Wild Fire by Nelson Demille

Author:Nelson Demille
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: FIC000000, Fiction, General
ISBN: 9780759569447
Publisher: Sphere
Published: 2006-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

It was less than twenty miles to The Point, but the place was so secluded that, despite Schaeffer’s directions and Max’s map, Kate had to call the resort to guide us to the unmarked road.

I put on my brights and proceeded slowly along a narrow, tree-covered lane that looked like a slightly improved Indian trail.

Kate said, “This is so pretty.”

All I could see was a tunnel of trees in my headlights, but to be upbeat—and because I’d booked the place—I said, “I feel close to nature.” About four feet on each side of the car to be precise.

We reached a rustic gate with an arch made of branches that had been twisted into letters that spelled THE POINT.

The gate was closed, but there was a speakerphone beside it. I lowered my window and pressed the button, and a distorted voice came out of the speaker like at Jack in the Box. “May I help you?”

“I’d like a double bacon cheeseburger, large fries, and a Diet Coke.”

“Sir?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Corey, registered guests.”

“Yes, sir. Welcome to The Point.”

The electric gates began to open, and the voice said, “Please proceed to the first building on your left.”

I drove through the gates, and Kate observed, “That was a little more friendly than the Custer Hill Club.”

“It better be, for twelve hundred bucks a night.”

“This was not my idea.”

“Right.”

Up ahead was a big wooden structure, and I pulled off the road. We got out, and as we walked up the path, the door opened and a young man waved to us and said, “Welcome. Did you have a good journey?”

Kate replied, “Yes, thank you.”

We climbed the steps to the rustic building, and the casually dressed young man said, “I’m Jim.” We all shook hands, setting the tone for our stay in this place, which I guessed was friendly, homey, and probably silly. Jim said, “Come on in.”

We entered the building, which was the resort office and also a gift shop selling Adirondack artwork and some pricey-looking apparel, which caught Kate’s attention.

Women, I’ve noticed, are easily distracted by clothing stores, and I was certain that the ladies on the Titanic stopped at the ship’s apparel shop for the Half-Price Sinking Sale on their way to the lifeboats.

Anyway, we got past the clothing, and we all sat in comfortable chairs around a table. Jim opened our file and said, “Here’s a message for both of you.” He handed me a card on which was written in pen, “Call.” From, “Mr. Walsh.” Time: 7:17 P.M.

Since I didn’t recall either Kate or I telling Tom Walsh where we were staying, I reasoned that Walsh must have recently learned this from Major Schaeffer. No big deal, but I needed to remind myself that Walsh and Schaeffer were in touch.

I gave the card to Kate, then glanced at my cell phone and saw there was no service. I asked Jim, “Are you totally out of the cell service area?”

“It comes and goes. The best service is when you stand in the middle of the croquet field.

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