and we believe he may be lost on your property or hurt.” I searched his face for a reaction, but his only expression seemed to be one of concern.

“Here? On this property?”

“Possibly.”

He seemed truly surprised, or he was a good actor. He said to me, “But… as you saw, it’s not easy to get onto this property.”

“He was on foot.”

“Oh? But this property is posted, and surrounded by a security fence.”

It was my turn to feign surprise, and I replied, “A fence? Really? Well, maybe he got through the fence.”

“Why would he do that?”

Good question. “He’s a fanatical bird-watcher.”

“I see… so, you think he may have gotten through the fence and wound up on this property.”

“Possibly.”

Madox’s demeanor remained concerned and perplexed. “But why do you think that? There are millions of acres of wilderness surrounding this property. I have only about sixteen thousand acres.”

“Is that all? Look, Mr. Madox, we’re acting on specific information, which we need to check out. My question to you is, Have you or your staff seen or encountered anyone on the property?”

He shook his head and replied, “I would have been told.” He asked me, “How long has this man been missing?”

“Since Saturday. But it has just come to our attention.”

He nodded thoughtfully and took a sip of his scotch. “Well,” he said, “I had about sixteen houseguests this weekend, many of whom were hiking or bird-hunting, plus I have security staff, so it’s unlikely that this person could have been lost on my property without someone coming across him.”

Kate spoke for the first time and pointed out, “Sixteen people divided into sixteen thousand acres is one person per thousand acres. You could hide an army in there.”

Mr. Madox thought about the arithmetic and replied, “I suppose if he were hurt and unable to move, it may be possible that he wouldn’t have been discovered.”

Kate said, “Very possible.”

Madox lit a cigarette and blew smoke rings into the air. “What,” he asked, “would you like me to do? How can I help?”

I regarded Bain Madox, smoking, drinking, sitting in his leather chair in his big lodge. He looked more at ease than the average suspect. Actually, he looked innocent.

I had the feeling, however, that even if he had something to do with Harry’s disappearance, this man would keep his cool. He could easily have told his flunkies to tell us he wasn’t in or wasn’t available; instead, he’d chosen to meet us face-to-face.

My brief forays into criminal psychology, and my years on the street, taught me about sociopaths and narcissists-incredibly egotistical and arrogant people who thought they could get away with murder by bullshitting.

It was quite possible that Bain Madox had something to hide, and he thought he could hide it under my nose. That wasn’t going to happen.

He repeated, “How can I help?”

I replied, “We’d like your permission to conduct a search on your property.”

He seemed prepared for that and said, “I can conduct my own search, now that I know there may be someone lost on the property. I have about fifteen staff available, plus all-terrain vehicles and six Jeeps.”

I pointed out, “It would take you a month to cover this property. I’m talking about state and local police, Federal agents, and maybe troops from Fort Drum.”

He didn’t seem to like that idea, but he was boxed in, so he asked me, “Tell me again why you think this man is on my property, and not out in the surrounding wilderness?”

That was a really good question, and I had a standard law enforcement answer. “We are acting on information and belief, and that’s all I can say.” I pointed out, “With the information we have, we could get a search warrant, but that takes time. We’d rather have your voluntary cooperation. Is there a problem with that?”

“No, no problem, but I suggest you begin with an aerial search, which can do the same job more quickly and just as effectively.”

Kate said, “Thank you, we know that. We have begun the air search. We’re here to get your permission to enter this property with search teams.”

“I certainly won’t stand in the way of a search for a missing person.” He paused. “But I’ll need a liability waiver.”

Kate was becoming annoyed and said, “We’ll have one faxed to you ASAP.”

“Thank you. I don’t want to sound like a bad citizen, but unfortunately, we live in litigious times.”

I couldn’t argue with that, and I said to him, “The country is going to hell. Too many lawyers.”

He nodded and offered his opinion, saying, “Lawyers are ruining the country. Ruining trust, frightening people who want to be good Samaritans, promoting a culture of victimization, and engaging in legalized extortion.”

I liked this guy and agreed, “In fact, they suck.”

He smiled. “They suck.”

I thought I should inform him, “Ms. Mayfield is a lawyer.”

“Oh… well, I apologize if I-”

She said, “I don’t practice law.”

“Good,” he said, then joked, “You look too nice to be a lawyer.”

Ms. Mayfield stared at Mr. Madox.

Mr. Madox said, “I assume you’ll begin the search in the morning.” He pointed out, “It’s getting too dark now to send people into those woods.”

Clearly Mr. Madox was stalling for time with all the bullshit about liability waivers and so forth. I said, “I think we have about three hours of daylight left.”

“I’ll have my staff begin a search immediately. They know the terrain.”

We looked at each other, and those freaky gray eyes never blinked.

Without taking his eyes off me, he said, “Mr. Corey, please tell me why a Federal agent was on my property.”

I already had the answer to that. “The fact that Mr. Muller is a Federal agent is actually irrelevant.”

“Irrelevant?”

“Yes. He was on a camping trip. Not on-duty. Was I not clear about that?”

“Perhaps I misunderstood.”

“Perhaps.” I added, “And since he is a Federal agent, the Federal government is assisting in the search.”