calling my bookie with my bet on the start date of the war. Do you think this war has anything to do with what Madox is up to?”
“Possibly.”
“Yeah… maybe Madox is going to nuke Baghdad and keep us from having to go to war. Could that be his game?”
“I don’t know. Why speculate?”
“This is called analysis. This is what we get paid for.”
“I’m off-duty.”
“Would nuking Baghdad raise or lower the price of oil? And how can I bet on the start date of the war if the war is preempted by a nuclear blast? What do you think?”
“I think you should stop thinking about this tonight.”
I looked around the darkened room, lit now by the fire. The reflection of the flames glowed on the shiny oil paintings along the walls. The wind had picked up, and I could hear it howling in the chimney and saw gusts of leaves blowing past the windows. I said, “This actually
She smiled and replied, “You’re on the right track.”
“Good. Hey, do you realize that William Avery Rockefeller had sex in this very room?”
“Is that all you think about? I mean, here we are in one of the historic Great Camps of the Adirondacks, and all you can think about is that some Rockefeller had sex in this room.”
“That’s not true. I was about to comment on the pastoral movement among the rich in the early part of the last century that led to the construction of these rural homes as simple refuges from the complexities of urban life, with all its noise, pollution, and teeming humanity.”
“That’s interesting.”
“Also, the Rockefellers were horny. I mean, look at what happened to poor Nelson Rockefeller. Then, you have oysters Rockefeller. Oysters. Get it? So, for me to mention that William Avery-”
“John, you’re losing points.”
“Right.” So we listened to Etta James, watched the fire, and sipped wine. The heat of the fire was making me drowsy, and I yawned.
Kate stood, went to the bed, and removed the comforter and a pillow, which she laid out in front of the hearth.
She then slipped into something more comfortable, meaning nothing, and I watched her as she undressed in the firelight. When she was naked, she lay down on the comforter and looked at me.
I think that was my signal to join her, so I stood and undressed slowly-about five seconds-and we lay on our sides in each other’s arms.
She nudged me onto my back and rolled on top of me.
This had been a lousy day, and tomorrow, assuming there was one, wasn’t going to be much better. But for now, this was as good as it got.
PART X
The unleashed power of the atom has changed everything, save our modes of thinking, and we thus drift toward unparalleled catastrophe.
– Albert Einstein
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Our wake-up call came promptly at 6:00 A.M., making me wonder what I was thinking when I asked for it. Little Scotsmen were hurling stones in my head.
Kate rolled over, mumbled something, and buried her head under the pillow.
I found the bathroom in the dark and used the provided sundries, then stepped into the shower, which felt like a million dollars-or at least twelve hundred dollars.
I went back into the bedroom and got dressed in the dark, leaving sleeping beauty to rest.
Actually, we’d both spent a restless night after an overstimulated day. For the first time in a long time, I dreamed I was standing under the burning towers as people jumped from the windows. I also dreamed that Harry and I were at a funeral.
I opened the other entry door to our room and saw that it led to a short passageway, which opened into the Great Hall.
I went into the Hall, where two round tables were being set for breakfast, and a fire was blazing at each end of the room. If I wasn’t a cop, I think I’d like to be a Rockefeller.
The kitchen door was open, and I could hear the sounds of people banging around, preparing for breakfast.
I thought I heard a voice with a French accent saying, “Peegs in zee blanket?” followed by laughter. But maybe I imagined that.
On a side table were coffee and muffins. I poured a cup of black coffee, walked out through the French doors onto the terrace, and took a deep breath of the mountain air.
It was still dark, but I could see that the sky was clear, and it was going to be another nice day in God’s country.
There is a belief in law enforcement, reinforced by experience and statistics, that the first forty-eight hours of a criminal investigation are the most critical. Intelligence work and counter-terrorist operations, on the other hand, move at a slower pace. There are good reasons for this, but my instinct and experience as a cop told me that almost everything you need to know, and almost everything you’re going to discover, is going to happen in two days. Maybe three.
What you do with that time and information is the difference between a successfully concluded case or a muddled cluster-fuck of meddling bosses, brain-dead prosecutors, lawyered-up suspects, and half-witted arraignment judges. If you give all these people time to think, you're into paralysis by analysis.
As I was having my morning inspirational thoughts, Kate came out on the terrace wearing the guest bathrobe and slippers and carrying a cup of coffee. She yawned, smiled, and said, “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Rockefeller.” Married or not, the morning protocol aprees sex was a kiss, a compliment, and a reference to the lovemaking that was romantic without sounding wimpy, and explicit without sounding piggish.
I managed to pull all this off, and we stood on the terrace, arm in arm, sipping coffee, looking out at the pines and autumn leaves.
The sun was coming up, and there was a mist lying on the ground, sloping downward toward Upper Saranac Lake, which looked very tranquil. It was quiet, and the air smelled of damp earth and wood smoke. I could see why Harry liked it up here, and I pictured him waking up Saturday morning in his camper to a scene very much like this
