Nelson Demille - Wild fire

“Why?”

“I don’t know. But I can tell you that the Justice Department is interested in Mr. Madox and his friends. Didn’t anyone tell you any of this?”

“Not much. I got the national security baloney.”

Baloney ? Was that like “bullshit”? Maybe this guy didn’t swear. I made a mental note to watch my language. I said, “The Feds are full of baloney, and they’re great at snow jobs, but between you and me, there may actually be a national security angle here.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“I have no idea. And to be honest, this is what we call sensitive material, and unless you have a need to know, I can’t tell you.”

I wasn’t sure if he appreciated the honesty or not, so I blew a little snow at him and said, “I fully understand that your troop has a huge area to patrol-like eight thousand square miles-and that you’re pretty self-reliant and you need… minimum assistance from the outside-”

Kate kicked me under the table as I went on with my snow job, concluding, “We’re here to help if you need our help, which I don’t think you do. But we really need your help, your expertise, and your resources.”

I had more bullshit if I needed it, but Major Schaeffer seemed to sense that I was snowing him. Nevertheless, he said, “Okay. Coffee?”

“Sounds good.”

He motioned for us to stay seated and went off to the coffee bar.

Kate said to me, “You are so full of bs.”

“That’s not true. I speak from the heart.”

“You speak from a public-relations handout that I just read to you, and that you made fun of.”

“Oh… is that where I heard that?”

She rolled her eyes, then said to me, “He doesn’t seem to know much, and if he does, he’s not sharing.”

“He’s just a little irritated because the FBI is snowing him. And by the way, he doesn’t swear, so watch your language.”

“ My language?”

“Maybe he doesn’t swear in front of women. I have an idea-he might open up more without a lady FBI agent present. Why don’t you excuse yourself?”

“Why don’t you excuse yourself?”

“Come on-”

Schaeffer returned to the table with a coffee tray and sat.

Kate stood reluctantly and said, “I need to make some calls. Be back in ten minutes.” She left.

Schaeffer poured two coffees from a steel pitcher into porcelain mugs. He said to me, “Okay, tell me why you think Bain Madox, a solid citizen with a billion bucks in the bank, and who is probably a registered Republican, killed a Federal agent.”

I sensed that Major Schaeffer did not share my suspicion. “Well, it’s just a hunch.”

“Can you do better than that?”

Not really. “I’m basing this suspicion on the fact that I believe Madox was the last person to see Harry alive.”

He informed me, “I was the last person to see my mother-in-law alive before she slipped on the ice and fractured her skull.”

I wanted to question him further about that, but I said, “I was a homicide detective, and you just develop a sense for these things.” I told him, “Kate and I went to the Custer Hill Club and spoke to this guy Madox.”

“Yeah? And?”

“He’s slick. Have you met him?”

“A few times. I actually went hunting with him once.”

“No kidding?”

“He wants to keep a good relationship with the state and local police. Like a lot of the rich people up here. Makes their lives easier and safer.”

“Right. But this guy’s got his own army.”

“Yeah. And he doesn’t hire any moonlighting or retired cops, which is what most of the rich do. His men are not local, and not involved in law enforcement, and this is a little unusual for somebody who wants to stay tight with the police.”

I nodded and said, “That whole place seems a little unusual.”

“Yeah… but they don’t cause us any problems and they keep to themselves. The local police get a few calls a year to pick up a trespasser or poacher who’s cut through the fence and been detained. But Madox has never pressed charges.”

“Nice guy.” Apropos of Harry, I said, “Maybe he kills people who see something they’re not supposed to see. Any missing persons? Suspicious accidents?”

“Are those serious questions?”

“Yeah.”

He considered his reply, then said, “Well, there are always missing persons, and hunting accidents that seem like they could have been something else… but nothing I know about to link to Madox or his club. I’ll have somebody check that.”

“Good.” I asked, “Did you get a search warrant for the Custer Hill property?”

“I did.”

“Let’s execute the warrant.”

“Not possible. The warrant was for a missing-person search. The missing person has been found off the subject property.”

“Does Madox know that?”

“How would he even know there was a warrant? Or that someone might be missing on his property?” He paused, then said, “I was about to call him and ask for his voluntary cooperation, but then that anonymous call came in that led us to the body. Did you tell him about the missing person?”

“I did. So let’s execute the warrant.”

Major Schaeffer reminded me, “The person has been found .”

I thought he might buy into my philosophy, so I said, “The law sometimes gets in the way of truth and justice.”

“Not under my command, Detective.” He added, “Now that you told him about the missing person, I’ll have someone call to inform him that the person has been found.”

I was sure this guy had once been an Eagle Scout, and I didn’t want to highlight the differences between a New York City cop and a state trooper, so I said, “Well, we need to think of something to take to a judge for a new search warrant.”

“What we need is a link between the body found in the state park and the Custer Hill Club. Without such a link, I can’t ask the D.A. to ask a judge for a search warrant.” He inquired, “Do you have any proof that Detective Muller had actually been on the property?”

“Uh… not conclusive-”

“Well, then, there’s no link.”

“Well, we have the anonymous phone call about the body. Anonymous is suspicious. Also, there’s strong circumstantial evidence that Harry was on the property.”

“Like what?”

“Like, that was his assignment.” I explained about the phone call at 7:48 A.M. on Saturday, Harry’s proximity to the property, the suspiciously distant location of his camper from the subject property, and other circumstances that I stretched a little.

Schaeffer listened, then shrugged. “Not enough to place Bain Madox under suspicion and not enough for me to ask for a search warrant.”

“Think about it.” I had no doubt that the FBI would eventually get a Federal judge to issue a warrant, but that might come too late. It appeared that I’d have to issue myself a Midnight Warrant, meaning breaking and entering. I hadn’t done that in a while, and it could be fun, except for Madox’s private army, electronic security, and guard dogs.

Schaeffer asked me, “What do you think you’d find on that property?”

“I don’t know.”

“Judges don’t like fishing expeditions. Think of something you’re looking for. Did you see anything on his property or in his house that I can take to the D.A.?”

“I saw more security than the president has at his ranch.”

“That’s not illegal.”

“Right. Well… I think we just need to work the case.” I suggested, “Why don’t you stake out the property?”

“What am I looking for?”

“People coming and going, including Madox.” I reminded him, “You don’t need permission to do a surveillance-only suspicion.”