CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

We passed Rudy’s darkened gas station and continued on into the state park preserve.

We approached Stark Road and saw a power-company truck parked on the side with its lights flashing, and I was sure this was the state police surveillance vehicle. I slowed down to be certain he saw us turning onto Stark Road.

As we continued on through the tunnel of trees, I said to Kate, “Okay, give the state police a call, and tell them that I need to speak to Major Schaeffer, and it’s urgent.”

Kate took her cell phone out of her bag, turned it on, and said, “I have no service.”

“What do you mean? Madox’s relay tower is only about four miles from here.”

“I have no service.”

I took my cell phone out and turned it on. No service. “Maybe we need to get closer.” I gave her my phone.

I turned onto the logging road, and Kate, holding both cell phones, said, “Still no service.”

“All right…” McCuen Pond Road was coming up, and I slowed down and hit my brights, hoping to see a stakeout vehicle, but there was no one at the T-intersection.

I made a left onto McCuen Pond Road and looked at my watch. It was 6:55 P.M. A few minutes later, we approached the lights and warning signs of the Custer Hill gate. I asked Kate, “Service?”

“No service.”

“How could that be?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Madox’s tower is having a problem. Or maybe he shut it down.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Let me think.”

“Oh… yeah. He really is a paranoid asshole.”

“A smart paranoid asshole.” She asked me, “Do you want to turn around?”

“No. And leave the phones on.”

“Okay, but no one will be able to pick up our signal here unless the cell tower at Custer Hill comes back on the air.”

“It could just be a temporary glitch.” But I doubted that. Now that we wanted to be located, we were electronically silent. Shit happens.

I slowed down at the speed bump, then stopped at the stop sign. The gate slid open a crack, and I could see my favorite security guard in the floodlit entrance to the property. He came toward us, and I stuck my Glock in my waistband. I said to Kate, “Be alert.”

“Right. Ask him if you can borrow his landline phone to call the state police to tell them we’re at the Custer Hill Club.”

I ignored the sarcasm and watched the security goon coming toward us at a leisurely pace. I said to Kate, “Anyway, I’m sure we were spotted by the state police stakeout.”

“I’m sure you were, Rudy.”

“Oh… oh, shit. That was pretty stupid.”

She could have been angry or critical, but she patted my hand and said soothingly, “We all have stupid moments, John. I just wish you hadn’t picked this particular time to have one.”

I didn’t reply but gave myself a mental slap on the face.

The neo-Nazi got to the van, and I rolled down the window. He seemed surprised to see me in what he probably knew to be Rudy’s van. He looked at Kate, then said to us, “Mr. Madox is expecting you.”

“You sure about that?”

He didn’t answer but stood there, and I wanted to smash his idiotic face. I noticed his name tag. Mom and Dad had christened their little boy Luther. They probably couldn’t spell Lucifer. I asked him, “Is anyone else coming to dinner, Lucifer?”

“Luther. No. Just you.”

“Sir.”

“Sir.”

“And ma’am. Let’s try again.”

He took a deep breath to show me he was trying to control his temper, then said, “Just you, sir, and you, ma’am.”

“Good. Practice that.”

“Yes, sir. You know the way. Sir. Please drive slowly and carefully this time. Sir.”

“Fuck you.” I proceeded to the gate, which was now fully open.

Kate asked, “What did he mean by ‘this time’?”

“Oh, he and his buddy there”-I slowed down at the gatehouse and blasted the air horn out the window at the other guard, which caused him to jump about five feet-“tried to throw themselves under the wheels of my car this afternoon.” I drove on.

“Why did you do that? You scared the hell out of me.”

“Kate, these two bastards, and their pals, were the guys who grabbed Harry on Saturday. And for all I know, one or two of them helped murder him on Sunday.”

She nodded.

“We’ll see every one of these guys in court.”

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.