“How long has this been going on?”

“Quite a while.”

As always, there’s a slight clash of cultures between the FBI and the police, which is frustrating to everyone, I’m sure.

Kate said to Walsh, “Tom, I’ve worked with a lot of NYPD since I’ve been on the Task Force, and I’ve learned a lot from them, and they’ve learned a lot from us.”

Actually, I’ve learned next to nothing from the FBI, though the CIA is interesting.

Kate continued, “Since 9/11, we need to think differently, to ask any questions we want to ask, and to challenge our supervisors when we’re not satisfied with what they’re telling us.”

Walsh looked at her awhile, then observed, “I think someone is setting a bad example for you.”

“No. What happened a year ago is what has changed how I think.”

Walsh didn’t respond to that. “Let’s return to the subject of the missing-”

Kate interrupted and went into her lawyer mode. “Tom, I still don’t understand why this group is under surveillance. What illegal activity or Federal crime are they suspected of?”

“Whatever they are suspected of has nothing to do with Harry Muller’s apparent disappearance, and therefore you have no need to know.”

I butted into the argument. “This is a reactionary group. Correct? Right-wing loony lodge.”

He nodded.

“So, considering that, and the high-level political and financial membership of this so-called hunting and fishing club, maybe we’re talking about a conspiracy to take over the government.”

He smiled and replied, “I think they already did that on Election Day.”

“Good point. Meanwhile, we’d really like to know what Headquarters told you.”

Walsh considered that for a moment. “Okay, for what it’s worth, what I was told was that this had something to do with a conspiracy to rig oil prices. The guy who apparently runs the club is Bain Madox. You may have heard the name. He owns and operates Global Oil Corporation. GOCO.” He added, “That’s more than you need to know.”

I processed that. The name was familiar. And oil-price rigging was not unheard-of. Still, that didn’t completely explain the existence of the Custer Hill Club, or even the club members for that matter. Something was a little off here, and Tom Walsh wasn’t going to put it straight, even if he could.

Nevertheless, I said to him, “I read your memo.”

“That’s encouraging.”

I pointed out, “I thought that Iraqis were on the front burner.”

“That’s right.”

“So? What does the Custer Hill Club have to do with Iraqis or the coming war?”

“Nothing, as far as I know. Harry’s assignment came about because of the weekend meeting at this club, which I assume doesn’t happen that often. Are you having trouble following this?”

“Sorry. I was all set to act on your memo and wrap a rag around my head and hang around an Iraqi coffee shop today.”

“Forget that. Let’s return to the problem at hand. Quite frankly, I have not yet reported this missing agent to Headquarters, but very soon someone there will inquire about the information they asked for. When that happens, I’ll have to explain that I’m temporarily out of contact with the agent assigned to the job. That’s not going to be a pleasant conversation, but if we catch a break between now and then, I might be able to offer some positive news.”

I said, “Kate and I would like to go upstate and assist in the search.”

I’m sure I wasn’t Tom Walsh’s first choice to take this assignment, but I was on-duty today, plus he knew Harry and I were friends. Also, he needed an FBI agent on the spot ASAP, and Kate had made the mistake of coming in for half a day on a holiday, and voilá, Walsh could tell Washington he already had a team on the way upstate.

Walsh said to me and Kate, “I thought you’d want to do that, so it’s all arranged.”

“Good. We’ll leave as soon as possible.”

He checked his watch. “In fact, you’re leaving in about five minutes. There’s a car downstairs to take you to the Downtown Manhattan Heliport. An FBI helicopter will take you to Adirondack Regional Airport. Travel time is about two hours. There will be a Hertz rental car at the airport in John’s name. When you get there, call me, and I’ll give you further instructions.”

Kate asked, “Do we have a contact person there?”

“You may.” He added, “Agents from Albany and from here will be joining you tonight or tomorrow.”

I inquired, “Have we gotten a search warrant for the Custer Hill Club?”

“The last I heard from our office in Albany is that they were trying to find a U.S. attorney on the holiday, who in turn needs to find a Federal judge who wants to work today.”

“Have they tried the saloons?”

Walsh continued, “The U.S. attorney will need to convince a judge that this is a Federal case, and that he or she should issue a search warrant for the Custer Hill Club property-which is about sixteen square miles of land-but not the lodge itself. We’re not going to get that without probable cause, and we have no reason to think that Harry Muller is in the house.”

Kate said, “We don’t need a warrant if there’s an immediate danger that a person’s life may be in jeopardy.”

Walsh agreed. “I’m sure the owner, Mr. Madox, would consent to a search for a person who may be lost or injured on his property, and we’ll go that route first. But if Madox is not cooperative, or just not available, and an employee of the club doesn’t know what to do, then we’ll execute the warrant for the property search.”

I asked, “And how do you explain to Mr. Madox that you may have a Federal agent missing on his property?”

“He doesn’t need to know it’s a Federal agent. We’ll leave the property search to the state police.” He added, “Obviously we’re trying to do all we can, short of alerting Madox that he’s under surveillance.”

I pointed out, “If Harry was detained by the security people at this club, then Madox knows he’s under surveillance, Tom.”

“First, there is no evidence and no reason to believe that Harry was detained at the Custer Hill Club. But if he was, then he’d certainly stick to his cover story.”

“Which is?”

“A lost bird-watcher.”

“I don’t think that’s going to fly, pardon the pun.” I asked, “And what if these security people searched him? Was he clean going in?”

Walsh hesitated, then replied, “No. But what are the chances that private security people are going to physically search a trespasser? Or that Harry would allow that?”

“I don’t know, Tom. But I wouldn’t want to find out the hard way. If I had gone in, I wouldn’t be carrying my Fed creds and Glock.” I reminded him, “Cops impersonating drug dealers don’t have their gun and badge with them.”

Walsh didn’t seem to appreciate the lecture. He said to me, “First of all, the Custer Hill Club is not a drug den, so don’t use your NYPD analogies where they’re not appropriate. Also, let’s assume Harry was not stopped, detained, or searched by the private security people at the Custer Hill Club.”

“Okay, so let’s assume he’s lost or hurt on club property. The state and local police should be conducting a land-and-air search right now. What are we waiting for?”

“We’re not waiting, John. We’re taking it a step at a time, and they are searching the wooded area outside the club property.” He stared at us and said, “I personally don’t think we’re going to find Harry on that property. And neither do you, if you think about it. Let’s be rational, and let’s try to balance our concern for Harry against our need to keep Mr. Madox in the dark.”

I replied, “I’m not seeing much light here myself.”

“This is no different than any other assignment. You get as much light as you need to take the next step into the dark.”

“Sounds like bullshit to me.”

“It’s actually official policy.”

Kate said, “John, we need to get going.”