Wild fire

“That’s not so surprising.”

“I guess not. Most of what I found were corporate facts-his position as CEO and principal shareholder of Global Oil Corporation. And not much on that. Also, very little in the way of biography, almost nothing personal-no mention of his ex-wife or children-only a half-dozen quotes from published sources, and not a single unpublished quote or comment from anyone.”

“Apparently, he’s able to get blogs and other third-party information deleted.”

“Apparently.” She glanced at her notes and went on, “The only thing vaguely interesting is that about fifty percent of his oil and gas holdings, and half his tanker fleet, are owned by unnamed interests in the Middle East.”

I thought about that, and what Madox had just said about his Iraqi oil-minister buddy during my chat with him. This meant that, like most Western oil executives, he had to kiss some ass in Sandland. But since Bain Madox did not seem like the ass-kissing type, he might be planning a way to eliminate his partners, forever and ever. Maybe that’s what this was about.

Kate continued, “I then went online and researched ELF.” She informed me, “There’s not much more than what John Nasseff told us, except that the Russians use their ELF system differently than we do.”

“Right. They have more letters in their alphabet.” I yawned and listened to my stomach growl.

“There’s another difference.” She looked at her notes again. “Listen to this-the U.S., as we discovered, sends ELF messages to the nuclear sub fleet as a bell ringer, but the Russians, during times of heightened tensions, send a continuous message to their nuclear submarines that, in effect, says, ‘All is well.’ When the positive message stops, that means there’s a new, urgent message on the way, and if that message doesn’t arrive within the time it would take for an ELF signal to reach the submarines, then the silence is taken to mean the ELF station has been destroyed, and the subs are then authorized to launch against their predesignated targets in the U.S., or China, or wherever.”

“Jeez, I hope they’re paying their electric bills on time.”

“Me, too.” Kate continued, “This is why our ELF receiver in Greenland was able to home in on the Russian ELF signal on the Kola Peninsula-because they were using this continuous ‘All is well’ signal during a period of heightened tensions, which, according to this article, we precipitated in order to get the Russians to switch to their continuous-message system, which, in turn, enabled us to find their ELF transmitter on the Kola Peninsula.”

“Wow. Aren’t we clever? And talk about nuclear brinkmanship. Aren’t we glad the Cold War is over?”

“Yes. But this got me thinking that Madox, who had once obtained American ELF codes, may have obtained the Russian ELF codes.” She informed me, “According to this article-written by a Swede, incidentally-Russian encryption software is not as sophisticated or impenetrable as ours, so it could be that Madox has changed his ELF frequency to the frequency used by the Russians, and he’s going to try to send false signals to the Russian sub fleet to nuke… China, or the Mideast, or whoever he doesn’t like these days.”

I thought about that. “I guess if the Russian codes are easier to penetrate than ours, that’s a possibility.” I added, “Same Custer Hill ELF transmitter, different nuclear submarines. Any more interesting ELF stuff?”

“Just that the Indians are looking to build an ELF station.”

I sat up on the couch and asked, “What the hell do they need that for? Launching tomahawks? They have the casinos, for God’s sake.”

“John, the India Indians.”

“Oh…”

“They’re developing a nuclear submarine fleet. So are the Chinese and the Pakistanis.”

“That sucks. Next, it’ll be the postal workers. Then we can kiss our asses good-bye.”

Kate informed me, “Actually, the world is becoming a far more dangerous place than it was during the Cold War when it was just us and them.”

“Right. What’s the median price of a house in Potsdam?”

She didn’t seem to recall and sat at the desk, lost in thought. Then she said, “I also discovered some… not good news.”

“Like, bad news?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“I’m still trying to sort it out. Let’s finish the rest of what we need to discuss first so we have a context.”

“Is your mother coming to visit?”

“This is not a joke.”

“All right. What’s next?”

“Mikhail Putyov.”

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Mikhail Putyov,” I said. “No sign of him at Custer Hill. How about his home or office?”

“I called his office first, and his secretary, Ms. Crabtree, said he wasn’t in, so I said I was a doctor and this concerned a serious health matter.”

“That’s a good one. I never used that.”

“It works every time. Anyway, Ms. Crabtree loosened up a bit and told me that Dr. Putyov hadn’t shown up at work, hadn’t called, and that her calls to his cell phone went right into voice mail. She had also called Putyov’s wife, but Mrs. Putyov did not know where her husband was.” Kate added, “Obviously, Putyov never told anyone where he was going.”

“Did you get Putyov’s cell-phone number?”

“No. Ms. Crabtree wouldn’t give it to me, but she gave me hers for after hours, and I gave her my beeper number.” Kate added, “Ms. Crabtree sounded concerned.”

“Okay, so Mikhail is AWOL from MIT. How about home?”

“Same. Mrs. Putyov was on the verge of tears. She said that even when Mikhail is with his mistress, he calls and makes an excuse for not coming home.”

“He’s a good husband.”

“John, don’t be an asshole.”

“Just kidding. So, Mikhail is not just AWOL, he’s missing in action.”

“Well, he is as far as his wife and secretary are concerned. But he’s probably still at the Custer Hill Club.”

I shook my head. “If he was, he’d have called. A man in his situation, with FBI chaperones, doesn’t disappear and put his wife, family, or office in a position to think about calling the FBI. That’s the last thing Putyov wants.”

Kate nodded, then asked, “So…?”

“Well,” I said, “apparently, not everyone who walks into the Custer Hill Club leaves in the same condition as when they arrived.”

“Apparently not.” She pointed out, “You’ve been there twice. Want to try again?”

“Third time’s a charm.”

She ignored that and continued, “So, I Googled ‘Putyov, Mikhail,’ and pulled up some published articles and unpublished pieces that other physicists had written about him.”

“Do they like him?”

“They respect him. He’s a star in the world of nuclear physics.”

“That’s nice. Then why is he hanging around Bain Madox?”

“There could be a professional relationship. Although, for all we know, it could be some sort of personal relationship. Maybe they’re just friends.”

“Then why didn’t he tell his wife where he was going?”

“That’s the question. Anyway, all we know for sure is that a nuclear physicist named Mikhail Putyov was a guest at the Custer Hill Club and is now missing. Anything beyond that is speculation.”

“Right. Hey, did you call The Point?”