Wild fire

She reminded me, “We may see every one of them in the next half hour.”

“Good. I’ll save the taxpayers some money.”

“Calm down.”

I didn’t reply.

As we proceeded up the long winding drive, motion sensors turned on the lamppost lights.

Under one of the lampposts, I saw what looked like a big wood chipper on the lawn, which reminded me of the Mafia expression about putting their enemies through the wood chipper. I always got a laugh out of that for some reason, and I smiled.

Kate asked, “What’s funny?”

“I forgot.” Less funny was that there weren’t any trees or dead branches on the lawn.

Normally, you don’t go into situations like this without backup. But this situation was anything but normal. The irony here was that we’d been hiding from the ATTF, Liam Griffith, the FBI, and the state police-and now that I wanted everyone to know where we were, only Bain Madox knew.

When I get really paranoid, like now, I start to imagine that the CIA is involved. And considering what this was all about, why would they not be involved?

Kate asked me, “What are you thinking about?”

“The CIA.”

“Right. This, as it turns out, would also involve them.”

“It would.” Yet, you rarely see them or hear from them. That’s why they’re called spooks, or ghosts, and if you see them at all, it’s usually at the end. Like about now.

I said to Kate, “In fact, I see Ted Nash’s hand in this.”

She looked at me. “Ted Nash? John, Ted Nash is dead.”

“I know. I just like to hear you say it.”

She didn’t think that was so funny, but I did.

Up ahead in the turnaround circle was a flagpole, and flying from the pole was the American flag and the Seventh Cavalry pennant, illuminated by two spotlights.

I informed Kate, “A pennant or banner means the commander is on the premises.”

“I know that. Didn’t you ever notice my pennant on the bedpost?”

I smiled, and we held hands. She said to me, “I’m a little… apprehensive.”

I reminded her, “We are not alone. We have the full power and authority of the United States government behind us.”

She looked over her shoulder and said, “I don’t see anyone else here, John.”

I was glad to see she was maintaining her sense of humor. I gave her hand a squeeze and stopped the van under the portico. “Hungry?”

“Famished.”

We got out and climbed the steps to the porch. I rang the bell.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Carl answered the door and said to us, “Mr. Madox has been expecting you.”

I replied, “And good evening to you, Carl.”

I’m sure he wanted to say, “Fuck you,” but he didn’t, and showed us into the atrium foyer. He said, “I’ll take your coats.”

Kate responded, “We’ll keep them.”

Carl seemed unhappy about that, but said, “Cocktails will be in the bar room. Please follow me.”

We went through the door near the staircase and walked toward the rear of the lodge.

The house was quiet, and I didn’t see, hear, or sense anyone around.

I still had my Glock in my waistband, but it was covered by my shirt and jacket. My off-duty.38 was in my ankle holster. Kate had slipped her Glock in her jacket pocket, and, like most, if not all, FBI agents, she had no second weapon-except the BearBanger somewhere in her jeans. My BearBanger was clipped like a penlight in my shirt pocket. My two extra magazines were in my jacket, and Kate’s four were in her handbag and her jacket. We were loaded for bear, or Bain.

I wasn’t expecting any funny business while we were in motion-also, I figured that Madox wanted to at least say hello and size up the situation before he made a move.

On that subject, I wondered if he would opt for a macho move, like an armed confrontation. Or, would he take the less confrontational approach, like a Mickey Finn in our drinks, followed by a short trip through the wood chipper?

If Madox was going to go military on us, then I was playing the odds that not all of his security guards were trusted killers, so maybe we’d have to deal with only Madox, Carl, and two or three other guys.

A more positive but probably unrealistic thought was that there wasn’t going to be a poisoning or shoot-out at the Custer Hill Club, and that Bain Madox, when confronted with our evidence and placed under arrest, would realize that the game was up and admit to murdering Federal Agent Harry Muller, then lead us to the ELF transmitter. Case closed.

I glanced at Kate, who looked calm and composed. We made eye contact, and I smiled and winked at her.

I also got a look at Carl’s face. Usually, you can tell by the face and body language if a guy knows that something unpleasant is about to happen. Carl didn’t seem tense, but neither was he relaxed.

Carl stopped in front of a set of double doors, one of which had a brass plate that said BAR ROOM. He knocked, opened one door, and said to us, “After you.”

“No,” I said, “after you.”

He hesitated, then entered and motioned to the left, where Mr. Bain Madox stood behind a mahogany bar, smoking and listening on the phone, which I noticed was a landline, not a cell.

Across the dimly lit room was a burning fireplace, to the right of which was a set of drawn drapes that may have covered a window, or a set of double doors leading outside.

I heard Madox say, “All right. I have company. Call me later.” He hung up, smiled, and said, “Welcome. Come in.”

Kate and I gave the place a quick look, then took different paths around the furniture to the bar. I heard the door close behind us.

Madox put out his cigarette. “I wasn’t sure you’d gotten Carl’s message at The Point, and I hoped you hadn’t forgotten.”

Kate and I reached the bar, and I said, “We’ve been looking forward to the evening.”

Kate added, “Thank you for inviting us.”

We all shook hands, and Madox asked, “What can I get you?”

I was glad he didn’t say, “Name your poison,” and I inquired, “What are you drinking?”

He indicated a bottle on the bar and replied, “My private-label single malt, which you enjoyed yesterday.”

“Good. I’ll take it straight up.” In case you drugged the soda water or ice cubes.

Kate said, “Make it two.”

Madox poured two scotches into crystal glasses, then refreshed his own drink from the same bottle, which may have been his polite way of showing us that the scotch wasn’t going to kill us.

True to his word, Madox was dressed casually in the same outfit he’d worn this afternoon-blue blazer, white golf shirt, and jeans. So Kate and I would feel comfortable when we arrested him.

He raised his glass and said, “Not a happy occasion, but to happier times.”

We clinked glasses and drank. He swallowed. I swallowed. Kate swallowed.

I could see the darkened room in the bar mirror, and there was another set of open doors at the far end of the room that led into what appeared to be a card room or game room.

Also, behind the bar, to the left of the liquor shelves, was a small door that probably led to a storage area or wine cellar. In fact, there were too many doors in this place, plus drapes drawn across what could be doors leading outside. And I don’t like standing at the bar with my back to a room, with a guy behind the bar who could suddenly