Nelson Demille - Wild fire

“This has more to do with me than you, for a change.”

“Oh…”

“I don’t work for you. You work for me.”

“Well, technically-”

“You drive.”

She got in the passenger seat of the van, and I got in the driver’s seat and drove toward the main house.

Kate said, “Also, I am concerned about you.”

“Thanks.”

“You need supervision.”

“I don’t know-”

“Stop here.”

I stopped at Wilma and Ned’s house, and Kate said, “Here. Return Wilma’s laptop. She has ten minutes before her auction closes.”

I had no idea what that meant, but it sounded important, so I took the laptop, got out, and rang the bell.

The door opened, and Wilma stood there. She looked like a Wilma, and I wouldn’t want to arm wrestle her for the laptop.

She looked me over, then glanced at the van and saw Kate. She informed me, “I don’t want no trouble here.”

“Me, neither. Okay, here’s your laptop. Thanks.”

“What do I say if the husband comes looking for her?”

“Tell the truth.” I said to her, “Do me a favor. If we’re not back by morning, call Major Hank Schaeffer at the state police headquarters in Ray Brook. Schaeffer. Okay? Tell him John left some stuff for him at the Pond House.” I added, “Good luck with the auction.”

She glanced at her watch, said, “Oh… God…,” and shut the door.

I got back in the van, and off we went.

Kate was loading her two magazines and commented, “This van is gross.”

“You think?” I related my brief conversation with Wilma, and Kate responded, “We’ll be back before morning.”

That was optimistic.

The dashboard clock said 3:10, which may have been wrong. My watch said 6:26, and we’d be fashionably late for cocktails.

I had this sense that somewhere, someplace, another clock was ticking.

As I drove, I asked Kate, “What did you put in that e-mail to Walsh?”

“I told you.”

“I hope you didn’t mention that we were on the way to the Custer Hill Club for cocktails and dinner.”

“I did.”

“You weren’t supposed to do that. Now, the posse may intercept us-or be there ahead of us.”

“No, they won’t. I told you, I sent the e-mail to a service that will send it later. Delayed send, at seven P.M.”

“I never heard of that.”

“It was specifically invented for situations like this, and for people like you.”

“Really? That’s neat.”

She explained, “You want to be inside the Custer Hill lodge before anyone knows we’re even going there. And by the time Tom Walsh reads my message, we are, hopefully, resolving some issues there. Correct?”

“Right.”

“And, we’ll be heroes.”

“Right.”

“Or dead.”

“Now, don’t be thinking negative thoughts.”

“Do you want to turn around now?”

I looked out the windshield. “Why? Did I miss my turn?”

“John, do you think this might be a good time for you to come to your senses?”

“No, this is not a good time for that. Did you come along to bug me, or help me?”

“To help you. But if you drive to the state police headquarters, I’d think you were very smart.”

“No, you’d think I was a chicken-livered, yellow-bellied, ball-less wimp.”

“No one would ever call you that. But sometimes, like now, discretion is the better part of valor.”

“Some wimp made up that expression. Look, I’m not stupid. But this is personal , Kate. This has to do with Harry. Plus, there’s a time element here.” I explained, “The ELF station is, or will be, up and running, and I don’t know if anyone in law enforcement could get on the Custer Hill property faster than we, who have been invited .”

“That may or may not be true.”

“What is true is that I want a piece of that sonofabitch before anyone else gets to him.”

“I know that. But are you willing to risk a possible nuclear incident to satisfy your personal vendetta?”

“Hey, you sent that e-mail on a delay.”

She pointed out, “I can call Major Schaeffer and Liam Griffith right now.”

“We’re going to do that right before we get to Custer Hill. For now, we need to get there without interference.”

She didn’t reply to that but instead asked me, “Do you think Madox is going to send that ELF signal tonight?”

“I don’t know. But we have to assume that our invitation to dinner has something to do with his timeline.” I suggested, “Turn on the radio and see if we hear a breaking news story about nuclear blasts somewhere. If we do, I can slow down and not worry about being late for dinner.”

She switched on the radio, but nothing happened. “It doesn’t work.”

“Maybe the ELF waves knocked out AM and FM. Try the ELF channel.”

“Not funny.”

I was on Route 56 now, heading toward South Colton, and I took the Hyundai keys out of my pocket and put them in her hand. I said, “I’m stopping at Rudy’s gas station, and you’re taking the Hyundai and driving to state police headquarters.”

She opened the window and tossed out the keys.

“That’s going to cost me fifty bucks.”

“All right, John, we’ll be there in about twenty minutes. Let’s take this opportunity to discuss what to expect, and what we need to say, and do. Plus, we should discuss some contingency plans, and what our objective is in going there.”

“You mean a game plan?”

“Yes, a game plan.”

“Okay. Well, I thought we’d play it by ear.”

“I don’t think so.”

“All right… well, first, don’t allow a metal scan. And certainly not a frisk.”

“Goes without saying.”

“I mean, I doubt he’d try that, unless all pretense of us being dinner guests is dropped.”

“And if that happens?” Kate inquired.

“Well, if they ask for our guns, then we’ll show them our guns and our shields.”

“What if there are ten of them with rifles?”

“Then, we go into our Federal agent mode and tell them they’re all under arrest. And let’s not forget to mention to Madox that the entire B Troop barracks of the New York state police knows where we are. That’s our ace in the hole.”

“I know that. But actually, no one yet knows where we’re going. And what if Madox doesn’t care who knows where we are? What if Hank Schaeffer is in the kitchen cooking, and the sheriff is making drinks? What if-?”

“Don’t make Madox ten feet tall. He’s smart, rich, powerful, and ruthless. But he’s not Superman, sweetheart.” I added, “ I am Superman.”

“All right, Superman, what else do we need to think about to keep ourselves alive and healthy?”

I advised her, “Don’t ask for a frozen daiquiri or anything that can be drugged. Drink what he’s drinking. Same with the food. Be careful. Remember the Borgias.”

“ You remember the Borgias. I swear, John, you’d eat chili and hot dogs even if you knew they were poisoned.”

“What a way to go.” I continued my briefing. “Okay, our demeanor. This is a social occasion, mixed with the unpleasant business of a Federal investigation. So, act accordingly.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning, just the right combination of being polite, but firm.” I continued, “Madox likes his scotch. Try to gauge his sobriety. If he’s not drinking much, take that as a sign of trouble.”

“I understand.”

We discussed a few more fine points of etiquette that might not be addressed by Emily Post.

When we finished with etiquette class, Kate returned to survival school. “Tell me about the BearBangers.”