Nelson Demille - Wild fire

She threw two blues in. “Raise you five.”

Walsh asked, “Do you have it on speaker?”

“Yes. How many cards do you want?”

“Two.”

She hit me with two cards and said, “You better have something better than three of a kind, mister. Dealer stands pat.”

“You’re bluffing.”

Walsh said, “Excuse me-would you mind holding up your game for a minute of business?”

Kate put her hand facedown on the table and whispered to me, “To you.”

“You raised my open. It’s to you.”

“Are you sure?”

Walsh said, “It’s to you, Kate. But before you bet, perhaps John can tell me how it went with Major Schaeffer.”

I put my hand facedown, sipped my scotch, and said, “Since you know we’re at The Point, I assume you’ve spoken to him-so what did he tell you?”

“He said Kate was not present at the meeting.”

“Correct. I did a cop-to-cop with him.”

“That’s what I was afraid of. And?”

“What did he tell you ?” I asked.

“He told me that you told him about our bet. I guess you’re in a betting mood today.”

That was about as witty as Tom Walsh got, and I wanted to encourage him in that direction, so I laughed.

He asked, “Have you been drinking?”

“No, sir. We’re still drinking.”

“I see… well-”

“Weren’t you supposed to call Schaeffer before we got there to tell him that Kate and I are the designated investigators?”

“Apparently, even drunk, you don’t forget an oversight on my part.”

“Tom, even if I was dead , I wouldn’t forget you screwing me around.”

Mr. Walsh advised me, “You need to learn to manage your anger.”

“Why? It’s the only thing that motivates me to come to work.”

Walsh ignored that. “Was Schaeffer helpful? Did you learn anything?”

“Tom, whatever Schaeffer told me, he’ll tell you. He loves the FBI.”

He suggested, “I think we need to continue this discussion when you’re less fatigued.”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay,” he said. “Just FYI, Harry’s body is being flown by helicopter back to New York for autopsy.” He added, “I understand there were signs of physical abuse on the body.”

I didn’t reply.

Walsh continued, “This is obviously not a hunting accident, and the Bureau is treating it as a homicide.”

“What was your first clue?” I added, “Fax me the full autopsy report, care of Schaeffer.”

He ignored that. “A team of agents have arrived from New York and Washington, and they’d like to speak to both of you tomorrow.”

“As long as they’re not here to arrest us, we’ll talk to them.”

“Don’t be paranoid. They just want a full briefing from you both.”

“Right. Meanwhile, you need to get a Federal judge to issue a search warrant for the Custer Hill Club property and lodge ASAP.”

“That’s being discussed.”

Kate cut in. “Tom, John and I think that Bain Madox is conspiring to do something that goes beyond oil-price fixing.”

There was a silence, then Walsh asked, “Like what?”

“We don’t know.” She looked at me and mouthed the words “MAD,” “NUKE,” “ELF.”

I shook my head.

“Like what?”

She replied, “I don’t know.”

“Then why do you think that?”

“We-”

I said, “Let’s discuss this when you’re sober, Tom.”

“Call me in the morning. I know that place doesn’t have room phones, and that cell service is not good, but don’t fuck with me.” He added, “And don’t even think about submitting a bill for that place.” He hung up.

I said to Kate, “It’s to you.”

She threw three blues in the pot. “Don’t even think about raising. In fact, don’t even call.”

“Fifteen, and another fifteen.”

She threw in three more blue chips and said, “I’ll let you off easy.” She fanned out a Jack-high straight flush in hearts, and swept the pot toward her. “What did you have?”

“None of your business.”

She gathered the cards and shuffled the deck. “You’re a bad loser.”

“Good losers are losers.”

“Macho, macho.”

“You love it.”

We played a few more hands, and I was ahead a little on the poker, though still down on the pool. I suggested, “Let’s do darts. A buck a point.”

She laughed and said, “You can’t even get your glass to your mouth. I’m not standing in the same room as you with a dart in your hand.”

“Come on.” I got up, a little unsteady, and said, “This is like a saloon triathlon-poker, pool, and darts.”

I found the darts, stepped back about ten feet from the board, and let them fly. One hit the board, and the others, unfortunately, went astray, the last one pinning a window drape to the wall.

Kate thought that was funny, and I said, “Let’s see how you do.”

She informed me, “I don’t play darts. But you can go again.” She laughed.

Amy returned with a cloth-covered tray, which she set on the bar. “Here we are. He had apple-smoked turkey sausage.”

Before I could tell her what Pierre could do with his turkey sausage, Kate said, “Thank you.”

Amy was looking at the darts in the wall but didn’t comment, except to ask, “Have you decided on breakfast?”

We perused the menu and ordered breakfast, which even a French chef can’t screw up.

I wanted to watch the evening news, and I asked Amy, “Where’s the TV?”

She replied, “There are no televisions at The Point.”

“What if the world came to an end? We couldn’t see it on television.”

She smiled, the way people do who know they’re dealing with an inebriated person. She addressed Kate, whom she probably thought was sober. “Yeah, like, we had that problem on 9/11. You know? So, they set up a TV here in the bar. So everyone could watch it.” She added, “It was really horrible.”

Neither Kate nor I commented, and Amy wished us a pleasant evening, stole another glance at the darts, and left.

I uncovered the tray and examined the turkey sausage wrapped in some kind of phyllo dough. “What is this crap?”

Kate said, “We’re checking out of here tomorrow.”

“I like it here.”

“Then stop complaining and eat those fucking sausages.”

“Where’s the mustard? There’s no mustard.”

“Time for bed, John.” She handed me my leather jacket, put on her coat, gathered up her handbag and briefcase, then led me out the door.

I shoved my Glock in my waistband in case we ran into any bears, and suggested that Kate do the same, but she ignored my good advice.

The air was cold, and I could see my breath, and in the sky were thousands of bright stars against a black sky. I could smell the pines, and the wood smoke coming from the chimneys of the Main Lodge, and everything was very quiet.

I like the noise of the city, and concrete below my feet, and I don’t miss seeing the stars at night because the lights of Manhattan create their own universe, and eight million people are more interesting than eight million trees.

And yet, this was undeniably beautiful, and under other circumstances, I might relax here and surrender to the wilderness and be at peace with myself while eating French food with twenty strangers who probably made their money screwing the American public.

Kate said, “It’s so serene. Can’t you feel the tension and stress just leaving your body?”

“I’m kind of going back and forth on that.”

“You need to let go and let nature take over.”

“Right. Actually, I’m starting to get in touch with my primitive self.”

“John, this may come as a surprise to you, but you’re already very in touch with your primitive self. In fact, I haven’t yet met the other side of you.”