“I… Can I see some identification?”
I wanted to show him my Glock first so he knew he wasn’t the only person carrying, but to be nice, I handed him my credentials and so did Kate.
He studied both sets of credentials, and I had the feeling he either recognized them as legitimate or was pretending he was well versed in credential recognition.
I interrupted his perusal of the creds. “I’ll take those back.”
He hesitated, then handed them to us. I reiterated, “We’re here to see Mr. Madox on official business.”
“What is the nature of your business?”
“Are you Mr. Madox?”
“No… but-”
“Look, fella, you’ve got about ten seconds to do something brilliant. Call ahead if you need to, then open the fucking gates.”
He looked a little pissed, but kept his cool and said, “Hold on.”
He went back to the gate, slipped through the opening, and spoke to the other guy. Then they both disappeared into the log gatehouse.
Kate asked me, “Why do you always need to be confrontational?”
“Confrontational is when I pull my gun. Argumentative is when I pull the trigger.”
“Federal agents are trained to be polite.”
“I missed that class.”
“What if they don’t let us in? They can refuse us access to private property if we don’t have a search warrant.”
“Where’s it say that?”
“It’s actually in the Constitution.”
“Ten bucks says we get in.”
“You’re on.”
The neo-fascist came back to our car and said, “I’m going to ask you to pull up through the gate, and park your car to the right. A Jeep will take you up to the lodge.”
“Why can’t I take my own car?”
“It’s for your own safety and security, sir, and because of our insurance policy.”
“Well, we don’t want to mess with your insurance company. Hey, you have bears on the property?”
“Yes, sir. Please proceed through the gate and remain in your vehicle until the Jeep arrives.”
Did this idiot think I was getting out with bears around?
He signaled to the guy at the gatehouse, and the steel gate slid open.
I drove into the property and turned onto a gravel patch. The gate slid closed behind us, and I said to Kate, “Welcome to the Custer Hill Club. You owe me ten bucks.”
She joked, “Twenty says we don’t get out of here alive.”
A black Jeep with tinted windows approached. It stopped, and two guys wearing holsters and camouflage fatigues got out and came toward us.
I said, “I need odds.”
One guy came up to my window and said, “Please exit, and follow me.”
This seemed like the kind of place where someone would put a tracking device or a bug in your car, so I had no intention of leaving the car there. I said, “I have a better idea. You lead, I’ll follow.”
He hesitated, then replied, “Follow me closely and stay on the road.”
“If you stay on the road, I’ll stay on the road.”
He went back to the Jeep and turned around, and I followed him up a hill through a cleared field with big rock outcroppings.
Kate said, “I assume you didn’t want them installing unwanted options in the car.”
“When you see this level of security, you need to be as paranoid as they are.”
“You always know how to handle a bad situation that you’ve gotten us into.”
“Thank you… I think.”
The road was lined with pole lights and I also noticed a series of utility poles running from the tree line across the open field and into the next tree line. The poles carried five wires, and as we passed beneath them, I saw that three of the wires were actually thick cables that must have been major power lines.
About halfway up the hill, I could see a huge lodge, the size of a small hotel. In the front of the lodge was a tall pole flying the American flag, and below the flag flew a yellow pennant of some sort.
Beyond the lodge at the top of the hill, I saw a tall tower that looked like a cellular relay tower, which explained why we had reception here, and why Harry should have reception if he was alive and well. I wondered if this tower belonged to the phone company, or to Bain Madox.
We reached the lodge, in front of which was a gravel parking space where another black Jeep was parked, along with a blue Ford Taurus, like the one I was driving. But this Taurus had an “e” sticker on the rear bumper, which I knew meant it was an Enterprise rental car. So maybe some weekend guests were still here. Also parked was a dark blue van-probably the same one that Betty had mentioned.
We stopped under the big columned portico, and both guys got out and opened our doors. Kate and I exited, she carrying her briefcase stuffed with airline manifests and car-rental agreements. I made a mental note of the plate number on the Enterprise car, then locked our doors and looked around.
The area surrounding the lodge was clear for about a half mile on all sides, which made for good views and very good security. Harry would have had a tough time getting close enough to this parking field to photograph plates and people, even if he used the rock formations for cover.
Also, I’d counted four security guys so far, and I had a feeling there were more. This place was tight, and I was fairly sure now that Harry had walked into a bad situation.
The Jeep driver said to us, “Please follow me.”
I warned him, “No one is to touch this car. If I discover that anyone has added an unwanted feature to this car, he’s going to jail. Understood?”
He didn’t reply, but he understood.
We climbed a few steps to the covered veranda, where a row of Adirondack chairs and rockers faced out toward the sweeping view down the hill. Aside from the security goons, this was a very pleasant and homey place. I noticed now that the yellow pennant had the number 7 on it.
The security guy said, “Please wait here,” and disappeared into the lodge.
Kate and I stood on the porch, and I speculated, “Maybe this place is for sale. Comes with a small army.”
She didn’t respond to that and instead said to me, “I should check my messages.”
“No.”
“John, what if-?”
“No. This is one of those rare times when I don’t want any new information. We’re going to see Bain Madox.”
She looked at me and nodded.
The door opened, and the security guy said, “Come in.”
We entered the Custer Hill Club.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
We walked into a large atrium lobby with a balcony above and a massive chandelier made of deer antlers. The room was paneled in yellow pine and decorated in a rustic style with hooked rugs, hunting and fishing prints, and a few pieces of furniture made of tree branches. I had the feeling that Mrs. Madox, if there was one, had nothing to do with this lodge. I said to Kate, “Nice place.”
She replied, “I’m sure there’s a moose head around here somewhere.”
We heard footsteps coming from a passageway to the left, and a different security guy, this one a middle-aged man dressed in blue, entered the lobby. This must have been one of the palace guards, and he introduced himself to
